How Can You Tell If a Scientist Lies?

Let's start the discussion obliquely by pointing out that science education in the United States probably could do with a thorough make-over. It's not a huge secret that the majority of Americans are under-developed in their ability to understand science. According to the United States National Center for Education Statistics, "scientific literacy is the knowledge and understanding of scientific concepts and processes . . . " Our schools do a better job of forcing kids to ingest facts that they do of establishing processes.

So, with that as a starting point, if becomes unsurprising that anything stamped with the "Done by a REAL Scientist" label in the media gets treated with immediate deference. For most of their educational career, children have been lectured (or hectored, depending on topic) on science while lip service was done for getting them to both understand and use the scientific method.

When it comes time to decide whether to swallow something patently absurd, or to apply critical thinking skills and a healthy dose of skepticism, the default is to follow the lead of the authority figure which, in this case, is the scientist.

Even one who puts out a study, as Dr. Johannes Bohannon did, stating that eating a chocolate bar on a low-carb diet accelerated weight-loss.

Um, no. 

"There are smart people out there who are getting fooled by this stuff because they think scientists know what they're doing."

 Those are the words of Bohannon after his 'study' - the data and methods were deliberately falsified - went viral. It was good news, and people wanted to believe. And a scientist said so. The science is settled.

This happens not just in the food and health field, which has seen eggs go from shell-encased heartaches to okay, margarine from savior to second place in the butter sweepstakes, and the recent news that cholesterol in the diet may not be such a big deal. It happens in pesticides (killing bees in Europe), vaccinations (causing autism), and cellphones (causing brain cancer). 

So, back to the question that started this whole thing. How can you tell if a scientist is lying?

First, remember the old saw, "If it's too good to be true . . . " In science, this is called skepticism, a term that unfortunately has been co-opted into a negative by the forces of climate change policymakers.

A good scientist is inherently a skeptic. Without that trait, the normal investigative process they pursue gets short-circuited. With it, they develop a hypothesis, test it, and see how the data supports or fails to support the initial idea. If the data does not support the hypothesis, they change the hypothesis.

A bad scientist changes the data, or in the case of NOAA, renormalizes it to make unfortunate results disappear. In the case of the recent scandal regarding the study by Michael LaCour that appeared to support gay marriage, the results were falsified in their entirety.

In a perfect world, the out-right frauds would be quickly caught as other scientists tried to replicate the studies. Sadly, that doesn't happen often enough. To help, Stanford opened the Meta-Research Innovation Center which is systematically identifying problems in medical research.

Second, if it appears that legitimate concerns about a fact or study get answered by invective instead of data, it is a pretty good sign that someone has an agenda that is more important than the pursuit of knowledge.

Finally, remember the adage first offered by Nobel Laureate (in Physics) Murray Gell-Mann, dubbed the Gell-Mann Amnesia Affect. Apply to all instances in which a person appeals to the authority of an 'expert'.

"Briefly stated, the Gell-Mann Amnesia effect is as follows. You open the newspaper to an article on some subject you know well. In Murray's case, physics. In mine, show business. You read the article and see the journalist has absolutely no understanding of either the facts or the issues. Often, the article is so wrong it actually presents the story backward—reversing cause and effect. I call these the "wet streets cause rain" stories. Paper's full of them.
In any case, you read with exasperation or amusement the multiple errors in a story, and then turn the page to national or international affairs, and read as if the rest of the newspaper was somehow more accurate about Palestine than the baloney you just read. You turn the page, and forget what you know.”

Amazon Giveaway in Progress

I'm running a giveaway over at Amazon for four free copies of Finishing Kick. I have no idea how this will turn out (though I suspect it will cost more money than I get back in sales), but thought it would be interesting to try it out.

The link is https://giveaway.amazon.com/p/f955d115882fed9f .

If I can ask a small favor, could you share this on Facebook, or retweet on Twitter, when you see it? Or, if you get this by email, think about forwarding it to one or two (please, not your whole contact list!) that might be interested.

For my author friends, email me in a week or so and I'll let you know what I think.

Ten Reasons to Hire a Running Coach

This is the first part in a series that will eventually become a book on how to choose a running coach. For the record, I am not a coach, so this is in no way a solicitation.

A Good Coach Will . . .

Give You Confidence

No matter where your training and fitness levels currently exist, a coach can identify the path that leads to more success and pleasure. Since she’s made that journey successfully before with other athletes, she acts as a Sherpa up the mountain, handling the heavy lifting. With a trusted coach, you will discover a tremendous amount of confidence that you will end up at that peak.

 Help You Set Goals

You have an idea of where you want running to take you. Perhaps a faster 5K motivates you, or ramping up your mileage to handle longer runs on trails. Whichever direction you wish to proceed, a coach specializes in getting runners there. Since they already know the terrain, they can assist in building the goals, not just for the training program of miles and workouts, but the nitty-gritty details like diet, strength training, and rest that you need to incorporate to accomplish the task.

 Tailor a Program to Your Life

Great coaches look at the entirety of the athlete, not simply the running aspect. By gathering in-depth information about your work, family, and habits, they construct a program that fits your life. Some athletes respond better to increased intensity, others to greater durations. The great Bill Bowerman would build a different program for each of his athletes based on their responses to the workouts, both physically and mentally. A tailored program fits you like an Isotoner  glove fits a hand.

 Communicate, Communicate, Communicate

The best coaches are masters of communication.

They are able to take the training concepts and explain to you how the workouts will build you into a better runner. More importantly, they want to take that time. A good coach knows that an athlete who understand the reasons behind the training regimen will be more likely to compete the workouts correctly and have greater success. They always have something else to offer and are free with information.

More importantly, the best coaches are great listeners. Coaches know that a strong rapport starts with listening skills. By actively listening, the coach will catch nuances in what you say and how you say it.  They seek your feedback and accept it without prejudging it.

Great coaches understand that they are only half of the equation. To have a successful relationship with you, they speak and listen to you as a full partner rather than as a child receiving instruction.

 Support You When It Gets Hard

Let’s be realistic—at some point in your training, you will face some adversity. It may be a tough stretch of training or a poor race. When that happens, it’s helpful to have someone in your corner who will encourage you to keep digging in, that believes in you and your goals. The occasional “Atta girl!” can do wonders to lift your mood when you need just that little extra encouragement to tackle the next workout.

 Rein You In When You Want to Do Too Much, Too Soon

Also being realistic, sometimes runners get to feeling invulnerable. The training is going great at 50 miles a week, so they bump it up to 60 in one fell swoop. Or the track workouts are getting too easy, so the runner increases the pace until they feel the strain. For some runners, unless they are truly struggling, they don’t think they are working hard enough. A coach will review the feedback you send him and know when to increase the loads in the workouts. He’ll also know when to tell you to cool your jets and let the process build.

 Help You Avoid Injury

This almost goes without saying. Your coach wants you healthy. By analyzing the information he has (and if he’s local, watching you run,) he can determine which workouts deliver the most effective benefits. Due to personal bio-mechanics, there is no single program that will work for everyone. Some runners thrive with a high volume of distance, while others would break under the load of the miles. Personally, too much speed work breaks me and that I run best on a minimum of 60 miles per week. My best friend is exactly the opposite.

The coach will also be monitoring, with you, your status. If something tweaks, the coach works to find the cause. Once identified, he’ll find alternative activities while healing takes place, give you exercises to prevent a reoccurrence, and incorporate that knowledge into your long-term program.

Teach You

In the old martial arts movies, the wise sensei would have the student performing cryptic tasks that only later would be revealed to have value. Think “Wax on, wax off.”

In reality, the coach should be explaining to you why the elements of the program are in place. Each time you interact with your coach, you should learn something new. The good coaches are not afraid to explain the purpose of the workouts. They’re not afraid that you’ll learn so much that you’ll leave. Just the opposite, they understand that the engaged and informed athlete performs at higher levels.

Celebrate All Your Successes with You

We’ve all seen the iconic pictures of runners, arms thrust into the air, crossing the finish line. Most of us have celebrated the same way. Great coaches take it a step farther.

 I used to run with the San Diego Track Club, where Paul Greer coaches. Coach Greer is a spectacular example of a positive, athlete-oriented coach. One thing that he did that exemplified this was to cheer on the athletes in the middle of the workouts. Yes, he’d do the same thing at races, and he’d highlight and compliment runners afterwards, too.

What Coach Greer knows and what most runners forget, is that the race is built in the dark periods of training. A runner that completes every workout assigned for a month straight has accomplished something real and worthy of celebrating.

Expect your coach to cheer on all your little successes, the completed speed work or long run, the loss of a couple of pounds, correcting your diet to give you all the nutrients you need as a runner. They know that those little successes will lead to the big one that everyone else will see race day. They also know that those little ones are the most important.

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If you enjoyed this post, I encourage you to share it on Facebook and Twitter with your friends and fellow runners. If you have experiences, good or bad with coaches, I would love to hear of them. Hit the contact page or email me directly at thatguy at PaulDuffau.com.

copyright © 2015 Paul Duffau

I'm a Terrible Parent for Teaching My Kids How to Fail

Frankly, I don't get the need to hold graduation parties for kindergarteners. I know, we're supposed to teach our kids to succeed and nurture their self-esteem, but I didn't want to raise special little princesses. My kids got high-fives for striving and trying hard things, even if they crashed and burned. When they moped about the crash, they got a kick in the seat.

Too many people get wrapped up in the notion that failure is bad. It is not. The reaction to failure determines the value. Champions don't take failure personally. They understand that failure is feedback that the course you're on will not get you to the goals that you seek. The feedback itself is emotionally neutral and impartial. Understand the feedback, and make the corrections.

This is called learning. 

I do not know any successful person who did not fail first, sometime spectacularly. No runner breaks the four-minute mile without missing the mark a thousand times first. No inventor perfects a device on the first idea. Business get built by professional failures. Authors who are overnight successes have a decade of failed efforts behind them.

No one lives a life on unending successes, and children who are never allowed to experience the opposite of success never develop the resiliency and perseverance to handle adversities.

I encouraged the girls to "fail faster." That is, try things, evaluate, learn, move on to the next challenge. Grow.

So yes, I taught my girls to fail. Or, more accurately, how to fail.

Why Kids Should Not Train to Race Year Round

In youth sport after youth sport, the year-round club model is taking hold for children before they reach their tenth birthday. Indeed, making the club team for sports such as soccer and softball is more important than the local high school team for many athletes. The athletes that participate on the clubs often receive very high levels of coaching, though that is not a given. AAU basketball, for example, is more about showcasing talent for colleges than for skills development. 

The single sport emphasis of today's athletes arguably hurts their athletic development, and actually leads to more injuries. In a study presented by authors NA Jayanthi , C. Pinkham, and A. Luke, titled THE RISKS OF SPORTS SPECIALIZATION AND RAPID GROWTH IN YOUNG ATHLETES, they found a significant correlation towards specialized athletes and injury rates. Another study, done by the American Orthopaedic Society for Sports Medicine (AOSSM), supports the same conclusion, arguing that the increase in overuse injuries is reaching epidemic proportions.

In both studies, it was the level of organized activities that correlated most with injury rates. That organizational bent usually was the result of early specialization, which added time to the training activity on the assumption that more and early work would lead to improved skills. It also led to highly repetitive drills that created overuse injuries.

In recent NFL drafts, 80 percent of the players taken in the first round were multi-sport competitors in high school. I've talked with coaches, both at the D1 level and at high schools, most prefer athletes with a varied sports background. Rick Riley, in a conversation we had last year, suggested part of his success in running came from the varied activities - swimming, hiking, bucking hay - that he did as a youth. Each built different muscles and trained the nervous system to respond to new inputs and made the whole stronger in the process.

The legendary Dr. Jack Daniels concurred, writing in his book Daniel's Running Formula that "all runners can benefit from breaks in training." Bill Bowerman, as reported in Kenny Moore's excellent Bowerman and the Men of Oregon, despised indoor track, feeling that it interfered with the necessary base building activity that a runner need to engage in while recharging the system. After the Munich Olympics, he gave Steve Prefontaine months off, telling him to just keep moving until the fire came back.

Which leads us to a second concern about year-round training and racing. Along side of the injury issues are recurring stories of athletes burned out by the process. When the simple act of running becomes a constant grind of training, with each run measured by the success of the training stimulus and not the pleasure, it turns to work. For some, that hard work is it's own reward, but the number of individuals that can function on a constant diet of stress is minimal. Most kids break down, either physically or emotionally. We lose two-thirds of our athletes from junior high to high school this way.

There is a season for everything and every season has an end. For too many kids, the training begins to resemble the ordeal of Sisyphus, forever pushing a boulder up the mountain, but never destined to reach the top. At some point, the labors must be over and the hero gets both the rewards of the effort, and a chance to rest briefly on his or her laurels with the competitive fire banked until it's needed again. When it is, the passion will return and the athlete returns to the task renewed and stronger.

To quote Pat Tyson, head coach at Gonzaga, speaking of the goals for young runners, "Number one is just to gain a passion for running. To love the morning, to love the trail, to love the pace on the track. And if some kid gets really good at it, that's cool too."

It's a great quote and shows that Pat Tyson has his priorities solidly founded on bedrock principles. There's a reason he won multiple state championships at Mead High School and is beloved by his athletes. It's not my favorite quote, though. My favorite from Pat shows how uncomplicated it can be and simultaneously deep.

Love the run.

In Response to Yesterday's Post

Ask and ye shall receive. Jack Welch, author of When Running Was Young and So Were We, sent along the following link to a write-up of a very cool running program started for kids in South Carolina.

SOUTH CAROLINA COACH EXPANDING YOUTH RUNNING OPPORTUNITIES

Since I don't know if I'll be coaching junior high xc next season*, this might be an avenue for me to explore. Probably can't get busy with it until after the Kenya trip though.

 (*There was a coaching change as long-time JRHS coach Steve Cowdrey stepped down and JRHS track coach Mark Thummel steps up to take the helm. Mark's a great teacher and coach, and I've offered to help, so we'll see. The school admin may have some input as well, plus Mark already has a cadre of experienced assistants from the track team.)

By the way, Jack Welch has had quite a year. First, he won the TAFWA award for his book, and this month landed in the Summer Reading List in Running Times.

Why are we leaving kids behind?

Bill Bowerman wrote, in his 1967 book Jogging, that the system for sports in the United States discriminates against people over the age of thirty and even the young. He stated, quite bluntly, "Professionals unwittingly discriminate further in that they spend little time on the youngsters with small talent or with those who do not care to compete." Fifty years later, not much has changed.

We now have clubs sports for youngsters, but the presumption in the clubs is that the competition is the important feature. At the six year-old level, we have, as a country, decent participation rates. Somewhere around junior high school, though, we lose kids by the bushel, both boys and girls.

Two reason account for two-thirds of the loss. First, the smaller of the components, injury,  accounts for 27 percent of the drop for girls, 29 percent of the drop for boys. That's a quarter of our youth athletes, physically broken. I'm going to get to this later in the week, so stay tuned.

The primary reason though, as any follower of Coach Bruce Brown will attest to, is that the athletes are not having fun. His DVD presentation, The Proper Role of Parents in Athletics, is pure gold and hits at this exact point. For more documentation, we can go to EPSN magazine. They're infographic shows the same thing. 39 percent of boys, 38 percent of girls, say they quit sports because they weren't having fun.

It's not just sour grapes for the benchwarmers. Most kids are not going to win a college scholarship and they know this probably fairly early in their sports careers, so their sole motivation is the pleasure they derive from the activity. I've watched too many cross country races with the kids at the back trying just as hard as the kids in the front to believe that it's about winning for the kids.

What I see are kids who are having fun, working hard, and have people around them - fellow athletes and adults - who respect their effort. At the end of those high school careers, they lose that support to a large extent. They leave the team and the coach to go to college. Even for the ones that stay close, they lose the connection to the team, looking on as an outsider. I suspect that the idea that running is an activity to be enjoyed gets obscured by the chase to the finish line.

And those are the ones that stayed in the sports pipeline. It doesn't take into account the large numbers that drop out from first grade to high school. (I'm disregarding, for the moment, the socio-economic issues that surround sports participation.)

For the running community, this presents both a challenge and a great opportunity. The opportunity is to create systems that will encourage those kids (and it wouldn't hurt to get the parents moving, either!) to stick with the sport, and by doing so, grow the base of the sport. Ideally this effort would start long before organized sports and work around and enhance the usual activities of growing up.

The challenge is that we continue to view running through the lens of sport, and not activity. In the words of Vince Lombardi, "Winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing.” That's the essence of professional sports, except we as a nation have decreed that all sports shall be treated as professional sports, even when the athletes are 12 year-olds.

This message was reinforced recently by a new track club in the area, the Confluence Elite. The team was set up by Mike Collins, the coach for the LCSC Warriors. Coach Collins is a tremendous positive force in the community, and not just the running community. The Confluence Elite is a USATF team, and the focus is on training and improving for competition. The coaches associated with it are top-notch and, in talking to a couple of the runners, the kids are having fun. The purpose of the club is well-defined and I'm a big supporter of both it and the coaches involved.

Still, I think that this might represent a missed opportunity. One of the clubs that I follow is the Alice Springs Running Walking Club. Located in the middle of the outback, the town has a history of participation in sports, at all ages. Their constitution makes it clear:

A. to promote and encourage running and walking as sports, as a means of healthy exercise and the improvement of community fitness for individuals of all ages and abilities;

It's not until the fourth point on the statement of objectives do you find the development of talent.

They follow along the Lydiard model for a club. Arthur Lydiard was the inspiration for Bowerman's jogging program in Eugene. Designed to be inclusive of all, it was less sports oriented than activity based. The distinction is important. Sports ultimately are about winning, against yourself and the competition. Activities are open to all and the competition gets replaced by camaraderie.

The group of ultrarunners I hung out with in San Diego exemplified this. We'd head out for group runs in the Cuyamaca Mountains or out to the desert. We didn't run for good health and none of us were going to win much more than an age group medal. Instead, we shared the experiences, and had some fun while we covered miles.

People do those things that give them pleasure. I'd like to see clubs that applied more attention to the act of running as a way of doing something fun rather than see people, kids or adults, in constant training cycles. Some of the local running clubs come close, but are adult based, and most of the chatter is directed at training for races. 

There seems to be a gap there, one that I think would be important to fill, if someone knew how. I sure don't. Maybe it's time to create a different type of club, one that takes the approach that running, in and of itself, can be fun and encourages the kids to use the running as a component of play.

That, frankly, is a daunting thought.

A fair number of you read and never comment, but I would really like to hear your opinions on this, so please, use the comments or send me an email.

Imagine Sheehan and Thoreau Talking - a review of Poverty Creek Journal

Books about running rarely take on a literary cast, but Poverty Creek Journal does by stepping past the memoir, the how-to, and fiction to find room to introspect along the run. Set forth in short vignettes, Thomas Gardner explores the nature of both his environment and his running through a perceptive lens.

Most of the runs hark back to the trails around Blacksburg, Virginia, with excursions to the Outer Banks. The inner journey travels greater distances, from the joy of the run, the death of a brother, the joy of a daughter taking flight. At each stop, we get a taste of the outer, “Six miles, 41 degrees,” and the inner, “Something was waiting for me down there. All spring, I heard is calling me. Loafe with me on the grass . . . loose the stop from your throat.”

The last part is an allusion to Whitman’s Song of Myself. Gardner, a Professor of Literature at Virginia Tech, sprinkles his work liberally with the wisdom of the poet brought to the act of running. The mix is intriguing and provocative. Whitman gets a share of attention, and Dickinson, and Thoreau, Frost, Melville.

Gardner uses the daily run to challenge you to look below the surface as he does when running with Lasse Viren. He describes the scene, with Viren “even walking he was almost dancing . . . composing the trail.” Similar imagery threads through the pages, illuminating the passive and active, the nature of the ice on the pond or the sight of his daughter running away from him at the end of a run

Picture please, George Sheehan finishing a run and finding Henry Thoreau waiting. The two would sit and converse, compare points, probably long into night.

If one or the other were to write a volume of that conversation, it would resemble Poverty Creek Journal. The words written within its pages are less about the run itself than the essence of running. For Thomas Gardner, the path to the truth of the run lay outside the books on mechanics and pacing, or the truths in John Parker’s (or my) fiction, hidden in plain view if one knew where to look—and dared to.

Thirty-Three Years of Running in Circles - A review

Rand Mintzer, author of Thirty-three Years of Running in Circles, has penned a book that is one part memoir, one part training guide for the merely human, and one part exhortation, not in the hellfire and brimstone sense, but more as a “come on in, the water’s fine!”

Mintzer starts the book with his upbringing, talking frankly about being the “fat” kid at a time before the endemic obesity surge and the social isolation that he and his sister experienced living in a rural setting with a mother who did not drive. Unlike most memoirs of runners, there was no magic moment when he discovered he was fast. His legs were not his ticket off the ranch and out of St. Louis County. Instead, he describes himself as the last one picked for any sport.

Running did not factor into Mintzer’s life until his college years, and at his second college at that. Having scraped by and survived a year at the University of Missouri-St. Louis, he transferred to Arkansas State. Fortune paired him up with a roommate who was both a runner and a positive advocate for running, one who encouraged Mintzer in his desire to become a runner.

Mintzer chronicles his evolution as a runner, from his first 5K to first (and nearly last) marathon to ultras. In the process, he became an acolyte of the Galloway style of running. In the world of running, there have always been the two competing forces, the first of pure speed and the other in the joy of participation. Jeff Galloway’s programs are built to bring runners into the fold of the community by creating conditions that allow them to participate even if they’ll never set a record other than their own. Mintzer had found his niche.

The message woven into Mintzer’s story rings clear; if he, Rand Mintzer, could do it, so could any of us. As a reward, he also writes of the pleasures derived from the run, whether long or short.

The second half of the book is devoted to specific advice to new runners. Old hands will already recognize most of it, having learned either from other books or from the trial of miles. He touches on shoes, offering eminently sensible advice. So too, with clothes, as he takes us on an evolutionary tour from the old gray sweats of the seventies to the colorful combinations available today. As an accessory, perhaps nothing defines a runner as much as his watch, or lack thereof. Mintzer has a special affection for timepieces, and he spends a chapter detailing them.

Throughout Book II, Mintzer offers a range of advice, from hydration, nutrition, and the wealth of almost-overwhelming levels of information available. My favorite quote from this section shows Mintzer’s sense of community to runners: “Do not turn a thirsty runner away.” Having seen my fair share of desperate runners and given water, not to mention having had the favor return on an occasion or two, nothing speaks more to the running community than the sense of sharing and support.

Still running in circles, on tracks and looped trail courses, after all these years, Rand Mintzer runs his own race while encouraging others to step out and run theirs.  

Short Jaunt into the Seven Devils

Normally the Seven Devils Campground doesn't open until late June or early July. Unless we're in drought conditions, which we are. Up I went this weekend for a quick overnighter and long run.

The campground was nearly empty, exactly as I prefer it, and I had the tent set up by 5 PM. Then, I went for a short bushwhack up above Seven Devils Lake. Discovered along the way two things: first, the larger camera unbalances me on rock formations; and second, the mosquitos are out in force.

I ate a pre-cooked dinner, washed it down with fresh boiled tea, and called it a night in the tent with Thomas Gardner's Poverty Creek Journal. I will put up a review later in the week. Also, one on Rand Mintzer's Thirty-three Years of Running in Circles. I also brought Running the Rift with me. I'll get to it this week. Maybe.

Slept like a baby, up every three hours. Temperatures were surprisingly pleasant at night. This I noted on my way to the potty at 1:30 AM. The stars were bright enough to deliver a glow through the rain fly on the tent, and once I finished the necessary business, I spent a few minutes stargazing. Simply brilliant display with an occasional shooting star. I finally got chilled and went back to bed around 2AM and zonked out until dawn.

Light comes early in the mountains, so I hid under the edge of my sleeping bag and ignored it until about six. Saw an overcast sky when I crawled out of the tent. Took about five minutes to put together breakfast, oatmeal and coconut milk. Tasty enough, though I was aiming mostly for easy.

Cleaned everything up, and packed up the campsite. The original plan was to run from the campsite, then pack, but the one other camper in the park had a dog named Isis. I knew this because he was calling the damn thing’s name from the other side of the park while I stared at a growling dog. Mostly I was thinking “Good doggie” while looking for a good size rock. Isis had a partner, the strong silent type. Hence the decision to load up the FJ and drive the half-mile to the trailhead—running past two brutes unconstrained by rope or good doggie manners seemed an invitation to engage their predator/prey response.

So, at a little after seven, I’m at the trailhead. I’d already decided to head out on the north side of the loop. The south side drops about a thousand feet in a mile and a half right off the trailhead. Coming back up would be a grunt. North is slightly more forgiving with an initial drop of 400 feet, and climb up of 800 feet, and then a drop of 1400 feet over a bit more than two miles. Looking at the numbers, maybe the north side isn’t any easier, but psychologically, I like the return on this side better.

That first drop took me through a burn from 2007. It’s nice to see the growth returning. It will be decades before the trees fill back in, but the wildflowers and low shrubs carpet the ground with fresh exuberance. In less than a quarter mile, I encounter the first of the deadfall. It’s not the last, as the wooded areas start to resemble a mad forester’s steeplechase course with the jumps placed in rapid succession. It’s hard to build up any rhythm for running when you stop every twenty yards to clamber over, crawl under, or detour around, a log with pokey limbs intent on scoring your skin. Downhill at least left me the option of hurdling, an enjoyable change of pace provided everything goes right.

With a vertical jump measured in millimeters, hurdling uphill wasn’t an option. In the spots where the trees had retained a normal upright posture, the trails are eminently runnable.

There’s a promontory at top of that first climb with views extending a hundred miles for three points of the compass. I took a short break, drank some water, and snapped a picture or two.  Even on this escarpment, wildflower grew, and lined the trail head down to the West Fork of Sheep Creek. The top of the descent is a series of switchbacks before the line straightens and heads across a talus field. I kept the speed under control. Falling here would be a mite painful. It also gave my feet relearn the ways of the trail. Somewhere near the bottom, a glimmer of nimbleness returned.

I’ve usually run this train in the late summer or early fall. I wasn’t expecting the little water fall at the creek crossing to be a rushing cataract. The sound of it could be heard a half-mile away. I took another break to walk out onto a log to get a good shot of the waterfall. Wide log, good walking surface, but legs twitchy from the descent. Another clue that I wasn’t ready for the full loop yet.

I ran on for about another mile, trying to judge the turnaround point. I didn’t want to get back to the trailhead feeling as though I should have done more. Even more, I wanted to avoid a death march finish. Between those sat the ideal ‘happily tired.’ While I dithered, I drank and ate a small Larabar. Finally made the call, thinking that I could go farther up the trail, maybe to the connector with the Dry Diggins trail. Couldn’t be more than a mile but with another hill to climb in both directions. The hill, not the distance, decided the issue.

So back the way I came, splashing through the creek, trying not to slip on the algae covered rock that lined the creek bed. An idle thought went through my head, about movies, specifically ones where they show warriors plunging into the rivers and sprinting across. The movie I’m thinking of is The Eagle. How come they don’t fall? I’d be on my head or my ass five steps in. Decided they must put a runnable surface below the water level. Also decided I really like the acting of Jamie Bell.

Randomness, the brain meandering and making odd connections. I’m in my happy place.

Still, there’s a hill to climb. I ran up until I run out of air. At altitude, that takes very little time. I’ve made this climb before, a hundred meters at a time before resting, heart thumping, chest heaving, at the end of a thirty three mile run. Mostly what I remember is not the physical exertion but how much my feet hurt. 2008 and it was the last big solo run I did before gout tore my running world apart. Stitching it back together takes time, time and patience. I’m trying but I’m not very good at patience.

On the plus side of the ledger, my feet were holding up well. This was a test run of my Salomon Sense Mantras on these trails and it looked like they’re going to pass. Naturally, because I’ve found a shoe that I like, they’ve been discontinued. I swear shoe companies hate runners.

Moving right along, I make great progress uphill, even if I’m not running a lot of it. Check my heart rate, 136, walking, right in the target range. Finally hit the top, water up, eat a bit, and get ready for the fun part. The next mile is downhill and I played, hurdling the downed trees, skipping over rocks, and feeling very lucky. I hit the junction of Sheep Creek Trail, and turned uphill to the trailhead, doing the best I could on the ascent up to the trailhead.

Ten or twelve miles of running done, I hit the trailhead, ‘happily tired.’

Touching Loss

I am the dad I am because of the kids they are and the people they grew into.

Lauren Fleshman lost her dad a month ago. She talks about it here.

If you read it and don't feel the pain, and it doesn't bring tears, I'm saddened.

I remember an article Lauren wrote years ago, about the poor VO max tests, lactate thresholds, and like that she had in high school, relative to the other runners. She told her dad about the tests, what the tests said, what her limits were.

"You're a FLESHMAN!" was his response. And, paraphrasing, no "test can ever measure heart". And he was right and she proved it.

I picture him now, but whispering the same words. "You're a Fleshman." Then, more quietly, "This will hurt and it will heal, and you will find your way again. And when you do, LIVE with all you have."

I don't know either one of then, Lauren or her dad, but that would be what I would say to my girls.

And that I loved them, though I think they already suspect.

Is It Okay to Run Just for Fun?

A recent post went up at one of the blogs I follow which extolled the virtues of Gary Taubes and Mark Rippetoe. Both have books that I own and think highly of. I commented on the blog, with a mention that I'll never be a full Rippetoe acolyte. Quoting him, "An adult male weighs two hundred pounds." My comment was that I wasn't going to haul all that extra weight around on a 30 mile trail run. Another poster, completely serious, asked, "what health (or otherwise) benefit do you think you will get by running 30 miles?"

He wasn't doing to be mean, or even critical. It was an honest question. I tried replying on the blog but the computer went wonky and ate it. So, the longer version of the answer is here.

The health benefits of running that distance are decidedly questionable. As with lifting weights or any other physical activity, there is a point after which you reach your maximum potential, whether it is speed, endurance, strength, or flexibility. I suspect, and science isn't solid on it yet, that the point for running for the sake of fitness is considerably less than 30 miles. My guess would be closer to 8-10 miles at a crack, about an hour to an hour and a half of exercise time for endurance based training.

For the folks that prefer HIIT, that seems an enormous waste of time. High Intensity Interval Training is a well-developed concept that maximizes cost-benefit ratio of exercise by performing highly stressful (physiologically speaking) intervals in relative short durations to improve overall fitness, glucose utilization, and fat burning.

Except it doesn't work for everyone. Neither does running long and slow. Or lifting under the Rippetoe program. Or Taebo, Crossfit, or the thousand other programs that promise the holy grail of personal fitness, sexual attractiveness, and eternal life. For a fee, mind you.

Nope, not cynical. Realistic.

None are sufficient on their own for a fully rounded athlete, but by incorporating elements of all of them, you dramatically improve your overall fitness. That's why I lift and have Rippetoe's book. I enjoy my time in the gym and it's nice to be able to bench my body weight, even if my arms and chest are the weakest part of me. I also do speed work, the only time I wear a watch running now. I'm not too great at the flexibility part of the equation, though.

Which still doesn't explain why I do thirty mile trail runs. The key to that answer is in the parenthesis above, the or otherwise bit.

We live in a dysfunctional society that seeks to justify exercise solely on the benefits of health. The CDC berates Americans seemingly daily with a "you eat all wrong and you don't exercise enough" message. Various state governments have declared certain food categories evil and banned them. The news is filled with stories about the obesity crisis and the cost to society of ill-health. Even fit people, who should know better, hop on the "everyone else should do x" bandwagon.

Bah.

I don't run because it's good for me. Hell, I don't do much of anything because it's good for me, whether it's exercise or eating or any other the multitude of things that the life-hackers measure. I'm not alone. Most people don't perform exercise because it is good for them. They do it because it is fun. I fall back on the advice I read long ago in George Sheehan's On Running, "We must tailor the addiction to the addict."

That 30 mile trail run? It is my way of playing outside. The run this year is in the Seven Devils Mountains in Hells Canyon Wilderness Area with a trailhead that starts at 7500' of altitude and climbs as high as 8200'. I've run here before, and seen elk, and moose, and bears. I've made wrong turns and discovered beauty because of it. I'll hurdle small logs (smaller by the year it seems.) and splash through creeks. And I know that it will hurt at the end, like the last set of a lift-to-failure deadlift, only longer.

 There is a pleasure that comes from having a body that can do things, respond to very primal urges with a surge of strength or the steadiness of endurance. I know, too, that somewhere up in the mountains, I'll renew my sense of awe and wonder. I'll finish, worn and tired, and whole in a way that I wasn't before.

That makes all the difference.

Run gently, friends, if that's your preference. For the rest, find your (healthy) addiction, and play!

Serendipity, for the asking

I figure I lead a charmed life. It might lack a little in movie starlets, and gold fixtures a la Donald Trump, but I can live without those. Instead, I get to keep bumping into interesting people and circumstances.

The flight to Seattle this morning introduced me to Josh Adam, an assistant coach up at WSU who works with the rowing program. Did not know that when I asked if the compression socks he wore helped when travelling. (Also had Nikes on, so I figured he was one of my kind.)

Josh is headed out to Sarasota, Florida on a recruiting trip. The Nationals for high school rowing take place on Saturday and approximately 600 athletes get a chance to compete against the other top rowers.

Being runner-centric as I am, I asked Josh about the crossover from running to rowing. Turns out, a lot. We compared points back and forth on the sports. As with the other youth sports, the emphasis at many rowing programs has changed from teaching technique and character to winning.

Toward the end of the flight, when a combination of engine noise and altitude changes made hearing hard, the subject of visualization came up. I touch on it with the junior high kids. As it happened, Josh’s masters is in the juxtaposition of sports psychology and physiology (I think I got that right.) He was a little surprised that I used it but pointed out that the best of the best are all beautifully trained physically. The deciding difference is often what happens between the ears.

We kept chatting while we deplaned and headed our separate directions.

Yes, by the way, he says the compression socks help with longer (2+ hours) flights.

Then it was a drive up to the meeting for the State Building Code Council. The purpose of the code is to keep life as boring as possible. This starts with the meetings. Very, very smart people, but it takes a thousand words for them to say yes. Noes take considerably more and we got out a bit late.

I expected this so I requested a booking on a flight in the evening. Not in a hurry to get to the airport, which was a good thing. Seattle does not have freeways. Instead, everybody gets onto the road at the same time, virtually parks, and throws a massive party, minus the booze, the music, and the joy, with the other 200,000 people around them to share a hangover called ‘traffic’. No thanks, kemosabe. I’ll head back to the big empty where I dodge deer and farm combines.

 So I dipped off the main drag, so to speak, and headed to Lake Washington. My next novel is set over there and I figured I’d scoped out the locations again.

Glad I did. I found a couple of neat little paths through Seward Park I can play with. Last time I was here, I could see Rainier.

Pure luck, and not replicable, at least today. Crowds were different, too, fewer kids even though summer is starting. Did see a gray heron on a piling a hundred yards out on the lake. Very elegant.

I meandered off the lake because I was hungry. I also needed to get some writing done and stuck at an airport has writing time all over it. Plus there was enough time to have a couple of beers and still sober up before I had to drive. I’ve been here a couple of times, so I headed up Orcas Street toward Columbia City and saw a Neapolitan Pizzeria. That’s the way it advertised itself. What wasn’t advertised was how to find some parking, so I started a spiral search for decent parking. I have a parking angel. I usually don’t’ worry about parking, it just appears.

Not today.

Found a Kenyan restaurant, the Safari  while looking for parking and took this as a sign that I was not meant to eat ordinary pizza. Parking was close. Of course.

Ate mbuzi instead. And ugali. If you’re a runner, you have to try ugali, the food of the running gods. It’s denser than I expected, like a stiff flan made with very fine corn meal. Cut pieces off with my fork and added a bit of the sukumi, vegetables. Tasty.

Next to me sat a family, dad, mom, and 15 month old. The little girl made pretty little sounds and reminded me of my granddaughters. The parents spoke Swahili to each other and English to the toddler. There’s one white face in the whole place.

I also noticed another young man, diagonally across the restaurant, eating the ugali with his fingers dipping it into the mustard. All the tables had a mustard bottle.

Yeh, what the heck, I thought and squeezed some out onto my plate. A little chunky for mustard, and the wrong yellow. This is where prudent people look, and ignore.

I sampled, with the ugali, by fingers. Whoo-hoo, glad I like hot stuff. It wasn’t cook my brains, tears on the face hot, but had a nice zing anyway. The couple notices I’m eating with my fingers, emulating the man in the corner. They smile at each other.

I tell them I watched the others eating and copied them. Basic lesson from Robert Heinlein, Citizen of the Galaxy, on knowing when to put the blue mud in your belly button to fit in. I’m pretty sure the white face told them I wasn’t from their country, but hey, I’m trying.

We strike up a conversation, and I mention that I’m planning on going to Kenya next year. She’s from Kikiyu – I’ve heard of that, he’s from a place I don’t’ recognize. I have to ask where it’s at. North of Nairobi, apparently. They’re a nice couple and wish me well on my travels, and then head out the door and load the little one into a minivan.

I finished the mbuzi—it’s goat, with coastal spices and delicious—and eventually asked for the bill. They need to charge more, so I left a largish tip. The owner asked about my trip, so I told her about the story idea I had, of a girl who wants to go to school and to run and, if she can get out of the country, the culture shock coming from Kenya to the United States.

“The food,” says Jane. “I tell my friends when they come over, but they don’t believe me.”

Jane has lived in Seattle for 25 years. Her husband is the chef of the Safari Njema Restaurant

She tells of first coming to the country and getting hungry so she went to McDonald’s. She didn’t understand a hamburger, why mix the bread and the vegetables, and the disk-shaped thing.

She ate beans for a long time. Beans are safe, they don’t change. She tries to tell others following in her footsteps about the differences. They don’t believe her or don’t understand. I get it – I raised kids. You tell them. Later they remember the telling and nod. Now they get it, when they’re ready.

Jane is from Voi. About three quarters of the way from Nairobi to Mombasa. Her brother is still there and she suggests I visit his restaurant. There are gem mines by the score and I do love pretty shine-ys. I added it to the itinerary.

(I know shine-ys is not a real word. Roll with me, m‘kay.)

Now it’s back to the airport. I’ve got a flight back tonight. Work tomorrow, though I’m considering a career change to bellboy.

It’s been a great day, mostly because of the accidental events. Sitting next to Josh on the flight out. Having time to explore because I didn’t want to stress about the airport. Finding a great scene for the book. Having a parking angel save a spot for me to find a Kenyan restaurant and Jane so I could introduce myself.

All accidental. On purpose. Kinda.  

The Kids Moved Out, and the Dog Died. It's Time.

The title of today's post comes from a comment I've been making to friends for the last couple of years. I've wanted to make a trip to Kenya, but life considerations took precedence. First, I only get a limited amount of time to be a dad. Unless I ran into a pressing necessity, like putting food on the table, I wanted to be there for the girls. A two month trip, solo, didn't fit, so like many other things that parents put aside, this one got shoved onto the 'Someday' list.

The second was the dog. Stitch, the last of our dogs (until the next one), had enough health issues to depress any human. Being Stitch meant always being happy. He was happiest when I was around. I was his 'guy'. Probably didn't hurt that I'm the big softie in the family. Towards the end of his life, he would stress when I took business trips and greet me with exuberant barks on return. Then he would bring me all his special toys, and share. Until just near the end, he would follow me wherever I went in the house.

You don't abandon loyal partners, ever.  

Now I've reached the point where all the girls have moved out, and started their own families. They're busy crafting their own futures and creating their own memories with my grandkids. Pretty awesome to watch, but I'm no longer critical to the events. Nor do I have a faithful four-legged companion to feed, pet, and holler at when he'd be underfoot.

It's time. Yesterday I went down to the post office to start the paperwork for a passport. I haven't needed one in decades. I showed up with application and birth certificate in hand - and had the original birth certificate, the one given to my mother - rejected. Apparently, they need a certified copy. In 1962, no one thought it necessary to certify that the actual government-issued document needed additional certification. For a mere $52.25, this is fixable.

I don't expect that this will be the last roadblock that pops into view. In the meantime, I've started laying the groundwork for the visit. There's a surprising lack of detailed information on Kenya. I'm working my way through two travel guides, but they focus on the major touristy places. My story waits in the rural areas, far from Nairobi. Since it's a running story, I'll hit Eldoret and Iten, at least for visits.

I contacted the High Altitude Training Center, founded by Lornah Kiplagat, and have exchanged very pleasant emails with Kevin. There are a fair number of training centers in the region, catering to both Kenyans and Westerners looking to improve. Since that's not why I'm heading there, I sought out Lornah Kiplagat and the HATC because of the Lornah Kiplagat Foundation, a separate entity.

Kevin has been most helpful, inviting me to a tour of the facility when I get there and trying to find someone who can guide me into the rural communities so I can meet the families and being to understand their lives.

The story that I want to write involves Kenyans coming to the US and the resulting culture shock. Most of those runners are coming from the most impoverished regions, not the cities. As I considered the idea - and thought about people to reach out to in the US like Bernard Lagat - a growing realization struck me. Almost all the Kenyans coming this way are male.

Photo from the Lornah Kiiplagat Foundation website.

Why?

I have some ideas. Indeed, Lornah's foundation's site gives a goodly part of the answer:

Unlike the western world, participation in (primary) education is not a given in Kenya. Particularly girls are not always given the opportunities that are rightfully theirs. The large setup of most families means that parents often cannot afford to send all of their children to school. As a result, usually only the boys are sent to school and the girls lose out. A missed opportunity according to Lornah Kiplagat.

I could probably build a story just off that comment, but I'm betting that isn't the only factor. I could invent other stuff and pretend, but that would leave me with a story that isn't authentic. No bueno. I need to be in country and learn to think as a Kenyan. A couple of years would be nice, but I don't have that much time, so I'm starting with a six week trip.

Assuming they let me have a passport. I'll keep you posted. Target date for wheels-up and headed to Kenya is December 27th.