“Dave, buddy, you gotta get those knees up.”

The ambitious freshmen (ambitious because this was a tempo run and he was chasing varsity) looked exhausted. He had been running fast, and his terrible form was beginning to tax him. He didn’t bend his knees, like he was sweeping the sidewalk with his feet.

He smiled bashfully and did as he was told. Meanwhile, one of my cheekier seniors turned to me with a knowing look. He appreciated the irony of the situation.

“Do as I say, not as I do,” I added, mostly for the senior’s benefit. I, too, had grasped the irony of my criticisms.

I have heard several times that I run with a jogger’s form– in slow motion. I take small, strangely energy-efficient steps like Cliff Young. And, while I don’t sweep my feet like brooms, I don’t lift my knees as high as good form dictates.

Dave managed to finish the workout with varsity– for the first time ever. His form improved briefly, and then he returned to sweeping duty. I didn’t bother to correct him the second time. form, after all, isn’t everything.

This past Saturday, I participated in a company-funded 20-miler that took me all around Philadelphia. A Nathan rep was present, and generous enough to supply everyone with some sort of hydration device. Brooks was also present, giving out free stuff and using cornstarch to show off their very cool DNA technology. Also present was Anne Mahlum, founder and president of Back on My Feet (the organization which puts on The Lone Ranger Ultra).

There was a time when I wouldn’t have thought twice about a 20-miler. It wouldn’t even have been the long run of my week. But that time was over half a year ago; concerning long distance, I am out of practice. I’ve been putting in relatively low mileage, running with my high-school racers and then doing extensions afterward.

I was therefore a little apprehensive. The longest run I’d done since the ultra was 10.5 miles. I knew that the jump to 20 was going to be… uncomfortable.

What I did not know was that I was actually jumping to 23 miles, or that I would do it with Maggie, a pleasant– but inconveniently skilled– marathoner. She was in much better shape than I, and running alongside her forced me to keep my pace up.

(Good luck in the Philly marathon, Maggie!)

Anyway, my body held up well under my recklessness. I used this run to test my HPL #020 pack, and I think that the steady hydration contributed to my success. Or at least, it contributed to the fact that I could walk around later that day.

Tomorrow I’m scheduled for a (‘nother) 20 mile run. I ran this distance last Friday, but I’m hoping for better results.

I was not so well prepared for last Friday’s run. I had taught all day, so I’d had little time during the day to eat or to drink much water. The usual fatigue of a full workweek also weighed on me. I went out with the intent of a slow, slow long run to end the week.

I was surprised, then, when I found myself feeling pretty good for the first 10 miles. At mile 11, when I stopped for a water break, my legs bounced and jittered with the lovely energy that marks a good run. for the next 5 miles, they felt okay. Then, my lack of preparation kicked in.

My runner friend has a saying I enjoy, which seems to apt for this situation. Every runner knows the moment in a strenuous run when your body just crumples, and you curve your back forward and suddenly your legs feel incredibly heavy. My friend likes that say that that’s when “he put the refrigerator on your back.” Let’s pause a moment and just visualize having a refrigerator strapped to your back and trying to run. That’s pretty much what it feels like, right?

At mile 16, he put the refrigerator on my back.

My form went to hell; my back bent forward and my feet were barely clearing the ground. My muscles suddenly became stiff. I stopped sweating and couldn’t form spit anymore. I knew that 20 miles was a lot to ask of my body, especially with such poor preparation. Those last four miles were many times harder than the first 16. They sucked. But I successfully made it home after 20 miles.

So really, 20 miles should be old hat by now, right? And I’m better prepared. Tomorrow’s run should be a cinch.

Right?

So, Spring Break was not as restful as I thought. In the midst of all of my obligations, however, I managed to stay on top of my mileage. I finished a 63-mile week, which is what I ran through most of the cross-country season. This week I’ll be bumping it up to 68 miles, though– the most miles I’ve ever run in a week.

Speaking of records, I ran my longest distance– ever– this past Friday. My formula had me scheduled for 17.5 miles, which would tie my longest distance run up to that point. But who can settle with a tie?

The conditions were perfect for a cross-country runner. Our unseasonable warmth had given way to a (very seasonable) cold rainstorm. I was about 13 miles into my run and passing by my old high school track. And this is when I decided that, no, a tie was not good enough. I’ve tied enough PRs. So I stopped by the track to run half a mile, putting the run’s total distance a little over 18.

I returned home less beaten up than I would have expected. Sure, I was sore, and stiff, and soaked, and chilled. But not in the agony that I used to experience on my weekly long run. Certainly not in the agony I would usually experience after 18 miles. This formula I’ve cobbled together, unscientific though it may be, seems to have gotten me in better shape than ever.

I started to talk about The Broad Street Run in Monday’s post; While it is still two months away, I think it deserves a little more exploration.

Broad Street is my favorite race. I love the tremendous feeling of goodwill from all of the spectators as they scream and bang on drums and throw confetti. They lose their minds a little bit- it’s like they took a leaf out of the racers’ collective book.

I’ve run Broad Street twice now. The first time was just another practice run- I didn’t concern myself with time. The second time I genuinely raced my hardest, with the following results (taken from the website):

(A quick side note: I ranked 584th overall, and 534th out of men. That means that there were 50 women who beat me. Holy crap, ladies, way to go.)

This year I want to go sub-60. I want to average a less-than-six-minute-mile pace for 10 miles, PRing by at least 2:33. And I think I can do it, too- but I’m going to need my hamstring to start behaving again. Once that happens, I should have my mileage back up and my training back on schedule for my biggest goal of the year.