A dollar a minute?

I don't write often about being a runner. It's something I do every day, I've done it for many years (moving on toward 32), and I love it, but I have no ability to make it interesting for a reader. Any stories I have would probably be pretty uninteresting to the non-runner; I suppose I could start a separate running blog, but, otherwise, I will likely always write very little here.

However, the newest issue of Track & Field News is out, and it informs us that the basic price to enter this fall's New York City Marathon is $171, a $16 (>10%) increase over last year. I get that this is one of those events that's pretty much recession-proof, at least that's the theory, but that sure seems like a lot of money to me.

When I started running, the sport was just emerging from its origins. The usual non-scholastic race, just before I started, was a few people would get together in a park, one guy would yell "Go" and start a stopwatch, toss it into the grass, and the runners would race around a somewhat-measured course. The first finisher (hard to call him a winner as there would rarely be a prize) would come across the "line," pick up the stopwatch, and record everyone else's times. I never actually ran a race like this, but there were still a few around.

The earliest races I ran were analogous to those of today. No timing chips, of course, but runners would line up, get their numbers and T-shirts, and off we'd go. There were very few 5Ks in those days, the base distance was 10K, but there were aid stations and finish lines and big clocks.

But the pricing was certainly different. The rule of thumb was to pay about $1 or so per mile. A 10K would cost $6-8, a marathon $25-30. As the running boom (erroneously credited to Frank Shorter's 1972 Olympic marathon win) progressed, prices went up to $1 per K: $10 for a 10K, $40 for a marathon.

Now it seems the standard charge for a 5K, at least in my area, is $25. Marathons are routinely over $100, with NYC going up to $171 ($6.52 per mile). Many people are paying more than a dollar per minute of running. Of course, price levels are higher than they were in 1977, but according to the BLS Inflation Calculator, the factor we should use is 3.50. So it would appear that the per-mile cost of a distance race has outpaced the rate of inflation. Not sure I like that. (Of course, shoe prices have gone up even more, but that's a topic for another day...)

Review - Personal Record

Personal Record: A Love Affair with Running (2008) is, at its essence, a memoir of the running life of author and teacher Rachel Toor. And you will enjoy it to the extent that you enjoy Toor herself.

What you will not get is any sort of guide to running, or, with a few exceptions, any sense of why running is a good thing to do. Toor took so naturally to running that you will garner no sense of the struggle it takes to become an ultrarunner (that is, a runner of races longer than a marathon). And there is nothing in this brief volume (162 pages) about the biggest challenge that faces any long-distance runner, the difficulty of juggling the real priorities of life.

(Note here for those who are not regular readers: I have run four ultramarathons and six marathons in my long, ongoing running career. I would like to have run more, but, as is true for most of us, life has presented a series of trade-offs. As attractive as I might find running four hours on Saturday and six on Sunday, I have a career and a wife and a home and other interests [and, now, a blog], and each of these things has to be arranged and put into its proper perspective.)

For Toor, none of these things has been a problem, at least not from the evidence presented here. And, for a writer, Toor offers very little of the lyrical, no descriptions of the type, "The Bitterroot Mountains loom over me as I begin my eight-hour run in the sub-zero January chill, blinking back the tears as I hear the loons making their sunrise calls."

Toor didn't start running until she was about 30, so this is a chronicle of her last 15 or so years, but only though the prism of running. Toor the writer? We find out very little. Toor the teacher? We find out nothing. Either running means everything important to her, or she has chosen to exclude vast tracts of her life from this book; which isn't clear.

It will come as little surprise after spending some time with this book that the most affecting chapter, "The Western State" (where Toor paces a gentleman through the last 38 miles of the Western States 100 mile race), was written for another publication. But it took me a while to figure out why, then it hit me: the chapter is, for a change, not about her, but about Ralph. It's not about ex-boyfriends (all of whom think Toor is keen) or her large bust (two mentions in the book) or her medals and ribbons, and that is so refreshing.

And it was around that time that I realized what the underlying theme to Personal Record is: Rachel Toor is a stereotypical man. She has commitment issues, seemingly in large part due to an attraction to men's physical features. She has arranged her life around her hobby. She prefers, at least on her frequent long runs, the company of men as they compartmentalize away everything but their single-minded focus on running (she likes that she can run for years with someone and never find out if they have a wife or children, but she does get to know their farts and belches).

This is not a wholly unlikable book by any means. Toor has huge helpings of the appealing Kinsey Millhone detective character so winningly drawn by Sue Grafton in her long-running series. She's independent, tough-minded, likes to win, and these can be admirable qualities. She seems very comfortable with the trade-offs she has made, even if they are not discussed explicitly.

But this is not a book that belongs in the 796 section of the library. It is not a sports book, though I'm guessing that selling it as such offers more of a potential audience than selling it as the memoir it is. Because running itself as a palpable presence never really emerges here as anything more (or less) than Rachel Toor's road to self-insight - that's neither good nor bad, it's the book she chose to write - but it is rarely a book that needs to be about running.

Review - 50/50

I really disliked runner Dean Karnazes' last book, Ultramarathon Man; I thought this chronicle of one man's descent into self through the magic of running impossibly long distances was self-aggrandizing and profoundly unhelpful to the beginning runner. Karnazes has run 350 miles without stopping, has run a 199-mile relay race by himself (six times), and has some good finishes in standard ultramarathons. He is a fine runner, if not at the very top of the sport. But UM was a book dedicated to all things Karnazes, as one unhappy man finds himself through the magic of long-distance running.

But it worked for him. In a sport full of modest, self-effacing champions, this tireless self-promoter got himself on the best-seller list, on Letterman, and was able to make himself into a professional runner. That he is more of a professional stunt runner than a racing champion is of less consequence, I guess.

So I was prepared to dislike 50/50: Secrets I Learned Running 50 Marathons in 50 Days - and How You Too Can Achieve Super Endurance! (2008) - as it turns out, I give it a "Huh." It wasn't quite as bad as I anticipated, but neither is it what it promises in the title, nor much of anything else. It's a book without a purpose, unless it serves as inspiration to get other people running - and it may do that for some.

The book is ostensibly a chronicle of the Endurance 50, a Karnazes-created event in which he ran 50 marathons in 50 states in 50 days. A lot of people picking up this book will likely be impressed by the running of a marathon a day for 7 weeks. Those of us who have run ultramarathons will not be so impressed, because a well-trained person can do that; we know of the Self-Transcendence 3100, a race around a block in Queens that requires runners to go 3100 miles in 51 days or less. There have also been races and solo runs across the country that have required far more than 26 miles per day.

What we do want to hear about is the logistical nightmare this must have been, and this is the first disappointment of the book. Karnazes is a spokesman for the North Face apparel and gear company, and, once he talked them into sponsoring this event, he was pretty much out of the planning and allowed to focus on the running (and the signing of autographs, about which we hear a little too much). As he admits, he becomes "the so-called talent. The small star of a very big show."

And in just the way that you don't ask an actor how a movie gets made, because he sits in his trailer and runs lines while the technical folks do the work, neither should you ask Karnazes how this got done. He wakes up, runs, signs autographs, gets back in the bus, eats, and moves on down the road. The runs, each of which is held over the same course as a real marathon (in a few, he runs in the real event), are organized by locals in conjunction with a traveling band of professionals, and there is very little insight into any of this.

So, perhaps, it's a travel book. We will hear about the 50 states, the places, the people. No, actually, we don't. One of my main criticisms of UM was that it ignored the fascinating people in the sport of ultrarunning, that Karnazes would introduce someone (often not by name), then drop that for more focus on himself. 50/50 slightly improves on that, as we get glimpses of people and places, but it isn't consistent.

The subtitle promises that we will be told how we "can achieve super endurance." After all, a guy who can run 350 miles, someone who's finished Badwater (a summer race from Death Valley to Mount Whitney, 148 miles, one of the epic tests in sports), should have a lot of great tips for starting or improving our own running.

And there is some of that here, but, alas, not enough. There are a couple of training plans in the back, some advice scattered through the book (and good luck finding anything specific - in addition, there's no index). Some of this is fine, some, particularly the boxes on dietary supplements, more questionable. The problem is that there's not enough here to supersede any of the fine running guides that are already out there (Galloway, Henderson, Higdon, Fixx - all have written better books for the new or ramping-up runner, and that is by no means an exhaustive list). There is nothing that allows you to believe that you're getting any real advice from this very publicized runner.

On the good side, what I most feared, that we would be treated to several hundred pages of Karnazes self-infatuation, didn't really come to pass. He gets off to a bad start, as page 1 chronicles a family road trip in which Karnazes can't sit still for more than an hour, so he hops out of his RV and runs 26 or 27 miles. The family is left to itself as to driving, amusing the kids, getting to the picnic ground, preparing and setting up lunch - at which point sweaty Dad shows up, ready to eat (though he did manage to pick up the parmesan cheese on the way). The earlier book is full of stuff like this, where the whole family is seen as revolving around one person's running. Mom Karnazes is home taking care of the children and being a dentist, while Dad is cruising a couple of hundred miles at the end of which he expects to be picked up. (I understand that every family's dynamic is different, and Mrs. Dr. Karnazes may be fine with all this, but you can't tell an Everyman story when your own home situation is so patently unrealistic. I mean, my wife is supportive of my running, even enjoys it herself, but there would be problems if I spent essentially every weekend and most evenings out on a 4-6 hour jaunt.)

50/50 avoids some of this, which may be due to co-writer Matt Fitzgerald. It's still clearly a Dean Karnazes world, but it's just possible that one needs an ego of that size to accomplish what he has and to turn it into his life's work.

So what is this book's purpose? The only thing I'm left with is that it's meant to inspire, that Karnazes is legitimately committed to getting people of their duffs and get them out the door. He has a charity, Karno's Kids, and he seems sincere about kids getting outdoors, getting active, running or some other activity. And he seems proud of inspiring other adults to take up running, people who read his first book or have seen him on TV.

Since I firmly believe that it is a very good thing for people to hit the roads or the sidewalks or the trails, and it seems that Karnazes has managed to connect with quite a number of people on this topic, I find it hard to be totally critical of him. 50/50 offered very little to me, as I have several books on my shelf which are either more informative or more inspirational (one of the greats is Meditations from the Breakdown Lane: Running Across America by James Shapiro; though 25 years old and out of print, it is well worth looking for).

But, for whatever reason, Karnazes reaches people in a way that superior runners like Tim Twietmeyer or Ann Trason have not. I don't have to read his books, but other people are, and they're getting motivated to go out and try running for themselves, and that's a good thing. So I hope Dean Karnazes will keep going, whatever the limitations of his books.

Permanence and impermanence

I've lived in my current house for quite a few years now. Soon after coming here, I found that, almost exactly a mile and a half from my front door, there was a large rock in front of a car dealership. It was sitting right on the corner at the end of a relatively nice route, fairly shady, and, since my minimum run for the day is just about three miles, became something of a landmark for me. I would run there less than once a week (and if my minimum for a period became more than three miles, even less); nonetheless, it became a touchstone, something familiar.

When I was a kid, my family moved from the Chicago area to Grand Rapids, Michigan. As will happen when you leave other family behind, we made the trip back and forth quite a few times in and around the four years we lived there. On the way was the exit for Coloma, Michigan, and there was at least one billboard for Deer Forest. My brother, not very old, became fascinated by the name, and, since it was far enough along that my mother could use a driving break, we stopped there a couple of times. And it was quite horrible, this petting zoo with scrawny little animals and very little else. My memories are dim, but I just remember this narrow road leading back to this decrepit facility, and the little captive creatures looked unhappy, and it was all pretty miserable.

The car dealership moved out about a year ago, and a large office supply chain has razed the lot for a brand new facility. And, though I knew it was probably coming, as a big rock doesn't fit the corporate image, I ran down that shady street a week ago, came around the corner, and "The Rock" was no more. Gone. In a community with teardowns and turnover and constant growth, that one thing that I thought was as solid as, well, a rock is now no more, reduced to gravel or sitting decoratively in a construction foreman's back yard.

As I mentioned yesterday, I had to make a quick trip across Michigan and back on Thursday. And I saw something that flabbergasted me: a billboard for Deer Forest in Coloma, Michigan. So little did I believe my eyes that I looked for it on the way back, and the billboard was set up westward as well. It's still there, after all these decades, and the billboard has a picture of a Ferris wheel and other attractions, and their web site (not a particularly attractive one, in my opinion) shows a bunch of rides for the kids, along with the usual assortment of animals.

So "The Rock" is gone, and another symbol of permanence that marks a community in such a small way has been removed because it doesn't fit the corporate guidebook for pleasing frontage area. And Deer Forest remains, long after a time when it might have skimmed a few tired tourists and their kids off the highway, long after the moment I would have thought it had outlived any possible relevance in its indifference.

I'm seeing significance here, but I'm not quite putting my finger on "le mot juste" (or, more likely, "les mots justes") to express it. Perhaps it's just that, in some way, I cared more for "The Rock" than I ever did for Deer Forest, that a seedy petting zoo in backwater Michigan just fails to have the resonance for me that an seemingly unchanging hunk of stone does. And I guess I hope that "The Rock" is giving someone somewhere some kind of pleasure, and that Deer Forest is thriving and creating enjoyment for a new generation of zoo-goers.

Ultrarunning - a tribute

Ultrarunning is what I would call a perfect magazine. That doesn't mean that it is necessarily better than other niche magazines, but it does what it sets out to do.

I'm a long-time runner. I don't blog about it much because runners' blogs can be really uninteresting (did the 6-mile course to Skyline, but was feeling good, so I threw in the Hanson loop, making 8.3 miles, did it in a solid 66 minutes, felt good - yawn). But I have run several marathons and ultramarathons, and I've seen pretty much every publication on the subject.

The vast majority of each issue of Ultrarunning is given over to race results, race photos, and a race calendar. There are a few articles on water consumption or nutrition or training, but, in the main, it's all about chronicling the sport. That's it.

Runners' World lost me when it became more concerned with celebrities running a slow 5K than with the great accomplishments. There's none of that in Ultrarunning (well, almost none - this month the race report of the JFK 50 Mile race does mention that the drummer for the Goo Goo Dolls finished, but that's pretty much the full extent). So hats off to a magazine that does what it should, and little that it shouldn't.