Running With a Legend, Frank Shorter '69

We woke to the typical morning in Boulder: the sun rises early to illuminate the mountains in the West, and the summer heat, which takes the shortest of breaks from 2-5am, quickly resumes its place across the valley. There is a premium on early-morning runs here, though not as an escape from the energy-soaking humidity of late morning as in the Northeast, in the cities that never sleep; no, when you run early in Boulder, the advantage lies in waking alongside the town itself. There is no rush, no sense of urgency, just a gentle suggestion that to sleep in is to miss something worthwhile. You stretch your calves as the trees stretch their morning shadows, as the prairie-dogs stretch their curious necks from the dirt. Glimmering in the distance, already half-way up a mountain, a long train cuts through a tunnel, vanishes, snakes its way up toward the Rockies, somewhere out there beyond the peaks.

This particular morning held something memorable in store for us, as we hopped into the car and made our way to a morning run with Frank Shorter, Yale Class of 1969 (Morse, for the Yalies who are conditioned to ask), 2-time Olympian, Gold and Silver medalist in the 1972 and 1976 Olympic marathons (respectively) -- in short, a running legend. Frank was the last American to win gold in the Olympic marathon, he raced alongside and was a close friend of Prefontaine, and he provided inspiration for the running boom of the 1970s, among a great many other accomplishments. But for a few current Yale undergraduates who literally run in his footsteps in New Haven, who compete on the indoor track that bears his name, and who train from time to time on a route known to the current men of xYc as "Shorter Hill" (note: it is a long hill), the opportunity to run and chat with one of Yale's most notable alumni promised a kind of historical inspiration.

Frank with the classic Yale jersey

We picked up Mike Sandrock at the Trident (coffee shop) and headed out to Frank's house in North Boulder. When we arrived, the garage opened up and there was Frank, dressed in running shorts and sandals, waiting to head out on the trails as he's done countless times before. After some brief introductions he showed us around his house, decorated here and there with marathon posters, pictures, a few medals, and race memorabilia. We all instantly recognized a framed picture of Yale's indoor track (dedicated to Frank in 2005) which hung on the wall.

Frank had just recently come back from a trip to Munich, during which he was part of a 40th anniversary commemoration of the 1972 Munich Olympics. He showed us pictures that he took of the Marathon course run-up to the Olympic stadium, as well as the exact point on the course (roughly mile 9) where he found himself in the lead and made his decisive move, dropping the field and never seeing them again. "I still get chills when I look at it," he told us. Of course, I'm pretty sure we all got chills looking at those pictures.

A few minutes later we headed out the door and began Frank's route on the trails behind his house. For 40 minutes we ran together and talked about his time as a student-athlete at Yale, training and racing under the tutelage of another Yale Track & Field legend, Bob Giegengack, Yale's coach from 1946 to 1972. Frank explained that back in that era, without the structure of post-collegiate running teams and coaches that we have today, Giegengack would tell his athletes that he didn't just want to coach them, but he wanted to teach them to coach themselves. Just as they do today, the men of Yale Track & Field took the bus out to the field house and met together before heading out for their workouts. If they had a track workout scheduled, they would collect the outrageously expensive stop-watches of the time, strap them to their hands with shoe strings, and use them to time their splits. Giegengack would often not even watch the workouts himself, but had all his athletes report back to him afterwards and discuss how they felt, how the workouts might be altered in the future, and what they could learn from the day.

In 1972, shortly after finishing the marathon, Frank caught a full bus carrying athletes back to the Olympic village from the stadium. He squeezed in the doors, glanced up, and there was Giegengack, who, unbeknownst to Frank, was spectating in Munich. After the initial surprise, Frank found himself automatically recapping his race and his training to Giegengack just as he did most every day throughout his four years at Yale. He explained how he tweaked and altered his training after graduation, whereupon Giegengack replied, "You were really coaching yourself by your junior year."

Today, the Olympic dream seems to press the collegiate runner into a kind of crossroads as he or she faces that ultimate question after graduation: "What will you do now?" The old "hanging up the spikes" metaphor makes you sick, and no matter how much you celebrate that gloriously unhealthy week off between seasons, you know deep down that one great long run is worth an entire season of lazy Sundays of watching football and eating wings. So, you think about the future, and you can't help but make the calculations for the next Olympics. Let's see... graduate in 2013, that leaves 3 years to prepare for 2016... 7 years to prepare for 2020... where are they again? Rio, 2016? Hmm... what are my chances? Am I good enough to give it a shot? Where can I train? How will I make enough money to live? What about grad school???

Frank's Yale Captain photo

Frank provided me with some much-appreciated wisdom on the subject when I asked him when it was that he first set his sights on making it to the Olympics, thinking that it must have been shortly after winning the 6-mile at NCAA's his senior year. His response, which took me by surprise but illustrated a worthy attitude to take towards any endeavor, was that he never really thought much about making the Olympic team or winning medals and championships after he graduated (in fact, he has given most of his trophies and medals away). He merely felt that he hadn't reached his potential as a runner, and he wanted to see just how much more he could improve, how much faster he could go, how much closer he could take himself to the edge (paraphrasing, of course). It was an individualized and personal objective, indifferent to the times or successes of the other runners around him. That same philosophy applied to his racing mentality as he described when asked about how he approached Heps: "I knew that if the Harvard guys or the Princeton guys or anyone I was racing were thinking about how to beat me, while I just thought about running, then I already had them." I'd like to imagine that it wasn't much different for Frank when he raced with the "YALE" on his chest than when he found himself in the lead at mile 9 of the 1972 Olympic Marathon with "USA" on his chest, breaking away from the field for a lonely 17 miles to see just how fast he could go. It so happened that at the end of that day there was a gold medal waiting for him at the finish line, but you get the sense that it wouldn't have made much difference if there wasn't.

Mike, Jacob, me, Frank, John, and Alec

Needless to say, we all found a tremendous amount of inspiration in the stories that Frank shared with us during the run and afterwards as we sat outside in his backyard. Even after a long and memorable career of national championships, Olympic races, and general domination as a distance runner, Frank easily recalled the stories of his Heps races, the names of his Harvard and Princeton rivals, and the training foundation and philosophy he developed as a distance runner in the Ivy League which ultimately propelled him towards his post-collegiate career. Not a bad source of motivation as my final year with xYc and tYf looms in the distance... A big thanks to Mike Sandrock, founder of One World Running and author of Running With the Legends, for putting us in touch with Frank and making this day happen. And of course many thanks to Frank for the run, the chat, the tales and the motivation. Frank, you are welcome back in New Haven any time. I hear the Yale-Harvard alumni race is wide open this year...

A long run, a bike race, and an Olympic marathoner

This past week was a down week for training after a strenuous weekend left me run down and sick. It started with a long run on Saturday, June 30, which I moved up a day so that I could race in the Mike Horgan Hill Climb, my first bike race, on Sunday, July 1. For the long run, I drove out to the Boulder reservoir and started around 10am, with the temperature reading 86 degrees and climbing. Ran just over an hour out into the shade-less rolling hills, and slogged my way back as the temperature flirted with 100 degrees. Didn't feel great physically, but it was a solid mental effort, one that I'll remember when it comes time to race in the Fall. During the second half of the run, in my half-delirious state, I sang along in my head to "You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive" by Patty Loveless, replacing "Harlan" with "Boulder." Great song, thanks to Caroline Nash for the tip.

The next morning, I rode in my first ever bike race, the Mike Horgan Hill Climb. We started in Boulder, heading off in waves based on our category (I was one of the last waves, Cat 5), and headed up Boulder Canyon to Sugarloaf Road all the way up to Nederland. I wasn't sure what to expect but was of course hoping to win the Category 5 section and maybe even pass some Cat 4/3 guys in the process. At exactly 8:29:30AM I started off with about 25 other guys in the Cat 5 wave, and we cruised slowly out onto Boulder Canyon and started up the road. I positioned myself towards the front in about 8th place, so I wouldn't get caught up in any crashes and could keep an eye on the leaders. Eventually a couple guys in front of me started falling back so I shot around them to grab onto the back wheel of 3rd place. We kept it relatively easy until we hit the Sugarloaf turnoff (just past Magnolia), when the climbing really started. There was a pack of about 6 of us that had broken away, and I sat on the back of that pack just waiting to see if any big moves would be made. The pace stayed relatively slow and I was feeling real good, so I began to think I would break away pretty easily. Made my way to the front and ramped up the pace significantly until there were only 3 of us left as we crested the first little section of the climb and the road flattened out for a bit. 2 guys were stuck on my wheel and I was taking a lot of wind so when we started climbing again I slowed way down and turned around to see if anyone would take up the pace. One guy did, and I hopped onto the wheel of 2nd place and relaxed for a bit. After about 2-3 minutes I had enough of that, and made a big move, essentially sprinting for about 15 seconds to try and drop the two guys behind me. One of them did, but the other made up the distance and sat on my wheel for a while. I kept up the tempo though as the climb continued at a pretty high grade and after 5 minutes I looked back and saw he had dropped.

Boulder, Week 5

Had a real solid week of training from the 18th to the 24th, logging just under 90 miles with 9 runs and 3 rides (115 miles total for the rides). Ended up with 16 hours, 40 minutes total workout time (including the cycling), which I'm pretty sure is a personal record. At this point in the summer, biking has become a key component of my training because of its added aerobic benefit along with its relatively small amount of "pounding" on the legs. Watching Cam Levins dominate in the 10k and 5k this year pretty much convinced me that his obscene mileage (130+ miles per week) gave him more strength than every other collegian. Of course, my body probably couldn't handle jumping up to 110 miles per week, let alone 130 (yet), but I view the cross training and cycling as a way to get equal aerobic benefits of super high mileage without the risk of breaking down.

Assuming that for a typical 100-mile week you average 7:00/mi, you'll end up with 700 minutes of running, or 11 hours and 40 minutes of your heart getting stronger, building efficiency, and creating more capillaries. A typical 130-mile week might be closer to 15 hours. As my mileage builds to around 100/wk, then, the goal is to keep my total workout time at 17+ hours per week, filling in the extra time with rides and swims. Plus, having witnessed massive performances by guys like Jeff Perella, Johnny Van Deventer, and Tim Hillas (among many others) who largely supplemented (or replaced) their training with time in the pool and/or on the bike, there is no lack of evidence supporting the benefits of, or perhaps necessity of, cross training.

Kate Grace

Aside from workouts, it's been an absolute blast watching the Olympic Trials on TV every night, always with a keen eye out for current student-athletes or alums that we've seen around the Heps backyard. Yale's own Kate Grace (right) raced in the prelims of the 800m, but unfortunately her race wasn't aired (thanks NBC) ... BUT, she's also in the 1500m on Thursday (at least)! Let's. Go. KG. In the steeplechase, who could forget Princeton grad Ashley Higginson (one of a small number who apparently reads, or has read, this blog...). Ashley made it to the finals in the steeple with a 9:45.21, and will be knocking some heads to make it to London on Friday. On the men's side, it was great to see Dan Lowry in the 5k semi's, and of course we'll be cheering for Cabral in the steeple and Merber in the 1500. Much respect for these guys, and great to see them representing the Ancient 8.

Boulder, One Month Update

On May 24 I arrived in Denver and was greeted by Alec Borsook. He drove me back to Boulder, and after crashing for a few days at the house of a couple CU-Boulder runners I ended up getting a room in a house on Marine street with Alec, Jacob Sandry, and John McGowan -- the xYc summer Boulder crew, all together under one roof.

Now almost one month later, a Boulder update is long overdue. The first couple weeks here were spent adjusting to the altitude and getting back into the swing of mileage with double (or triple) workouts most every day. For the first full week of training I hit 68 miles, heavily complemented with two solo bike rides of 1 hours and 2 hours, plus a 30 minute swim at the local YMCA. Discovered tons of great running locales, especially the Bobolink trails and Reservoir trails, where the crew and I went for our first official long run together on Sunday, June 3rd. I'd be hard pressed to think of a better location than Boulder for training, in terms of altitude, scenery, terrain, and weather.

The Shack out at Bobolinks, alongside the main trail

A car is definitely necessary to take full advantage of the trails, though, since the only runs I've been on from the house are up or down Boulder Creek. A great trail, but generally either uphill or downhill, so it's slow going on the way out with a big negative split on the way back. For flat terrain, Bobolinks has become the quick favorite among the four of us living here so far. Just a 10 minute drive out towards South Boulder, terrain is about as flat as you can find, and the trail is dirt or hard-packed gravel along the South Boulder creek for 3.5 miles until you reach a nice little road with dirt on the shoulder to take out a few extra miles if necessary.

For the first full week in June I hit 75 miles, again with 2 bike rides, but the highlight of the week came on Sunday when I made the drive out to Rollinsville off a recommendation from one of the Boulder Running Company guys ("better than Mags", he said). Having experienced the Rollinsville run 2 weeks ago as well as Magnolia last Sunday, I'm not entirely convinced, but at the very least it's a tie. The Rollinsville 14-miler was solo, as a few of the guys must have gotten lost on Saturday night (ahem...) and didn't get back until late, consequently missing the long run bus at 9am. Had some good country music to keep me company as I made the drive up to Nederland and then a few extra miles to Rollinsville. Took the long way up to check out Sugarloaf hill, the route of the Mike Horgan Hill Climb, a bike race on July 1 for which I just recently registered. Seemed like a long and brutal climb, so I will certainly be in pain for most (if not all) of those 18 miles, but I'm looking forward to mixing it up with some of the local cyclists just the same.

Stretching on the ground, post-long-run at the
Stage Stop in Rollinsville

As for Rollinsville... t'was a nice little mining town nestled right in the mountains (elevation 8,474 ft.) with an industrial train track rolling right through it and off into the mountains from the mines. It gave off that Rocky-Mountain, Jeremiah-Johnson feel that seems to attract the mid-life crisis type of crowd, hence the biking crews (Harleys, not Treks) that rolled up at occasional intervals for some breakfast at the Stage Stop. Still, for the authentic few who must live and work there year-round, my hat goes off to you for being the bad-asses of Colorado.

My run followed Tolland Road 7 miles out towards Arapahoe National Forest, a gradual uphill on dirt with a few occasional not-so-gradual parts, all alongside a rushing creek which flows towards the Boulder dam and eventually becomes Boulder Creek. Towering mountain ranges and the scenery of the solitude kept me entranced for all 7 miles out, and made it one of my top runs of all time. Afterwards, I had some eggs benedict at the Stage Stop as a young gentleman played acoustic guitar and sang songs off his laptop to a crowd of one (myself). When I left he was still playing, channeling the "loneliness of the long-distance runner" which I had just thoroughly enjoyed on my run.

Tolland Road heading out towards
Rollinsville Pass, Arapahoe National Forest

Other highlights of the Boulder life so far have been the Green Mountain run, which has become my Wednesday staple, and the bike rides I've had with some of the local riders here in town, most notably the infamous Tuesday/Thursday Bustop ride which I partook in for the first time this Tuesday. Both Green Mountain and the cycling adventures deserve posts of their own, though, so I'll save those tales for later. There may even be some GoPro video to spice up the stories... stay tuned.

Sports as Stories

I was struck recently by the following column written by the gentleman-scholar John Ettinger on why he loves sports. Check out the full article here. I love his description of sports as the perfect platform for great narrative and great story-telling:

For me, being a sports fan is about getting lost in stories. When you think about it, the wide world of sports is the perfect arena for narrative. These narratives exist in a wonderfully simple universe bound and defined by the rules of a silly game. Our rooting interests are developed so arbitrarily and yet leave us with clear protagonists and villains — there is no confusing good and evil.

John goes on to discuss how stories exist everywhere in sports, and you come across more and more the deeper you dig. Though much of America has heard of the Boise St. upset over Oklahoma, only a relatively small number of individuals know the story of Johnny Vandeventer's 4:02 anchor leg in the DMR at the 2011 Indoor Heps meet. Johnny's performance surpasses, at least in my mind, both the improbability and inspiration of any other sports story I have ever known. However, I recognize that this is because I happen to be privy to all the tiny, minute details that make any tale worth telling.

If you had simply watched the 2011 Heps DMR without knowing any of the story, you would have seen a Yale runner racing hard but falling short (after all, he finished 2nd behind Princeton). It wasn't until days after Johnny crossed the line that most people began to appreciate his performance for what it meant.(see http://hepstrack.com/blog/2011/03/03/going-for-broke/). As this heps track author notes, "It happened right in front of me and I didn't even know what was unfolding."

As impressed and inspired as I am by Johnny's performance (I still keep an autographed newspaper clipping of the race on my wall), I have no doubt that other equally, or perhaps even more incredible performances occur every year in all areas of sport. Some are broadcast on ESPN, others get written about in school newspapers and meaningless blogs, and still others, unfortunately, must get lost entirely to all but a select one or two individuals who know enough of the story's details to appreciate it's meaning. But if we're lucky, these individuals will see the importance in telling their story to others; or, at the very least, they will send a quick email to someone like John Ettinger who would probably relish the opportunity to tell a sports story that deserves to be told.

The Student-Athlete Recruitment Question

Got an email recently from a writer for the Yale Herald on athletic recruiting and other related issues. This is an issue that is constantly raised on and around campus, especially with regard to President Levin's intentional decrease of the percentage of recruited student-athletes on campus from 18% 10 years ago to around 13% currently. For a great overview of the recruitment question I would recommend this YDN article on recruitment caps, which came out a few weeks ago.

I hope to say and write much more on this topic in the year to come, but here is how I answered the questions for the Yale Herald.

No offseason, no problem

http://www.yaledailynews.com/news/2012/feb/16/track-no-offseason-no-problem-for-runners/