My pasteblog

blogspot.com is weird: It seems that the deep links only work after you clicked to the blogs main page:
http://championseverywhere.blogspot.com/


Two links that are included in http://championseverywhere.blogspot.com/2007/07/words-from-coachall-in-one-place.html
A Model for the Lydiard Method
http://championseverywhere.blogspot.com/2006/12/model-for-lydiard-method.html
http://artsandcrafts.prior-i.de/images/sport_running_aModelForTheLydiardMethod.gif

Arthur's speed work
http://championseverywhere.blogspot.com/2007/01/arthurs-speed-work.html


I still rememeber some good workout dscriptions, once I stumble across them I will include them here. Right now the "words from coachall in one place"-link is a much better place to start.


http://championseverywhere.blogspot.com/2007/02/activating-and-conditioning.html
contains
http://ingrid-kristiansen.com/holisticfitness/running.htm

to be continued

FIRST MARATHON - advise for sub 2:30
MPR: 5 Key Marathon Workouts

Japanese training:
How slow do the Japanese train?

Tom Osler's Sharpening


Try a simple Hansons like approach for marathon training

3 day mini-cycle
Day 1: Hard Workout
Day 2: Easy Run
Day 3: Easy Run

Structure your hard workouts on this sequence:
Hard Workout # 1: Threshold repeats
Hard Workout # 2: Threshold repeats
Hard Workout # 3: Long Run
Hard Workout # 4: Speed Work
Hard Workout # 5: Threshold repeats
Hard Workout # 6: Long Run

Threshold repeats are repeats of 1.5 to 6 miles in length, totaling 8-12 miles of repeats done at marathon pace to 10 second per mile faster.

Speed Work is repeats of 1k to 1 mile in length, totaling 5-6 miles of repeats done at 8k to 10k race pace.

Long Runs are 18-22 miles with 3 miles at marathon race pace late in the run.

ATHLETIC FOOTWEAR AND RUNNING INJURIES

Essay on the harmful effects of modern running shoes.

( Written a number of years ago, this piece was published in part in the German ultra magazine Spiridon.)

by Joseph Froncioni

Read more...

Through collaboration with Rex Harvey, World Masters Athletics, Alan Jones has created updated replacements for the running events of 1500 m and longer for track races and 5 km and longer for road races. Data from the 2006.05.28 update.

Read more...

while `netcat -lp 80 -c 'echo -e "HTTP/1.0 200 OK\nContent-Type: text/html\n"; cat index.html'`
echo got connection
done

from https://mlists.in-berlin.de/pipermail/linux-l/msg54026.html

I can only tolerate W2K with cygwin installed, and its package manager got me lighttpd.
This needed configuration:
cp /e^T/li^T/lighttpd.conf.default /etc/lighttpd/lighttpd.conf
vi ESC .
Only static HTML at first:
server.document-root = "/cygdrive/e/www/localhost/"
echo "test" > /cygdrive/e/www/localhost/index.php
echo "test" > /cygdrive/e/www/localhost/index.htm
/usr/sbin/lighttpd.exe -D -f /etc/lighttpd/lighttpd.conf #I could CTRL-C terminate it
#/usr/sbin/lighttpd.exe -f /etc/lighttpd/lighttpd.conf #goes to background mode, ps ux needed to get the PID
Big mistake: index.php takes precedence over index.htm and I got a 403 error. Removing the index.php helped.

Get PHP from http://www.php.net/downloads.php
Put it to C:\PHP and include the cgi version!
Version PHP5.2.0 did not work with yaz, pspell, nt$something and a 4th extension that I have already forgotten, so I excluded them.
The peardev.bat has some ^ characters in it, removed them by hand.
Double-clicking (*yuck*) to initialize PEAR, then I did the usual channel-discover etc. as per symfony docs. Then symfony installed without any problems.

Back to lighttpd: Un-commented cgi module, cgi.assign = (".php"=>"C:\PHP\php-cgi.exe")
Got a "no input file specified" error, added in php.ini a docroot E:\www\localhost as per http://www.php.net/manual/de/security.cgi-bin.php 1st comment.
A phpinfo(); in index.php worked then.
Changed BOTH php.ini and lighttpd.conf to point to a symfony-style $mypath/web/ directory, un-commented mod_rewrite, mod_redirect, mod_alias in lighttpd.conf and added
alias.url = ( "/sf/" => "/cygdrive/c/PHP/PEAR/data/symfony/web/sf/" )
url.rewrite-once = (
"^/(.*\..+(?!html))$" => "$0",
"^/(.*)\.(.*)" => "$0",
"^/([^.]+)$" => "/index.php/$1",
"^/$" => "/index.php"
)
I didn't bother to setup a vhost, as this installation is just for testing anyways. I got that above rewrite stuff from the symfony wiki IIRC (taken from another host).
Now c:\php\symfony init-project test && C:\PHP\symfony init-app frontend brought me the familiar symfony welcome screen.

I downloaded mysql-essential-5.0.27-win32.msi and installed ot as a service (for now). Configuration was done with the bundled "MySQL Server Instance Config Wizard". In cmd.com mysql -u root -pmyPassword and create databse symfony.

In the symfont directory I changed both config/database.yml AND propel.ini including username:password in both of them. I could then copy the schema.yml from the First Project tutorial and run propel-*-* to create the database tables.


Music to my ears!

I downloaded http://xdebug.org/link.php?url=xdebug200rc3-521-win although it said PHP5.2.1+ and put it in my C:\PHP\ext and added zend_extension_ts="C:/PHP/ext/php_xdebug-2.0.0rc3-5.2.1.dll" to my php.ini -- that's all to install xdebug. In cmd.com a C:\PHP\php-cgi.exe brought no error message, if the xdebug dll is too old it says something along the lines "Xdebug requires Zend Engine API version 220051025.
The Zend Engine API version 220060519 which is installed, is newer.
Contact Derick Rethans at http://xdebug.org for a later version of Xdebug."

I could not get xcache to work with PHP5.2.0, but on another machine with PHP-5.1.6

DBDesigner4.0 uses the old password type, but MySQL has since moved to a different format. So i could not connect to a database. Here is a fix: http://www.mysqlusers.com/msg/37060.html

I have long used a protocol that consists of repeat runs over 2400m at slowly increasing intensities (with pauses after each period to draw blood). (Note: you really should have followed and read the lactate link I put up earlier to be able to fully understand the discussion from this point on. Don’t worry, it’s not difficult and it's well worth the read).

Once Joe got to 50mpw, I told him to perform the following mini-test (he knew the protocol). Go to a track on a windless day, as rested as if for a race, and do the following:
Run 2400m at a steady 140 HR (Stop 90 secs and record time)
Run 2400m at a steady 150 HR (Stop 90 secs and record time)
Run 2400m at a steady 160 HR (Stop 90 secs and record time)
Run 2400m at a steady 170 HR (Stop 90 secs and record time)
Run 2400m at a steady 180 HR (Stop 90 secs and record time)
At all times, adjust the running pace to maintain a stable HR. On each new stage slowly edge the HR up (ie: it is ok if the HR takes the first 600-800m to reach target level), then simply maintain HR. DO NOT start fast and have to slow to maintain target HR.

From: "Hadd's Approach to Distance Training"

.config
.

Read more...

Das Zeichen † steht an den Stellen, an denen ich "was gelesen habe", und ich das zu verstehen versuche / in meinen HM-Plan einzubauen versuche.

Das soll nur eine allgemeine Illustration sein, wie ich das "HM-pacing" verstehe. (Ich habe keine Erfahrung mit HMs, also muss ich vorher vom Kopf her die Anforderung der Distanz verstehen. Was man nicht in den Beinen hat, muss man im Kopf haben.)

Ausgangslage:

• "Ein HM wird knapp unter der Laktatschwelle gelaufen."†
• "Ein 10K wird knapp ueber der Laktatschwelle gelaufen."†

Weil ein negativer Split bedeutet, dass die Geschwindigkeit im Rennverlauf steigt, beginnt mein "Geschwindigkeits-Graph" deutlich unter der Schwelle, und endet etwa (!) bei 10K-Anstrengung.



Deswegen sind auch keine Geschwindigkeitsangaben an der Illustration: Weil ich mir selbst das Konzept erklaeren wollte. Die gezackte Linie bei 0 bedeutet, dass ich keine Aussage ueber die Geschwindigkeit machen moechte.

Die HM-Distanz sei zu lang, um sie nur mit Glykogen zu laufen†. Also am Anfang Fettstoffwechsel eingebaut.
Beim Schwellentempo wird kein Fett mehr verbrannt†, deswegen das "Ausklingen".

Rechenexempel:
Ein HM in 4 Teilen A, B, C, D
Ø :!: (A+B+C+D) = HM-Renntempo
Meine 10K-Bestzeit: 42:30 = 4:15/km
10K × 2,223 = theoretisches HM-Tempo† = 4:26 = 1:33:10
Negativer Split, wie es leon bei Coolrunnings vorschlaegt:
A = D-15, B= D-10, C=D-5

Setze ich jetzt
A = 4:35
B = 4:30
C = 4:25 (~Zieltempo 4:26)
D = 4:20,
dann komme ich auf 1:33:56 oder 4:27/km.

Kritik:
Ob ich das so umsetzen kann? Ich bin keine Maschine! Aber einen soliden Plan, den will ich haben. (Zumal ich glaube, dass das Konzept des negativen Splits oft ueberbewertet ist! Ja-ha! Aber ich will es austesten.)
Denn man sieht deutlich: Will ich meine theoretische HM-Zeit laut 10K × 2,223 im negativen Split schaffen, muss ich am Ende 10K-Pace laufen!

Umsetzung im Training: ← der wichtigste Punkt!
Ich trainiere auf der Bahn +/- 5 Sekunden, um etwas Tempogefuehl zu bekommen. Das klappt auch halbwegs.

Und ich trainiere die mentale Haerte, mich zum Schluss hin zu geisseln. Der HM wird genauso hart wie mein scharf gelaufener 10K, keine Frage! Nur laenger…

Konsequenz des neg. Splits ist, dass es kein "Renntempo" gibt, sondern "Renntemp(os/i)". Es gilt, ein Gefuehl fuer 4:35 - 4:20 zu entwickeln (Beine, Herzfrequenz, Atemrhythmus, etc.). Diese muss ich (vor allem mental) in unterschiedlichen Zustaenden der Erschoepfung beherrschen. Momentan befinde ich mich in einem "simulierten Trainingslager"† und ich laufe 7 Tage hintereinander Einheiten mit Renntempi-Anteil. (4TE letzte KW, 3TE diese KW)
Dieses "Trainingslager" schliesse ich morgen, etwa 10 Tage vor dem WK, ab und beginne den "Taper", der aber immer noch RT-Einheiten, nur kuerzer, beinhalten wird. (Weil schnell laufen auch eine Sache des Nervensystems ist.†)

Ich laufe Ueberdistanz als mDL, gestern etwa 26km in ~5:20, weil ich dringend Kraftausdauer brauche. Negativer Split braucht am Ende hin jede Menge Koerner…

• Negativer Split bedeutet, dass es am Ende hart wird. Negativer Split = Aua
• Negativer Split bedeutet, dass die Aussage "Ein HM wird unter der Schwelle gelaufen" nur fuer den Durchschnitt, nicht fuer die die hinteren Kilometer gilt
• Negativer Split bedeutet nicht, seine Leistungsfaehigkeit durch Bummeln unausgeschoepft zu lassen :!:

Fundstuecke:

3 Key Race Strategies: Success Will Be Yours
1) Steady as she goes: Lock into your race pace early, resisting that urge to pick it up midrace. During the last three to four miles, concentrate on maintaining pace. This is when the initial smooth effort becomes more of a challenge.
2) Think 5-5-5-K: A great marathon strategy is breaking it into three runs: A 10-miler. Another 10-miler. Then a 10-K. This half-marathon strategy simply cuts those segments in half. For the first five miles concentrate on staying smooth and relaxed. For the next five miles, focus on running strong and steady. For the last three miles, push to the finish.
3) Call it a tempo run: This strategy is especially good for novice racers. Essentially, you need to get to the starting line ready to run a long tempo run that is just one mile longer than your longest training run--albeit faster this time. Warm up with a short 10-minute jog, and when the gun goes off, just start into your "tempo."
http://www.runnersworld.com/article/printer/1,7124,s6-238-244-258-9369-0,00.html

The key is to run slightly below your lactate threshold (LT) so you don’t fatigue an hour or so into the race due to lactic acid accumulation. Push the pace above your LT (about 85-90% of maximum heart rate) at the start or along the way and you’ll regret that, too. The higher your LT, the faster you can run at half-marathon pace.
http://www.nyrrc.org/divisions/training/halfmarstrat.html

THE PHYSIOLOGY INVOLVED IN RUNNING NEGATIVE SPLITS.
Marathon runners use fats and carbohydrates as fuel; fats are burned only aerobically, carbohydrates are burned both aerobically and anaerobically. Carbohydrates are the fuel of choice, however they will last only about 18-20 miles in even the most gifted runners who start the race fully loaded. This is why you must run slowly enough initially to stay "aerobic", so you'll use a little bit of fat as fuel. By burning this fat on the flame of carbohydrate, you spare some carbohydrate for use later in the race. But if you get excited and go out at a pace that can't be sustained, you will become anaerobic and use too much carbohydrate (stored muscle glycogen), which will cause you to reduce your pace and fall behind.
http://www.howtobefit.com/elite-runners.htm

Half-Marathon Race Preparation
Although nothing like as taxing as a full marathon, the 21K distance does need to be treated with respect, particularly if the weather is hot. You should finish your breakfast three hours before the start, but there is nothing wrong with drinking tea, coffee, water or squash up to an hour before the start, and if it is really hot, I suggest drinking half a pint of water five minutes before the start. Don’t drink half an hour before the start, or you’ll be bursting for a pee while waiting for the gun!

If you’re aiming to run fast, you should go through a gentle warm-up routine during the 20 minutes leading up to the start – jogging, stretching and striding. If you’re doing an event with a large field, you’ll probably find yourself running very fast in the first mile, so try to keep warm and loose during the final few minutes when you are wedged in the crowd.
http://www.runnersworld.co.uk/news/article.asp?UAN=97

Do a dress rehearsal. Treat one of your longest runs--preferably the last long one you do before tapering for your big race--as a race simulation.
http://www.runnersworld.com/article/0,7120,s6-238-244-255-8820-0,00.html

Was esst Ihr in der letzten Woche vor dem HM????
Also ich kann nur raten nicht zu viel zu essen, weder morgens, noch am Abend vorher. Wenn man außerdem an gewissen Unverträglichkeiten leidet, und das sind auch unbewusst nicht wenige, dann sollte man auf Milchprodukte (Laktose), sowie Pilze und Hülsenfrüchte und fettes Essen verzichten, sonst läuft man eher in die Büsche, als auf der Strecke. Muss aber wohl jeder selbser wissen, wenn er keine Rücksicht zumindest ein bis zwei Tage vorher nimmt, hängt wohl von der individuellen Wichtigkeit der Veranstaltung und der persönlichen Einstellung zum leistungsmässigem Laufen ab. Ein belasteter Darm oder gar noch Magen hindert aber mit Sicherheit an einer Topleistung, oder zwingt hinterher Stundenlang in die gekrümmte und eher (auf Klo) sitzende Haltung. Muss nicht, kann aber. Die meisten Ultras laufen eher nüchtern.
http://www.laufen-aktuell.de/laufen-aktuell/content/forum/showthread.html?p=388325#post388325

Einschieben würde ich auch mindestens zwei Zehner-Wettkämpfe drei bis fünf Wochen vor dem Halbmarathon um härte zu bekommen, etwa in 44-45 min. Die Wettkämpfe dann anstelle des längeren Laufes, das Tempotraining trotzdem durchführen....dann ein bisschen langsamer.
http://laufen-aktuell.de/laufen-aktuell/content/forum/showthread.html?p=397061#post397061

Key HM sessions
http://www.letsrun.com/forum/flat_read.php?thread=2585555

Nicht alle Ziele fuer den heutigen Wettkampf habe ich erreicht. Vorgenommen hatte ich mir
- meinen 3. 10K dann 'endlich' mal am Anschlag zu laufen
- unter 42:00 zu bleiben
- erneut meinen "toedlichen Kick" einzusetzen
- eine neue HF[max] zu ermitteln

Meine Zielzeit habe ich nicht erreicht, es sind ~42:55 herausgekommen. Aber der Reihe nach: Der Citylauf in Bad Berleburg riecht nach richtig viel Geld, gemessen fuer ein Provinzrennen: Schnelle Kenianer verpflichtet, Startnummern mit Transponder und Kontaktschleifen im Zieldurchlauf, Anmeldungsbuero in der oertlichen Spasskasse und Lautsprecher auf der Haelfte der 2km-Runde, die mit "Sehenswuerdigkeiten" wie Rathaus, Schule, Stadtpark, Fusspfad am Fluss entlang nicht geizt. Amtlich vermessen, flach und schnell.

Es sind dann die Kleinigkeiten, an denen ich mangelnden Enthusiasmus der veranstaltenden Kaufleute vermuten muss: Sicherheitsnadeln zu klein fuer diese Monster-Startnummern, keine Kilometerschilder auf dem laut Ausschreibung "2000m-Rundkurs", der aber 5x plus ca. 500m zu durchlaufen war. Also irgendwie wusste ich nie, wo ich mich gerade befand, denn beim erneuten Ueberqueren der Startlinie konnte ich nur vermuten, ~19xxm gelaufen zu sein.

Aber das passte ganz gut zu mir: Bin auch Kaufmann, und meine Leistung heute war auch durchwachsen! Das warme Sommerwetter (gefuehlt 28° C, Thermometer zeigte in der Schwuele 22° C) verleitete mich, nicht nur die 1. Runde schnell zu starten (durchaus gewollt), sondern auch die 2. zu ueperpacen. Da wurden die Runden 3&4 ganz schoen hart, zumal da stets eine Luecke nach den 40:00 Lauefern ist. Eigentlich liegen mir die hoeheren Temperaturen, aber mit der Schwuele kam ich nicht zurecht. Leider war ich auf mein mangelhaftes Tempogefuehl angewiesen, sowie als Anhaltspunkt die Herzfrequenz (die ich aber bei dem Wetter nicht ernst nehmen konnte).

Trotz schweren Schritt und dem Gefuehl, dass ich "stehe", hab ich km 5-8 dennoch durchgekaempft: Wenn die Beine langsam sind, muss der Kopf die Moral hochhalten! Zum ersten Mal seit den MTB-Rennen vor ~12 Jahren mal wieder richtig beissen muessen... Aber hallo!
Die 14 Tage harte Einheiten ohne Ruhe taten wohl ihr uebriges, so dass ich mit dem Ergebnis leben kann.

Aber der letzte Kilometer, den habe ich mir gut eingeteilt! Es kamen ca. 1400m vor dem Ziel der Reihe nach 5 Laeufer vorbei, und ich war platt. Nix entgegenzusetzen. Schiss, beim Nachsetzen entgueltig einzugehen. Aber auf der langen Zielgeraden, der Einkaufsstrasse des Regionalzentrums Bad Berleburg, hab' ich die mit meinem "Kickdown" wieder eingesammelt:
Den "lethal kick" angezogen, und direkt _neben_ dem letzten ausgetrudelt, sodass ich im Auslaufen leicht an ihm vorbei kam.
Kurz verschnauft, und wieder: "ZACK" and den naechsten drangesprungen. Das sollte dann dem zuvor Ueberholten ein deutlicher Hinweis sein, dass er sich nicht an mich dranhaengen braucht! *g* So hab' ich mir in der leichten Kurve einen nach dem andren geschnappt, und bin am Vordersten nochmal kraeftig vorbeigezogen, bis ich ~ 30m Vorsprung hatte. (Denn dann hab' ich erstmals waehrend der ganzen Aktion zurueckgeblickt.)

In die ultrakurze, gepflasterte und leicht abfallende "Zielzufuerung" einzubiegen war dann ungefaehrdet, und nach dem Einlauf brauchte ich 30 Sek., um mich wieder zu sammeln. Die neue, gemessene HF[max] liegt dann bei 208 (vorher: 206), und da geht immer noch was.

Nun, die Zeit hat nicht gepasst, aber ich hab' richtig kaempfen muessen: Auch eine gute Erfahrung, dass ich dennoch hart bleiben kann. Denn zwischenzeitlich dachte ich nicht, dass ich mich noch so aus der Affaere werde ziehen koennen!

Seltsamerweise fuehle ich mich jetzt praechtig, draussen regnet sich das Sommergewitter aus und meine Beine sind ebenso frisch. Und ich hatte schon Angst, wegen diversen Malaisen!

Sollte ich es mal wieder zu schnell angehen, weiss ich jetzt, wie sich Durchhalten anfuehlt...
Und wenn ich mal soviel trainiert habe, dass ich diesen Kick in den Beinen richtig ausreizen kann, dann kommen noch gaaaanz andere Zeiten! Darauf freue ich mich schon jetzt. Oh Mann, das kickt bis in den Kopf hinein!

Die Kenianer, die haben mich uebrigens am Ende der 3. Runde ueberholt. Erst ein Quartett, dann nochmal ein Nachzuegler, und dann laaange Zeit nix...

Runners
by Roger Hart

We ran through blizzards, thunderstorms, freezing rain, covered bridges, creeks, campgrounds, cemeteries, city parks, parking lots, a nuclear power plant, county fairs, and, once, a church service. We were chased by goats, geese, a crazed ground hog, guards (the nuclear power plant), a motorcycle gang, an armed man in a pickup, a sheriff's deputy, and dogs both fierce and friendly. We ran when two feet of snow covered the roads and when the wind-chill was thirty below. We ran when it was eighty degrees at seven in the morning. We ran on streets, sidewalks, highways, cinder tracks, dirt roads, golf courses, Lake Erie beaches, bike trails, across yards and along old railroad beds. Seven days a week, twelve months a year, year after year.

During the hot days of July and August, Ed ran without shirt or socks; I always wore both. Norm ran with a screw in his ankle and joked that it was coming loose. Ed was faster going downhill; I was better going up. The three of us met at a race and became training partners, competitors, best friends. We ran together on Saturday mornings, usually a twenty-mile run along the shore of Lake Erie or a twenty-two-mile route over hilly country roads near Ashtabula. We ran thousands of miles and more than a dozen marathons together, but most of the time we ran alone.

We gave directions to lost drivers, pushed cars out of snowbanks, called the electric company about downed lines and the police about drunks. We saved a burlap bag full of kittens about to be tossed off a bridge, carried turtles from the middle of the road, returned lost wallets, and were the first on the scene of a flipped pickup truck.

We ran the Boston Marathon before women were allowed to enter and before the Kenyans won. We were runners before Frank Shorter took the Olympic gold at Munich, before the running boom, nylon shorts, sports drinks, Gortex suits, heart monitors, running watches, and Nikes.

We ate constantly, or so it seemed. My favorite midnight snack was cookie dough or cold pizza. Ed enjoyed cinnamon bread, which he sometimes ate a loaf at a time. Norm downed buttered popcorn by the bucketfuls and Finnish cookies by the dozen. We all loved ice cream and drank large vanilla shakes two at a time.

Still, friends said we were too thin. They thought we looked sick and worried something was wrong.

We measured our lives in miles down to the nearest tenth, more than one hundred miles a week, over four hundred a month, four thousand a year, sometimes more.

The smells! From passing cars: pipe tobacco, exhaust fumes, and sometimes the sweet hint of perfume. From the places we passed: French fries, bacon, skunk, pine trees, dead leaves, cut hay, mowed grass, ripe grapes, hot asphalt, rotten apples, stagnant water, wood smoke, charcoal grills, mosquito spray, roadkill. And from ourselves: sunscreen and sweat.

Some people smiled and waved. A few whistled. Once or twice a woman yelled from a passing car, said we had nice legs. Others, usually teenage boys in sleek, black cars, yelled obscenities, called us names, gave us the finger, and mooned us. They threw firecrackers, smoldering cigarettes, pop cans, half-eaten ice cream cones, beer bottles (both full and empty), squirted us with water, drove through puddles to spray us, swerved their cars to force us off the road, swung jumper cables out the window to make us duck, and honked their horns to make us jump.

We saw shooting stars, a family of weasels, a barn fire, a covered wagon heading west, and a couple making love in a pickup; we ran with deer on a golf course, jumped a slow-moving train to get across the tracks, hid in ditches during lightning storms, slid across an intersection during a freezing rain, and dived into Lake Erie to cool off in the middle of a hot run. We drank from garden hoses, gas station water fountains, pop machines, lawn sprinklers and lemonade stands. We carried toilet paper, two quarters, sometimes a dog biscuit.

We were offered rides by The Chosen Few motorcycle gang, old ladies, drunks, teenagers, truckers, a topless dancer (not topless at the time but close, real close), and a farmer baling hay, but we never accepted a single one. We argued about the dancer.

We were nervous before races and said we'd quit running them when we weren't. We won trophies, medals, baskets of apples, bottles of wine, windbreakers, T-shirts, pizza, pewter mugs, running suits, shoes, baseball caps, watches, a railroad spike, and, once, five hundred dollars. Often we didn't win anything, although we never looked at it that way.

Ed liked to race from the front and dare other runners to catch him. I preferred to start a little slower, stalk those whose inexperience or eagerness took them out too fast, sneak up on them around twenty miles when they began to look over their shoulders. I felt like a wolf, and they were the prey. When I passed, I pretended not to be tired, and I never looked back.

Our goal was to qualify for the Olympic Trials Marathon, to run faster and farther, to beat other runners.

Did we ever have runner's high? Didn't it get boring? What did we think about? Why did we always look so serious?

Sometimes. Sometimes. Running. We didn't know we did.

One spring day it rained so hard the road was one giant ankle-deep puddle, and Ed was huffing and our feet were splashing and it struck us funny. We laughed until we collapsed, tears and rain running down our faces. We joked about the time Ed had to pee and caught himself showering a snake's head, the time we got lost during a winter storm and refused to turn around, and the time we ran by Don King's ranch and were mistaken for two boxers. (We never understood how anyone could mistake our skinny arms for a boxer's, but we loved it, too.)

We felt guilty about the time we ran into a church service being held in the middle of a covered bridge, and we were too tired, too inconsiderate, too stubborn to turn around, so we sprinted down the center aisle, dodging the two men with collection plates, and ran out the other end of the bridge while the congregation sang "Praise God from whom all blessings flow ..."

And the dogs! The ones that tried to follow us home and the ones that attacked us. Take the time Ed, Norm, and I were surrounded on a dirt road by half a dozen blood-thirsty, snarling, circling canines, each begging for a bite. We picked up rocks, stood with our backs to one another, and yelled at the dogs, yelled for help, yelled for anything. Then Ed threw a rock, not at the dogs but at the farmhouse where the dogs had been sleeping on the front porch. The rock hit the aluminum siding. Bang! Like a gun going off.

An old man came to the door. Looked at us, looked at his dogs, and I thought we'd done it now, and he'd lift a shotgun to his shoulder, shoot us, and let the dogs have what was left.

"Harvey, Louie, Princess, Tucker," the old man called. The dogs trotted back to the porch, and we raced down the road.

But another time we only yelled at a growling Doberman, told it to go home, and the owner jumped in his pickup, chased us down the dirt road, swearing he'd shoot us for bothering his dog. We ran through a field and across a four-lane highway, circled back through the woods, hid beneath the underpass, and then jogged into a gas station, where we celebrated our escape with ice-cold Cokes.

I was bitten by a Dalmatian, a terrier, a cocker spaniel, and a red-haired, knee-high mutt. Three of the dogs escaped after drawing blood, but I caught the mutt in mid-air and threw it over my shoulder as its teeth clamped down on my arm. The dog sailed into a telephone pole headfirst and fell to the ground, knocked unconscious. The owner, ignoring the blood running down my arm and dripping onto the sidewalk, screamed at me for killing her dog. But when she stroked the dog's head, it jumped up and bit me again.

Or the time a sheriff's deputy stopped his cruiser to protect us from a German shepherd as large as the Poland China hog in a nearby field. The dog jumped through the open window and landed on the deputy's lap, and, while they wrestled in the front seat, we ran, afraid of what might happen if either ever caught up with us.

We found pliers, purses, golf balls, bolt cutters, billfolds, money (once, over two hundred dollars, returned to an eighteen-year-old boy--no reward, no thanks), tape cassettes, CDs, sunglasses, school books, porn magazines, a Navaho ring, car jacks, a fishing pole, a pair of handcuffs (no key), an eight ball, and a black bra (36C).

We ran farther and faster. We sprinted up long steep hills by the Grand River until we staggered and our heart rates exceeded the two hundred twenty minus our age that doctors said was possible. We ran intervals on a dirt track: twenty quarter-miles in under seventy seconds, the last lap in fifty-six flat. We got light-headed, our hands tingled, and sometimes blood vessels in our eyes ruptured from the effort.

We ran because it beat collecting stamps, because we were running towards something, because we were running away, because we were all legs, lungs and heart, because we were afraid of who or what might catch us if we stopped.

One winter, while running twice a day, I was on my way home from a seven-mile run, and I couldn't remember if it was morning or night, if when I finished I would shower and go to work or shower and go to bed. I looked at the horizon and the stars, the passing cars, and the lighted barns for a clue, but I couldn't figure it out. Ed often said he once went out for a run and bumped into himself coming back from the previous one.

We lost toenails and we pulled muscles. We suffered frostbite, hypothermia, heat exhaustion, sunburn, blisters, dehydration, and tendonitis. We were stung by bees, bitten by black flies, and attacked by red-winged blackbirds. Sometimes, after a long run or a speed workout, or after a marathon, our legs would be so sore, the Achilles so inflamed, that we could barely walk, and we'd limp or shuffle painfully when going from the couch to the refrigerator or from the front door to the mailbox.

We treated aches with ice and heating pads, or soaked our legs in DMSO, sometimes in Epsom salts and hot water. We tried medical doctors, surgeons, chiropractors, acupuncturists, podiatrists, sports therapists, trainers and quacks. We were given shots of novocaine and cortisone, told to take ibuprofen, Tylenol, and aspirin. We were warned that we were ruining our knees, our hips, damaging our feet, breaking down too much blood, that we would suffer arthritis and degenerative joints.

But sometimes it was like floating, like sitting on top of a pair of legs that you didn't think would ever get tired or slow down. It was like the legs were yours and like they weren't. It was like being part animal, a running, flying animal. A horse, a bird. It was like feet kissing the pavement and effortless strides, the body along for the ride. It was like sitting in Ed's '67 Corvette, that monster engine gulping high-octane fuel and turning 6000 rpms, your foot ready to pop the clutch. Like freedom and invincibility. When we ran around corners, we were jets sweeping in formation.

We all had a resting pulse in the low forties and body fat of seven percent or less. I was six foot two, raced at a hundred and forty-eight pounds, and went through a pair of shoes every six weeks.

Once, I experienced chest pains, a sharp stab beneath the ribs. A Saturday morning, twenty-two mile run. Seven steep hills. We raced up the first hill to find out if it was my heart or not and when I did not drop, we raced up the second and third. After six miles the pain eased off, and Ed said if it had been a heart attack, it must have been a mild one. Thousands of miles later, a doctor unfamiliar with a runner's heart sent Ed to the emergency room where he was poked, prodded, hooked up, and given oxygen until Ed said enough was enough, pulled the IV and ran home. Two weeks later he set an age-fifty record for the mile in a local meet.

Although we ran faster and faster, we never ran fast enough. We failed to qualify for the Olympic Trials. Still, four times we drove for hours and slept in our cars to watch others compete for the three Olympic spots.

Then, just as we once stalked other runners, time stalked us. We began looking over our shoulders and thinking about the marathons we had run instead of thinking about the next race. We slowed down. Our bodies balked at hundred-mile weeks, and it took longer to recover from a hard run. Sometimes when the weather was bad--very hot was always worse than very cold--we took a day off. Sometimes we would skip a day because we were sore or tired. We stopped giving the finger to those who ran us off the roads. We gained five, seven, ten pounds. More.

Now, Ed has a granddaughter; Norm has "screw pains," and I have a retirement clock and deformed toes. We've turned gray, lost hair, and joined the AARP. We run twenty-five, thirty miles a week. From time to time, we race, no marathons but shorter races, three, four miles, maybe a 10K. We measure our lives in days, months, and years.

Ed and Norm still live in Ohio; I moved to North Carolina, then to Minnesota. We no longer run together, but we keep in touch and reminisce about the time the Star Beacon ran a front-page article about a group of snowmobilers who had ridden nearly ten miles on a day when the temperature was five below. We had passed them on our way to a twenty-mile run. We argue about who threw the rock at the house, whose fault it was we got lost, and which one of us the topless dancer really wanted to take for a ride.

We complain that we're running slower than we once did and make jokes about timing ourselves with calendars and sundials.

Sometimes when we're running we'll spot other runners ahead of us and the urge to race comes back, and we'll do our best to catch them. Last fall while I was running in a park, I overheard a high school cross-country coach urge his runners to pass "the old, gray-haired guy." I held them off for nearly a mile although it almost killed me, and, when I had completed circling the park, I ran by the coach and said, "Old guy, my ass."

But my ass is getting old along with all the other parts. When I sometimes fantasize about one more marathon, the fantasy seldom lasts more than a day. Fast marathons, hundred-mile weeks, ten-kilometer races under thirty-one minutes are things of the past.

And what did we learn from running seventy-thousand miles and hundreds of races, being the first to cross the finish line and once or twice not crossing it at all, those runs on icy roads in winter storms and those cool fall mornings when the air was ripe with the smell of grapes, our feet softly ticking against the pavement?

We learned we were alive and it felt good. God, it felt so good.

© Copyright 2001 Roger Hart. This work first appeared in Natural Bridge, the literary magazine of the University of Missouri-St. Louis.

egrep "image.*s.*(Los|sport)" /var/log/apache2/access_log | awk '{print $1}' | sort -n | uniq -c | sort -rn

Edith 2006-09-05:

So, meine Trainingsperiode mit besonderem Fokus auf Grundlagenausdauer ist vorbei, jetzt werde ich an der Schnelligkeit feilen (muessen).

Genau der richtige Zeitpunkt, um einen Test der Grundlagenausdauer auf der Bahn durchzufuehren! Eine naheliegende, einleuchtende und leicht durchzufuehrende Testmethode findet sich auf der Webseite von Heiko Klimmer: 10km mit 75% der HF[max].
Hoechste gemessene HF[max] bei mir: 206, ich vermute aber ~210, etwas gerundet ergibt das eine Test-HF von 160 Schlaegen/Minute. (Laesst sich besser ablesen, 160+/-2,3 Schlaege ist leichter zu ueberwachen als 158,23+/-2,3 Schlaege. Alte Controlling-Regel...)

Ergebnis: Bei gegebenem Aufwand im Sinne von gleichbleibendem Herzschlag faellt der Output ueber 10K momentan bei mir von 00:05:03 auf 00:05:17 min/km ab. (Der erste Kilometer ist Ausschuss und wird nicht betrachtet.) Ein Diagramm (dort bitte weiterklicken).

Bewertung: Eine Renneinteilung mit negativen Split werde ich mir -- wie schon intuitiv erahnt -- schenken: Solange die GA nicht stabiler ist, waere schon 48:52 auf HM-Distanz eine "negative Leistungsbilanz" im Sinne von "die 2. Haelfte ist anstrengender". Aber ich habe auch erst <500km in den Beinen, wenn ich mal einen Winter durchgelaufen bin, sehe ich weiter.

Anmerkungen: Einen HF-Bereich von 157-163 zu treffen, ist erstaunlich leicht. Zugegebenermassen war ich mit der Testdurchfuehrung sehr beschaftigt, da ich alle 200m das Diktiergeraet besprechen 'musste' und alle 400m meine "Laufzettel" abreisse (Schluesselring mit numerierten 3x1cm Zetteln zur Rundenkontrolle). Sch#@£$% Daten-Fetischismus ! Alle 1000m haette auch gereicht!

Diesen Test werde ich zu spaeteren Zeitpunkten wiederholen, aeussere Bedingungen waren ~14-15 Grad Celsius, windstille, kurze Rennbekleidung und Ablenkung durch einen Hobbygolfer ab ~km7,5.

Durch einen Bedienungsfehler der Stoppuhr muss ich die Zeit im Internet abwarten. Startnummer 165. Sollte aber gepasst haben. 1/3 Runden: HF~185, 2/3 HF~190, 3/3 HF~195. HF[max][vorher]=200/203 (unklare Messung), HF[max][aktualisiert]=206.
Die dritte Runde hat mich eine Dame aus W35 gezogen, sonst haette ich 46:xx weit verpasst. Bei km9 laufen wir auf einen M~30 auf, der mich zur Endbeschleunigung aufforderte. Ich lehnte erst ab, wurde aber tempomaessig mitgezogen. Ich schlug vor, "ab dem Carport" (ca. 200m vor Ziel) zu sprinten, weil "mein 1. Rennen" und "ich nicht weiss, ob ich das durchstehe".
Hab ihn nach kurzem Geplaenkel dann angeblich aufsehenerregend verblasen... Verblasen muessen! *g* Kannte bislang den Tunnelblick nur vom Rad. Wenn ich bald mehr Erfahrungen habe, gehe ich zukuenftig auch schon frueher mit. Eigentlich wollte ich die Dame vorlassen, weil sie mich halt so gut gezogen hat und es im 1. Rennen um wirklich nix geht, ausser Intervalltempobestimmung. Aber der hat mich provoziert!!1!
Tja: Tschaka!
So habe ich jetzt extrem gute Laune, mir waere echt was entgangen! Obwohl es nicht besonders schlau ist, auf aelteren Orts-Nebenstrassen loszusprinten. Auch haette ich mir leicht was am Bewegungsapparat holen koennen... Naja, neue HF[max].

Einlaufen ging auf der Drei-Runden-Strecke besonders gut: Ich war 20' vor Start losgelaufen, hatte locker eine Runde absolviert, und es waren beruhigende 3 Minuten bis zum Start-"Klapp". Gibt es bei Strassen-/Volkslaeufen eigentlich keine Startpistole? Ich hatte gelesen, man solle sich vor 10K bis zum Schwitzen einlaufen. I second that.

Bei den Zieldurchgaengen konnte ich gut meine aktuelle Zeit mit einem Spickzettel vergleichen. Ich hatte in Annahme eines zu schnellen Starts 4:20 - 4:40 - 4:40 - 4:30 - 4:30 - 4:30 - 4:40 - 4:40 - 4:40 - 4:40 = 45:50 notiert. Es wurde halt etwas langsamer...

Trinken aus Bechern klappt nicht, wohl aber das Abstellen aus vollem Lauf auf einem Brueckengelaender. Falsche "Prior"-itaeten? Gut moeglich...

Ansonsten hat es mir sehr viel Spass gemacht, ich habe auf sauberen Laufstil geachtet (will den ja auch kraftsparenderweise mal ueber 21,x km durchhalten) und ich war gewiss der einzige, der den Schweiss mit einem Taschentuch abtupfte! Der Brueckenlauf des TV Gossfelden -- ein Genuss!

UPDATE training_strecke_marker SET pt=PointFromText(CONCAT('POINT(',`training_strecke_marker`.`lat`,' ',`training_strecke_marker`.`lon`,')'));

(Posted by Ian Scrivener on February 18 2005 4:33pm @ http://dev.mysql.com/doc/refman/5.0/en/populating-spatial-columns.html)

19:38 queru * hi all another time
19:39 queru * Anyone can help me on how to internationalize an interface
using MySQL to store the _messages?
19:46 queru * ¡Aleluya!
19:46 queru * http://my.opera.com/cpr/blog/show.dml/120232
19:47 queru * A geek whos pastes the table structure for i18n
19:50 queru * Two days loss for i18n
19:50 queru * Hurra for frameworks!
20:51No new messages in awaylog
20:51[freenode] You are no longer marked as being away
20:52 cprior * heh, that's me!
[20:53] [cprior(+ei)] [3:#symfony(+n)]

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