Run, Sacramento

Because I have no other life, I read a lot of books and articles by running experts (Jack Daniels, Pete Pfitzinger, Tim Noakes, Matt Fitzgerald ...) and have, finally, grudgingly embraced this concept:

You can never do a recovery run too slowly.

Memorize it. Use it. Needlepoint it on pillow and sleep with it every night.

To reiterate ...

You can never do a recovery run too slowly.

For years, I had figured that, on the mornings after my long weekend run, I could get away with a 4-to-6-mile "recovery run" at maybe 10 to 15 seconds slower than customary long run or even lactate threshold pace.

I ended up hurting myself more than helping. Not only was I not getting all that nasty waste products out of my muscles and healing those pesky minor tears that come with DOMS (delayed onset muscle soreness), I may have been causing new damage. At the very least, I wasn't letting my body rest enough.

Part of the problem was that I was ruled by the watch/GPS and by vanity. I didn't want to be perceived as one of those plodders chugging along on a Monday morning before work, so I'd force an acceptable pace just for the sake of appearances. One of the great things about getting older is that you don't care as much what people think -- ask my daughter about some of my clothing choices; major eye-rolling from her -- so now I'm OK with it.

Plus, I've given the Garmin the day off during recovery. No heart rate readings, no mile splits, no elevation info. I just go out and run, slowly but steadily.

This morning was actually one of the best recovery runs I've ever experienced. I knew I'd be sore when I rolled out of bed at 5 a.m., because Sunday's 17-mile marathon pace run included the imposing Cantalow Hill in Vacaville (an 8 percent uphill over a 1-mile stretch -- that's a major vertical rise for a Davis flatlander such as me).

As expected, the first mile of the recovery slog was achy and halting but, about halfway through, I felt my joints and muscles start to loosen and elongate. I resisted the urge to pick up the pace (well, I did just a little) and finished feeling good and ready for the next hard workout.

Long-time readers (thanks, Mom!) will be surprised that I'm actually blogging about a good run I've completed. I find the bad experiences usually make much better reading. But I thought I'd share something positive, for a change.

There it is.