Thursday's 9 dull miles of General Aerobic

Have you heard about the hills in San Francisco? My wife and I were once in Amsterdam and the most common reaction people had was to learning where we were from was to reference the 1968 Steve McQueen movie, Bullit, the one with car chases gettin' air over the hills. So my point here is that there are hills where I live.


When I resumed running regularly a couple of years ago, I just went out and ran, typically from my house, which is on a hill, near hills, far from anything flat. Just about every run I did was on, around, up and over hills. Though I tended to choose routes that would reduce the hills, there still would be lots of hills.

In January, I hurt my knee from overuse, and the doctor I spoke to recommended I stay off hills. Most training advisors suggest that hills are to be trained on sparingly. And, I can be sure that the effort to go up hills would trip that heart rate monitor into spasms, too. So I end up having to get in my car and go somewhere without hills on days I'm not already downtown and close to the flat, running haven that's the Embarcadero.

As such, the Flat Mission Loops. Residents of San Francisco know the Mission for its great bars and restaurants, the sunny microclimate, and the largley hispanic or hipster population. Yes – it is relatively flat and close to where I live. So to make this all work, I have found a run that avoids major obstacles and is flat. Problem is, the Mission isn't quite as big as people think. It's less than a mile and a half high.

The map shows my route, which has the advantage of being close to my house, reasonably easy to find parking, flat, limited to two stoplights, and light on cross-traffic. The disadvantage is that I have to do this loop three times to make the nine miles required for yesterday's run. Before, I'd only do 9 miles on weekends, and largely in the park.

This route is sort of dull. And at a heart rate-restrained pace, it was a challenge to stay awake. Unlike Tuesday, with my more respectable pace of 8:13, this run came in at 9:19 per mile, but averaged the same heart rate. I think this is where heart rate drift comes into play: the longer the run, the harder the heart works.

To keep myself distracted, I did several things:

• I varied the streets I took: Up Alambama, down Harrison, up Florida, down Alabama, up Bryant, down Harrison.
• I looked around more than usual, and noticed:
  
• a great view of downtown from the north end of this route, especially with the clouds in the background
  
• there are these strange connectors between old industrial buildings on Florida Street which cross over the street level, two flights up
• the laundromats on Bryant Street: Lavarmatic, Super Lavar, Lavandaria
• a modern looking Atlas Cafe across the street from a beautiful old brick building bearing the name of Felix J. Schoen-something, piano tuner
  
• I overheard colorful snippets:
• "...not the streets to be running on, sir," said one of three hoodie-wearing dudes, giving me the idea not to return to that block on the next loop
  
• "...the n––– girl changed her mind. Now, if the n––– girl wants to change her mind...," said one African-American gal to another.
  

But still, I am now convinced that running faster is what has kept me from feeling bored on many a run in the past. Getting bored? Push. Feeling a bit of pain, push some more. The run will get done faster, too!

And it isn't doing much for my psyche knowing that I can shave nearly 15 minutes off that run without really thinking about it. It is sort of depressing to go slow, to be out there for longer than I have to, and to feel less than fully worked at the end. But Thomas' comment last night gives me relief: it seems I can unleash myself on these mid-week, mid-distance runs!

However, this might be doing my legs some good. And I am learning to hold back which will be important when, after nine miles, I'll be facing 17.2 more. Most importantly, I will still have the legs under me to do 12 miles in the park tomorrow, even if I'm lagging behind the group while I am held back by the beeping of my watch.