PUBLISHED 11/02/2006
Early Risers
Of course, night running isn't the only kind of dark running. In some parts of the country, the sun rises as late as 8 a.m. between December and February, so early morning runners may clock all their miles before the sky is light. Phillip Pizzo, M.D., the dean of Stanford University's School of Medicine, sets his alarm for 4 a.m. so he can get in an eight-miler before getting to the office around 6:30. Dr. Pizzo has trained for 20-plus marathons--often in the dark--for the past 30 years; November's New York City Marathon is next. "My job does not have much time flexibility, and if I don't run before beginning my work day, I simply am not likely to find any other exercise time," he says. Dr. Pizzo runs on the well-lit and familiar Stanford campus, and to avoid injury he recommends choosing a route based on road visibility ("scenery this time of day is irrelevant") and predictability ("learn where curbs, changes in terrain are"). He runs with two lights, one secured to his head and another to his waist, as well as an illuminated vest to ensure that he can see and be seen. For other safety precautions, see "Light up the Night," above.
If you have to choose between staying up late to run or setting the alarm for a predawn rise, some experts say you should hit the hay. "At the end of a long day, you're likely to be less coordinated and more prone to falling," says Phyllis Zee, Ph.D., a professor of physiology and director of the Sleep Disorder Center at Northwestern University in Chicago. "Wait to run until your body has an opportunity to rest. Besides, running enhances mood and productivity, so a morning run could help you function during the day."
Unfortunately, few runners have the luxury of heading out whenever they want to. "When athletes run is usually a function of their life," says running coach Greg McMillan. "The ideal scenario is if your schedule will allow you to train and race at the same time as your body likes to run."
Goulet's lucky that way. With stiff winds blowing off the Charles River, the father of three--whose schedule rarely lets him run before 11 p.m.--lopes toward the lights of the skyline melting into the dark water. "I do my best thinking at this time," he says. "There aren't any distractions."
