The prospect of running a 100-mile race provides a powerful shove out the door, and I needed that shove one day when my training schedule called for a run but the scene outside my window looked gray and wet.

Once outside, the gloom vanished. The light rain brought a sheen to the leaves, grass and rocks and a clarity to the sky. The coolness was invigorating after the heat of the preceding days.

My legs were comfortable with a faster pace, and I was pleased with the new rain jacket I was trying out. I decided to go for 10 miles instead of the planned seven.

These are the times when I truly enjoy this odd sport of distance running, reveling in the outdoors and in the strength of my body firing on all cylinders.

It's a joy I feared had fled for good a couple of years ago. I often tell people that somewhere past my 53rd birthday, I suddenly got old.

In reality, I had become injured, with one problem following another: An inflamed iliotibial (IT) band in a hip, plantar fasciitis in my feet, a sore knee, tight calf muscles that would cramp just from quickening my pace to cross the street.

A cortisone shot and orthotics helped the hip and feet, respectively, but nothing was working with the knee or the calves.

Among the musings I've indulged in while running is that when I get too decrepit to run, it will actually be pleasant to retire to the couch, pick up the remote and set free the latent pot belly.

But as running was becoming impossible, that idle musing became a nightmare. I decided it was time to go see longtime kayaking buddy Robert Borman in his professional capacity as a doctor of chiropractic.

Robert's diagnosis was that one leg was shorter than the other - not because there was a difference in bone length but because my pelvis had shifted out of its proper alignment with the spine.

Not only was this pinching on nerves that are critical to healthy muscle function, he said, it also was the equivalent of running with one shoe on and one shoe off.

It was easy to see how that could lead to injury.

Thus began a series of treatments to nudge the pelvis into place, work the tightness out of the muscles and generally get my body back in balance.

The process hasn't been swift, but over time it has been dramatic. Two years ago I couldn't run at all; today I'm running up to 70 miles a week and hope to complete a 100-mile race.

Ironically, Robert doesn't put much stock in running - too hard on the body, he says. And he doesn't train; his own approach to getting fit for kayaking or climbing is to get out there and do it.

He knows, of course, that you can't simply get out there and run 100 miles, but he cautions against overtraining and is a big advocate of rest.

When muscle soreness after a marathon in April kept me from leaping right back into vigorous training for the 50-mile race I would run two weeks later, Robert told me to relax.

"You put in that hard effort in the marathon and now your body is saying: 'We've got to adapt to that and now we're catching a break - let's go.' And after you do the 50-miler, your body will be saying, 'Wow! We've never done that before. Now we really need to get to work.' Rest; give your body a chance to work."

Robert's definition of rest has nothing to do with a couch or a TV, though. What he advocates is walking. Where running causes the muscles to go into oxygen debt and produce lactic acid, he says, walking pumps the pollution back out. Swinging the arms adds to the cleaning effect.

In addition to the chiropractic treatments, Robert prescribed all walking, no running, when I first went to him, even though I had a goal of completing my 13th running of the Imogene Pass Run - 17 miles from Ouray to Telluride over a 13,120-foot pass - in just six weeks.

It worked. I was able to run most of the Imogene Pass course and finish within 20 minutes of my most recent time. In the following months I gradually built back up to my usual level of running.

Now that I'm running far beyond the usual, I continue to find the good doctor invaluable, especially his ultrasound treatments on my overtaxed legs.

I appreciate Robert's advice, too, as I bounce training ideas off him. One idea he immediately liked is the walk break - slowing to a walk on a regular basis during training and racing. Perfect for wringing out the lactic acid, he said.

And he fills me in on new research, such as a study showing that a long walk after a marathon is more effective in speeding recovery than the massage that so many runners crave.

After the 2002 Winter Olympics, Robert pointed to the athletes who had been injured or sick just before the Games and ended up putting in the performance of their lives. Most remarkable was the Swiss ski jumper, Simon Amman, who won gold medals on the normal hill and the big hill after sitting out a month because of injury. Amman had placed no higher than 26th in previous World Cup competitions.

The down time gave these athletes' bodies a chance to do some housecleaning and rebuilding, Robert said, and a clean muscle is a stronger muscle.

Robert's ideas aren't radically different from what I read in the running press. Coaches, exercise physiologists and other experts all advise easy recovery days after hard days as well as tapering in the last few weeks before the big race.

But I haven't seen anyone else put so much emphasis on walking as a means to clean out the muscles. And I'm about to put it into practice again.

By the time this article is printed, I'll be in Alaska on vacation. For three weeks I'll do plenty of hiking but will have little opportunity for running. Then I'll leap back into it at the Mayor's Midnight Marathon in Anchorage.

Given the high ratio of walking over running that I'll be doing beforehand, Robert predicts it will be my best marathon ever.

Some advice

• From Micah True, three-time Leadville Trail 100 finisher who operates a running guide service in Batopilas in the Copper Canyon region of northern Mexico, home of the legendary Tarahumara runners: The Tarahumara do not train . . . they live. A Tarahumara cannot afford the caloric intake necessary for this luxury (training).

I find that running 6-13 miles most days, with a weekly or bimonthly long day on the trail, (about 5-12 hours) of hiking or running, or biking, is plenty sufficient for 100-mile training. A lot of a 100-miler is about managing discomfort (being OUT there).

One thing we can learn from Tarahumara runners (it comes natural to them) is the art of tapering and relaxation.

If you're a Leadville Trail 100 finisher or ultrarunner with tips to share, please e-mail them to findlayb@RockyMountainnNews. com for publication next month. Please include your hometown and a brief running history.

May training log

Week Sun Mon Tue Wed Thu Fri Sat Miles

19 rest rest rest 3 4 rest 10 hills 17

20 rest 7 3 10 rest 13 hills rest 33

21 3 20 10 rest 7 hills 14 high* rest 54

22 4.5 20 6.5 7 hills 38

As May began, Bob Findlay had just finished a 50-mile race and needed to go easy. By the third week he had built his mileage back up and included 14 miles at *high altitude on Guanella Pass. The fourth week was cut short by vacation.

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