I'm starting to wonder if I'm not out of my league a bit.
Casually, before a run a few weeks ago, one of the other runners was telling people how he'd raced the last few weekends. Actually, he mentioned winning a marathon. After the run he pondered running 100 miles a day for a while.
Then, magically, on my Saturday long run, I was left sucking air half way through. That night I met a guy who ran the Men's Olympic Marathon Trials this year.
I'm kind of intimidated by all of these people. I should point out that they've all been incredibly nice and if I had met them under different conditions, they might not have mentioned their accomplishments. Still, it's humbling to be around such quick people.
It isn't as though I'm used to being the stud of any group I'm in. Usually there are plenty of people faster than me and some slower too. This just feels different.
I'm hoping it helps me to be a better runner. I know that running with faster runners helps a lot. I'm not going to even try to keep up with the two mentioned earlier (although I did beat one of them when he was struggling through a mid-week run, he probably could have sped up and whupped me good, but I finished that run first, so it counts, hah!) but I do see myself running with some better runners regularly.
Maybe now that I'm in a new place and running with new people, this is the year I'll meet some of my more substantial running goals.
Even if I don't, I'm enjoying the company, the scenery, and life in general.
Here's to another 365 of great running.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Saturday, November 10, 2007
I'm in love with a wonderful.....trail?
I was hoping that I would find an apartment near some trails or at least sidewalks.
That was not to be.
Fortunately, there is a 15-mile bike path within 15 mintues of my place. Not only that, but there is a lake on the path, that offers pretty scenery and a bit softer ground for weary legs.
So, I'm sold. My first run there was an 18-miler in preparation for the marathon. I met up with some other runners and ran with them for a while. However, they were not looking to hit double digits, so for the majority of the run, I was on my own.
Well, I was running solo, but there were lots of other people out there. The path winds all the way into the city. I didn't take it quite that far, but I did get to the OSU campus. It was gameday, so I started passing people walking to the Horseshoe and getting to their tailgating.
The trail took me through wooded areas, parks, and along the river. I even managed to keep from getting completely lost.
So, I think I've found my new favorite. Maybe having to drive a bit from the apartment to run won't be so bad.
That was not to be.
Fortunately, there is a 15-mile bike path within 15 mintues of my place. Not only that, but there is a lake on the path, that offers pretty scenery and a bit softer ground for weary legs.
So, I'm sold. My first run there was an 18-miler in preparation for the marathon. I met up with some other runners and ran with them for a while. However, they were not looking to hit double digits, so for the majority of the run, I was on my own.
Well, I was running solo, but there were lots of other people out there. The path winds all the way into the city. I didn't take it quite that far, but I did get to the OSU campus. It was gameday, so I started passing people walking to the Horseshoe and getting to their tailgating.
The trail took me through wooded areas, parks, and along the river. I even managed to keep from getting completely lost.
So, I think I've found my new favorite. Maybe having to drive a bit from the apartment to run won't be so bad.
Friday, November 9, 2007
It's a Hill of a Town (NYC Marathon Race Report)
My secret hope before going to bed, was that I would wake up on my own, about 10 minutes before my alarm was to go off.
I got 15. So, a bit tired and even more anxious, I started getting my things together and getting ready to head out. I put on everything I wanted and left the apartment. When I got to the elevator, I decided I should put on my long shirt. Ooops, it’s still in the apartment. No problem, I’ll just open the door ever so slow-crud, it’s locked. Oh well, at least I have garbage bags.
I expected there to be people out on the streets. Not so much. However, once I started getting close to the bus stop at the library, I found some. The closer we got, the bigger the crowd. They herded us onto the bus and quickly left for
Speeding though the darkened NY city streets gave me a little time to relax. It was warm on the bus and most of the people around me were trying to sleep a little. When the bus finally pulled up, there was already a stream of people heading for the starting area. The feeling was a little bit like camp, volunteers lined the street, welcoming us to the marathon as we hugged our bags and shuffled through the gates.
We were quickly divided based on the colors of our bibs, although I had no idea where I really was. There was a small parking lot with coffee and water. Music was playing and I was starting to get excited. I made my way through the dark to where we were supposed to start. There were signs for each starting group. I found a nice patch of grass near mine and plunked down. I was getting a bit cold, so I put one garbage bag over my torso and put my legs in the other. I spent the next hour or so trying to keep warm, read, and keep my legs from tightening up. I did each one with little or no success.
The whole time this was going on, they were playing, on a constant loop, a recording of a voice telling us to be in the blue corral, corresponding to the blue on our bibs. It was dark and 5 in the morning mind you.
The area was starting to fill up and it was starting to get light. After fiddling with the Sunday times crossword, I gave up and went in search of some warmth. Just my luck, there was a generator powering the infernal speakers. I sat behind it and it simultaneously blasted my legs with warm and air drowned out the speakers. Nirvana!
About 2 hours to go. Time for Froot Loops, bananas, and pretzels. I eagerly downed my breakfast of champions and did a little more reading, but really I was too nervous and excited to read or sit still. By this time, the recordings had changed to one informing us it was nearly time to go to the bridge.
Having opted for lots of stuff, I needed to deposit my gear bag. Making my way through the throng I was met with an immovable object: The vast majority of the 39,000 runners trying to do the same. After waiting not so patiently and not moving anywhere near my baggage car (70, I could see 42 in the distance, giving me some idea of how long it would take me to still never get there) I turned around and decided to part ways with my cheap pens, day old paper, and extra box of cereal. What to do though, with my body glide? It’s a new stick and seemed silly to get rid of it. Fortunately, I managed to fit it inside my pocket. I’ll simply carry it until I meet up with the family and then give it to them. Problem solved.
I made my way to the street and eventually we started walking to the bridge. They walked us between a row of busses and the toll booths. I was totally turned around. I had no idea where the bridge or even NYC was. Then the cannons fired. We were off. Sort of. Quickly we moved around the busses and towards the bridge.
Seeing the
We poured off of the bridge into
I knew my parents would be somewhere around mile 7. So shortly after the 10-k mark, I stopped slapping hands with every little kid on the side of the road and began scanning the crowd. A few miles later, sure enough, there they were, standing and cheering me, no wait, they didn’t see me at all. I turned around, hugged mom and handed off my body glide. Before they could even react, I was back on the road and heading for
Unfortunately, there was a problem in
It grew louder as we descended onto the island. For the next several miles, as we headed north, the crowds were several people thick on both sides, screaming, cheering, and impelling us onward in our quest to conquer the 5 boroughs.
I knew that Marc and my folks were going to be somewhere along the road. I watched the crowds for a few dozen blocks but couldn’t find them. Only after passing where they were, did I realize they were trapped on the other side of the street.
At the end of the road, we stumbled up a bridge and were quickly welcomed to the
As we headed back towards
Much to my surprise and delight, my parents spotted me on
By this time they were breaking down the remaining distances in hundreds of meters. Good time to rely on the track training. Each hundred meters seemed longer than the last. That was until, 100 meters to go. I put all of my fatigue and pain aside and made a mad dash for the end. I jumped in the air at the finish line and pumped my fist. Man, I’m a dork.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Heroes
Wednesday night I went to hear one of my heroes, Dick Hoyt, speak in front of the Cerebral Palsy Association. If you aren't familiar with the Hoyts, you should visit their site.
The following is a race report from 7 years ago, when I was still in college.
It was almost 7:00 when my alarm clock woke me up. The voices on the radio were muttering something a bit too intellectual for that early on a Sunday morning. I stumbled out of bed and began my prerace rituals, not knowing what or who, was waiting at the starting line. I took a little too long in preparing and before I knew it, an angry runner was waiting impatiently outside of my window. “When you’re an old man like me, you’ll understand how much time I need in the morning” I muttered. I grabbed those vital supplies, my keys, headband, and of course, the entry fee, and headed out the door.
After a brief car ride, we found our way over to the hotel where the registration was taking place. Long lines and anxious runners filled the room. One line for numbers another for shirts, all essential to the runner. As I waited in line for my number (probably somewhere in the billions, the problem with raceday registration) I looked around to size up my competition. This was just to be a tune up run, to see what kind of shape I was in but still, I was ready to race.
It was then that I almost missed him, he seemed like just another guy in running shorts and running shoes. My memory told me different, this runner was someone special: Dick Hoyt. I looked around at the other runners, they seemed so focused on getting their numbers and shirts that they did not even notice him. I was hoping someone else would see them and match my enthusiasm.
I felt like I should say something, here was the man whose determination and love I had been awed over every time I heard his name. I searched quickly through my mind for a perfect phrase, “Congratulations” or “I really admire what you do” or even, “Good luck.” But none of these seemed appropriate. I found a greeting that seemed fitting at the moment, “Good morning!” He responded with a friendly enough good morning in return and that was that.
I shared my sighting with the other members of my group, who seemed attentive, yet lacked the lingering amazement that still filled my mind with wonder. Soon enough, it was time to hit the line, the stretching was done, and the watches were cleared. I ran with the sound of the gun, weaving at the start, jostling for position and finally settling in after about a half mile.
As we rounded the lake I was struck by the sound of the race. There were no cars, no TVs, no voices, only the sound of breathing and the steps of the runners. It was beautiful, a strange serenity amid our seven minute mile pace. About a half mile later, I encountered him again, this time Dick was with his usual partner, his son Rick. Together they pushed onward, already heading the opposite direction on the 5-k course.
I pushed for the next 5 miles, the usual aches and pains. I felt my body accelerating up the hills, leaving my midpack companions behind me until they caught me and my burning shins on the way back down.
As I neared the hotel and the finish line, I put on a worthy show for my cheering fans, passing up my nearest competitor and earning the accolades of the announcer at the finish. I was met by my group, each of us was satisfied with our finishes and we made or way to the post race refreshments. I sat there with my banana and my water, taking in the atmosphere that I know and enjoy so much. Basking in the sense of accomplishment, having pushed another 6.2 miles out of my body and it was not yet 10:00.
I thought about what I had done and certainly, what the Hoyts had done. It was while I was doing this that it finally all made sense. I had thought to myself, this is a great day, I have done something I love and seen up close, people that I admire greatly. It was his demeanor though that convinced me. Dick Hoyt did not seem to act as though this was a particularly amazing day. For him and Rick, that was the point. When they run together, Rick feels like he isn’t handicapped. What makes it so special is that it is the one time when Rick can feel like everyone else. For all of us, it was a day where we could enjoy something we love.
The following is a race report from 7 years ago, when I was still in college.It was almost 7:00 when my alarm clock woke me up. The voices on the radio were muttering something a bit too intellectual for that early on a Sunday morning. I stumbled out of bed and began my prerace rituals, not knowing what or who, was waiting at the starting line. I took a little too long in preparing and before I knew it, an angry runner was waiting impatiently outside of my window. “When you’re an old man like me, you’ll understand how much time I need in the morning” I muttered. I grabbed those vital supplies, my keys, headband, and of course, the entry fee, and headed out the door.
After a brief car ride, we found our way over to the hotel where the registration was taking place. Long lines and anxious runners filled the room. One line for numbers another for shirts, all essential to the runner. As I waited in line for my number (probably somewhere in the billions, the problem with raceday registration) I looked around to size up my competition. This was just to be a tune up run, to see what kind of shape I was in but still, I was ready to race.
It was then that I almost missed him, he seemed like just another guy in running shorts and running shoes. My memory told me different, this runner was someone special: Dick Hoyt. I looked around at the other runners, they seemed so focused on getting their numbers and shirts that they did not even notice him. I was hoping someone else would see them and match my enthusiasm.
I felt like I should say something, here was the man whose determination and love I had been awed over every time I heard his name. I searched quickly through my mind for a perfect phrase, “Congratulations” or “I really admire what you do” or even, “Good luck.” But none of these seemed appropriate. I found a greeting that seemed fitting at the moment, “Good morning!” He responded with a friendly enough good morning in return and that was that.
I shared my sighting with the other members of my group, who seemed attentive, yet lacked the lingering amazement that still filled my mind with wonder. Soon enough, it was time to hit the line, the stretching was done, and the watches were cleared. I ran with the sound of the gun, weaving at the start, jostling for position and finally settling in after about a half mile.
As we rounded the lake I was struck by the sound of the race. There were no cars, no TVs, no voices, only the sound of breathing and the steps of the runners. It was beautiful, a strange serenity amid our seven minute mile pace. About a half mile later, I encountered him again, this time Dick was with his usual partner, his son Rick. Together they pushed onward, already heading the opposite direction on the 5-k course.
I pushed for the next 5 miles, the usual aches and pains. I felt my body accelerating up the hills, leaving my midpack companions behind me until they caught me and my burning shins on the way back down.
As I neared the hotel and the finish line, I put on a worthy show for my cheering fans, passing up my nearest competitor and earning the accolades of the announcer at the finish. I was met by my group, each of us was satisfied with our finishes and we made or way to the post race refreshments. I sat there with my banana and my water, taking in the atmosphere that I know and enjoy so much. Basking in the sense of accomplishment, having pushed another 6.2 miles out of my body and it was not yet 10:00.
I thought about what I had done and certainly, what the Hoyts had done. It was while I was doing this that it finally all made sense. I had thought to myself, this is a great day, I have done something I love and seen up close, people that I admire greatly. It was his demeanor though that convinced me. Dick Hoyt did not seem to act as though this was a particularly amazing day. For him and Rick, that was the point. When they run together, Rick feels like he isn’t handicapped. What makes it so special is that it is the one time when Rick can feel like everyone else. For all of us, it was a day where we could enjoy something we love.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Start to Finish
First, this includes a long overdo race report from the Twilight Trail.
The second annual Twilight Trail 8-k went off without a hitch. Well, there was the incident with the flour, but that was resolved. More on that later.
I started off and worked with Pat to mark the course. He devised an oversized shaker bottle which was filled with flour. We marked every possible turn on the course where someone could go astray. Right before we started though, it began to rain. We didn't get a hard rain in the park, and a lot of it is under the trees, but we were worried that the flour would wash away. Oddly, this is precisely why the park wanted us to use flour. So, after a few hours of shaking, and lining, the course was ready to go.
People were arriving (except a few from the west or downtown where it was apparently Noah-worthy flooding. So. the start was pushed back a bit, which would prove useful. I went for a warmup with a few other Striders and much to my surprise, there were no markings on the course all the way up to the big hill. @#$! So, I ran back, to the start to tell Kate. I reloaded the shaker and with the help of another volunteer, went along and relined everything. I managed to get back to the start with a little time before the first runners left.
By this time, everyone was there, so I found my teammate and readied for the start. However, I was by this time, completely soaked and in need of a new shirt, which I probably should have gotten. Oh well. The race started and as last year, each wave was launched with cheers and applause, a real treat for everyone (execept of course for the last group, which had the largest gap to make up and no crowd of runners. Oh well, the price of sort of youth.)
Some of the people ahead of me at the start surprised me, but I was about where I expected at the hill. Oh man, the hill. Former Orange X-C coach Keller would be proud. This is a long, steep, now muddy climb that doesn't really level out for another half mile or so after the crest. So, I plugged away at it, but it seemed to take more out of me than usual, maybe the earlier running/lining adventures were having their way with me. Still, I made it to the top and did my best to hold the pace.
One reward I enjoyed at the top was that I started to pass the slower runners who started before me. After I settled into my pace, I began passing more and more, and eventually other Striders, some of whom I managed to cheer for as I passed, others who managed to cheer for me as I passed.
I was really feeling it by halfway. I was in dire need of the second water stop and it was a help before the long downhill. The rain, winding road, and gravity made the descent treacherous as ever. I think there was another waterstop at the bottom of the hill, but I missed it. Just around Squire's Castle was the 4th mile mark, so the end was coming and not a moment too soon. I had pulled my shirt bethind my back to get some ventilation, but fully planned on returning it to the proper placement shortly before the finish. I probably should have done it earlier. I was caught on camera with it pulled back ala 1988. Oh well, at least I'm not drooling on myself this time....am I?
The finish couldn't come soon enough. After crossing the line and staggering around for a while, I regained my composure and balance and enjoyed the massive post-race spread and party.
I enjoyed food and drink and the company of other runners who had shared in the experience. Most people seemed pleased with their times, everyone was pleased with the race.
Two Twilight Trails done, two years with the running group in the books. Will it be another year the next time the race comes around or will it be a chance to return and see my friends again? Either way, sign me up.
The second annual Twilight Trail 8-k went off without a hitch. Well, there was the incident with the flour, but that was resolved. More on that later.
I started off and worked with Pat to mark the course. He devised an oversized shaker bottle which was filled with flour. We marked every possible turn on the course where someone could go astray. Right before we started though, it began to rain. We didn't get a hard rain in the park, and a lot of it is under the trees, but we were worried that the flour would wash away. Oddly, this is precisely why the park wanted us to use flour. So, after a few hours of shaking, and lining, the course was ready to go.
People were arriving (except a few from the west or downtown where it was apparently Noah-worthy flooding. So. the start was pushed back a bit, which would prove useful. I went for a warmup with a few other Striders and much to my surprise, there were no markings on the course all the way up to the big hill. @#$! So, I ran back, to the start to tell Kate. I reloaded the shaker and with the help of another volunteer, went along and relined everything. I managed to get back to the start with a little time before the first runners left.
By this time, everyone was there, so I found my teammate and readied for the start. However, I was by this time, completely soaked and in need of a new shirt, which I probably should have gotten. Oh well. The race started and as last year, each wave was launched with cheers and applause, a real treat for everyone (execept of course for the last group, which had the largest gap to make up and no crowd of runners. Oh well, the price of sort of youth.)
Some of the people ahead of me at the start surprised me, but I was about where I expected at the hill. Oh man, the hill. Former Orange X-C coach Keller would be proud. This is a long, steep, now muddy climb that doesn't really level out for another half mile or so after the crest. So, I plugged away at it, but it seemed to take more out of me than usual, maybe the earlier running/lining adventures were having their way with me. Still, I made it to the top and did my best to hold the pace.
One reward I enjoyed at the top was that I started to pass the slower runners who started before me. After I settled into my pace, I began passing more and more, and eventually other Striders, some of whom I managed to cheer for as I passed, others who managed to cheer for me as I passed.
I was really feeling it by halfway. I was in dire need of the second water stop and it was a help before the long downhill. The rain, winding road, and gravity made the descent treacherous as ever. I think there was another waterstop at the bottom of the hill, but I missed it. Just around Squire's Castle was the 4th mile mark, so the end was coming and not a moment too soon. I had pulled my shirt bethind my back to get some ventilation, but fully planned on returning it to the proper placement shortly before the finish. I probably should have done it earlier. I was caught on camera with it pulled back ala 1988. Oh well, at least I'm not drooling on myself this time....am I?
The finish couldn't come soon enough. After crossing the line and staggering around for a while, I regained my composure and balance and enjoyed the massive post-race spread and party.
I enjoyed food and drink and the company of other runners who had shared in the experience. Most people seemed pleased with their times, everyone was pleased with the race.
Two Twilight Trails done, two years with the running group in the books. Will it be another year the next time the race comes around or will it be a chance to return and see my friends again? Either way, sign me up.
Friday, June 15, 2007
I'm all in
As a rule, I usually put off signing up for marathons until the last possible minute (or until just before the fee increases). However, sometimes that just won't work. For example, Chicago. It sells out quickly and you need to decide well before the race that you want to run, if you want a number.
Well, it is also the case for New York. They have a lottery each year. Some people get selected, some are forced to raise money if they want to find a way in legally. Unlike Boston, there is no qualifying, but getting in is not a given.
So, after a few months of waiting, I found out that this November, I'm headed to NYC!
Well, it is also the case for New York. They have a lottery each year. Some people get selected, some are forced to raise money if they want to find a way in legally. Unlike Boston, there is no qualifying, but getting in is not a given.
So, after a few months of waiting, I found out that this November, I'm headed to NYC!
Friday, May 25, 2007
Bay to Breakers
I've been wanting to do Bay to Breakers for years but never thought I'd get the chance on account of it taking place in San Fransisco.
All that changed last weekend as I made the trip out there for the race.
First, the expo.
It left a lot to be desired. It was basically a step up from what Cleveland's used to be. There were about 2 clothing vendors, a few shoe companies, and assorted foods and drinks, each with its own mystery ingredient. Now that I've been to countless expos I have some advice to all of you runners who are interested in maximizing your schwag.
First, there are usually bigger bags than they give you with your bib, somewhere at the expo. Find them and stuff away! Next, find something you like to eat or drink. This is key. Maybe you like gatorade, or a powerbar. Whatever. The reason for this is that every local health-food company is trying to cash in on the performance food market with their own special, performance-enhancing ingredient. I've sampled energy bars with everything in them: taurine, ginseng, haldol. And it isn't limited to drinks either. Power bars are filled with every recovery hastening, speed enhancing, nipple hardening substance known to man (and a few that to earth, presumably from outer space). Usually these are gourmet disasters. I actually went to one expo that had a booth touting sardines! So, after you've consumed a drink that tastes exactly like licking a carpet, go back to your old reliable, wash down the flavor, fight back what is threatening to climb back out and go try that spinach flavored energy gel!
So, after loading up on our free stuff (the orange sunglasses would prove key). All was set for the race.
One of my favorite things about a big, early race is seeing all of the runners on their way to the race in the morning. This was no exception. Aaron and I got out at the BART station and there was already a mass of people ready to get on the train. We sat down and they started streaming in. Usually you can spot runners in these situations: zero body fat, impromptu stretching, pierogi breath. Here, it was even easier. Everyone had on either a number, a costume, or both. We rode the train into the city with Nacho Libre, one of the incredibles, and a handful of other costumed folks. Man, this was gonna be fun!
I was actually surprised when we got out of the train at how few people there were. We started following a modest crowd towards the start (I assumed). Slowly, the numbers picked up and it was starting to feel like race day.
My primary concern was being able to get into the first starting corral. I had signed up too late to get into the first and was not looking forward to trying to push past everyone going half of my speed or less. We got to the entrance and people were directing us. I pulled my fuel belt up over my number and instructed Aaron to make like he was drafting off of me. In we went. No problem.
I pulled my belt down and separated slowly from Aaron. They immediately spotted us and told us to go to the other entrance. I nodded meekly and walked a few steps in that direction. By then, they had turned to other runners. I signaled to Aaron and we went on unmolested. Safe!
As we approached the starting area, I noticed a guy with tortillas. Oh well, whatever. Then, all of a sudden, I noticed tortillas flying overhead! Soon, the sky was filled with UFOs (unidentified flour objects). Aaron had a lot of fun picking up the wayward tortillas and tossing them into the air. We were surrounded by all manner of runners, costumes, and excitement. Now we were just waiting for the start.
As the mass lurched forward, they instructed runners left and walkers right. I wished Aaron luck and headed for the left edge. I shouldn't have bothered. There were so many people (60,000 or so) that it wasn't moving.
Ah, I thought, a little weaving and I'll be free!
Well, two miles later, I was still weaving. I managed a few short sprints, but mostly I was stuck in traffic, jogging at best. I was all over the place. Sometimes the sidewalk opened up and I had a little running room, but I was so far back that the runners who were up to speed were too slow for me. So, I continued to weave.
The highlight of the course is Hayes Hill. It goes up for at least a mile. This is where I was going to make my money. I finally had a little space on the hill and one other runner was pushing the pace. I stuck with him as best I could and gained a little momentum. Partway up the hill, they were handing out more of the orange glasses. I grabbed a pair and kept going. Along the hill there were all manner of revelers. Some people were hanging out of windows, others on top of buildings tossing mardi gras beads, encouragement, and even beer to the runners.
After the hill the course took a general downward trend. It wound through Golden Gate Park for the rest of the race. I hit the 3 mile mark in 29 minutes, about 9 minutes behind pace. So much for hitting 53 minutes. I pushed the pace, maybe I could still break an hour. The problem was, it was still jammed. It had opened up, but I was still weaving. Also, I had been doing what amounted to a fartlek workout for the last 3 miles. I was worried I was going too hard but was hitting 7 consistently on the clock for each mile.
At this point I had a little more time to admire the scenery. In the park there was a waterfall and some bands. I was also passing a lot more people, some of whom were not clothed. Let me tell you, when you are ducking between people and jockeying for position, it is important to steer clear of naked people. Advice for life, you'll thank me later.
I hit the 6 mile mark in 50 minutes. Great, all I needed to do was cover another 1.5 miles in 10 minutes or less and I'd break an hour. Sure.
The course wound down towards the ocean and turned to run along the shore for the finish. I kicked it into high gear and pushed for the end. Still navigating the crowds, I passed the line in just over an hour on my watch.
I wandered through the finish area and grabbed a water (the only refreshment they had there, booo!). There were guys spraying legs with something cool. I stood for a spritz, not sure what it was, but it felt good.
After a few minutes, I noticed my heartrate was still high and my breathing was quick. Uh-oh. I'd been fighting a cough and now I was concerned. I should have been able to catch my breath by then. Not sure that panicking helped my heartrate. After a few more minutes of admiring the spectacle, caught my breath and headed back up the course to find Aaron.
Aaron and I coordinated on the phone and I set out to meet him. Sure enough, about a mile from the end I found him. We walked in the last stretch of the course and then went off to celebrate together.
All that changed last weekend as I made the trip out there for the race.
First, the expo.
It left a lot to be desired. It was basically a step up from what Cleveland's used to be. There were about 2 clothing vendors, a few shoe companies, and assorted foods and drinks, each with its own mystery ingredient. Now that I've been to countless expos I have some advice to all of you runners who are interested in maximizing your schwag.
First, there are usually bigger bags than they give you with your bib, somewhere at the expo. Find them and stuff away! Next, find something you like to eat or drink. This is key. Maybe you like gatorade, or a powerbar. Whatever. The reason for this is that every local health-food company is trying to cash in on the performance food market with their own special, performance-enhancing ingredient. I've sampled energy bars with everything in them: taurine, ginseng, haldol. And it isn't limited to drinks either. Power bars are filled with every recovery hastening, speed enhancing, nipple hardening substance known to man (and a few that to earth, presumably from outer space). Usually these are gourmet disasters. I actually went to one expo that had a booth touting sardines! So, after you've consumed a drink that tastes exactly like licking a carpet, go back to your old reliable, wash down the flavor, fight back what is threatening to climb back out and go try that spinach flavored energy gel!
So, after loading up on our free stuff (the orange sunglasses would prove key). All was set for the race.
One of my favorite things about a big, early race is seeing all of the runners on their way to the race in the morning. This was no exception. Aaron and I got out at the BART station and there was already a mass of people ready to get on the train. We sat down and they started streaming in. Usually you can spot runners in these situations: zero body fat, impromptu stretching, pierogi breath. Here, it was even easier. Everyone had on either a number, a costume, or both. We rode the train into the city with Nacho Libre, one of the incredibles, and a handful of other costumed folks. Man, this was gonna be fun!
I was actually surprised when we got out of the train at how few people there were. We started following a modest crowd towards the start (I assumed). Slowly, the numbers picked up and it was starting to feel like race day.
My primary concern was being able to get into the first starting corral. I had signed up too late to get into the first and was not looking forward to trying to push past everyone going half of my speed or less. We got to the entrance and people were directing us. I pulled my fuel belt up over my number and instructed Aaron to make like he was drafting off of me. In we went. No problem.
I pulled my belt down and separated slowly from Aaron. They immediately spotted us and told us to go to the other entrance. I nodded meekly and walked a few steps in that direction. By then, they had turned to other runners. I signaled to Aaron and we went on unmolested. Safe!
As we approached the starting area, I noticed a guy with tortillas. Oh well, whatever. Then, all of a sudden, I noticed tortillas flying overhead! Soon, the sky was filled with UFOs (unidentified flour objects). Aaron had a lot of fun picking up the wayward tortillas and tossing them into the air. We were surrounded by all manner of runners, costumes, and excitement. Now we were just waiting for the start.
As the mass lurched forward, they instructed runners left and walkers right. I wished Aaron luck and headed for the left edge. I shouldn't have bothered. There were so many people (60,000 or so) that it wasn't moving.
Ah, I thought, a little weaving and I'll be free!
Well, two miles later, I was still weaving. I managed a few short sprints, but mostly I was stuck in traffic, jogging at best. I was all over the place. Sometimes the sidewalk opened up and I had a little running room, but I was so far back that the runners who were up to speed were too slow for me. So, I continued to weave.
The highlight of the course is Hayes Hill. It goes up for at least a mile. This is where I was going to make my money. I finally had a little space on the hill and one other runner was pushing the pace. I stuck with him as best I could and gained a little momentum. Partway up the hill, they were handing out more of the orange glasses. I grabbed a pair and kept going. Along the hill there were all manner of revelers. Some people were hanging out of windows, others on top of buildings tossing mardi gras beads, encouragement, and even beer to the runners.
After the hill the course took a general downward trend. It wound through Golden Gate Park for the rest of the race. I hit the 3 mile mark in 29 minutes, about 9 minutes behind pace. So much for hitting 53 minutes. I pushed the pace, maybe I could still break an hour. The problem was, it was still jammed. It had opened up, but I was still weaving. Also, I had been doing what amounted to a fartlek workout for the last 3 miles. I was worried I was going too hard but was hitting 7 consistently on the clock for each mile.
At this point I had a little more time to admire the scenery. In the park there was a waterfall and some bands. I was also passing a lot more people, some of whom were not clothed. Let me tell you, when you are ducking between people and jockeying for position, it is important to steer clear of naked people. Advice for life, you'll thank me later.
I hit the 6 mile mark in 50 minutes. Great, all I needed to do was cover another 1.5 miles in 10 minutes or less and I'd break an hour. Sure.
The course wound down towards the ocean and turned to run along the shore for the finish. I kicked it into high gear and pushed for the end. Still navigating the crowds, I passed the line in just over an hour on my watch.
I wandered through the finish area and grabbed a water (the only refreshment they had there, booo!). There were guys spraying legs with something cool. I stood for a spritz, not sure what it was, but it felt good.
After a few minutes, I noticed my heartrate was still high and my breathing was quick. Uh-oh. I'd been fighting a cough and now I was concerned. I should have been able to catch my breath by then. Not sure that panicking helped my heartrate. After a few more minutes of admiring the spectacle, caught my breath and headed back up the course to find Aaron.
Aaron and I coordinated on the phone and I set out to meet him. Sure enough, about a mile from the end I found him. We walked in the last stretch of the course and then went off to celebrate together.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Let the Sunshine In
Nothing too heavy today. I just want to revel in the beauty of the day.
As with all things, there is beauty to be found. Sometimes it is just too easy. On a day like today, all you have to do is open your eyes and you realize how extraordinary a day it is. The sun is pouring into every window, every crack, through every opening and between all of the trees. Even without stepping outside, it is undeniable that the seasons have changed and that all can be new again.
Even if I hadn't been nursing a sprained ankle, I would be enjoying the warmth of the sun as I made my way along paths and roads.
Even if I hadn't fought winds, snow, and the bitter cold all winter, I would be delighting in the cool breezes affording me both a gentle nudge from behind or a refreshing gust from the front.
Even if I hadn't cut my mileage down as life threatened to take away my time to run, I would be extoling the greatness of the spring run with the return of foliage, friends, and fun.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
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