Road Trip! Woo!

Last weekend I went out to Monclova Ohio for a half marathon.

At least, that was the plan. We got there plenty early and registered. I didn't really have any expectations for this race, having not trained for a race since New York. So, I was just about having a good run and hopefully turning out a good time and using that confidence at Big Sur.

I really enjoyed the pre-race interval. Having less of an interest in setting a PR and being an old war horse who now only does warm ups when he feels like it, I was able to sit back a bit and watch everyone else. It's interesting to see people get ready for a race. Some are nervous, checking their watches, fidgeting, trying to keep loose. Others are stay loose by avoiding everything that the nervous set does.

I chose not to do an extended warm up run, assuming 13.1 would be enough. So, I put in about a mile and a half maybe 30 minutes before the race. Everything seemed in order. Fueled up, stretched, and ready to go, I toed the line with one goal: stay with the group and then destroy them in the last .1 miles.

The first 3 miles were fine. We started a tad fast (sub 7) but eased into our pace and all was well. Then, around 4, things got goofy. First, the mile markers were off. Unless I ran mile 4 in 3.5 minutes, it was short. Rather that acknowledge that the race was now a half mile short, I spent the rest of the race telling myself I had more to run than I actually did.

Over the next 5 or so miles, I started falling back. Not because I was slowing, but because everyone else was speeding up. So, I maintained. I actually passed a few people and was still running pretty well even at around 10.

Of course, there were no real hills, but each of the slow inclines I bounded up with glee and determination. It counts, right? Then, the wind picked up and we were headed right into it. Plus, the cramp I had in my side was really starting to get on my nerves. It didn't hurt like it could have, but as I was starting to fatigue, it wasn't helping.

At that point, the last member of our group passed me and I was in the back again. As usually happens, the wheels started coming off. Still thinking I had 2 miles, I began a long stretch on a bike path. This was an out and back section, so I got to see everyone from the group, which meant I realized how far back I was and had to slog through all of them to get to the turnaround. Plus, my feet were starting to hurt, stupid shoes! New Balance, I don't heart you anymore.

With just over .1 miles, one of the other group members was there to urge me on. I really appreciated the gesture, but it kind of stung that he was so sprightly after having run his first ever half marathon and absolutely crushing me. I figured if he was going to run the rest with me, he was going to have to keep up with my customary stupid kick.

I put on the speed and I think I managed to pass one more person as I finished. Conveniently, they asked me my age right there to determine if I won anything. I told them, and I did not get anything. I tried guessing a different age, no dice. What, I don't look 60?
The woman who finished right after me begged me to tell her that the course wasn't short. She was so cute I almost hated to tell her the truth.

Anyway, our little band bagged the top two spots for the females and a handful of age group awards. PRs all around, many of which would have still been PRs, even if we'd had that extra .5 miles to run.

Stop for Directions

Today's workout was an untintended fartlek workout.

I'm really impressed with the system of metroparks around here. There are a handful of them and they have nice, paved trials. Sure, I'd prefer some dirt now and then, but this time of year any trail is deserted so, I'll take the peace and low traffic level.

I'm not impressed with the directions to said parks. There is a highway that rings the city, meaning some long roads cross it twice. So what is a newbie to do when the instructions mention two of those roads and offer no other directional advice?

Mapquest!

So, armed with a set of directions jotted down on the back of an envelope. What, you think I'm gonna print out the directions? Right.
No problem, until of course, I pull off at my exit.

There's a sign for the park. It tells me that I should go the opposite direction my map says. Now, I was suspicious of my new directions anyway. They didn't seem to bear any resemblance to the ones on the website for the park and the map didn't actually seem to show the address being in the park.

Left it is. I began to doubt myself immediately. Eventually though, I found an entrance. After I turned around (on account of missing the turn) I went down the driveway and there I was. Lost. This was not the place. It was however a nice spot to take a picture of the sunset that 5 minutes earlier had been spectacular.

Back on the road, following directions this time, I found the place. Of course, by then my friends had all left (what? no 14 minute rule?). I stretched, searched the map for the route (I thought) they'd take and off I went.

For some moronic reason, I thought I could catch them, at least a mile behind, tired, and alone. I did not catch them. What I did do was tire myself out 2 miles in so when they turned around and picked me up, I was a lifeless, shuffling mass of moist cotton and running shoes.

Fortunately, by this time the sun had begun to warm the air and it was a pleasant run back. After a short stop (where they left me again) I was once more in chase mode. This time I came within a few feet of catching them but decided to put in just a bit more before turning around. I settled into a more reasonable, conversational pace and made it an even eleven miles before calling it quits.

We stood around and relaxed after the run, the cool air refreshing us. Wrong turns aside, it was a good run and a great day. A new route I can run and a few more miles in the books.

Fast Friends

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.

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.

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 Staten Island.

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 Verazzano Narrows bridge ahead of me took my breath away. It was impossibly tall, almost shimmering, surrounded by an early morning haze. The first mile was a tangled mass of bodies, discarded clothing and the view from the bridge. I had no idea how fast I was going, but I was loving every minute. The first mile passed in 8 minutes and some change. Not too bad. It was opening up and I was actually able to get some running room from time to time. The second mile was pretty much all downhill and it was much faster and felt great.

We poured off of the bridge into Brooklyn and the real fun began. The crowds were out, cheering on the runners. They called out names of people who had theirs displayed on their shirts, yelled for foreign countries and gave good encouragement to everyone else.

Brooklyn was a blur of ethnicities, neighborhoods and waterstops. I was feeling good and starting to make up the time I lost in the early miles.

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 Queens.

Queens passed much like Brooklyn did, and I was loving life. I hit the halfway mark at almost exactly 1:45, perfect for a 3:30 finish. I was still running strong, but a little road weary at the thought of another 13.1 miles. Undeterred, I pressed on, telling myself the moment I passed the half, that I had less than 13.1 to go.

Unfortunately, there was a problem in Queens, towards the end. I couldn’t get the theme song from the “hit” television show the King of Queens. Driven nearly to madness, I crossed onto the Queensboro bridge. The voices in my head and the voices from the road subsided and I made my way towards Manhattan. At the end of the bridge, there were some posters psyching us up and then there was the sound. That faint, distant rumble, the unmistakable clamor of thousands of cheering fans.

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 Bronx. A woman with a bullhorn shouted at us and made us feel welcome. A large television screen was waiting at the end of the street and I watched as everyone mugged for the camera. I did my best as I passed by as well.

As we headed back towards Manhattan, I was starting to feel it. The streets were not coming any faster. When I hit Marcus Garvey Park, I knew I was nearing the end. I zipped around and set my sights on 5^th avenue, which would take me into Central Park.

Much to my surprise and delight, my parents spotted me on 5^th Avenue. I really needed a boost and they gave it to me. Finally, we were entering the park. By this time, I was in all but full shuffle mode. I was slowing down, sore, and there was a strange tingling in my feet and hands. Somehow, I kept going and eventually the end of the park came into sight. I tried to avoid jumping the curb and hurting myself. No matter, my leg cramped up and went into spasm. I walked a few steps and started limping/running again. I fought off cramps for the next few hundred meters, hoping to get to Columbus Circle without further incident.

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.

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.

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.