tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-114101132024-03-14T00:38:53.021-07:00Run with Stevie RayRobert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.comBlogger138125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-24167610957586344372009-04-06T08:58:00.000-07:002009-04-06T14:28:21.417-07:003/22/09 Grasslands Marathon<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/Sdpz7FsL49I/AAAAAAAAAZc/6SyNtLIdfEE/s1600-h/TX+Grasslands+2009+1.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/Sdpz7FsL49I/AAAAAAAAAZc/6SyNtLIdfEE/s200/TX+Grasslands+2009+1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321693368668644306" /></a>As noted in <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2009/03/31509-little-rock-marathon.html">my last report</a>, my 200th marathon was at Little Rock. I asked the great race folks at Little Rock for bib #200, but their numbering/corraling system apparently doesn't work that way. My next race, The Grasslands Marathon, was... obviously... my 201st. And I got bib #201 by sheer coincidence. I didn't ask for it.<br /><br />Now then. There is a very specific reason why I wait a little while before writing my race reports beyond "sheer laziness" and "real life priorities". Well, those are reasons too :-). Also, some of these reports take a lot of work to make them readable (some of you would say, "apparently not enough, bud"). But the *main* reason why I wait is simple: I like to process that race experience. If I write about a race right after I finish it, I might GUSH! about the day. This is a fine thing, but if I do it too often and all races are GUSH! GUSH!, then it becomes a little like Roger Ebert giving all movies 3 and 4 stars. Actually, it's worse than that. Of all the races I've done, I've found things to like or love about almost all of them. It kind of IS like Lake Wobegon where everyone (every race) is above average. If too many of them are far above average, though, and I GUSH! GUSH! all the time, then my writing gets stale. And I miss things that I might like to remember a few years later.<br /><br />Then there's the opposite issue.<br /><br />Every now and then, I will have a rather crummy experience. Maybe it's because the race sucks. Maybe it's just because I ran the race in a grumpy mood. Or I was sick. Etc. If I think about this for a week or two, usually I can separate the "yes, that is important to remember" bad stuff from the, well, goofy stuff. And many times I can come up with some perspective on why something went amiss; perspective I probably did not have during the race. This helps a lot.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SdpjikMVTEI/AAAAAAAAAZM/YKxpLEdgHns/s1600-h/LBJ+grasslands+3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 114px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SdpjikMVTEI/AAAAAAAAAZM/YKxpLEdgHns/s320/LBJ+grasslands+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321675355173768258" border="0" /></a><br />Welcome to the Grasslands Marathon. <br /><br />Had I written this report during the evening after the race, you'd be reading something a lot darker than this :-). It is a stroke of luck that you are reading anything at all, actually. On the Friday before the race, I suddenly realized that the race was scheduled for Saturday and not Sunday. I had been working under the assumption that it would be Sunday for several weeks. Would have been a lonely Sunday.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SdpjHXv8nBI/AAAAAAAAAY8/Zwdz6N9f-vQ/s1600-h/LBJ+grasslands.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 245px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SdpjHXv8nBI/AAAAAAAAAY8/Zwdz6N9f-vQ/s320/LBJ+grasslands.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321674887977016338" border="0" /></a>The Grasslands Marathon and accompanying 50-miler and half marathon take place each March at the LBJ National Grasslands, which are (is?) located about an hour northwest of Ft Worth near the town of Decatur, Texas. I went to high school in Dallas and college at Texas Tech, located across the state in the panhandle. I passed Decatur many times on my way back and forth. I'm very familiar with the landscape of North Texas; 15 years after moving to Seattle, I still miss it. So I was very excited to run this race. When you picture the word 'grasslands' in your brain, you probably imagine rolling prairie with knee-high grass. As you can see from this picture, this is not wrong. HOWEVER, I was surprised quite a few times on the course by views like the one in the previous picture. Several areas had fairly thick trees (note: I mean 'tree' in Texas terms, which would be described as 'big scrubby bush' in Seattle terms). There were a few deep gullies and stream beds. And there was sand. Oh man, was there sand. Many miles of the trail had deep sand, which made running a lot harder. And falling a lot softer. The <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2007/04/032507-bataan-death-march-memorial.html">Bataan Death March Memorial Marathon</a> is a race that is famous for a mile-long section of trail with ankle deep sand. Grasslands had about 12 miles of that. For race day, we had picture perfect weather - blue skies, light breeze, temperatures between 60 and 75. Springtime in Texas can offer up just about anything weather-wise, and I was certainly glad that it wasn't stormy. The sand and the gullies would have been so much more challenging in wet conditions. And believe me, it was challenging enough.<br /><br />I can describe the course with one word: crazy. The thing to know about the trails, which I didn't really know ahead of time, is that they were created for horse riding. The trails do not have names; they are identified by colors. And they are marked periodically with little posts with horseshoes of the appropriate color. Usually. Except when they aren't. But I'll come back to that. Most of the trails consist of loops that originate and end at a central location, called TADRA Point. I have no idea what 'TADRA' actually stands for, but after running The Grasslands Marathon, I decided that it is "the place where dreams are created and ended. Also where you potty."<br /><br />The courses for the three races (half, full, 50) utilized various trail loops. And this is where things get confusing. All races utilized "the yellow loop". The full and the 50 also utilized "the blue loop". The 50, but not the other races, utilized "the white loop" and "the red loop". Catch #1: depending on the race, the loops were in different orders. For example, the yellow loop was early in the half, but it was the second loop of the full. Catch #2: each race also involved a short, sneaky loop that was called "the correction loop", and the 50's correction loop was different from, and longer than, the correction loop in the full and the half. The correction loops were also, basically, not marked. Adding both catches together, you have a day where you would encounter runners going every which way... all at different miles in their respective races... with ample opportunities for choosing the wrong trail if you didn't remember your ordering. And, most importantly, because the euphemistic correction loop was the very first trail, it was an opportunity to get bad lost very early on. Which might, oh say, put one in a very bad mood and mess with one's head, leading to goofy issues later.<br /><br />Here's the Cliff Notes version:<br />+ The 50 miler started first. It consisted of a 4.9 mile 'correction loop', followed by the blue loop, the yellow loop, the white loop, and the red loop.<br /><br />+ The full marathon (my race) started 30 minutes later. It consisted of a similar-but-different 2.something mile 'correction loop', followed by the blue loop, followed by the yellow loop.<br /><br />+ The half marathon started 30 minutes after that. It used the same correction loop as the full, followed immediately by the yellow loop.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SdpjSgrjRtI/AAAAAAAAAZE/yBkJl2aUtrs/s1600-h/LBJ+grasslands+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 312px; height: 210px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SdpjSgrjRtI/AAAAAAAAAZE/yBkJl2aUtrs/s320/LBJ+grasslands+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321675079353059026" border="0" /></a>One final thing. The trails merged in many places and then would randomly fork away when least expected. So, a runner might be on the yellow loop thinking "wait, I remember this area. Did I take a wrong turn?" Maybe. Or maybe it was just one of those places where blue and yellow used the same trail. The correction loop was like this. Turns out, it was both part of the blue trail and the red trail. The sharp eyed reader will note that the red trail is not part of the full. I got to learn about the red trail nonetheless by puzzling through the correction loop.<br /><br />All day long, I encountered runners who probably weren't supposed to be where they were. Or maybe it was that *I* was where I wasn't supposed to be. Actually, some of both happened. I got lost once and had several confidence crises regarding <i>the potential of being lost</i>.<br /><br />None of this was helped by the most confusing pre-race orientation I've ever heard. Ever. Five minutes before the start of the full, the race director explained the course to us. He explained it three times, and he said something different each time. In retrospect, I think he was having difficulty remembering the sequence for the various races, and while talking, he'd realize he was telling the full marathoners about the 50 or the half, so he'd stop and start over again. And oh yeah. To assist with marking, the race org had put flag tape in the trees. But based on the speech, there was supposedly pink tape in the trees on the yellow loop and (some other color) in the trees of (a different color's) course. TOO MANY COLORS! No way to remember all this. Ultimately, it wouldn't matter much as the tape was, shall we say, sparse.<br /><br />The RD finished his briefing by telling us that the course was so well marked that if we got lost "it was our fault". Oh man. You have no idea how many times I'd mull over this comment in my head.<br /><br />As I was panicking before the start, I threw out pretty much all my time-based goals. I wanted to finish upright, and since I knew that the course wasn't overly hilly, I figured 4:00-4:20 would be a rough approximation of my finishing time. Except that I didn't know about the foot sucking sand. I also didn't know how lost I was about to get, nor how goofy the answer I'd receive to the question "hey, roughly, where am I?" would be.<br /><br />All I did know was that it was time to run and that I needed to do something called a correction loop, a blue loop, and a yellow loop. Ok then. I followed the big group of people. Now, as noted, at Grasslands, all the trails are marked by color. There is no color called "correction". Nor was there a loop really labeled that either. We seemed to be on the red loop, sort of. The people in front of me knew where they were going, so I followed them.<br /><br />Until, about 10 minutes after we started, the first three guys stopped, turned around, and seemed to be heading back to TADRA with a whole "we're lost!" vibe. Uh oh. Pretty much everyone else seemed to think we were going the proper direction, so we continued. I panicked some more. We hit a place where some people decided to run on the gravel road, and some people ran on the trail that was near the road. Suddenly, 50 milers came barreling from the opposite direction of the trail. Yikes. After awhile (5 minutes? an hour?), the trail curved back up to the road anyway... and we all saw our first sign that indicated we hadn't yet screwed up. 50 milers and full marathoners, go <-- that way. So we did. <br /><br />Soon thereafter, the three guys who had turned around caught us and passed us again. Huh. By this point, I was kind of feeling out the trail markings, even though I still wasn't sure what color 'correction' meant. I learned about the little posts with the little horseshoes. I learned about the paint spots on the trees. I learned that some of the little posts were knocked down and moved to little areas that weren't trails, and I learned that not all trees had paint spots. I saw a few examples of flag tape. The most important thing I learned was that some areas of trail would have posts fairly close together... but then there might be a quarter mile following a ridge or a pond that wouldn't be marked at all. There were gates every now and then too. Sometimes, we apparently were supposed to go through the gates. Sometimes around the gates. Turns and forks in the road were sometimes obvious. And sometimes, you needed to stop and peer down the road to see if there was a color down there somewhere to help you. On a positive note, aside from the sand on the trail, the landscape itself was exactly what I'd been missing. Sunrise was perfect. The weather was perfect. What a great day to stress out about getting lost. <br /><br />Somehow, we stumbled back to TADRA Point. And now for one of the weirdest (but ultimately, least important) goofy things about this race. 3ish miles into it, we were all stopped at the main checkpoint start/finish area and our pull tags were collected from our numbers. What? In 99.999999% of all the races that utilize these tags, they come off at the end and are used to help race organizers know a person's time and finish order. Here, they were collected 3/26's of the way into the race and thrown into a box. I thought at the time that perhaps they were just doing this as a simple check-in to ensure they knew who was on the course. However, later on, I saw that box sitting in the same place with a jumble of numbers. I have no idea why they did this. Weird. <br /><br />Time for the blue loop. Up and down. Around. Into a deep gully. The guy I was running with told me that a few years ago, this area had 3 feet of water. Ropes were used to lasso people across. This year it was bone dry. I definitely preferred bone dry. The first section of the blue loop shared the trail with the yellow loop. I'd later see that these would repeat as the last miles of the race. Fairly soon, though, yellow went THAT WAY and blue went THIS WAY. I was so proud of myself for seeing this turn. <br /><br />The really fast trail runners had taken off, and I was running with two other folks. Both were 50 milers. I was following blue markers when I could see them. When I didn't see any, I convinced myself that "keep going" was the right move, and I rationalized that the long sections weren't as well marked because they didn't need to be. I hadn't seen a marker in awhile. As we rounded a curve in the trail, I saw blue tape in a tree. Cool. I was still on course. More running along a fence line. <br /><br />No more markers. <br /><br />The three of us started wondering if we had missed something. Nope, there was nothing to miss. Then we realized that the "trail" we were on wasn't really a trail... it was simply just really short grass next to the fence. We kept running, but more slowly. About 10 minutes later, we hit a fence corner. <br /><br />And the end of the line. <br /><br />Uh oh. No trail. And no more short grass either. Bushes, trees, nasty sticker things. I scanned around. I saw some trail markers in a disconnected area. Orange trail markers. No blue. Uh oh. What to do? Now, if we had been thinking normally, we simply would have turned around and figured it out. Instead, we just stood there for about a minute dumbfounded. When we did turn around, we were amazed. 20-30 other runners had followed us! And there we were. Middle of nowhere, not on a trail, milling around. Ok, we had to go back. Or, I suppose we could have continued even deeper into The Land of the Lost. <object width="480" height="295"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/bYVNXS6bWT0&hl=en&fs=1"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/bYVNXS6bWT0&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="295"></embed></object><br /><br />15ish minutes later, we saw people making a turn we hadn't noticed and waving at us. Was this turn marked? Why, yes. Yes it was. Remember that blue tape I mentioned above? When I first encountered it, my brain had processed it as "this marker indicates that you are on the trail" and I had chugged on by. What my brain SHOULD HAVE processed was "look behind that tree and notice that there's a blue marker down there... TURN". Ooops. I felt really stupid, though in retrospect, this was an easy thing to miss. Seriously, it just looked like one of the sparse markers indicating "trail", not a special one indicating "turn".<br /><br />But turn I did. And after not knowing if I was going the appropriate direction during the entire correction loop AND losing 20-30 minutes getting lost on the blue loop, I was now running slower and much more paranoid. "Running paranoid" is not a great strategy for a trail run if one has an important time goal. Luckily, I didn't. But I was getting bummed out, and this was sad because the day was truly glorious.<br /><br />I reflected on all those who had followed my two buddies and me into The Land of The Lost. NOBODY took that turn. They followed the person in front of them like a sheep. Amazing stuff, really. Oh well. I kept on going. Not that I had a choice!<br /><br />Towards the end of the blue loop, I came across one of my friends - Maniac Claude. We chatted as we finished the loop. I noticed that the end of the blue loop seemed to be the correction loop in reverse. Ok. As Claude pulled away, I encountered half marathoners coming through the loop. Mind you, this was about three hours into my race, so two and a half hours into their race. The correction loop was supposed to be the first thing that the half marathon folks did... and the blue loop wasn't part of their course at all. These people were lost too.<br /><br />The end of the blue loop and TADRA point. I visited the potty. Now, you might wonder why I had not just utilized one of the many bushes. I invite you to google 'chigger' to learn why. In a report where my tone might seem a bit negative, BIG THUMBS UP for the portapotties. And the volunteers. And the great aid stations.<br /><br />Speaking of, while refilling my bottle at the main aid station, I saw the race director. Trail runs almost never have mile markers, so I usually ask aid station volunteers "where am I?" After the smart-alec answers (Earth, Texas, "having fun"), I usually learn what I need. I spotted the RD, and who better to ask? So I did. "Where am I?" "You are at 18."<br /><br />You are at 18.<br /><br />Outstanding. So, this meant that the upcoming yellow loop would be 8 miles. I assumed that I was running about 10:00/mile pace, so this made for an easy countdown.<br /><br />18.<br /><br />I should have remembered the challenges that our RD had with the pre-race briefing. I didn't.<br /><br />Off I went, down the yellow loop. It was now warm enough that I switched to a singlet. 10 minutes went by. 19 down, 7 left. 10 more minutes... 20 down. I did not linger at the next aid station. Onward. 21 down. 22 down. I wasn't speeding up, but I wasn't slowing down. I pulled into the next, and I assumed final, aid station. I grabbed some cookies and coke. Woohoo. Almost done.<br /><br />And there I made my fatal mistake. By habit, I asked, "where am I?"<br /><br />You are at mile 21.<br /><br />Holy crap. My brain melted down and poured out my ears. I was expecting to hear 24, 2 miles left. I had been running an hour since I left M18. I had encountered an aid station before this one. <i>How could I have run for 60 minutes and 2 aid stations and only be 3 miles down the road???</i> GAHHHH.<br /><br />Maybe the aid station volunteers were confused. Nope, they seemed sure of themselves. Maybe I had gotten lost. Very possible, but if so, then what was that other aid station? It's a heck of a race with aid stations in lost areas. Plus, other people had been running with me. One guy told me, "sorry, my Garmin says we're at 21."<br /><br />I couldn't wrap my brain around it. Nor could I overcome the fact that I had a whole lot more than 2 miles left. A small piece of me kept hoping that everyone was wrong. Off I went. All I could think about was the math. What had happened? Did I run through a rift in the space/time continuum? It was a spectacular day on trails that mean 'home' to me. And I was missing it because I was preoccupied with being bummed out.<br /><br />I started encountering people on horses, the first horses I'd seen all day. These seemed to be volunteers out looking for lost people. Great. Search parties. "Am I lost?" "Nope, you're fine."<br /><br />Another aid station. "Where am I?" "24.4. 1.8 left." They were adamant, and this time I was a believer. I was also completely dead on my feet, so I didn't have much choice but to believe them. During the last 1.8, I finally figured out the probable answer to my question. Maybe I didn't get lost. Maybe I didn't imagine running so far and the extra aid station. Maybe, just maybe, I was told a fib. Perhaps TADRA Point was not really M18.<br /><br />I passed a few spectators who told me that I was almost there. I believed them, just like I believed in the aid station. The only place on the whole course with spectators would have to be close to the start/finish. And there it was. And there I was.<br /><br />Done. 4:55. 4:55! Oh dear.<br /><br />The RD gave me my medal. As there were no other finishers coming in, I asked him again about the distances. "You were at M15.5. I said 18? Oh sorry, I thought you were a 50 miler." And indeed, you may remember that the 50 miler had a much longer correction loop at the start of their race. Ooops. It all made sense now. And I couldn't really be mad at him. I can see how he might have been mixed up - I had come into the aid station with several 50 milers. <br /><br />I cleaned up and drove to my parents' house near Dallas.<br /><br />That was some day. Like I said at the top of this report, I'm glad I wait awhile sometimes before I write my articles. At the time, I was not loving life. But I wasn't super down at the end either - I remember taking pictures for a couple walkers who finished the half just behind me. I was upbeat and coherent.<br /><br />Looking back, it really was kind of a fun course. It was a perfect day, and I love that part of the country. The aid stations and the volunteers were OUTSTANDING. The M15.5 vs M18 thing was a simple mistake. I did not like getting lost, not at all. But even that was a weird deal. The trail should have been better marked, but the turn I missed WAS, in fact, marked. I missed it. So did a bunch of other people. The correction loop was bizarre and needed to be better marked too.<br /><br />Without the stress, I would have run faster. And without getting lost, I certainly would have finished faster. But as it turns out, that was a fairly challenging course regardless. My 4:55 landed me 28th overall out of 70. A 4:35 (removing my time in The Land of the Lost) would have put me in the top 15! Well maybe. It is almost certain that some of the other people who finished near me had gotten lost with me.<br /><br />Many of my trail loving friends look at getting lost kind of like they look at falling: it's gonna happen and you sort of have to embrace it. My issue wasn't that I got lost. My issue was that I freaked out about getting lost and it dragged me down. This made me tentative and slow. Had I seriously been trying to race, this would have been a hooooooge liability.<br /><br />I wasn't really trying to race though. I was out for a nice day in the sticks. I got that. It's a shame I missed it.<br /><br />Overall, the race organizers did a fine job. If you had asked me that day if I would return, the answer would have been a simple "Hell no." Looking back, the answer is "Probably." It is reasonably convenient to my folks' house and aside from the deep sand, that course almost certainly offers up more fun than I had. Now that I know how it all works... and what doesn't work... I don't think I'd get so stressed about things. Probably.<br /><br />So maybe I'll come back! Fingers crossed that it doesn't rain. I can't imagine doing that course in rain or fording deep streams. No sireee.<br /><br />Next up? It already happened. The race known as "Dizzy Daze". 10 loops of a 3.2 mile path around Green Lake in Seattle. The day started at 40 degrees with steady rain. The rain stayed and the temperature dropped. Every time I went around, it was a little cooler. By my 5th loop, it was 35 and still raining hard. I couldn't feel my fingers. The RD had put up a special out-and-back so that folks who ran 8 loops and this out-and-back could finish with a marathon. And that's what I did instead of 10 loops. 4:35 to do a frozen, wet marathon. This was ok. I stopped several times in the middle to eat, talk to people, and use the facilities. Then I went home and found the big blister on my achilles tendon. Yikes. It was not a fun day, but I *did* get to see lots of my friends who I hadn't seen in a long while.<br /><br />And Maniac Linda ran 50k in a dress.<br /><br />Next up after that? The Yakima River Canyon Marathon, which was also the first Marathon Maniac Reunion in two years. More on that Real Soon Now.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-21238432088973832072009-03-26T08:15:00.000-07:002009-03-26T14:11:48.876-07:003/15/09 Little Rock Marathon<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/Scvj3jbmIQI/AAAAAAAAAYY/lu_XSLiahmw/s1600-h/AR+Little+Rock+2009+4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/Scvj3jbmIQI/AAAAAAAAAYY/lu_XSLiahmw/s320/AR+Little+Rock+2009+4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317594328584298754" border="0" /></a>I look a lot worse in this picture than I actually felt!<br /><br />In mid-February, I ran the National Marathon to Fight Breast Cancer as marathon #198. On the first weekend in March, I ran an obscure 6-hour race ("run as far as you can in six hours") near Seattle called Invest in Youth. I ran it slowly on purpose, and once I had run 26.5ish miles, I stopped. That was #199.<br /><br />It was time to hit a milestone. There's nothing magic about "200" except that it is a round number. It's a whole lot of marathoning. I remember running the San Francisco Marathon a few years ago: it was my 39th. It also happened to be some lady's 100th, and I saw signs all over the course wishing her a happy hundred. I remember thinking that "100" seemed really, really big and wondering if/when I'd ever get there. Turns out, I got there in 2006 at Yakima. Fast forward, and now it was time for 2x100. The odd thing is that as I've kept running them, my sense of scale has changed. 200 doesn't really seem like a lot... heck, it's a lot of most anything... unless I think about it hard. It is. 200 marathons and ultras since September 2001. More than 5300 miles of running races spread over 7 1/2 years.<br /><br />At the same time, though, it's just a number. One more than Invest in Youth. A couple hundred LESS than a few runners I know pretty well. I didn't really feel like targeting a 'special' race for my 200th and I didn't feel like creating a bunch of hoopla around it.<br /><br />I had registered for Little Rock because I knew I was going to be in Dallas (nearby in air travel terms) during mid-March to help take care of my Dad. I've not done this race before, but it has a very fine reputation. And by coincidence, it was going to be my 200th. No extra hoopla, but enough of it just as a function of being a well organized midsize city race.<br /><br />Little Rock is one of those cities that has a big river running through (or next to) downtown. I didn't know what to expect out of downtown Little Rock, but what I was NOT expecting to find was... a Russian submarine in the river. There is one. Ho-kay. There's also a ton of cool things to check out and a nifty trolley to take you other places. And a race.<br /><br />At the highest level, The Little Rock Marathon course is a loop that starts and ends downtown. It is an extremely interesting course. After a roly poly 5 mile loop that hops across the river to North Little Rock and then back through downtown, runners are treated with a long, gentle uphill through various neighborhoods in (what I assume is) the central part of the city. At about M14, this hill gets substantially steeper. Up and up you go. Just past M16 on a road rightly named "Lookout", the course winds along a ridge and then SWOOP - down you go. At M18, the course turns along a road through a park near the river. This is a fun and flat out-and-back between M18 and M23.5. The final 2.7 miles follow the same road along the river back into downtown and the finish. Described differently, after the turnaround at M20.5, the rest of a race is a straight, flattish shot to the finish. Well, flattish except for a couple evil little bumps.<br /><br />The race prides itself on its hills. Everybody describes the Little Rock Marathon as hilly. They sell shirts with the slogan "What Hills?" It is hilly. But compared to some of the races I've run, it's really not *that* hilly. The reputation is earned mostly by the big ol' hill in the middle. Not unlike the hill in the middle of Flying Pig.<br /><br />The race also prides itself on its organization. This is well-deserved. My favorite aspect of this turned out to be something which they don't really advertise, and something I don't recall seeing at any other race. The course offers up a great tour of all kinds of Little Rock history. And to help ensure that everyone knows a little about what they are seeing, the race puts up little signs in front of historic buildings explaining their relevance. This was so cool! The only thing I knew I wanted to see in Little Rock was Central High School. I had heard it was on the course, but I didn't know where. Sure enough, there was a sign. I didn't need a sign for it, as it turns out, because Central High School is huge and remarkably pretty. This was unexpected. It turns out that Little Rock has all kinds of OTHER nifty buildings and parks. Thanks to the signs, now I know about them too. You know, I bet that this is true about many, many of the other 199 races I've run in various (and sometimes obscure) places. But I'll never know. Little Rock? I know. Little signs add value.<br /><br />Little Rock also offered up great aid stations with friendly volunteers. The occasional band too. And permanent mile markers: blue versions of those highway markers you see on Interstates. I suppose it helps that the governor of Arkansas is a big fan of marathoning :-). Two race shirts as well.<br /><br />Now, what Little Rock seems to be most proud of is the medal they provide to finishers. It is very, very large. I knew this coming into it, but I didn't realize HOW big. I'll come back to that.<br /><br />Let's play Where's Waldo. This is Corral B at the start. Where's Roberto?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/Scvjjf_F-AI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/JcfCT_lev9E/s1600-h/AR+Little+Rock+2009+1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/Scvjjf_F-AI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/JcfCT_lev9E/s320/AR+Little+Rock+2009+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317593984062060546" border="0" /></a>Race morning offered up perfect weather. Overcast and 45. It was a bit breezy and threatened to get quite warm, so Island Boy went with various pink and black peel-offable layers. As a well organized medium-sized race, Little Rock had a reasonable corraling system to help ensure that folks lined up appropriately. And pacers. I stood in corral B wondering about a race goal. I was *in* corral B because I had estimated a finish time between 3:30 and 3:45 when I signed up. Was this reasonable? Hmmm. I mentioned in my <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2009/01/goals-for-2009.html">2009 Goals</a> that one of my big goals for the first half of the year is to get ready for a race in the 3:15-3:20 range. To get there, I promised myself to run fewer non-goal marathons and to be smarter about how I ran them. This is specifically why I took Invest in Youth slowly. I decided that since Little Rock would have mile markers (Invest in Youth didn't) that I'd try to run it "medium slow(ly)" but more importantly, I wanted to run as even a race as I could. At this point, a medium slow pace would be 3:45ish. I lined up with the two 3:45 pacers and waited.<br /><br />Not long. Boom, off we went. For about half a mile. I needed to potty. This wasn't a surprise. What WAS a surprise was the number of portapotties after the start of the race. I figured I'd be holding it for awhile. No need. I ducked in, I came out, and I started running again. However, I had lost the 3:45 group and my legs were telling me not to try to catch them.<br /><br />I settled in where I was. Tons to see in this race. Many people to meet. Lots of historical signs to read. I did it all. I also took the time to reflect on 200 races. <br /><br />The first miles of this race were uneventful. This was the loop that sent us over the river to North Little Rock and back. I thought about my very first marathon - 2001's Portland (Oregon) Marathon. It was a few weeks after 9/11, and we all wondered whether the race would happen. It did. I ran a stupid race, including a half marathon PR in the first half followed by a major slowdown in the second half. But my finishing time was really cool to see: 4:04:04. I had picked a good race to start with, and I've returned to it several times since. Back in Little Rock, my legs were still really stiff as we passed back through downtown and M5.5. I saw that the course looped back on a different road and noticed the elites run by. Turns out, they were at M9 as I approached M6. Zoom.<br /><br />I have a weird relationship with speed. I like to run fast, but I don't do it that often. My fastest recent half is 1:36. My fastest full has been my 3:28 at last year's Eugene Marathon. I'm trying to take 10 minutes off that. Yikes. Not counting ultras, I've "run" six marathons over 5 hours. My slowest road marathon was my second one. A couple months after my 4:04:04 at Portland, I ran the Seattle Marathon with a friend. Only after our 5:03 finish did he tell me that he had wanted to break 5 hours. Ooops. Still, though, that's almost two hours faster than the 6:53 I spent on the Leadville Marathon course. None of that compares to the 12:30 I spent going up and down mountains at the White River 50 Miler. Twelve and a half hours!<br /><br />Anyway, Little Rock wasn't shaping up to be a slow race, nor a fast race. As planned. It was a great day for running fast, so I had to hold back at first. The half marathon course broke off somewhere around M11.<br /><br />Just past M11, the course turned onto Park Street, and there it was: Central High School. It was big and really pretty. Standing out in front of it, a woman yelled something like "hey, thanks for running for breast cancer!"<br /><br />My response? "You're welcome. (pause) But actually, I'm against it."<br /><br />The lady looked at me kind of like I insulted her, but many of the runners around me broke out in laughter. I like making people laugh. More importantly, this told me where my brain and emotions were - in a <span style="font-style: italic;">good</span> place. This meant that my nutrition was fine and that the day was going ok SO FAR. Based on the laughter, this seemed to be true for those around me as well. Cool.<br /><br />Looking at the marathon course map, it is obvious that the organizers went out of their way to ensure that we saw Central. The course made almost a two mile detour to run past it. Thanks, organizers! <br /><br />I find cool things to look at in many of the races I've done. As I mentioned earlier, it is 100% likely that I've run by cool things in races and didn't even know it because they weren't marked. It's hard to beat the Marine Corps Marathon for thing-specific sights. The two miles through Magic Kingdom during Disney are close, though. For overall scenery, I'd pick Crater Lake and the now defunct Kilauea marathons as my favorites. The thing is, you expect places like that to be pretty ahead of time. I like unexpected things. Like hitting the turn around in the middle of Frank Maier (Juneau) and suddenly noticing the BIG GIANT GLACIER. <br /><br />Too bad the half marathoners didn't get to see Central. We merged back onto their course around M12. I was running behind a guy in a "Brasil" shirt. He looked very confused. About M12.5, the full turned left and the half went straight. It was marked ok and they had volunteers telling us this. In English. I realized why Brasil was looking so confused when he turned to me and said, "Fool? Fool?" And pointed.<br /><br />Hey there. I'm no fool, no siree. Oh wait. I thought about it quickly. He had a thick accent, and he wasn't saying "fool". He was saying "full". Ah, he wasn't sure what to do with all the merging and de-merging of the half and the full! Aha. In broken Spanish, I told him to follow me because the full was turning left.<br /><br />Of course, they speak Portuguese in Brazil/Brasil. Heh. He figured me out, though, and off we went. My legs were having trouble keeping the pace. By the time we hit THE HILL at M14, off he went.<br /><br />Hills. I love hills. I don't always run them well, but I do like roly poly races. Leadville and the obscure Mid-mountain Marathon (going between ski resorts in Utah) have been the hilliest races I've done. Message boards light up with discussion periodically regarding the flattest courses in the nation. Skagit Flats, and there's no debate :-).<br /><br />I hit the halfway point of Little Rock at 1:56. So much for 3:45, and I wasn't sure if my legs could deal with a second 1:56. Especially going up the hill. Up and up. Spectators were extremely encouraging through this section. In general, spectators don't make or break a race for me. Most of my races have none and I still like them fine. The biggest exception to this for me was Twin Cities. That course was lined with people for 26.2 miles and they were REALLY into it. I loved it. Marine Corps had lots of spectators too, but this was the night-and-day opposite experience. At Marine Corps, people kept trying to cross the street right in front of me. Including a lady with a stroller that I had to hurdle. GAH.<br /><br />Up and up. I had slowed a bit, but so had everyone else. I wasn't being passed, but then I didn't pass anyone either. I crested the hill somewhere around M17 on a street named "Lookout" as in "lookout below!" I wish I could say that I ran down that hill super fast. But I didn't. I rarely do; I am a poor downhill runner. My favorite downhill of all time is the second half of Haulin Aspen. Aside from that, I usually merely tolerate downhill, and that's how this one went. I did not make up the time I had lost.<br /><br />At M18, the course turned onto the out-and-back section. I was in a pretty good place emotionally and I was still having fun BUT my watch was telling me I had slowed. I could tell that this was starting to bug me, so I decided to play a game. I consciously tried to speed up, but I decided to stop staring at the numbers on my wrist. I love out-and-backs because I get to see folks going the other way. The fast folks in front of me and later on, the not-so-fast folks behind me. I call out to people I know; I offer up encouragement. My favorite race, Kona, is an out-and-back. While I don't love the Seattle Marathon, the out-and-back section across the floating bridge is one of my annual favorite memories. <br /><br />As I started into this section, a guy I know from a message board (Maniac Matt) called to me from the other side. That was nice. He'd go on to PR with a 3:01. WOOHOO! I had no such designs on a PR, but I was running noticeably faster now. I was passing people too.<br /><br />About M19, I saw Maniacs Yolanda and Larry running the other way. They had started early; I decided to try to catch them. I ran 65 marathons in 2007. Yolanda ran 65 in 2008. I've mentioned Larry before. He ran 95 in 2007 and 105 in 2008. Ok then. Just before the turnaround at M20.5, I caught up to my friend Jim. He ran 72 in 2007.<br /><br />Time to head to the finish. I wanted to make some of these final miles as fast as my early miles. It would be hard, which reminded me that this race advertises itself as hilly and hard. It is hilly, but it isn't THAT hilly. The hardest marathons I've run were Crater Lake and Estes Park. Little Rock wouldn't make the top ten. But that's ok! It was going to be plenty hard to finish fast and even out my first half/second half split.<br /><br />As I ran on the back side, I noticed a ton of maniacs on the out side who I hadn't yet met. I hooted and hello'ed all these folks. Sometimes I got a big smile. Usually, I got a blank stare. Ah well. I run in pink which is 1) weird and 2) incognito for a maniac. At M18 of a hard race, I'd probably wonder why some strange guy in pink was yelling at me. If I wasn't, you know, that guy.<br /><br />I felt pretty good. Not as good as I did six weeks before at Surf City when I ran my 3:39 with a negative split, but much better than I did four weeks before at the Breast Cancer Marathon. I wasn't ducking into portapotties every few miles either. Always a plus.<br /><br />Thinking of the Breast Cancer Marathon made me consider some of my most 'meaningful' races. That would definitely be the main one. Bataan too. Seeing thousands of soldiers climbing the big hill at Bataan with 35 pound packs was cool. Shaking the hands of several Real-Bataan survivors after finishing was quite moving indeed.<br /><br />The final miles clicked by. I felt like I was holding my faster pace, but I also wasn't looking at my watch. I thought about my other senses besides 'sight' and marathon memories based on other senses. At the top of the final hill at Twin Cities is a church with a giant Big Ben-sounding bell. I will never forget the deep "BONNNNNNNNG (pause) BONNNNNNNNNNG (pause) BONNNNNNNNNNNG" as I crested that hill. The taste of the huckleberry shake after Mesa Falls. The rumble of the C-5 passing overhead at Air Force or the jet fighter flyovers at Houston and Dallas White Rock. The smell of Wilmington! Heh.<br /><br />At M26, volunteers were handing out lipstick (!). But not to me. At M26.1, another guy I know from a message board (spiderpig!) called out to me.<br /><br />At M26.2 I was done. 3:52. And that meant that I pulled a 1:56/1:56 split. COOL! I didn't run exactly even miles, but I never do. And this was a hilly course. I did what I wanted to do, although I was 7 minutes slower than my initial goal. That was alright.<br /><br />Did I mention that Little Rock has a big medal? Indeed. It even says so.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/ScvjTxc16VI/AAAAAAAAAYI/gNXoHc3uPfY/s1600-h/2009+03+26_0259.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/ScvjTxc16VI/AAAAAAAAAYI/gNXoHc3uPfY/s400/2009+03+26_0259.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317593713872333138" border="0" /></a><br /><br />What a fun day. And a reflective one too. This was an incredible race, even though I personally did not run an "incredible race". I had a great time. Then I headed back to Texas to help take care of my dad.<br /><br />Next up: The Grasslands Marathon. And let me tell you, that was a real adventure. Not all in a good way, but it worked out. I'm still here. I'll be back with that story Real Soon Now.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-33376029550875156642009-03-19T11:42:00.000-07:002009-03-19T18:48:22.416-07:00The February Race Report<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/ScLP4nBhnrI/AAAAAAAAAYA/N-SA8Ik8fk0/s1600-h/CA+Surf+City+2009+3.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/ScLP4nBhnrI/AAAAAAAAAYA/N-SA8Ik8fk0/s320/CA+Surf+City+2009+3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315039081705610930" /></a>Well, hello. Long time, no see. I did a <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2009/02/january-race-report.html">single, consolidated post for January</a> because I didn't have time during the month to write. This was mostly due to my little doggie. He's doing better, thankfully, but he has been a lot of work.<br /><br />Time for the next thing! My father had to have surgery to repair an abdominal aortic aneurysm (usually referred to as an "AAA" or a "triple A"). This was originally scheduled for the first week of February and then got moved to February 13th so that he could get past a cold. Messing with a person's aorta is tricky business, especially when that person is 78 years old and has lived through the same life choices that many folks in the 1950s and 1960s made. Scary time. Now, I mean. Although the 60s were pretty damn scary too.<br /><br />I knew that my races and Real Life plans would be iffy because I wanted to be in Dallas for the surgery, and I didn't know how long I'd stay. Looking back, the month went really well all things considered... though I have to say that running seems pretty unimportant sometimes, traveling to run has felt a bit extravagant (oh, and then there's the economy), and I just haven't felt creative enough to write about the runs I've managed to do. My training has really suffered too, and it hasn't helped that the weather in Seattle has been so snowy and cold this winter.<br /><br />I wrote about the weather in my January report. My weekly mileage (mpw) had been down into the 40s during January, which is not good for someone training for a typical goal marathon and extra awful for someone who likes to run a bunch of them close together. That said, it was a big improvement over the single digit weekly miles I managed towards the end of December. I spent the month rebuilding... and although I ran no marathons, each weekend I ran a race that was a bit longer than the week before. Towards the end of January, I was back to a long run of 19.2 miles.<br /><br />Which was good, because I was registered for the Surf City Marathon on February 1st. Well, "good" in that I knew I could make the distance. But certainly not "great" in that I did not have a good series of long runs to help ensure I was ready for a quality race. I had only that single run beyond 13.1 miles since the middle of December. Coupled with a low mpw, I had no great hopes for Surf City. It needed to be a very long training run. The first of many.<br /><br />The Surf City Marathon is held in Huntington Beach, California, usually near or on Superbowl Sunday. <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2007/02/020407-pacific-shoreline-marathon.html">I ran Surf City in 2007, back when it was called Pacific Shoreline</a>. It was my 4th marathon (and my 3rd race ever in pink) during the year I ran 65. I had a reasonably fun race, but I was fairly slow. In warmish (but yummy to Island Boy) conditions, I huffed and puffed to a 4:04 finish. Then I drank beer.<br /><br />The main thing to note about the 2009 edition is that the course is the reverse of the old course. <span style="font-weight:bold;">Huge, huge improvement</span>. The only hills in the course now come early instead of late. The bottleneck caused by thousands of slow half marathoners is alleviated by the timing of the merge when run in this direction. Anyway, this course is a 15 mile balloon-on-a-stick out-and-back that heads up the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH), shoots off onto hilly roads and through a couple of parks, and then returns on the PCH. Near the start/finish area, the course makes a turn out onto the bike path that winds along the beach. The final 11 miles are a flattish out-and-back along this beach with tons of regular bathrooms and, of course, great ocean scenery.<br /><br />I showed up for this race with very low expectations. I had no idea what would happen. I knew I wanted to beat 4, but I also knew that I should be quite satisfied with 3:59:59. An improvement over 2007's 4:04. However, I also decided to run by feel... and if the first few miles felt more like I should try for 3:45-3:50, then I'd go with that and see how long it lasted. With my suboptimal training, I had no hopes of anything faster.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/ScLPgQWZ9yI/AAAAAAAAAX4/Ubo37w2rdhk/s1600-h/CA+Surf+City+2009+1.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/ScLPgQWZ9yI/AAAAAAAAAX4/Ubo37w2rdhk/s320/CA+Surf+City+2009+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315038663302313762" /></a>Waiting for the start of the race, I hooked up with one my friends from the area, Jon (or, according to his race number, Jon Boy). It sounded like Jon was in the same fuzzy area as me regarding a finish. When the race started, we ran together. Jon is the guy in the orange shirt.<br /><br />I was very stiff during the first mile, but talking to Jon and other folks (hi, Barefoot Rick) took my mind off of that. So much so, in fact, that by the second mile, I got the first of several similar comments from Jon:<br /><blockquote>Hey, slow down, Speed Racer.</blockquote><br />I had just run an 8:20 mile. I shifted down to 8:30-8:45/mile pace, but each time I got distracted, apparently I sped up again.<br /><blockquote>Slow down, Speed Racer.</blockquote><br />Hmmm. The weather was perfect and I felt great. We made it through the parks and back out onto PCH. As we approached the halfway point, I could feel the slowdown setting in. I tried to pace off of Jon's pace. I have a feeling he was trying to do the same with me.<br /><br />We hit the half at 1:50. Hmm. Did I think I had a 3:40 in me? NO WAY. I was sure I had gone out too fast. However, this was a training run and I really needed to gauge my fitness, so I decided to hold it for as long as I possibly could.<br /><br />A couple miles later, we turned onto the beach's bike path for the long out-and-back. I did not feel great, but I didn't feel that much worse either. My pace settled in around 8:30 for a few miles. Jon had dropped back a little. At M18, I had the sudden urge to go to the bathroom. The good news was that I had made it 18 miles during a race without any potty related issues. This is rare. The better news was that this path has tons of bathrooms and no lines. In I went, out I came, and I was back on the course without losing too much time. And I felt better. <br /><br />The turn around was just before M20. Usually the last 10k of a marathon are the hardest miles, and generally the slowest ones. Every now and then, though, my brain and body sync up in a positive place and I can unleash some weird energy reserve that I usually do not possess. This rare experience, kind of like "flow" I suppose, is one of the key reasons I race. I don't know why it happens and I can't predict when it will happen UNTIL IT IS HAPPENING, but it surely is fun when it does.<br /><br />And here it was. Surf City has pace groups and as I was approaching the turnaround, I spied the 3:40 pace leader on his way back. I decided that my mission was to catch him. Didn't know if I could do it, but I felt really good. Besides, I was running next to the ocean and women were wearing skimpy clothes. Even if I failed, it would still be a good day.<br /><br />But I didn't fail.<br /><br />I caught my man right at the M26 marker. Then I finished the race at 3:39.<br /><br />Whew!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/ScLPQET5aYI/AAAAAAAAAXw/_qSs0tjRhTw/s1600-h/CA+Surf+City+2009+5.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/ScLPQET5aYI/AAAAAAAAAXw/_qSs0tjRhTw/s320/CA+Surf+City+2009+5.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315038385192659330" /></a>Who knew? I have no idea what happened. My training didn't seem to support a 3:39, and certainly not a 3:39 with a one minute negative split (1:50/1:49). I have Jon to thank for holding me back with the Speed Racer comments... that helped in the literal long run. And speaking of, he finished just behind me. A good day for both of us.<br /><br />Also, here's a special shout-out to an old friend, FBI Special Agent Tim. He completed his very first marathon ever at Surf City. Go Tim!<br /><br />Did this 3:39 mean I was in great shape? Did I proceed to BQ and win some awards in follow-up races? No. I did have a nice time sitting at the Long Beach airport drinking diet coke and watching the Super Bowl. But that was about the last "nice time" I had for awhile.<br /><br />The following weekend was the local (to Seattle) Valentine Marathon. This was the most recent edition of various recurring holiday marathons that I do quite frequently. I don't have a good story to tell about this race. I knew that my father was going to need surgery five days after the race, and I was still struggling with my dog... so I just wasn't that into the run. It did not help that the race was held on a boring, lonely course with lots of car traffic. I had 13 good miles in me, but after clocking a 1:52 first half, my brain just gave up. Every step of the second half hurt and I was super duper grumpy. I ran some and I walked some. I didn't talk to anybody, not that there were lots of folks around. I finished at 4:08 (the official clock was off by about 11 minutes... huh??). The 1:52/2:16 split tells you everything you need to know. The holiday marathons are usually low-key affairs but I generally hang out to talk to friends. Not this time. I finished, got in my truck, and left. I also promised myself never to do another holiday marathon. Yuck.<br /><br />What happened? A combination of things. Thinking about Real Life. Grumpiness like that usually has something to do with my nutrition. Not training very well because of Real Life played the biggest role, of course. I think what happened here is that my lower mileage got me out of the kind of shape I need to be in to run a marathon each weekend. So I was fine for the first one. But I was in no way recovered for this weekend.<br /><br />The next week was tough to get any running in. I did a little. On Thursday, I traveled to Dallas for my dad's Friday surgery. We got there at 5:15am (!) for check-in. The surgery (euphemistically "procedure") was supposed to take a couple hours, but it took four. And they had to give him a lot of blood. SCARY! Yet, by the afternoon, he was in ICU semi-coherent and talking to us. I was amazed; I figured he'd be out for the count. <br /><br />He had a good night, and the next day, Saturday, I had a choice to make. The Breast Cancer Marathon... theoretically, my signature event... was scheduled for the following day in Jacksonville, Florida. I wanted to be in two places at the same time. Three brothers, two sisters, one uncle, and several friends were cycling in/out of ICU to be with my dad and to help my mom.<br /><br />I decided on the race. Now, while I was at the race, nothing at all unfortunate happened with my dad. He did great. All the same, if I had a time machine, I would make this choice differently. Sigh.<br /><br />I don't have one of those devices, though, and I did indeed go to JAX.<br /><br /><a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/03/21708-national-marathon-to-fight-breast.html">I ran this race last year</a>. It was kind of a flame out. The well-organized race started late in the morning for such a hot-n-humid day. I had initially targeted this as my "go fast" for early 2008... a great way to cap off my 65 in 2007. I wanted to beat 3:30. But with the weather, no way. I was happy to finish at 3:46 and could tell at the end that if I'd tried to go faster, it would have been very, very bad.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/ScLOw0MMuAI/AAAAAAAAAXo/-WYn2ruHJ3Q/s1600-h/FL+BCM+2009+2.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 184px; height: 122px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/ScLOw0MMuAI/AAAAAAAAAXo/-WYn2ruHJ3Q/s200/FL+BCM+2009+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315037848289458178" /></a>This year was somewhat different. The race started earlier AND it wasn't nearly as hot. In fact, I was wearing a long sleeve shirt and gloves at the start! I've learned that this race is my chance to fade into the crowd. Wearing pink does not stand out. Even so, I was standing in the right place at the right time, and got interviewed just before the start. And then there was the start and we were off.<br /><br />So, two weeks prior, I had managed a 3:39 on one of those days when everything went right. I figured the 4:08 follow-up was simply a bad day. What to do here? Hmm. At first, I randomly decided that since I had recently run 3:40ish on the Pacific Ocean, I should try to run 3:40ish on the Atlantic Ocean. But very quickly, I knew that my body had different ideas. I remembered my Valentine experience. I was still tired from the previous week. Ok, no 3:40, but I wanted to run evenly. <br /><br />This decision came around M2, which coincidentally was where I caught up to a very famous runner: Bill Rodgers. I asked him whether he was running the half or the full. He told me he was going to run 50. Okey doke! (It was a joke; he ran the full). I settled in with him for a bit.<br /><br />My pace with Bill seemed to be fair. At least by what my breathing told me. My muscles were going to complain regardless of pace. I'd like to say that I had a fun chat that perhaps he'd remember for years, but after asking him about his race, I shut up. In any case, this was just his warm up, and he left me in the dust around M5. Bye, Bill.<br /><br />This course is essentially an out-and-back, with a bypass that takes runners onto the beach between M5.5 and M7.5. It was a lot windier this year than last year - but still very pleasant. My legs remained stiff.<br /><br />I hit the halfway point at 1:55... so 3:40ish surely wouldn't happen. It was very humid, so I didn't know if I could even hold an even split. That point became academic and quite moot almost immediately. <br /><br />Potty Attack!<br /><br />The first of several. Uh oh. I have absolutely NO idea what I messed up. I had eaten the right stuff. I had not been drinking anything too sweet nor too salty. It was just one of those days. Boo.<br /><br />And so I ran as best as I could while I thought about my dad and also about The Mighty J-Lo. It was getting hot. My long-sleeves-and-gloves look morphed into a simple singlet. Quite a change. One of the reasons why I like this race is that the community really gets out to support it. All the people on their lawns and balconies hooting for me really helped get me through it. Too bad they couldn't prevent the next Potty Attack!<br /><br />GAH.<br /><br />I remember the final miles of last year's race being quite the struggle. This year, I felt better and, in between portapotty stops, I managed to talk to a ton of runners and walkers. That was nice.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/ScLOf69TozI/AAAAAAAAAXg/LNULvn5dgMg/s1600-h/FL+BCM+2009+1.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 122px; height: 184px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/ScLOf69TozI/AAAAAAAAAXg/LNULvn5dgMg/s200/FL+BCM+2009+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315037558048269106" /></a>I sped up a bit for the last mile. I had passed some dude in a yellow shirt during that mile, and at M26, he suddenly decided he wanted to race me. Usually I don't play that game, but I decided to have some fun with him and I sped up to see what he'd do. He didn't seem to like it. You can see how well he kept up in that picture.<br /><br />3:53. Ugh. 7 minutes slower than last year. However, I felt waaay better at the end than last year. My split was 1:55/1:58, which once I subtracted out my time in various little green buildings, was pretty good. Adjusted, I really ran a 3:47, which means my split was 1:55/1:52. Nice. And basically identical to last year's time.<br /><br />Of course, we're not allowed to do that. Maybe I sped up while running the second half because of... uh... my rest breaks in the little green buildings. I dunno. But as a training run, I was very satisfied.<br /><br />And that was the last race I ran in February. 3 marathons in 3 weeks. Not bad.<br /><br />I headed back to Seattle to deal with my own Real Life. My sisters would be taking care of my dad full-time for the next few weeks. Long before I knew about the surgery, I had scheduled a nine day trip to Dallas for mid-March. I decided to stay with that schedule. He'd still need help by then (incidentally, I am writing this during that exact Dallas trip; yes, he still needs help).<br /><br />A week after the surgery, he had to go back into the hospital because of several pulmonary embolisms (blood clots in his lungs) and other blood clots in his legs. Not good. A couple days later, he was back home. Since then, and perhaps for the next year, he's been on coumadin - super duper strength blood thinner. This helps with the clots but can have some major side effects. <br /><br />It's always something.<br /><br />As for me, the Breast Cancer Marathon was #198... which meant, knock on wood, that I'd hit #200 sometime during March. Did I? I'll let you know.<br /><br />Real Soon Now.<br /><br />Really!Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-46487382209829247162009-02-02T16:24:00.000-08:002009-02-20T15:55:45.576-08:00The January Race Report<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SZ84RHfPKNI/AAAAAAAAAW4/iL8qJGKmo60/s1600-h/2009+01+10_0249.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SZ84RHfPKNI/AAAAAAAAAW4/iL8qJGKmo60/s320/2009+01+10_0249.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305020752784730322" border="0" /></a><br />So... where have I been? What's been going on? Why haven't I been writing? I've been working on something else, and I learned a long time ago that my brain/fingers have a finite amount of words that they can produce each week. After working on other stuff, I've been out of words. So, let's play a little catch up. This report will cover the races I managed to attend in January. Then I'll write one for February. Hopefully, by mid-March I can get back to writing more stuff about races and training. Assuming I can make it interesting, that is. For example, I don't know how many times you need me to describe the course for the Seattle Marathon. It doesn't change :-). Anyway. Let's turn back the clock to the first month of 2009.<br /><br />January was a funny month. I wish I could say it was ha-ha funny, but that's certainly not true. Then again, it wasn't the worst month of my life... no, not by any stretch. But it surely was weird.<br /><br />The last two weeks of December brought two feet of snow to my house. When I stepped off the plane from the <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2009/01/121408-honolulu-marathon.html">Honolulu Marathon</a> on 12/14, there was a light dusting of snow. My little truck barely made it over all the hills and home from the airport. It did, though, and I suppose the timing couldn't have been better. I barely left my house until 12/27. The snow came and then more snow came. Then more came. It did not thaw in between.<br /><br />Meanwhile, the city of Seattle decided to plow all the main roads and declare the city "clear". Except they didn't clear out any of the neighborhoods. My total running over a two week period? 8 miles. Two trips to the post office and back. Ice running was quite an adventure.<br /><br />I experienced my first white Christmas in 42 years. That was interesting. Then, the next day, it started melting. The day after that, I noticed my little dachshund Tobias (he's the cute little guy you see in my profile picture and on <a href="http://moostronaut.blogspot.com/">my race schedule</a>) was acting weird. I took him to the vet that Saturday morning and learned what it means to have an inflamed disk between two vertebrae. I was told what to do and what to look out for, including a specific set of "if you see <span style="font-weight: bold;">this</span>, take him to the emergency room RIGHT AWAY" instructions.<br /><br />This shows how my luck has been working lately. Weird/bad things happen, but they flow into good things that make the bad things not so bad, which then flow into the next thing. I can't imagine what I would have done if the snow had not melted when it did.<br /><br />Sunday night, it happened. I saw the magic "<span style="font-weight: bold;">this</span>", and so I took him to the emergency room. RIGHT AWAY. The inflamed disk had ruptured, and it was pressing against his spinal cord. It started as a weird stagger, proceeded to drunken walking, and then his whole back/bottom half just kind of ceased functioning.<br /><br />The next day, they sliced him open from his shoulders down to his tail (10 inches or so) and removed the disk material. He had to stay at the hospital for a few days. While he was there, I half-heartedly ran a slow half marathon as part of the Last Chance Marathon in Bellingham on 12/31. The trail was icy, and lots of people fell down. I didn't fall... which is curious because I ALWAYS start falling when I'm concerned about the health of a family member. But I did run slowly.<br /><br />Tobias came home on New Year's Day. He could barely move... but he was getting feeling and motion back. I was supposed to keep him confined and under 'restricted movement' (doggy bedrest) for four weeks. Four weeks! Tobias has two speeds: sprint and sleep. I was supposed to keep him out of sprint mode for a month. Oh boy.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SZ83qO1e3GI/AAAAAAAAAWo/FPeMhDTPcq8/s1600-h/2009+01+01_0243.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SZ83qO1e3GI/AAAAAAAAAWo/FPeMhDTPcq8/s320/2009+01+01_0243.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305020084742184034" border="0" /></a><br />Meanwhile, I started running again. A little. When I could. I had been running 60-70 mpw in 2008. That went to 4 mpw (!!!) during the big snow. While taking care of the little boy, I was able to get it back up to the 40-50 range. Not great, but better than nothing. Luckily, when the snow went away, the weather got reasonably nice by Seattle winter standards.<br /><br />I managed to run in three races during the month. I intentionally staged each race to help me build my long run mileage back up to marathon levels. Man that was hard. Psychologically, I had to hold myself back at first. Skipping potential marathons meant lost opportunity. I had to reprogram my brain not to worry so much about running mega amounts of long races in a year. This took a couple weeks. Physically, I wanted the opportunity to rebuild cautiously.<br /><br />Here's what I did:<br /><ul><br /><li>The weekend of 1/3, I ran 6 miles on Saturday and 6 miles on Sunday (12 miles total).</li><br /><li>The weekend of 1/10, I ran a 10 mile trail race on Saturday, and 12 miles on Sunday (22 miles).</li><br /><li>The weekend of 1/17, I ran a half marathon on Saturday, and 9 miles on Sunday (22 miles).</li><br /><li>The weekend of 1/24, I ran a 19.2 trail race on Saturday, and 9 miles on Sunday (28 miles).</li><br /><li>The weekend of 1/31, I ran/walked 10 miles on Saturday, and ran a full marathon on Sunday (36 miles)</li></ul><br />This did not include weekday mileage. Including that, my miles held steady in the 40-50 range. I was pleased with the longer weekend runs, but not so happy with the others during the week. But it was all I could manage.<br /><br />I'll hit each race briefly.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Squishing Through Poop in the Dark</span><br />The 10 mile trail run on 1/10 was part of the Bridle Trails Running Festival. Bridle Trails is a state park in Kirkland WA. It is a very hilly place in the woods. Based on the name, you can probably guess (correctly) that it is used mostly by horses. Horses and riders, that is. Not horses just roaming. There are lots of trails through this park, and once a year, the Seattle Running Company sets up a hilly, 5 mile loop on very technical trails. Runners have the option of completing a 5 mile race, a 10 miler, or holding on for a full 50k. One small detail... the race starts at 3p. This means that by the end of the first loop, it is starting to get dark. The rest of the race is at night on those very technical trails. Early January is historically a crappy weather time too... so it is generally 30-40 degrees and raining. The course offers tons of mud and shin deep puddles. Lots of horse poop too. If it is very cold, the poop freezes and can turn an ankle. If it isn't so cold, the poop is simply squishy.<br /><br />Most of my Maniac friends were in for the full 50k of course. That's the idea, at least. This race can have a high DNF rate - up to 80% some years. I had absolutely no desire to run 50k. Even if I felt I was in long race shape, I wouldn't have done it. I figured I had two loops in me, though, so I signed up for the 10 miler. I thought I might do a third loop for fun. Yeah. Didn't happen. Knowing that I am perhaps the world's worst trail runner, my two loops actually went a little better than expected. I made it through the first one in exactly 45 minutes. 9:00/mile on technical trail? Smoking! The second loop was the dark loop. I never fell, but as I started down the last hill to the finish, I turned my ankle hard enough that I had to stop completely and scream for a second. Fooey. Anyway, my second loop was 48 minutes... so 1:33 total. That was that, though; I had no desire for a third loop. Not even sort of.<br /><br />As I was driving home, I learned that baby Tobias had eaten part of his floppy cone while hanging out in his crate. Boredom and dogs don't mix. So I made a detour to get a new cone. In case this doesn't make sense: after surgeries, dogs sometimes get a cone placed on their necks to prevent them from biting their stitches. Because Tobias only has two speeds (remember? Sprint and sleep) and was recovering from spinal surgery, he couldn't have a rigid plastic cone. He might whack his cone against something and wrench his back. Sooo... they had given him a floppy thing that made him look like a first grader playing "the flower" in the spring pageant.<br /><br />Check out the first and second cones:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SZ839s1eAKI/AAAAAAAAAWw/Xn8hACnLUIE/s1600-h/2009+01+11_0247.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SZ839s1eAKI/AAAAAAAAAWw/Xn8hACnLUIE/s320/2009+01+11_0247.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305020419212705954" border="0" /></a><br />Alas, a couple days later, he ate the second one too. Bleh. That's-a my boy.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Running for Some Nooky</span><br />The next weekend, I ran the Nookachamps Half Marathon. This is an old-school race; I think this was the race's 30th year or so. I've not run it before. I knew it was a loop that started and finished at a community college north of Seattle, and I knew that it was geographically near the Skagit Flats Marathon held in September. Skagit <em>Flats</em> is indeed <em>flat</em>, and so I figured Nookachamps would be too.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SZ88RP8PHGI/AAAAAAAAAXI/SVA--axQCA4/s1600-h/wonka.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 162px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SZ88RP8PHGI/AAAAAAAAAXI/SVA--axQCA4/s200/wonka.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305025153100356706" border="0" /></a><br />Wrong! Wrong, sir, wrong!<br /><br />For the most part, Nookachamps is a roly poly course, but there is a daunting one mile long uphill at M10. Alas, race morning was very foggy and so I didn't know how long the hill was until I hit the top. That was a long 8 minutes! Aside from that, it was simply a nice run on a chilly morning. Quite a few of my friends PRed. Outstanding. Not me, alas, but then I wasn't trying to PR. I started out slowly and managed speed up all the way to the big hill. I pulled in with a leisurely (for me) 1:42. I was quite ok with this and happy for my friends.<br /><br />Besides, I got to experience something that doesn't happen often. About M11, the course made a left turn from one road onto a much bigger road. A couple volunteers stood at this intersection to direct runners. Pretty normal. And they were accompanied by a reasonably large group of wild turkeys. Huh. Well, they were marginally wild, I guess. They certainly weren't the brainless white feathered creatures you see at a turkey farm (ranch??). They were BIG gray feathered things, just like wild turkeys I've seen elsewhere. And, uh, on the bottle :-). But they weren't running around, they weren't trying to maul the volunteers, and they didn't chase me. They just stood behind one of the volunteers clucking and gobbling. That was as close to spectators as we'd get at this race! Well, that and my friend Bee in a car encouraging several of us. Thanks, Bee.<br /><br />Meanwhile, during the week, much of my time was concerned with keeping Tobias still but not bored. I didn't want him eating blankets. Fun times.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Even If It Was Light, You Couldn't See the Lake</span><br />My third race for January was held at Lake Youngs in Renton. I've written about Lake Youngs before because I've done quite a few races there. Briefly, there's a 9.6 mile gravel/dirt loop trail...not at all technical... around a little lake. Except for a peekaboo view that lasts for a few seconds, though, you'd never know there was a lake. It is hidden by trees and brush. It's a very peaceful place to run, and for some reason, incredibly hard for me. I don't really know why. It is roly poly, but the hills don't seem to be any worse than other places in the Seattle area. The trail does not present challenging footing. Nevertheless, I've never run it fast. Other people do. But I never have, and I would not be fast on this day.<br /><br />A few times during the year, various Maniacs will host races here. All the races work the same: runners can choose between running 1 loop (9.6 miles), 2 loops (19.2 miles), or 3 loops (28.8 miles). Sometimes, as was the case on this day, the organizer will also set up a little out-and-back segment to bump up the distance to 50k. I usually do three loops so that it counts as a baby ultra, but for this January version, I only planned to do two. Slowly. I knew I wasn't ready to go long, and I didn't have that much time anyway. I was scared I'd get home to find that Tobias had eaten my couch. So, two loops. I wanted to start early, which meant that my first loop would be in the dark. Holy cow - I've run three races in the dark in my entire life, and two of them were within a couple weeks of each other.<br /><br />I did indeed run my two loops, and I have nothing creative to report about them. My first loop took me 1:35, and my second loop was about 1:40. The previous weekend I had run 13.1 in 1:42, and that was actually slow for me. At Lake Youngs, it took me almost the same amount of time to cover 9.6 miles. 3.5 miles less. Yikes. I finished with two other guys who had done two loops. Big difference, though. <em>I had started an hour before they did</em>. See? There's just something about Lake Youngs that turns my legs into molasses. I don't get it.<br /><br />On the very last day of the month, I headed to Southern California to run the Surf City Marathon. Alas, that race was held on 2/1, so it'll have to wait for my next report. I was very, very nervous heading into Surf City with only one run beyond 14 miles in the previous six weeks.<br /><br />How would I do? Check back Real Soon Now.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SZ84ev6QcPI/AAAAAAAAAXA/BrjwLmKJQHY/s1600-h/donuts.bmp"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 271px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SZ84ev6QcPI/AAAAAAAAAXA/BrjwLmKJQHY/s320/donuts.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305020986973778162" border="0" /></a><br />No, I promise. It really will be Real Soon Now.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-29747502286830825372009-01-28T14:30:00.000-08:002009-01-28T15:33:51.775-08:00Goals for 2009<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SYDpIMT1ugI/AAAAAAAAAWg/xcGF6NCAlXc/s1600-h/WA+Seattle+2008+4.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SYDpIMT1ugI/AAAAAAAAAWg/xcGF6NCAlXc/s320/WA+Seattle+2008+4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296489488740366850" /></a>Well, welcome to another year. Here's hoping that in many non-running aspects, this year is better than last year. Or the year before that. Or the year before that. I have a bit of a streak going. As I seem to be "Even Steven" in the luck/karma department, one would think some good things are going to happen. Even with a bad economy :-).<br /><br />But I mostly talk about running here, so let's do that.<br /><br />Fingers crossed, I'll hit an interesting milestone in March: marathon #200. To be exact, it'll be #200 <em>if I add my marathons to my ultras</em>. I've run a whopping 14 ultras to date. Counting only marathons, I'll still probably get to 200 towards the end of the year. Which means, obviously, that I'm not planning on running nearly as many marathons this year compared to 2006 (36), 2007 (64), or 2008 (41). I think it'll be a lot closer to 20. I still have the wheels to do lots of marathons. And if I stay closer to home, I can still afford to do lots of marathons even with the crummy state of money right now. But I feel like shaking things up with my training. Also, I have a bunch of non-running things to do in 2009... and while running races all over the country is fun, the travel itself is a huge pain, and a big eater of time (and, not coincidentally, money).<br /><br />This year, I've dedicated the first 6ish months to training differently. Essentially, I'll be following the Jack Daniels' Running Formula Marathon A-Plan, although I will throw in a few extra races along the way. My current PR is a 3:28, and my hope is that following this plan and not racing nearly as much will allow me to drop this into the 3:15-3:20 range by summer. As a 42/43 year old guy, this would allow me to BQ though that's not really my ultimate dream goal. It is, however, something new and different. This is good.<br /><br />During this first six months, I will race a few 5ks, halves, and fulls along the way to help measure my progress. Then, starting in July (or August if my first attempt at 3:15-3:20 blows up), I'm going to focus on the shorter stuff. Although I'll keep my mileage high and run a few marathons as the days get shorter and colder, I want to get that 1:30 half that I claimed I'd run last year. Then I want to beat 19:30 in a 5k.<br /><br />Heh. It feels kind of backwards, really. Most people go after the 5k THEN the half THEN the full.<br /><br />I do have some specific races I'm targeting with this schedule. To summarize, in priority order:<br /><ul><li>I want to run a 3:15-3:20 marathon during the summer. My first attempt will be at Seattle Rock-n-Roll (6/27). If that doesn't work out, I will try again either at Missoula (7/12) or San Francisco (7/29). Seattle and San Francisco are very hilly; Missoula is not. Then again, Missoula has been HOT both times I've raced there, and I've had weird stomach issues both times. We'll see.</li><li>I want to run a 1:30 half marathon in September or October. I will probably try at Skagit Flats in mid-September. Not sure about other attempts, but I'll find something.</li><li>I want to run a 19:30-or-faster 5k sometime in October or November. The weather in Seattle can start to get dicey at the end of November, but I may look at the 5k associated with the Seattle Marathon.</li></ul>As always, there are a few interesting races that I'm targeting for different and goofy reasons. These include:<br /><ul><li>The Yakima River Canyon Marathon. This is the 2009 Maniac reunion and I don't want to embarrass myself. Ok, not really... but last year, I was very sick and ran this race anyway. I probably shouldn't have. I want to run a 3:35-3:40 which will be an improvement of more than 30 minutes over last year's 26 miles of coughing. If I can do this, it will also show that my training is progressing for my bigger goal.</li><li>The new Illinois Marathon. Illinois is the only state where I've not run a marathon. I should be able to fix this situation in April, and then I'll be done with the 50 states.</li><li>The Tacoma City Marathon. Last year, I ran a 3:39 and finished right behind the 3:40 pacers (shouldn't I have been in front of them?). So this year, I will try for 3:30-3:35. As with Yakima, this lines up with my training for the bigger goal.</li><li>Although I will have completed a marathon in every state after the Illinois Marathon, there are 12 states where I have not beaten the mystical <em>and made up</em> 4:00 mark. I plan on going back and trying again over the next few years. Hopefully, 2009 will let me check this off for Arkansas (at the Little Rock Marathon) and North Dakota (at the Fargo Marathon). 3:59:59 will be a very conservative goal for these courses. I just need to get to the races intact. </li><li>The Seattle Marathon. I tried to run a 3:25-3:30 in 2008 and messed it up. If I do NOT try to run a fast 5k the day before, I'll try this again. </li></ul>I have a set of streaks (races I do every year) to look at in 2009. One will end simply because it is impossible to continue: I have streaks at both Tacoma and Eugene, but this year the races are scheduled for the same day. Ooops. I picked Tacoma to continue the streak. Bye, Eugene. I also have a streak going at Missoula. This *may* continue... especially if I mess up Seattle rnr. I have a nice, long streak going at Kona. Not anymore. My eight year streak at Seattle will stay intact, hopefully. And my baby three year streak at Yakima. Maybe I'll start new streaks!<br /><br />That's a lot of goals; all of them have time-based components. Even Illinois, which is more of a checkbox goal... because I need to beat 4:00 there, or it'll show up again further down the list. I do not chase the clock in all of the runs I do. As you can see from some of the races in the second list, even a race with a time goal may or may not map to "run the fastest time I can". <br /><br />But sometimes it does. And that's ok too.<br /><br />Running is supposed to be fun. M22 of a marathon usually doesn't feel fun. Same with M2 of a 5k and M10 of a half that I'm trying to run fast. Completing them is fun, though. Hard work IS fun. <br /><br />I just want to keep it fun. If I don't have fun, I reserve the right to change my goals. Besides, they are my goals and I'm probably the only person reading (and certainly caring about) this.<br /><br />Mostly I want Real Life to normalize, regress to the mean, and Even Steven.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-50984611918104265792009-01-21T10:42:00.000-08:002009-01-22T16:30:05.860-08:002008: The Year in Review<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SXkPDvoa_DI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/v80rBoE3Dpo/s1600-h/Dachshund.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 212px; height: 219px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SXkPDvoa_DI/AAAAAAAAAWQ/v80rBoE3Dpo/s320/Dachshund.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294279393950759986" /></a><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,153,0)">Marathons and ultras completed in 2008: 41</span><br /><br />This is quite a bit fewer than the 64 I completed in 2007 (65 if measured from 1/7/07-1/6/08). 41 was certainly better for my bank account. Over the past two years, I ran 105. <br /><br />That's a lot, but let me change your frame of reference. My friend Larry Macon also ran 105. <em>Except that he did that in one year</em>. WOW. In fact, in the same two years that I ran 105, he ran something like 200. A few others have also run somewhere around 105 in two years. Maniac Van Phan is one. And her races included more than a few 50 milers and some 100 milers. I can't even comprehend a 100 miler. So WAHOO to Van and Larry. And my friend Little Leslie. Hello, Yolanda Holder. And my friends Coconutboy and Coconutgirl who run tons and tons of races as a couple. Except for when she smokes him. Heh. And some others who I <em>could</em> mention, but the more that I mention, the more it will seem like I'm intentionally stiffing someone I accidentally leave out.<br /><br />And big props to those of you who ran two. Or one. Or took that first set of steps out the door to prepare for your very first 5k ever. Running is hard work, and hard work can be fun. It is for me. Even if some days don't feel like that, it is.<br /><br />Real life barely allowed this year's 41. 2008 also included one biopsy (me), two cancer scares/tests (someone else), one broken elbow (same someone else), the death of someone I admire greatly, and two dog surgeries.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SXeGt5LRSAI/AAAAAAAAAVo/uAgF_w3cD2I/s1600-h/2007+06+14_0054.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293848009997633538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SXeGt5LRSAI/AAAAAAAAAVo/uAgF_w3cD2I/s320/2007+06+14_0054.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SXeHQHI7spI/AAAAAAAAAVw/hmM4LtsorNM/s1600-h/2009+01+01_0243.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293848597861479058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SXeHQHI7spI/AAAAAAAAAVw/hmM4LtsorNM/s320/2009+01+01_0243.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />Also, I lost all the skin off of my right heel at <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/08/72608-white-river-50-miler.html">a 50 miler in July</a>. This made the next month of racing somewhat painful. And slow. Finally, I had a bunch of races packed into the end of December, but the two feet of snow that shut down Seattle for two weeks and trapped me at home took care of those. And helped make January 2008 "the month of being out of shape."<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SXkFzwwfRvI/AAAAAAAAAWI/UcN2jla0mG0/s1600-h/2008+12+22_0226.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SXkFzwwfRvI/AAAAAAAAAWI/UcN2jla0mG0/s320/2008+12+22_0226.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294269223770474226" /></a><br /><br />I PRed at the marathon distance once and at the half marathon distance twice. I ran three 50 milers (well, one was actually 51.3)even though I said "never again" after 2007. Never say never. Although, well, even after three more of them, I *still* didn't really like 50 much. So maybe I can say never again. Or not.<br /><br />A "double" is what I call a weekend where I run two races of marathon distance or longer. In 2007, I ran 14 doubles (plus a triple and the elusive quadzilla). In 2008, I only ran one double. I was actually planning on none, but a fellow Maniac set up a <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/07/75608-trails-double.html">Saturday ultra in support of breast cancer research</a>. I couldn't pass that up even though I had a full scheduled for the next day.<br /><br />Of the 41, 7 were ultras. Of the remaining 34 marathons...<br /><ul><li>I beat 3:30 1 time - a new PR of 3:28:17.</li><li>I beat 3:40 (inclusive) 4 times.</li><li>I beat 3:45 (inclusive) 13 times.</li><li>I beat 3:50 (inclusive) 19 times.</li><li>I beat 4:00 (inclusive) 29 times.</li></ul>29 out of 34 marathons on the low side of four: I am pleased with that. Each of the remaining five has its own reason for being on the high side. I ran a 4:11 at Cowtown while trying to help a friend beat 4. Ooops. I ran 4:12 a month later at Yakima while trying to beat a bronchial infection. Bad idea. My 4:12 at Rattlesnake Lake was the second day of my double on a course with 13 miles of continuous, relentless uphill. My 4:30 at Haulin Aspen is a huge frustration, but I'll come back to that. Finally, my 4:02 at Park City was simply a weird race. It has 10ish miles of continuous, relentless uphill AND the race is up very high... but really, the reason I didn't beat 4 was because I didn't think I had a chance of beating 4. Until I finished at 4:02 and realized that I just should have tried harder.<br /><br />That 3:45 section is interesting. 9 of 2007's races were specifically between 3:40:00 and 3:44:59. Of these, 4 of them were just on the edge of going into the next fastest category. I ran a 3:40:31, 3:40:26, 3:40:36, and a 3:40:53. I'd like to have the first three back because I am sure I could have pushed each one 30-45 seconds faster. Sure of it. The last one is my flame out <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/12/113008-seattle-marathon.html">at Seattle</a>. I was trying to run somewhere between 3:25-3:30, I was on pace for the first half, and then my body had different ideas.<br /><br /><a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/05/5408-eugene-marathon.html">I PRed in the full at Eugene</a> in May. This was a bit of an accident, really. I just showed up to do a long run. The day before I had sushi and "the large Sapporo" for lunch. I ate Wendys for dinner. But the day went perfectly, and I felt great. It wasn't like I finished that race merely on blood and guts with nothing left. I finished tired, but really pumped. A great day. Which didn't translate directly to future races. Heh. Maybe I really <em>did</em> finish with nothing left.<br /><br />Let's talk halves. Originally, I was going to focus on halves in 2008. I wanted to run a 1:30. Well, that didn't happen. I managed five halves, and the trend was not towards 1:30. I ran a 1:36 (PR) <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/01/1121308-my-third-and-final-goofy-part-1.html">at Disney</a> in January, a slightly faster 1:36 (PR) <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/03/3908-mercer-island-half-marathon.html">on a hilly course</a> in March, a 1:37 in August, a 1:41 in September, and a 1:55 on the last day of the year. That 1:37 was at the race I fondly call '<a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/08/8208-taco-man-half.html">Taco Man</a>', seven days after White River beat me up and took all the skin off my right heel. This might have been my 1:30 chance, but I got a wee bit aggressive with my schedule. The 1:42 was at the Super Jock-N-Jill half, four days after a muscle biopsy in my back; I ran the race with a stitched up hole. I call it '<a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/09/9108-super-jock-n-jill-half-marathon.html">my gunshot race</a>'. I think I can cut myself some slack on that one. And, for the record, one of those exactly-3:40 marathons was the following weekend when I still had stitches. Wahoo. But really, I didn't train to focus on halves, so that 1:30 goal went back on the shelf. As for that 1:55? It was New Year's Eve and I wasn't really racing. Plus, probably seven miles of this race contained very icy sections of trail that freaked me out. I didn't fall, but I slid around a lot. I did see lots of falls!<br /><br />Now, let's talk about the goals I had set for 2008. I promised that I wouldn't travel as much, and I didn't. I spent about half as much on race-related travel.<br /><br />I had several prioritized goals.<br /><br /><ul><li>Run a 1:30 half. Hmmm. At the beginning of the year, this was my top priority. I decided to focus on other things. <strong>DELAYED</strong>.</li><li>Run a 3:30 full. <strong>DONE</strong> with my 3:28:17 at Eugene in May. But I didn't get close to that afterwards. My 3:36 <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/11/big-november-race-report.html">at San Antonio</a> was more like a 3:32 factoring out the portapotty stops (bad day!). Had I really been closer to 3:32, I bet I could have beaten 3:30 again. I tried one last time at Seattle, and as I wrote above, I bombed miserably.</li><li>Run 3:45 or better in the Kona Marathon. Not my 3:30 target this year... but my best previous time here is 3:52. <strong>NOT DONE</strong>. I ran a 3:51, which is still <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/07/62908-kona-marathon.html">my fastest Kona Marathon to date</a>.</li><li>Run a sub-20 5k. <strong>NOT DONE</strong>. I only ran two 5ks and didn't come that close (20:50).</li><li>Finish the states. <strong>NOT DONE</strong>, but I'm close. By adding <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/01/1508-mississippi-blues-marathon.html">Mississippi</a>, <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/10/101808-breakers-marathon.html">Rhode Island</a>, and <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/11/big-november-race-report.html">New Hampshire</a>, I'm at 49. The one remaining state is Illinois.</li></ul><br />My goal races for 2008 were:<br /><ul><li>I wanted to try for 3:30 at The <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/03/21708-national-marathon-to-fight-breast.html">National Marathon to Fight Breast Cancer</a> on 2/17. Second chance was Eugene on 5/4. The first race was simply too hot. It is interesting to me that I had written 'Eugene' when I set these goals, because when I was IN Eugene, I had no plans of treating it as a goal race. But I beat 3:30 anyway. Go figure.</li><li>Kona and 3:45 on 6/29. Close, but nope.</li><li>Skagit Flats is a full and a half in mid-September. I wrote, "I don't know yet whether I will try for the 3:30 full or the 1:30 half there." <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/09/9708-skagit-flats-marathon.html">I ran a 3:40 full with a stitched up hole</a>... so it didn't remain a goal race. I added November's San Antonio Rock-n-Roll Marathon as a replacement attempt for 3:30. Then, when that didn't work out, I added Seattle. Strike three.<br /></li><li>I also wrote, "I need to find another couple halves in the fall." I added one on labor day weekend... ok, officially summer. This would have been my best chance at 1:30. The biopsy changed things.<br /></li></ul>Like Kona, there are a couple other races where I attached a goal time. I wrote, "Unlike Kona, these aren't quite as important to me... but they'd still be nice to achieve." These were Lake Youngs Ultra in June ("beat 5") and Haulin Aspen in August (4:15). I *did* beat 5 <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/06/61408-lake-youngs-ultra.html">at Lake Youngs</a>. <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/07/75608-trails-double.html">Twice</a>! But that 4:15 at Haulin Aspen didn't work out. I ran it with the skinless right heel and although I ran it as hard as I possibly could, <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/08/81008-haulin-aspen-trail-marathon.html">I barely managed 4:30</a>. On a goofy side note, this was only one minute faster than my HA time in 2007. And in 2007, I ran it the day after Crater Lake, which is what I consider to be the hardest road marathon in the US. In 2008, I did not run this race the day before. One whole minute faster.<br /><br />Great fun. I did indeed have great fun in 2008.<br /><br />How about 2009? I'll write up some goals in my next post.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/R5aCr273wOI/AAAAAAAAAI8/06A3poSRzPM/s1600-h/giant+wiener.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5158454113192100066" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 204px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 249px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/R5aCr273wOI/AAAAAAAAAI8/06A3poSRzPM/s320/giant+wiener.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SXeIEzNhULI/AAAAAAAAAV4/wMcevw4QO3s/s1600-h/FL+Disney+2008+4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293849503045079218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 133px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 200px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SXeIEzNhULI/AAAAAAAAAV4/wMcevw4QO3s/s200/FL+Disney+2008+4.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SXeLPb1QsgI/AAAAAAAAAWA/aYpx5zTtnhA/s1600-h/WA+Rattlesnake+Lake+2008+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SXeLPb1QsgI/AAAAAAAAAWA/aYpx5zTtnhA/s320/WA+Rattlesnake+Lake+2008+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293852984282755586" /></a><br />Look! I'm an old man.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-40351572537919960482009-01-02T10:43:00.000-08:002009-01-02T20:04:12.438-08:0012/14/08 Honolulu Marathon<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SV6Y_zhgT0I/AAAAAAAAAVY/_3aFkVB59NA/s1600-h/HI+Honolulu+2008+12.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SV6Y_zhgT0I/AAAAAAAAAVY/_3aFkVB59NA/s320/HI+Honolulu+2008+12.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286831234509459266" border="0" /></a><br />The guy on the left is Marathon Maniac El Presidente and founding member Steve Yee. The guy on the right is more recognizable in pink and with less hair. No. It isn't a toupee. If it was a toupee, it would look better.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SV6YKutg5NI/AAAAAAAAAU4/F8VkdpQ_JVM/s1600-h/HI+Honolulu+2008+9.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SV6YKutg5NI/AAAAAAAAAU4/F8VkdpQ_JVM/s320/HI+Honolulu+2008+9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286830322684585170" border="0" /></a>The Honolulu Marathon has never been one of my favorite races. It has a number of interesting aspects that attract people: the ocean, city running, and... probably most importantly... the chance to run in warm weather in December. It's Hawai'i! And attract people it does: this race brings in 25,000-35,000 each year. The big swing in attendance has to do with economic situations, primarily in two countries - the United States and Japan. Hawai'i is obviously a locale for the 'destination vacation', and when one ain't got no money, one stays home. And when one is rolling in dough, one (and one's family, of course) come(s) for longer. But even in a down year, that number is still 25,000. Way big for me.<br /><br />And for a race this big, oddly, they do almost nothing above and beyond the basics for the runner. The expo is small. The shirt is cheap (though this year's wasn't quite as basic). The medal is a key chain. There is no seeding at the start and walkers seem to be proud of starting up front. The finish area is held at a nice place, Queen Kapiolani Park, but with tens of thousands of people trudging around, it can be a muddy disaster zone. And the food after the race? The runner gets an apple and two cookies. Not three. That's it; move along.<br /><br />Unless you are Japanese. One of the really interesting... to me in a good way... aspects of this race is the amount of folks it draws from Japan. Of the 25,000-35,000, 60% or more come from Japan, and the race very much caters to them. The Japanese approach marathoning differently, and most people seem to come over as part of big tour groups and teams. Each of these groups hosts a lavish banquet at the finish. And sometimes before the start. Alas, as an American, you get to smell the barbeque and the wonderful fish, but you can only satisfy yourself with an apple and two cookies. Not three. And don't try to crash the party.<br /><br />Nevertheless, the race pulls in figurative boatloads (ok, airplane-loads) of people each year. For the record, the race is the appropriate length, the course is well marked, and the aid stations are plentiful. The volunteers are uniformly friendly. The organizers even shoot off fireworks at the start.<br /><br />Plus it is December in Hawai'i. That counts for a lot :-). It's hard to complain, but then again, it's also hard to get very motivated by the experience.<br /><br />So as I said, I've never been a big fan. There are several great races in mid-December which I usually do. The last time I ran Honolulu was 2002. I finished with a 4:25, which at the time was my second fastest marathon. I got to run with local celebrity 'Cowman' for about six miles, and in the last mile, I got passed by a guy wearing Pacific Islander warrior garb and a spear (and no shoes). Then a guy dropped dead at the finish line right after I crossed. Fun day that turned sad at the end. I didn't feel like eating my two cookies. Not three.<br /><br />For various uninteresting reasons, I decided to run it again this year. I came over a few days early fully intending to do lots of city running and even more beach reading. Alas, my plans were waylaid by typhoon-strength rain and wind that went on all week. Sideways rain so thick that I couldn't see across the street. Sigh. When tourists complain about the almost daily afternoon showers on the islands, I remind them: <span style="font-style: italic;">this is why it is green!</span> But. Come on. This was ridiculous. I felt really badly for families who came over for a once-in-a-lifetime holiday and had to spend it stuck in their rooms. It was raining so hard and for so long that all the attractions and activities were closed.<br /><br />I picked a most convenient hotel for the race expo and the starting line: The Ala Moana Hotel. The Honolulu Marathon starts at 5a, so starting line convenience was a high priority! The pleasant side effect was that Ala Moana Hotel is next door to Ala Moana Mall and down the street from Ward Center. With Typhoon Week in full swing, my running and beach vacation became more of a shopping adventure. I really got to know Ala Moana Mall very well.<br /><br />The Friday night before the marathon, the local Maniacs held a big gathering at Buca Di Beppo... and treated Maniac El Presidente Steve and me to family fun, loads of food (which they wouldn't let me pay for), and gifts. Cool! The ring leader of the growing group of Maniacs in Hawai'i who I've dubbed "the Hawai'ianiacs" is Maniac Les. Remember that, I'll mention him again later. <br /><br />I got to visit with some of the Hawai'ianiacs that I see at all the races, I got to meet spouses, and I got to meet the newest Maniacs-to-be. Fun times. As a special bonus, I sat across from a lady I've met at the Kona and Hilo Marathons many times: Maniac-to-be Marie. Her brother is the sponsor of the Kona race. Interestingly, I talked to several breast cancer survivors in this group, including Marie and another very nice woman who had recently finished treatment. It is amazing when I randomly meet people who have endured the experience, and I am always moved by the almost universal positive attitudes and outlooks.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SV6YoWI0f5I/AAAAAAAAAVI/6bTjhbtp4vw/s1600-h/HI+Honolulu+2008+10.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SV6YoWI0f5I/AAAAAAAAAVI/6bTjhbtp4vw/s320/HI+Honolulu+2008+10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286830831484305298" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Ok. The race.<br /><br />The Honolulu Marathon course is technically a point-to-point because the finish line at Queen Kapiolani Park is about 2.5 miles from the the start. This meant that my hotel, while great before the race, was a bit of a liability afterwards. There are no post-race shuttles. And in order to score a free flight, I had to leave the afternoon of the race. My marathon day would actually be a bit of an ultra. I'd need to run 26.2 miles, eat my two cookies, not three, and then run a few more miles. Great fun!<br /><br />Ok, a point-to-point. More accurately, the course is a seven mile point-to-point tour of pre-dawn downtown Honolulu and Waikiki. After passing the finish line, the rest of the race is best described as a 19 mile out-and-back with a tiny loop through the Hawai'i Kai neighborhood at the turnaround. For the most part, the course is slightly roly poly. There's a big hill at M7, which repeats on the way back at M24. Lots of people describe this hill as "climbing Diamondhead", and while it is indeed the base of Diamondhead, the course in no way goes near the top. It's just a hill.<br /><br />Because the race starts at 5a and it doesn't get light until 6:45ish, runners spend between 7 and 18 miles in the dark. The city and Waikiki sections are bright enough, especially with various Christmas lights and decorations, but the rest is quite dark indeed. This is an interesting aspect. Lots of people do this race because of the sights, but you can't really see much for a good portion of time you are out there.<br /><br />And you are out there with tens of thousands of your closest friends. For the midpacker, the course stays crowded pretty much the entire time. It's not awful, actually, EXCEPT for heading up the Diamondhead hill at M7. The organizers squeeze everyone over into one lane so that the other lane is open for the first crankchair athletes and the phalanx of official vehicles coming back. This part of the race is just no fun. Especially in the dark.<br /><br />Race day started extra early for me. I generally get up early, so for a 5a start of a packed race, this meant that I needed to get up at 3:45a. I had a friend staying in my room with no such pre-race process; he was going to sleep in. No prob. I figured that I'd simply get up and go downstairs to the ballroom floor of the hotel and complete my process down there. Plenty of room to eat, and a giant bathroom to enjoy. Except for one tiny thing. I didn't know that my hotel was the center of the universe for several of the Japanese tour companies. Giant buses were arriving, basically all night long, packed full of folks. And they all waited on the ballroom level and stood in a quarter-mile line to use the bathroom. Ooops.<br /><br />I decided to head out to the starting area. On the way over, I spotted a sea of portapotties in the mall's parking garage. A blessing! But not for me. "Sorry, sir, this is for a private party." Konichiwa, sucker. After awhile, I did find a small cluster of portapotties right at the start. In ankle deep mud. Ew. But I did what needed to be done.<br /><br />I lined up in the sea of humanity at the start, well, NEAR the start, and waited. Randomly, I spotted two friends - Maniacs Coconutboy and Coconutgirl, so I went to hang out with them. The drizzle began. As it got closer to 5a, the drizzle turned into rain.<br /><br />How about a race goal? I had no need nor desire to truly race. I decided on "beat 4" simply because this would be a nice long run pace and it would be about 30 minutes faster than 2002. Plus, it was just seven days after my 50 miler at Sunmart. A bit of a recovery run.<br /><br />Finally, at 5a, "home of the brave..." transitioned directly into the fireworks and the start of the race. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle. Over the line, finally, and off we went in the pouring rain.<br /><br />In comparison to the long lead-in above, I don't have much to say about the race itself. As expected, it was dark and packed with people. And very, very wet. I noticed quite a few spectators, which I didn't remember from 2002. As we ran by the closed bars in downtown Honolulu, it was obvious that some of the spectators hadn't been to bed yet :-). I ran near the Coconuts for most of the first seven miles, but after checking on Coconutgirl somewhere around M7 (she had pulled over to the side for a second, but she was fine), I lost track of them going up the hill. My last Coconut sighting involved various volunteers and police <span style="font-style: italic;">gently</span> asking Coconutboy to get the hell on the proper side of the road. Which was clogged with both people and deep puddles. <br /><br />Splish splash and onward. The lead crankchairs came by me right around M8 (their M24). Wow. The lead marathoners started passing me about M12 (their M21). <br /><br />I hit the halfway point at 2:02. 2:02! The crowding, the two potty stops, and the rain had worked together to slow me down. That and the residual effects of my 50-miler seven days before. I had legs of lead. Hmmm. To beat 4, I'd have to run a negative split. It wasn't out of the question, but I'd have to work for it. Between that and spotting people I knew as I headed back on the out-and-back, at least my brain would be occupied.<br /><br />I saw founding Maniac Tony coming back about M15 (his M18). He looked strong. I did not. Legs of lead. And I started craving my two cookies, not three. Oh man, that meant I was running out of gas. Fortunately, as I cruised through the little Hawai'i Kai loop, it stopped raining. Unfortunately, the sun came out and it got steamy. "Great," I thought, "that should assist me with my negative split attempt."<br /><br />Throughout the race, I spotted people I knew. Also lots of (mostly Japanese) people in costume. A guy with a tall white bird's head - I think he was a crane. A guy with a monkey hat. Two ladies dressed as Playboy bunnies. Lots of superheroes.<br /><br />And some dude in pink. <br /><br />Oh wait. That was me.<br /><br />Sweaty, sweaty, sweaty. I had managed to get my pace where it needed to be, and I passed M20 at 3:06. Usually, I have to be closer to 3:00 at M20 to ensure a 4:00 finish. Although that leaves me an hour to do a not-speedy 10k, races where it takes me 3 hours to run 20 miles are usually races where I'm slowing as I go. Here I was at 3:06 and I needed to NOT be slowing. Actually, more usually, I hit M20 between 2:35 and 2:45. Sigh. Is ok.<br /><br />I was winding around people, especially at aid stations where some folks would come to a dead stop. YOIPS!<br /><br />Tick tick tick tick. Legs of lead. I had probably sweated off 5-6 pounds, but I had not actually lost that weight because it was clinging to my clothes and shoes. The splish splash of the rain had become a squish squish in my shoes.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SV6YW6UyvvI/AAAAAAAAAVA/RvqM22ABbjc/s1600-h/HI+Honolulu+2008+7.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SV6YW6UyvvI/AAAAAAAAAVA/RvqM22ABbjc/s320/HI+Honolulu+2008+7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286830531960553202" border="0" /></a>Back over the Diamondhead hill at M24. I saw some of the last walkers still headed out (their M8). This was the same perspective that the crankchairs had had of me much earlier. Except it was dark and raining then. And there's no chance they saw me, even in the pink. I was passing lots of people. They had slowed, which is the typical Hawai'ian race day experience. I was speeding up. I said hello to Maniacs and good morning to my new Japanese friends ("Ohayou Gozaimas!"). At M25, I started hearing the finish line announcer. My watch showed it would be very close to 4. Which side, I did not know.<br /><br />At M26, I spied a guy running in a USPS uniform. Maniac Les! He crossed the finish line; the announcer commented on his uniform. Apparently, he had tried to run the race carrying a package too... but the rain had other ideas and the package dissolved.<br /><br />I looked at my watch. .2 to go, and I still didn't know if I was going to make my goal.<br /><br />They didn't announce me in the pack of finishers. Lots of us were trying to beat 4.<br /><br />By the official clock, I did not. But it took me a long time to get over the starting line.<br /><br />3:59:17.<br /><br />Woohoo! I haven't been so happy to beat four since the very first time I managed to beat four. I can run a 3:30-3:40 marathon fairly regularly, but beating four in this race felt like a BQ.<br /><br />Oh, and it was a 2:02/1:57 negative split.<br /><br />I wandered through the Queen K muck to get my shirt and my keychain. I got my two cookies. Not three. I didn't want my apple. Then it was time to head back, and head out. Maniac Tony caught me and we walked back together. Only at this point did I learn that my plane was going to be 6 hours late. Usually that would suck. Not today. A small subset of the Hawai'ianiacs (Les, Johnny, and Scottish Heather), Tony, Maniac El Presidente Steve, Maniac Sue, and I hung out and drank beer. It was a great ending to a soggy, steamy day. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SV6Y22tpLJI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/7qapVfaPtOw/s1600-h/HI+Honolulu+2008+11.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SV6Y22tpLJI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/7qapVfaPtOw/s320/HI+Honolulu+2008+11.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5286831080746855570" border="0" /></a><br />Even if it was at the local Hooters.<br /><br />Life changed when I got back to Seattle. Snow and ice storms moved in, and I barely made it out of my house for a long time. I ran less than 9 miles over two weeks, and those were 9 snow/ice miles. THEN, when that was over, my little dachshund ruptured a disk in his back and had to have major surgery, with a six week recovery time. Who knows when I will run steadily again.<br /><br />Next up: I was supposed to run the Run to the Ranch Marathon in Springfield, Missouri on 12/28. I couldn't get to the airport. Then I was supposed to run the Last Chance Marathon up in Bellingham on 12/31. I managed to run the half there, and then I had to bail to be with my dachshund at the animal hospital. Sigh.<br /><br />I'll be back Real Soon Now either with a quick report for Last Chance, or my 2008 annual recap. And 2009 goals too!Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-23989828730335556172008-12-06T19:26:00.000-08:002008-12-13T00:34:22.202-08:0012/6/08 Sunmart 50 MilerThe Sunmart Texas Trail Endurance Runs are two ultras (a 50k and a 50 miler) held at Huntsville State Park in Texas. Everybody calls this set of races "Sunmart" even though Sunmart is the sponsor. I suppose that would be a little like calling the Chicago Marathon "Bank of America" or the Tacoma City Marathon "Michelob Ultra", which would be confusing for a couple reasons. Nevertheless, this is Sunmart. And in this case, it's probably not a bad thing because one of Sunmart's big claims to fame is that participants get loaded down with stuff. Here's just a sample: gym bag, technical shirt, polo shirt, running hat, notebook, poncho, disposable camera, gloves, notebook, bandana, sewing kit, and a stuffed animal. I'm sure I've forgotten a few things. AND all the clothing items as well as the notebook (!) have multiple color choices. After completing the race, participants also get a jacket.<br /><br />The race fee includes a free meal the night before, free hot breakfast before the race, and hot food after the race. The race also supplies the typical fare found at ultra aid stations, but unlike most ultras, the aid stations are only 2-3 miles apart. Staffed by super friendly folks who are there rain, shine, or snow for 12 hours. Each station has multiple portapotties. The race even uses chip timing, which is kind of funny in the 50 miler. Did I finish at 9:30:02? Or 9:30:03? :-)<br /><br />Anyway, as you can see, they really try to take care of runners at Sunmart. The courses themselves are quite interesting. At a high level, the two races consist of multiple roly poly loops around a small lake. The race utilizes various trails and dirt roads in the park. The trail sections aren't terribly technical, but they do have lots of roots to keep runners on their toes (or their faces). As a bonus, because Sunmart is held in December after the leaves have dropped, many of the roots are hidden. Everyone likes a surprise, right? The good news is that the trails are not rocky at all... in fact, they are quite sandy. So if a root does take a runner down, it doesn't always hurt as it might in other situations. Not always. Sometimes it does. There are no true "climbs" at Sunmart. The courses definitely have ups and downs, including one section actually called "the hill", but these are nothing like what you find at a hardcore mountain ultra.<br /><br />I've mentioned "courses", plural. Many of the miles utilized by the 50k and the 50 miler are the same, but not all of them. The 50 miler is a 12.5 mile loop (sort of), repeated 4 times. Actually, there's a 1.5ish mile section OUT before the loop, then the loop itself, then the 1.5 mile section BACK to the start/loop count/finish area. In the middle of the loop, there's a 3 mile out-and-back section on a dirt road. This is "the hill". The two out-and-back sections are nice because you get to see people in both directions, and you get to interact with people in both races. Because aside from the out-and-backs and a short section of the loop, the 50k course is quite different. It starts off with a six mile jaunt on wholly different trails (in the past, this was a crowded out-and-back, but they changed it this year), followed by two 12.5 mile loops. Except, oddly, after sharing the first section of loop and "the hill" with the 50 milers, the 50k course suddenly veers off onto a different trail for about 4 miles. Got that? Yeah, it's weird. <a href="http://www.rogersoler.com/Race_Entry_2008/mapnew[1].pdf">Here's a map</a>.<br /><br />All in all, Sunmart is a fast course as trail ultras go. Of course, I am a poor runner on trails, so "fast" is kind of lost on me. <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2007/12/12807-sunmart-50k.html">I ran the 50k last year</a> and aside from the 70s-and-muggy conditions, I had a fun experience. Albeit not with a fast time. So I decided to come back and try it again.<br /><br />One big problem. When I got to packet pickup, I was on the wrong list. They had me down for the 50 miler. I have not run longer than 27 miles at one time since the end of July, when I slogged through the <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/08/72608-white-river-50-miler.html">White River 50 Miler</a>. Oh dear. I have had a bad history with 50 mile races *and* I wasn't optimally trained for this. I knew that my weekly mileage would probably get me through in one piece. Hopefully. But I might hurt myself. And although Sunmart is a fast course, I didn't know if I'd make the 12 hour cut-off.<br /><br />I could have switched over to the 50k. I should have switched over to the 50k. But coulda, shoulda, I did not. I'm not exactly sure why. It certainly wasn't a sense of pride. I have neither pride nor shame when it comes to running ultras, especially the 50 mile kind. I think my brain was morbidly curious about what kind of punishment I could withstand. So I stayed in. I did what I could to prepare at the last minute: I ate a lot.<br /><br />I knew that with all of Sunmart's aid stations, I wouldn't need anything extra beyond what I had brought... with one exception. 10-12 hours is a long time. The 50 miler would be starting at 7a, and sunset would be about 5:30. It gets dark, really really dark, in the woods at night. I didn't have a flashlight. My morbidly curious brain started doing some calculations again... I had run a gruesome 12:30 at White River, but that course was orders of magnitude more difficult. On a less challenging course, surely I could beat eleven hours. And, as I watched the sun go down outside my hotel window, it did not seem to be truly dark until about 6p, the eleven hour mark. Fine. I had a race goal. I needed to beat 11:00 or get lost and eaten by alligators.<br /><br />On race morning, I got to the park early enough to score great parking and to consider breakfast. Lots of people were eating. Not me. Last year it had been warm, but this year it was ice cold: 25 degrees. It was dry, which was nice, and not terribly windy. I decided to go out in shorts, several layers of shirts, and gloves. I knew that with the 12.5 mile loop, I'd be back sooner or later to ditch some clothing if it warmed up. As I was trying to figure out where to leave my drop bag, I walked through a field of leaves next to the start. Stumbling around in the dark, I managed to step on a tree branch and somehow gouge a six inch scratch (a deep one) into my other shin. Great. I hadn't started the race yet and I was already bloody. This would be a bitter, bitter omen and I didn't know it.<br /><br />I watched other people stuff themselves silly with a detached fascination, hit the portapotty a couple times, and then it was time to go. At precisely 7a, about 200 of us headed down the trail.<br /><br />Four loops around a lake. Eleven hours to do it.<br /><br /><strong>1st Loop</strong><br />Heading out to start the race, I felt ok. I was nervous, but I did everything I could to relax... and most definitely to go out SLOWLY. The sun wasn't quite up yet, but it was light enough to see fine. Everyone was very chatty, but I wasn't. This is usually how I gauge my mental state in a race. If I'm chatty, that means I'm relaxed. If I'm not chatty, I'm either sick or nervous. If I'm not chatty AND other people's chatter starts bugging me, then I'm in a bad way. Relax. Relax.<br /><br />I ran.<br /><br />My first stumble happened quickly. My first fall (the kersplat kind) was not long after that. Sigh. It didn't hurt. The second fall did, though. I kept going.<br /><br />One nice thing about attempting the 50 miler was that I got to see the differences between the two courses. The 50 miler visited a lot more of the lake as well as the lake's spillway. All in all, it was a more varied and fun course than the 50k. Which is nice since I'd need to be on it for 19 miles beyond a 50k.<br /><br />Towards the end of the loop, I started playing leapfrog with a woman wearing vibram 5-fingers; these are essentially neoprene gloves for feet. She was almost running barefoot. I found this curious, but I didn't think more about it.<br /><br />Then it was back up to the start/loop count/finish area and my drop bag.<br /><br /><blockquote># Stumbles: numerous<br /># Falls: 2<br />Locomotion status: all running, no shuffling, no walking<br />Mental/emotion status: detached<br />Time: 2:18</blockquote><br /><strong>2nd Loop</strong><br />As I ditched a shirt and grabbed a couple things from my drop bag, I noticed that I was incredibly stiff for 12.5 miles. This reminded me of my previous week at the Seattle Marathon where I felt beaten up way too early... and ultimately had a poor second half.<br /><br />Uh oh.<br /><br />And I'm only a quarter of the way into this.<br /><br />The bad thoughts started creeping in. Oddly, though, at the same time, I started doing some math. My first loop's 2:18 hadn't felt too fast, although I was certainly stiff. It seemed to me that I could perhaps keep all of my loops under 2:30 and therefore finish at 10 hours. That would be cool. And so it became my new goal: "run 2:30 loops, and finish around 10 hours".<br /><br />Yeah. I should have factored in those bad thoughts. Or, probably, I should have worked harder to banish those thoughts. But I didn't. And I started falling. I had fallen twice during the first loop. I decided that if I slowed just a little bit, maybe I'd stumble less. And not fall. I wish. My first fall happened before I even made it to the first aid station. And every joint hurt. I stayed on the ground for a minute to regroup.<br /><br />By the third fall of this loop... yes, three falls all the way down in 12.5 miles... I started becoming weirdly fascinated by other people's reactions to my falls. Some people would just ignore them and continue onward. Some people, particularly for a more acrobatic move, would audibly gasp or hoot. A couple would actually stop to ask me if I was ok. Not as many as I expected, but at the same time, more than I wanted :-). "Yes, I'm fine, please go on."<br /><br />I was really grim during this loop, and it seemed to take forever. Vibram 5-fingers passed me again somewhere in here. I noticed that she was wearing a different color shirt and no longer had on the vibrams. Huh. I wonder how she had gotten behind me? No matter, she left me in the dust.<br /><br />Really, really grim. Bad shoulder angel materialized and started counseling me about taking a DNF. A 25 mile training run wouldn't count as a race finish, but it would count as a nice run. Hmmm. This went on for some time. Finally, as I headed up towards the start/loop count/finish area, good shoulder angel popped out and whispered sage advice. The middle miles of almost all races seem to be like this for me, regardless of distance, and usually regardless of how I otherwise feel. Mile 2 of a 5k always hurts. Miles 18-20 of a marathon are usually the hardest mentally and emotionally. Thinking back through my previous three 50 milers, I doubted myself in the middle of all of them. Ready to stop. Give up. But I never did... and I almost always recovered. And I have always finished.<br /><br /><blockquote># Stumbles: some, but not as many as the first loop<br /># Falls: 3 (!!!) (5 total)<br />Locomotion status: some running, much more shuffling, some walking<br />Mental/emotion status: woe is me; I suck<br />Time 2:38 (4:57 total)</blockquote><br /><strong>3rd Loop</strong><br />I didn't even go over to my drop bag before starting this loop. I stopped at the aid station and noticed I was breathing very hard for someone who had just taken over 2 1/2 hours to go 12.5 miles. This was over my 2:30 per loop goal, but I was still under 5 hours total, so I didn't worry about it. I told myself just to try the 3rd loop. Even if I walked the whole thing... just give it a shot and worry about DNFing after that. And so out I went.<br /><br />Vibram 5-fingers caught me at the second aid station. What the hell? Once again, I had not recalled passing her, yet here she was again. This time she was in shorts and a 3rd shirt selection. I spent most of this loop considering all the other runners and trying to judge who I'd be running near for the rest of the day.<br /><br />During the out-and-backs, I provided encouragement to the 50k and other 50 mile runners I encountered. Being more outgoing let me know that mentally, my outlook on life in general was improving. In fact, the act of offering up a "good job" and "hello!" and getting an acknowledgement in return helped to improve my mood.<br /><br />The sun was moving across the sky. Now, aside from a half a mile of exposed running by the spillway, most of the course is in deep woods. It was interesting to see how the filtered sunlight changed the viewing conditions as the sun moved and shadows adjusted. What had been hard to see earlier became easier to see. And a few things became harder to see.<br /><br />Which explains, blam, my next fall. I was talking to a couple people around me about falling when it happened. Figures. It didn't hurt, and I got a great audible gasp from the crowd.<br /><br />Vibram 5-fingers passed me on "the hill" again. I still had no idea how/when she was getting behind me.<br /><br />Onward. The rest of the loop was uneventful, but I felt better. As I pulled into the start/loop count/finish area, Steve and Paula Boone (50-Stater kahunas) cheered for me. "Are you done???" I didn't have the energy to respond. I just shook my head and held up a finger - one more loop. "Ok, we'll stay here and cheer for you."<br /><br />I didn't process this at the time, but it meant that even though they were done with the 50k, they fully intended to stay for another 3+ hours to cheer on other folks. Wow. Of course, it also meant they thought that I was faster than I really am. And indeed, by now almost all the 50k folks and 12 out of 159 50 milers had finished. I ain't that fast.<br /><br /><blockquote># Stumbles: a few<br /># Falls: 1 (6 total)<br />Locomotion status: some running, some shuffling, some walking<br />Mental/emotion status: I am zen-like blacking all this out now<br />Time 2:45 (7:42 total)</blockquote><br /><strong>4th Loop</strong><br />As I stood over my drop bag, I noticed that I was shaking. I wasn't cold; it was kind of like I was trying to stand still on the deck of a rocking ship. Except I wasn't. I spent a little extra time at the aid station. That last loop had been interesting. My 2:45 was obviously longer than the 2:38 of the previous loop, but it had felt so much better. And it seemed to go by faster, even though it didn't.<br /><br />Did I stop and DNF after the 3rd loop? Good shoulder angel was right... I was slow and achy, especially from all those falls, but mentally I felt a whole lot better. No DNF today.<br /><br />As I went out for the final loop, I actually paid a bit more attention to the details of my surroundings. The start/loop count/finish area was lined with tents for various Texas running clubs where members had stashed their stuff (me? I had a trashbag next to a curb; no tent). And inside a tent was Vibram 5-fingers! Aha! She had been stopping after each loop to rest and change clothes, and this is how I had kept getting ahead of her.<br /><br />The race had started at 7a. When I left for my final lap, it was about 2:45p. I had slowed enough that I had no real hope of making my 10 hour goal. In fact, I had been trending slower each lap, and a 3 hour lap seemed highly likely. 3 hours! To go 12.5 miles! Argh.<br /><br />I returned to my contemplation of the sun, and I realized that I had made a grave tactical error. Sure, it might have gotten dark a little after 6p at my hotel. But my hotel was not in the woods. It was going to be dark substantially earlier out here, probably 5 or 5:30. And a 3 hour loop would mean finishing around 5:45p.<br /><br />Ruh roh.<br /><br />That was incentive to try not to shuffle away at a 3 hour pace. Then again, I had no desire to fall anymore PLUS my legs didn't care at all about the clock. I went as fast as I could possibly go, and that was only slightly faster than continental drift. My brain started getting paranoid, and I gave myself a case of <a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001204/">Marty Feldman</a> eye: I had to keep one on the ground to avoid more sand-in-my-hair encounters, but I also kept one eye tracking the sun. And it went lower and lower and lower.<br /><br />Ok, two things. First thing is that it became a whole lot like a vampire or zombie movie where everyone watches for sunset knowing that Bad Things Happen After Dusk. I was soooo nervous.<br /><br />The second thing is truly strange, though. Because I know that the sun sets in the west, I started getting interested in what direction I was running at any given time. And I realized that this race went all over the compass. That's not the strange part.<br /><br />Then it happened. I got a song stuck in my head. HARD. This happens sometimes, and it is almost always a song I don't normally think about. I had been thinking about directions. And so here it came...<br /><br /><blockquote>Eastbound and down, 18 wheels a-rollin.<br />We're gonna do what they say can't be done.<br />We've got a long way to go<br />And a (beat)<br />Short time to get there<br />I'm eastbound, just watch ol' Bandit run.</blockquote><br />Yikes. But that's not all. It seems that I know all the lyrics to this song. And they came to me over and over again.<br /><br /><blockquote>Put your foot hard on the pedal,<br />Son, never mind them brakes.<br />Let it all hang out 'cause we got a run to make.<br />The folks are thirsty in Atlanta<br />And there's beer in Texarkana<br />We'll bring it back no matter what it takes!</blockquote><br />There was Vibram 5-fingers again, in her latest clothing collection. Heh. I also noticed during "the hill" out-and-back that most everyone had had the presence of mind to bring a headlamp. Whoops.<br /><br />By the fourth aid station, the sun was just barely over the ridge and the trees. I knew I still had about 90 minutes to run, and I did not have 90 minutes of sun. Whatever. Go. Either the vampires or the alligators would be having me for dinner.<br /><br />But a curious thing happened in here. The organizers had magically (for I never saw them do this) hung glow sticks from the trees. Not many... it wasn't like the approach lights at an airport. But at regular intervals, there was a tiny amount of light. How cool. Very helpful for marking the course - for those with flashlights. Unfortunately, it was not nearly enough to illuminate the path.<br /><br />A couple of my Maniac teammates passed me in here. A few others did too. Then again, I passed a few folks as well. When I got to the final aid station, it was officially dusk. The later part of dusk at that. And I had 2.7 miles to go!<br /><br /><blockquote>Old smokey's got them ears on<br />He's hot on your trail.<br />He ain't gonna rest til you're in jail.<br />So you got to dodge and you got to duck him<br />You gotta keep that diesel truckin<br />Just put that hammer down and give it hell.</blockquote><br />I tried putting my hammer down. And with just a little over 2 miles left... 48 miles into my day.... BLAM... I fell again. For the 7th time today.<br /><br />"Awesome."<br /><br />That's what I said. Really. And I said it outloud. It wasn't an exclamation, more of a statement of resignation. At least it didn't hurt. I was way past pain.<br /><br />I turned onto the final 1.5 mile BACK section. I was seriously nervous about it getting any darker. My brain finally decided that even though running faster might mean a fall, *not* running faster probably guaranteed a fall once I started stumbling around in pitch black.<br /><br />I put that hammer down and gave it hell.<br /><br />And it seemed to have an effect on other people. I passed a couple folks who had been shuffling. "Good job, we're almost done!" But I noticed that their footsteps did not die away. I was truly running now, and running hard (ok, technically probably 10:00/mile pace, but it SEEMED hard for the conditions and my fatigue), and somebody or somebodies were right behind me.<br /><br />I did not try to race them; I just wanted to be done. Had they passed me, I would have cheered. But it turns out that I was the one pulling them in. I heard some noise from the finish area. We were close.<br /><br />I saw some lights through the trees. Closer.<br /><br />Left turn, through the tent area and a bunch of people drinking beer. There's the finish area. And...<br /><br /><em>Robert Lopez, all the way from Seattle!</em><br /><br />Done. Immediately another name was called out. Then another.<br /><br /><blockquote># Stumbles: numerous<br /># Falls: 1 (7 total)<br />Locomotion status: some running, a whole lot of shuffling, a little walking<br />Mental/emotion status: I'm a-scared of the dark<br />Time 2:48 (10:31 total)</blockquote><br />It was dark now. My fourth loop was my slowest, but it was almost identical to my third loop. I'm pretty proud of that, and it felt nice to run the last bit. One guy finished 19 seconds behind me. A gal finished about 30 seconds later. I congratulated them both and noticed that the gal was a 50k-er! 10 1/2 hours to complete a 50k... but she was running hard at the end. I asked her what had happened - she had twisted her ankle in the middle and done a lot of walking.<br /><br />And oh yes, it was very dark now.<br /><br />Vibram 5-fingers finished about 20 minutes behind me.<br /><br />I got my dinner (dinner!) and sat in the tent with Steve and Paula Boone. Yup, they had waited three hours. Nice folks.<br /><br />Overall, I'm not terribly pleased with my 10:31. I finished 97th out of 159. Then again, I was not one of the 30ish folks on the DNF list. And aside from some bruises and scratches, I felt remarkably good.<br /><br />If I want to beat 10:31, I have to train better. Meanwhile, back to those falls. I fell 7 times. In 193 marathons and ultras before this edition of Sunmart, I had fallen 8 times total. Er. Wow.<br /><br />Now if I could only get that song out of my head...<br /><br />Next up: The Honolulu Marathon, a race I said I'd never do again. Yet here I am. The 50 miler beat me up. Very, very up. I was able to run a bit in the week between Sunmart and Honolulu, but not that much. I have no idea how the race will go and probably won't set a firm goal until, say, M6. Subject to change at M7. Check back RealSoonNow and see what happened.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-70879616261632860692008-12-03T08:30:00.000-08:002008-12-03T16:43:17.030-08:0011/30/08 Seattle Marathon<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/STbbtI0VFkI/AAAAAAAAAT4/x3cayt6tMos/s1600-h/WA+Seattle+2008+1.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/STbbtI0VFkI/AAAAAAAAAT4/x3cayt6tMos/s320/WA+Seattle+2008+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275645582018680386" /></a>Oh, where to start, where to start? First off, the picture. That's my friend Bee, me, and another friend, Maniac Genia, just before the start of this year's Seattle Marathon. Genia is about to PR by almost 15 minutes - woohoo! More on her later!<br /><br />How about a bit of history. I have run either the half or the full at Seattle every year since 2001. I never ran either race very well until last year. The course, particularly the half, is quite challenging. The weather can be rotten as well, which makes any race harder. Between my performance, the weather, and a couple other little things (post race food issues and some screwy chip timing issues), I've never really <span style="font-style: italic;">loved</span> the Seattle Marathon. Yet I sign up each year. My opinion improved a bit in 2007 because we had good -though cold- weather and I ran fast. My 3:36 was just a couple minutes slower than my PR at the time. It also came the day after running a 3:37 at the low-key Ghost of Seattle Marathon, and three days after a yucky 3:55 at the Atlanta Marathon. Amazing how running a good race under blue skies can suddenly improve one's outlook. The post race food was still spotty and lots of people had problems with their chip times... but wahoo, what a fun day.<br /><br />That brings me to this year. Once again, I ran Atlanta three days prior. This year, I ran a much better 3:41, felt great the whole day, and managed a negative split. Instead of running the Ghost marathon on Saturday, I opted for a new 5k. Alas, I messed up. Heading into race weekend, my goal for Sunday's race was supposed to be 3:30. I wanted to run the 5k at marathon pace to get my brain ready for the following day. Instead, I followed Bee for 3.1 miles, and she wanted to run faster than that. We finished somewhere around 21:30. Well, Bee did. I was a bit behind. Anyway, for a 3:30 marathon, I should have been sticking with 8:00 miles. Instead, I ran 6:55s. Ruh roh. This might come back and bite me.<br /><br />I've written about the Seattle Marathon course before, but here's a brief summary. The course is a loop with an out-and-back in the middle that starts and finishes at an ancient stadium near the Space Needle. The first couple miles offer up a roly poly tour of downtown. Just after M2, the course jumps onto the (mercifully closed) express lanes of I-90. More roly polies. Through a tunnel, then at about M4.5, runners are treated with the flat out-and-back section across one of Seattle's floating bridges. Although a bad weather year can make this part miserable, it is my favorite. I love seeing the fast folks coming the other way, and I love high fiving and giving the shaka to people both faster and not as fast. It's possible that I love this section *too* much; it's easy for me to get caught up in the energy and emotion... and run way way too fast. But I'm getting ahead of myself.<br /><br />After turning around on Mercer Island at M6, the course shoots back across the water. A turn to the south leads runners along Lake Washington to Seward Park at M11. Once around the park and northwards back up the same road. At M17.5, the course passes under the floating bridge and continues north. Goodbye, flat section. Hello, hilly section from hell. Ok, that's a bit dramatic. I like hills a lot. And at first, these hills are not bad. Just hills. And the views keep on coming. Nice neighborhoods, trees, water. On a good day, the occasional mountain view.<br /><br />M20.5 is the left turn onto Galer. This is the course's famous hill. It's only about five blocks long, but it is super duper steep. I can run it, sometimes, but I look like a duck. And at the top, the runner learns that it isn't actually the top: a left turn onto Madison and yippee, more hill. The actual top is right about M21. After a half mile of downhill to even out the legs, the course comes to the *real* asskicker of the race. Interlaken Boulevard. This is a twisty road through the Seattle Arboretum. Uphill. M21.5 to M23, relentlessly up and up. The twists in the road make for a bunch of false tops to frustrate the first-timer... especially after the similar experience at the top of Galer earlier. Even for the runner who knows what's coming, Interlaken is the total gut check section for this race. The hardest hill at the hardest point physiologically and psychologically in the course after having been beaten up by other hills since M18. Go go go.<br /><br />The top of the hill is M23. Shortly after this, the course crosses I-5 for the first time and heads gently downhill to M24. For a person who has paced well, this is an excellent opportunity to fly. Me? I've never flown here. That tells you something. In a cruel twist, the course zips back under I-5 to the other side at M24. Briefly. This section treats the exhausted runner to a jaw-dropping view of downtown. And somewhat north of downtown, the space needle and the stadium. Finish line is in the stadium! Just before M25, it passes back over the freeway. Downhill. Downhill.<br /><br />At M25.8, there's one final uphill. Ha. Left turn towards the stadium, through a tunnel, and then across the football field. Tons of folks are there to stare passively at you or cheer you on, depending. Sometimes if you want it, you have to work for it :-).<br /><br />Huh. I promised a brief summary. I guess that wasn't. The course itself is not packed with spectators, though in a good weather year, a fair number of people turn out. And this was a good weather year. Freakish, actually. Usually, it is 30-40 degrees. "Good weather" would mean drizzle and light wind. This year, morning brought 51 degrees, no real wind, and fog. Usually, I'm bundled up in 3 shirts, pants, a raincoat, a ski cap, and gloves. This year? One shirt, those trendy sleeve things (which I'd ditch at M9), gloves (which I'd put away at M11), and shorts. Balmy! Not perfect, though. That fog really represented high humidity. I didn't get that at first; I would understand it well later on. Still though, it simply will never get better than this.<br /><br />As I mentioned in my 5k summary above, my theoretical race goal was going to be 3:30. I had attempted a 3:30 a couple weeks prior in San Antonio, and if I hadn't been waylaid by stomach issues, I would have had it. Seattle is a harder course by far, but with good weather and the energy of running with friends on a course I know with my eyes closed, I figured I could do it.<br /><br />I showed up somewhat early with J-Lo because she was going to walk the half marathon with a friend. After seeing them off, I had 30 minutes to get ready and chat. Lots of people I know run the Seattle Marathon. Then it was time. I lined up just to the side of the 3:30 pace group... not planning on running with them... Star Spangled Banner... and off we went.<br /><br />The start of this race is crowded and stays crowded because just as the marathon crowd is stretching out, racers overtake the marathon walkers who started earlier. And then the half marathoners who also started earlier. For the most part, the half marathoners stay on the side. In fact, for a few miles on I-90, there's a concrete barrier separating that group from the full. I did everything I could not to zigzag around slower runners, but I was feeling really good. Everything felt great. I had eaten right. My stomach seemed ok. The day was pretty. I spied J-Lo and friend on the other side of the barrier at about M4. I called out her name. She called out my name. WOOHOO!<br /><br />About that time, I passed Santa Claus. Yes, a guy was doing the full enchilada dressed in a Santa suit. He was also handing out candy canes. Ha. I bet he got hot!<br /><br />Into the first tunnel. It was in here that I made the fateful decision: today would be Go-Fast day. My current PR is 3:28. I had originally thought about running about 3:30... nah. Let's see if I can handle a 3:25-3:27. Go fast! I started the zigzag process. Note to self: be careful, cocky runner - much energy is used whilst zigging; even more is used during the requisite zag.<br /><br />The half marathon course does not head across the floating bridge. After they turned off, I didn't need to zig zag anymore. I was at the bridge, my favorite section. I pulled over to the middle so that I could see (and sometimes slap five) faster runners coming back and a few of the early starters who had made it here quickly.<br /><br />It was like I shot myself out of a cannon.<br /><br />The energy was incredible. The Seattle Marathon is not my favorite race, but this bridge out-and-back is almost certainly one of my top race-related experiences. There was Larry! This race was his 101st... of this year! Slap five, Larry. There were Maniacs Lauri and Q-562! Here came the guy leaders! And the first women. 1, 2, 3, maybe 4. And then, out of the fog, it was Maniac Annie. Last year, Annie managed a second place finish. She looked great this year, although she was incognito in red. Slap five, Annie. More people I knew went by. A couple people hooted for the man in pink. And I was passing all kinds of people.<br /><br />Around the turnaround. Boom! And now I was facing a sea of people. I saw so many folks I know. And every time someone hooted or acknowledged a shaka, I seemed to speed up a little. It was so cool.<br /><br />I came off the bridge at M8. My split for that mile? 7:15. Ruh roh. Way too fast.<br /><br />J-Lo's friends were waiting to cheer me on at M9. I stopped briefly and ditched my sleeves. I used this opportunity to try to regain a bit of composure and control over my pace. I wanted something more like 7:55/mile. Ok, ok. Calm the hell down.<br /><br />At M10, I saw Maniac David (a 3:15ish marathoner) standing on the side of the road. "Are you ok?" The single answer: "No." I didn't stop because he was standing with someone else who I figured was helping him, but I felt badly about not stopping. I hope David is ok.<br /><br />M11 and into Seward Park. This is a beautiful park on the shore of Lake Washington. It used to be an island, but they filled in a land bridge and turned it into a little peninsula. It has the only stand of old growth forest in Seattle. With a three mile loop around the perimeter, it is wonderful for running.<br /><br />I crossed the mat at the halfway point at 1:43. Perfect for a 3:25-3:27. I did the check-in with my body, like I always do. The answer was not what I wanted. I was achy, like I normally would be at M18. But this was M13.1, and I hadn't gotten to the hills yet. My stomach poked me too. It was weird. I was starting to feel crampy, but at the same time, my stomach/brain was screaming "Feed me, Seymour!"<br /><blockquote>Brain: Dude. You ran a strong marathon three days ago. You ran too fast yesterday. You ran over the bridge way, way too fast. Feel your shirt. It isn't rain that you could wring out of it. The hills are coming. And, oh yeah. Feed me, Seymour.</blockquote><br />Crap. I ducked into the potty at M14, somewhat to do what is normally done in a potty, and somewhat just to regroup. I came back out onto the course with two goals: 1) stay strong and even, and 2) grab some extra Gu from the volunteers whenever it was offered.<br /><br />I noticed that people were passing me now; it was clear I wasn't going to hold on to 7:55/mile pace. M15 was 8:20. Ugh. I needed to keep doing that for as long as possible, including through the hills. A few of these people offered up encouragement. I also officially met a couple people I "know" from various message boards. I caught up with Larry (he had been coming the other way when I saw him on the bridge) and I wished him well on #101 for the year. He was more concerned about me - that's Larry :-). What a nice guy.<br /><br />Maniac Guy Yogi caught me in here. He asked if he could run with me for awhile. "Well, sure... no need to ask. But I warn you, I'm slowing down. You might not want to stick with me." We had a nice, brief conversation. And then slowly, Guy picked it up. I lost sight of him about 10 minutes later.<br /><br />Just after M18, the hills started. Interestingly, despite the continued yuck signals from my brain and my legs, the hills didn't seem to add any extra pain and suffering. At first. There was a Gu station somewhere in here. Usually I pass these and go with the Hammer Gels I carry on my own. And usually, I finish with a couple spare Hammer Gels. But at this Gu station, I took two with me. And I ate all my Hammer Gel. Feed me, Seymour.<br /><br />Another guy I "know" from a running message board, a fellow by the interesting name of "Luv Pre" found me in here. His PR is 3:35. "Hold what you've got, and you've got a shot at it." His response was simple, honest, and definitely apropos. "We'll see what Galer and East Madison say about that." He pulled away too.<br /><br />M20 at 2:44. Just an easy 10k left. With big hills. Feed me, Seymour. I usually know that if I hit M20 around 2:45, I have a reasonable shot at a 3:35-3:40 finish. 3:35 sounded great at this point because it would be faster than my finish last year.<br /><br />Left turn onto Galer. I caught Maniac Kurt. He had been running far ahead of me since about M10, but he was having calf issues now. Not good for hills. I wished him well as I duckwalked/jogged up the hill.<br /><br />Left turn onto Madison. I was really struggling, and my pace was now hovering around 9:10/mile. Yikes. But I didn't feel any worse than I had back at M15. I guess my slower pace had compensated. I hit the top of the hill and enjoyed the brief downhill breather to Interlaken. The hardest part of the race.<br /><br />Up. Up and up. Around the twisty turns. Up some more. I started remembering many of my previous experiences with this hill. None of them had been pretty, even during last year's 3:36. I started encountering back-of-the-pack half marathon walkers. When I had the energy to verbalize, I wished them well as I struggled by. They did the same for me. M22 was exactly 9:00. But M23 was a leisurely 9:31. Gah. Then the top. I hit the downhill. I didn't think 3:35 was in the cards any longer, but I was hopeful that the downhill would help me. Maybe a little.<br /><br />As I headed towards M24 and the bridge under I-5, a couple guys passed me. One was a Maniac who I don't know. He seemed destined to lose me. The other was an intense guy in a yellow (but not Maniac) shirt. We leapfrogged. M24 was 9:17. Gravity helped a bit, apparently, but this was still ugly.<br /><br />Down I-5, then back over. M25 was 8:56, and 3:30 exactly on the clock. Sigh. I would miss my 3:30 race goal, literally, by a mile. And unless I pulled out a canister of Roger Bannister, I was going to miss 3:35 as well. Feed me, Seymour.<br /><br />I pulled by the Maniac who I don't know. I pulled by Yellow Shirt Guy. It felt like I was sprinting! I hit M26 and took the last turn towards the stadium. I was sure that I must have made up some time during that mile, but the 8:54 on my watch said differently. This didn't bum me out. I laughed.<br /><br />Into the stadium and the thousands of semi-cheering people. About 20 yards before the finish, Yellow Shirt Guy pulled up beside me, slowly turned his head to me, and offered up the biggest grin I have ever seen at the end of a long race. EVER.<br /><br />Was he grinning because he had a fun day? Was he grinning because he was going to outkick me? Who knows. What I *do* know is that it had a profoundly warm and positive effect on me. The last 5 seconds of the 2008 Seattle Marathon will always be remembered as follows: I gave the once-intense-but-now-grinning Yellow Shirt Guy a huge smile back, and then I waved him in front of me. It is possible I could have outkicked him, but I didn't want to try. That smile he gave me made my day.<br /><br />I wanted to thank him, but at the finish, I spent a second talking to the guy who gave me my medal. When I turned around, Yellow Shirt Guy was gone. What a finish. Ha.<br /><br />3:40. Well, I was able to hold my targeted finish time from M20 onwards. And I was faster than my Thursday race in Atlanta. Other than that, I swung for the fences and missed. No PR. No 3:30 either. And no 3:35, which would have beaten my time from last year. Nope. I was slower than last year AND I didn't run a marathon the day before like last year. Fooey.<br /><br />The lesson is simple. Swinging for the fences is a fine thing, but it should be planned better. Maybe I could have done it after Atlanta. I think the 5k took just enough away from me. Plus, and this became really obvious when I changed clothes, it was incredibly humid. That never bodes well.<br /><br />In the finish area, I saw Luv Pre again. 3:36 for him, if I recall correctly. Good job! In the food line, I saw Maniac Guy Yogi, who had pulled away from me so well in the teens. He had faded a bit, just like me. But he still managed a great 3:38.<br /><br />And Maniac Annie? She won the race! How about that. And apparently, she completely missed the tape at the end. So she turned around and ran back through it. Go Annie!<br /><br />Go everybody! <br /><br />I spent the next day with a headache that I am sure is due to some combination of screwy electrolyte levels and running low on gas. Feed me, Seymour.<br /><br />Remember Maniac Genia, in that picture at the top? As mentioned, she PRed. Here's another picture of me, Genia, Bee, and Maniac Amanda Cohn from the 2006 race:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/STbcAo60r1I/AAAAAAAAAUA/BlyAgn9OIVU/s1600-h/WA+Seattle+2006+1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 228px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/STbcAo60r1I/AAAAAAAAAUA/BlyAgn9OIVU/s320/WA+Seattle+2006+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5275645917053366098" /></a><br />As you can tell, it was a much more brutal day weather-wise. I was sporting the GI Joe look, obviously. She was sporting a baby. She ran that race very, very pregnant. I dunno what's cooler, running it pregnant or scoring the big PR. Let's go with both. Go Genia!<br /><br />Next up: This weekend is the Sunmart ultra in Huntsville, Texas. I'm signed up for the 50 miler, but I'll probably drop to the 50k. I don't really enjoy 50 milers. Sunmart has a fun course and it is ridiculously well supported for an ultra. It has potties! Heck, they even utilize chip timing. But most interestingly, Sunmart offers more race premiums than anyone. Free shirts! A bag! A jacket! And that's just the beginning.<br /><br />More on that next week.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-21881160749220590542008-11-24T10:34:00.000-08:002008-12-01T19:20:35.264-08:00The Big November Race Report<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/STSEty7sVuI/AAAAAAAAAS4/u9WN5THh3d8/s1600-h/NH+Manchester+2008+1.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/STSEty7sVuI/AAAAAAAAAS4/u9WN5THh3d8/s320/NH+Manchester+2008+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274986985858815714" /></a>November has been a very busy month, both in terms of racing and real life. So much so that you haven't seen a report from me in awhile. It didn't help matters that I developed a severe case of writer's block regarding my first race weekend - the Manchester City Marathon. And since I couldn't figure out how to write about that one, everything else backed up too.<br /><br />Fear not. Real life is going ok. The races? Well, that depends on the race. In an effort to push past my imaginary block and to catch up, I'll briefly report on each race in one report. Well, 'briefly' in terms of what I write for each race. Added together, this could be long.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/STSE4A4euCI/AAAAAAAAATA/VKjoRcT2hPw/s1600-h/NH+Manchester+2008+2.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/STSE4A4euCI/AAAAAAAAATA/VKjoRcT2hPw/s320/NH+Manchester+2008+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274987161402128418" /></a>As noted, the month began with the <span style="font-weight:bold;">Manchester City Marathon</span> (11/2). This race represents one of three possible choices for the marathon runner who wants to pick up New Hampshire in the quest for all the states. And I needed it for state #49. Alas, it is a long day (or, in my case, night) to get to Manchester from Seattle. Blah. I was a zombie for most of my time in New Hampshire, which is probably why I've had a hard time writing about it.<br /><br />Here's the main thing you should know about this race: Manchester is a hilly place. I was warned by fellow Maniacs that the course would be hilly. Indeed. It wasn't the hilliest race I've run this year by far, but it was a challenging course. Let's see... it was two different loops that gave the runner a nice tour of the city. I think. Mostly, I was disoriented. And cold! At least at first. It was 25 at the start and blowing wind. This is why I look like I'm bundled up to go skiing in the pictures; I do not like to be cold. Fortunately for everyone except me, the wind kind of died down. I wound up being too hot. Combined with my zombie-like state, I didn't have a very fun time while I was running. I set out with a "beat 3:45" goal and struggled in with a 3:48. Three minutes isn't terribly disappointing, but I never felt good the whole day. Interestingly, an 81 year old guy ran my 3:45. At 81! According to marathonguide, that's a 2:17 age graded time. Some of my more competitive friends feign embarrassment in a situation like this. I have to admit that I feel a little weird when someone hauling a stroller beats me. But an 81 year old running a 3:45? No embarrassment. I'm just bummed I didn't run closer to him or meet him. Heh.<br /><br />I picked my hotel based on proximity to the race. Purely by chance, this place (the Hilton Garden Inn) was attached to the local minor league baseball stadium. My 2nd floor room offered me a perfect view from left field. In fact, I was essentially the left field fence. Wow. My own luxury box! Too bad that November isn't during baseball season. I did witness something curious, though. Thankfully, they allowed me to check in very early. When I first looked out my window, I saw a coach and a young boy practicing his hitting from a tee. I zonked out for a nap. When I awoke an hour later, I looked again. Coach and a young boy with a tee. Except the boy was now taller. I watched some football, then looked out again. The boy was taller and thicker now, and the tee had been replaced by a BP pitcher. This process continued throughout the day. My last view, just before sundown, was of a high school batter. It was like I had witnessed a boy growing up compressed into about 8 hours.<br /><br />And, alas, that was much more interesting than my race :-(. The organizers did a fine job; I just wasn't that into it.<br /><br />The following weekend involved no racing. I actually tapered! And that brings me to my trip to Texas for the new <span style="font-weight:bold;">San Antonio Rock N Roll Marathon</span> (11/16). <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/STSIzo6yZFI/AAAAAAAAATg/Onf2A2Jyjx0/s1600-h/TX+SA+rnr+2008+1.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/STSIzo6yZFI/AAAAAAAAATg/Onf2A2Jyjx0/s320/TX+SA+rnr+2008+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274991484296389714" /></a>I have not had very good luck with the rnr events in the past, and I don't usually like the big races. They let in 30,000 runners for the half and full (combined start). I was quite nervous. On the other hand, I used to live in San Antonio, and I love that city very much. Racing aside, it was wonderful to go back for a visit. The weather was spectacular... blue skies and warm. Once again I wondered "why exactly do I live in Seattle?"<br /><br />Well, it wasn't <span style="font-style:italic;">all</span> warm. Race morning was ice cold. 30 degrees. And because of the crowd, J-Lo (the name on my pink shirts) and I had to be at the start very early to avoid traffic. She was going to walk the half with her sister. Me? I was going to try to run a 3:30. And since my current post-sickness PR is 3:28, I thought that maybe just maybe I could make a run at that if I noticed I was close around M20. I had tapered. I had eaten correctly. And to avoid clothing difficulties similar to New Hampshire, I had gone with several throwaway layers.<br /><br />The rnr course was a very cool tour of San Antonio. Although it was factually a point-to-point, it seemed more like two loops. The first was a loop of downtown's north side (note: NOT the north side of San Antonio) including the Alamo. About M10, the half veered off towards the finish at the Alamodome, and the full took a nice tour down south by all the missions and then back towards downtown along the river. The course was mostly flat... way flatter than Manchester... with a few roly polies along the way. Including a rather unfortunate hill at M26. Boo.<br /><br />I did well with the cold; in fact, it didn't stay very cold. Unfortunately for me, it was one of those days where my stomach does not like me. I have races like this more frequently than I'd like, and they do not trace back to specific food choices. youneverknow. A race with 29,999 other people is a bad race in which to have potty issues because the potties tend to be crowded. Sure enough, I lost 4 minutes (spread across 3 stops, ARGH) waiting and utilizing the facilities. Sigh. I was trying to get close to 3:30. I actually finished at 3:36. Had my stomach been happy, that would have been a 3:32. And if I had known I was on pace for a 3:32, I'm 100% certain I could have compressed that into my 3:30. So, huh. I feel good about my training and I feel fine about how I dealt with what I can control. But even so, I missed my goal. On a perfect day, on a fast course, in front of some old friends and family. I felt great afterwards, though, and the remainder of my trip was fine.<br /><br />As for J-Lo and her sister, both completed their half marathon walks at about 3:23. Nice pace for walking. This was J-Lo's second half marathon ever, and she was faster this time. Woohoo.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/STSHoM2ZOcI/AAAAAAAAATY/ZOJ4o9qpdc0/s1600-h/TN+Monkey+2008+1.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/STSHoM2ZOcI/AAAAAAAAATY/ZOJ4o9qpdc0/s320/TN+Monkey+2008+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274990188271581634" /></a>The following weekend was Monkey weekend. Specifically, the <span style="font-weight:bold;">Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey Marathon</span> in Nashville (11/23). Monkey was a night-and-day different experience from San Antonio rnr. a few hundred people. In the woods. No bands. There was, however, one spectator with a stuffed monkey. And it was cold. I know, I know. I keep saying that. But trust me, Monkey was COLD. 23 at the start of this one. Luckily, there wasn't any wind, and it was sunny. Monkey was also quite hilly - not the hilliest race I've done, but definitely the hilliest race I've done <span style="font-style:italic;">this year</span>, and quite a bit more challenging than Manchester. Two times through a loop around beautiful and peaceful Percy Warner Park. What a pretty place and a pretty day. I set out to simply beat 4:00. Along the way, I had great conversations with lots of runners and volunteers at water stops. I took it easy. I met the owner of a nearby Fleet Feet store at one of the aid stations. Because I was wearing the pink, she recognized me as "that guy who came in and bought a pink top the day before". Yup, that was me. <br /><br />Some very fast folks ran Monkey, and their times show that they had the legs for all those hills. Cool. This did not describe me! However, I did make my goal by running a 3:54. More importantly, I consciously ran a negative split: 1:58/1:56, my first in a very long time. Double cool. This was definitely a quirky and altogether cool race. We got two shirts; one was personalized. Personalized bib. Stickers and a tattoo. Friendliest aid stations ever. And after the race? A spread of food that makes Thanksgiving seem tame. There was so, so much. And beer! I knew a lot of people at this race and I really wanted to stay and socialize. And drink more beer. Unfortunately, real life called me back to Seattle right after I finished. Sigh. Maybe next year.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/STSG03X8EMI/AAAAAAAAATQ/errbA8-03PU/s1600-h/GA+Atlanta+2008+2.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 122px; height: 184px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/STSG03X8EMI/AAAAAAAAATQ/errbA8-03PU/s320/GA+Atlanta+2008+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5274989306333368514" /></a>Speaking of Thanksgiving, that was four days later. Nothing truly embodies the meaning of Thanksgiving quite like running a marathon :-). And so I found myself in Atlanta for the holiday and the <span style="font-weight:bold;">Atlanta Marathon</span> (11/27). I ran this race last year... the first of three in a four day span. I really messed up my nutrition the day before and had a zombie-like day, much like Manchester... only worse. I struggled home at 3:56 and felt terrible.<br /><br />This year, I was determined not to make that mistake. I ate a ton. I got the right amount of sleep. Race morning came with beautiful weather. Warmer than the marathons in the previous weeks for sure - and way warmer than last year's Atlanta race. And dry! A perfect day. I think I know why. This year, for the first time, the race was sponsored by The Weather Channel. I think this is a strategy that more races should employ.<br /><br />I woke up, and I felt great. Atlanta's course is a hilly loop with a 10 mile out-and-back in the middle. Not Monkey-level hills, but comparable to Manchester. I decided to try to run about a 3:40. Now, whether that turned into a 3:42 or a 3:38 didn't matter so much, but I did want to run a smart race. Evenly or slightly negative. And unlike last year, I wanted to finish strong.<br /><br />I did.<br /><br />The day went exactly like I wanted it to go. 3:41, and a wonderful 1:52/1:49 negative split. I have to admit that when I hit the halfway point at 1:52, I figured that I didn't have what I needed... but I felt better and better as the race went on. Or maybe it was the hot Weather Channel reporter at M17. Hmmm. A great day overall. And like Monkey, I had to leave right afterwards to come home. At least flying on Thanksgiving evening is not a crowded experience.<br /><br />Two days after Atlanta, I ran the new doesn't-roll-off-your-tongue <span style="font-weight:bold;">Seattle Marathon 5k</span> (11/29). They held this event on the waterfront at a place called Myrtle Edwards Park. A mostly flat race, but the bike trail utilized for the course was (is) somewhat skinny. I was worried about crowding, especially since I had no real plans to run fast. I wanted to run 8:00-8:15 miles (so a 25:00ish finish) to dial in my marathon pace for the next day. Alas, when the gun went off, I became preoccupied with running with my friend Bee. And she wanted to run faster than 8:00s. More like 7:00s. Whoops. I wound up in a weird place. Not fast enough to feel like I truly raced the 5k, but way faster than my goal. A 21:33 finish. Hmmm. This was not necessarily a good thing.<br /><br />The next day was the <span style="font-weight:bold;">Seattle Marathon</span> (11/30). I have completed either the half or the full event here each year since 2001. Last year, I smoked a 3:36 the day after running a 3:37 and three days after my poor 3:56 at Atlanta. I suspect that I will come back and write up a full report of this race in a few days, so I'll hold off with the details. Briefly, except for being humid, the weather was perfect. And that rarely happens at this race. My original goal was 3:35, simply because this would be better than last year's 3:36. But by M4, I felt really good. So good, in fact, that I decided on the spot: This Is It.<br /><br />Go-Fast day. <br /><br />It was time to PR. <br /><br />My post sickness PR is currently 3:28. I decided to try for 3:25-3:27.<br /><br />How did I do? <br /><br />Uh. Well. Huh. Deciding on Go-Fast during a race is not the smartest way to play. Not only had I <span style="font-style:italic;">not</span> tapered, but I had run two marathons and a 5k in the preceding seven days. Go Fast.<br /><br />I think I'll save this story for next time. But I bet you can figure out the results!<br /><br />Next up: Hmm. I'm registered for the Sunmart (Texas) 50 miler. I may change to the 50k, which is what I ran last year. I have very bad luck with 50 milers. Not sure yet. Check back Real Soon Now! I promise it won't be a month.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-75415617641147796582008-11-09T10:00:00.000-08:002008-11-09T19:30:24.179-08:0010/26/08 Tri-Cities MarathonOctober 26th was my father's 78th birthday. I had planned to go to Dallas this weekend for his birthday, and also pick up the Miracle Match Marathon in nearby Waco. Miracle Match was my 52nd marathon last year, and I had a really good time there. Unfortunately, Real Life became problematic and I couldn't travel that far.<br /><br />Instead, I headed over the mountains to eastern Washington for the Tri-Cities Marathon (TCM) held in an area known as, tah-dah!, the Tri-Cities. The cities (really, big towns) are Richland, Pasco, and Kennewick. TCM is a balloon-on-a-stick out-and-back course that starts and ends at a hotel in Richland. Along the way, runners touch all three cities while passing over three different bridges zig-zagging the Columbia River. The course... really, the whole area... is pancake flat except for the bridges themselves.<br /><br />HOWEVER.<br /><br />However, TCM is famous for wind. 'Wind' can be a four letter word, just like 'hill'. It can slow you down. In these parts, it can pick you up and throw you. It can dry you out. And on a cold day, it can freeze you solid. The good news: the layout of the course means that worst case, the wind will only be a headwind for 13 miles. <span style="font-style: italic;">Only</span>. Hey, this beats 2006 at Napa where the 20 mph headwind lasted 25 miles. Sometimes you have to make up your own good news :-).<br /><br />Many Maniacs come to TCM each year. This year, there was a new marathon held in Umatilla, Oregon on Saturday. That's about 30 miles south of Richland. Doubles do not get logistically easier. Real Life didn't let me do both races; I was very happy to get to TCM in time. However, several of my friends did try the double. Turns out that Umatilla is a lot hillier and that course was tough. Good job to all those who managed both!<br /><br />Bee and I made an uneventful road trip to the Tri-Cities on Saturday afternoon with the B-Dogs. They were great travel companions; the dogs sang pretty well, though Gracie isn't so good at high harmony. The weather had been perfect on Saturday: blue skies, not too cold, and not too windy. Race morning was also blue skies. Wahoo for that. At first, it wasn't that windy. This would change. It was fairly chilly, though. And I do not like being cold.<br /><br />This was one of those mornings where I was simply thankful for being able to run, and I was very happy with the bright blue skies. I decided not to be terribly technical with a race goal. About 3:45, depending on the wind. I wanted to run as evenly as possible, but if I slowed or sped up to chat, no problem. At one minute before the scheduled race start, we were all milling and talking at the start when... GO! Eek! A minute early. Well, then. Off we went.<br /><br />And off Bee went. Like a rocket. Every now and then, we will run races together. We ran Tacoma (another race known as TCM) together in 2007. We also ran the first seven miles of Bellingham together a few weeks ago. Usually, though, we just sort of run *near* each other. Sometimes, she's faster. Sometimes I'm faster. At Tri-Cities, she was the road runner. Meep meep. Not me.<br /><br />The first mile of the course was on roads. At M1, we crossed the I-182 bridge. Except for a few miles, most of the rest of the course would be on wide, paved bike path until we came back across this bridge and hit M25. My body felt a bit achy, but I remembered that a few folks had run a marathon the day before. I wasn't that achy.<br /><br />Flat flat flat. The Columbia River is quite pretty, and the bridges across it were fun to look at. This was good because 1) there wasn't really anything else to look at, and 2) it was so flat that we got to see those bridges several miles in advance.<br /><br />At M8, the course crossed <a href="http://www.videografico.com/PhotoAlbums/Album-02/3.jpg">the Blue Bridge</a> to the other side. At the top of this bridge right in the middle is a giant USA flag. For miles and miles, this flag served as a big billboard for "Here is what your wind is doing!" At M8, the flag was certainly flapping. I hadn't really felt the wind to this point, and the flag told me why. It was at my back.<br /><br />Across the bridge, the course headed back towards the start for a 2.5 mile (each way) out-and-back. Now the wind was in my face. Yippee. I'd only have it for 2.5 miles before turning around, BUT... later on, the course would cross another bridge at M16 and then we'd get 10+ miles of headwind.<br /><br />Just as I exited the bridge, the leaders passed me going the other way. Have a nice day! I saw lots of my faster Maniac friends, including Maniac Arthur who was on his way to a PR despite the wind. About a quarter of a mile before the turnaround, Bee passed me going the other way. So she was about a half mile in front. But she was wearing a big frown. Uh oh. I made the turnaround, and the wind was behind me. Phew.<br /><br />I hit the halfway point at 1:51. A bit fast for "about 3:45", but I knew that the wind had helped speed me up... and would help slow me down going the other way. Sure enough, as I passed M14 and the Blue Bridge, the flag reminded me about the wind.<br /><br />Up to the next bridge to cross the river yet again. This would be a big suspension bridge, officially called <a href="http://columbiariverimages.com/Images05/clover_island_cable_bridge_2005.jpg">the Cable Bridge</a>. I occupied my mind in this section by tracking Bee. I was slowly gaining on her. A woman from Canada talked to me in this section as well. She was (is) a breast cancer survivor; she noticed my pink shirt. She was also running a bit faster, and she pulled away from me as we headed up to the bridge.<br /><br />TCM had offered an early start. I had been passing early starters since just after the Blue Bridge. Running over the suspension bridge, I noticed I was coming up on Maniac Mel Preedy. Now, the Cable Bridge has a narrow lane for pedestrians. On the left is the outside structure of the bridge and a cable barrier to keep people from falling off. On the right is a 2 ft high guardrail to keep cars from doing the same thing. The guardrail is attached to the road surface of the bridge by concrete and metal posts every few feet. Why am I offering up that much detail? Because the wind kept trying to drive me into the guardrail. Like a sailing ship or a plane, I had to consciously steer myself diagonally towards the outside cable barrier to stay in a straight line and away from the guardrail posts.<br /><br />And there was Mel dead center in the path, probably doing the same thing.<br /><br />My brain started to process how to pass Mel nicely. At the same time, my brain stopped processing how to steer properly. I was easing slowly towards the guardrail and its posts.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Ok, I'm almost to Mel. Hmmm. How shall I pass.... SPLAT!</span><br /><br />My right foot had hooked a post, and I was down. Not gracefully either. I had ricocheted off the side of my head and then into a sitting position.<br /><br />Two women who had been following me stopped to offer assistance. Sort of. The first one screamed at me, "ARE YOU OK???" She wasn't screaming because I was unconscious. Nor was it a very loud environment. No, she was screaming because she was wearing headphones. I told her I was fine. She screamed at me again, "ARE YOU OK?" I guess she didn't turn her music down. I mouthed "yes" and nodded. Off she went.<br /><br />The nodding kind of hurt, though.<br /><br />The second woman came up. "ARE YOU OK???" Oh hell. Same thing. Headphones. And she didn't take them off either. I...AM...FINE...JUST...STUPID. Off she went.<br /><br />Because it was so cold, I had worn a ski cap to keep my ears warm. This had protected my head too. I had no visible damage and no bleeding. I had not hit my head particularly hard. Just enough to scare me, jumble my wits, and give me a slight headache. My shoulder and knee kind of hurt too. I was geographically as far as I could be from the start/finish. In the middle of a bridge, not near any aid station. There was nothing I could do but keep going. So I did.<br /><br />Slowly at first, but then I got my running legs back. And I did manage to pass Mel just after the bridge! :-)<br /><br />I also caught Bee soon thereafter, probably around M17. She had foot surgery a bit more than a year ago. Since then (really, before then too), her foot would sometimes hurt during long runs. Today was apparently a bad foot day. I was having a bad head day.<br /><br />At M18, Maniac Van passed me. She had won the Umatilla race the day before and, once again, was passing me on day two of her double. Which, once again, was not a day two for me. Go Van. As she was going by, I mentioned that I had fallen on the bridge. "It's a road marathon... you shouldn't do that." Thanks for the tip :-). <br /><br />Unfortunately for me, I was no longer really into today's race. I just wanted to be done. The wind didn't help. At M18, the course passed the Blue Bridge again. Though we did not cross it this time, I did get to ponder the flag. It was now straight out, flat as a board, facing right at me. I didn't need the flag to know that, really. The wind was sucking out my will to live. I tried to keep my pace as steady and even as I could.<br /><br />Back across the I-182 bridge again, just before M25. At the top of the bridge, I noticed that Bee had stayed with me. She was just behind, running with a guy dressed in a Star Trek uniform. Heh. In fact, he had a trimmed beard and a hair style that made him look a bit like the Will Riker character. Oh, and TCM had assigned him bib #1. Yes, the guy dressed as Will Riker was Number One. Perfect!<br /><br />At the M25 aid station, the volunteer was dressed as a bee. Ha. Halloween races bring out the creativity in some folks. I hoped Bee would notice the bee. She did.<br /><br />For the last few miles, I had been playing leapfrog with a guy who had apparently started too fast and then pooped out. He'd try to run, but then he'd walk with that particular death march stare; it was obvious he wasn't attempting a run/walk strategy purposefully. I passed him again at M25.5.<br /><br />At M26, the course made the turn onto the road into the hotel. From behind me, I heard a person in a full-on sprint. I sped up a little bit to try to make it more interesting for this person, but I had no real intention of racing. As long as that person didn't fall over, she/he would go by me. And he did. It was death march guy. He didn't want to be beaten by a man in pink.<br /><br />Good one, dude.<br /><br />As I finished, the official clock showed 3:43. My watch showed 3:44. I know what happened. The race really DID start one minute early, but they didn't sync the official clock that way. So everyone got a bonus minute. I actually finished at 3:44. By the time that results were posted on marathonguide.com, this got re-adjusted properly.<br /><br />Bee pulled in right behind me at 3:47. These were our exact times at Bellingham. But we were both happier people at Bellingham. Ugh.<br /><br />Some days are better than others. It turned out to be a great day for Van and Arthur. Aside from falling down, it was an ok day for me. Blue skies always help.<br /><br />Bee, the B-Dogs, and I came back over the mountains. I ate Mexican food. Real Life resolved itself in the best way possible the next day. Some scary cancer tests had taken place during the previous two weeks. J-Lo and I had been awaiting the results. The results were encouraging.<br /><br />Interestingly, when the cancer stuff is in a scary phase, I tend to fall down a lot. My mind isn't focused enough; I trip on curbs and even simple uneven surfaces. And now, suspension bridges. I'd prefer not to do that.<br /><br />Maybe I should run with a helmet. Sigh.<br /><br />Next up: the following weekend, I headed back to New England to run New Hampshire's Manchester City Marathon. My 49th state. I did ok, but not great.<br /><br />More on that Real Soon Now.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-55328931770311759302008-10-29T14:28:00.000-07:002008-10-30T16:05:31.682-07:0010/18/08 Breakers Marathon<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SQj53VxqSHI/AAAAAAAAASo/wMU7e1SHRVg/s1600-h/RI+Breakers+2008+1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SQj53VxqSHI/AAAAAAAAASo/wMU7e1SHRVg/s320/RI+Breakers+2008+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262730893715982450" /></a><br />This picture and the one later in this story were taken by cool Maniac and Costco guru Steve Supkoff. He finished this same race and had time to read the Iliad before I finished.<br /><br />For a few years, Rhode Island did not offer a road marathon. Woe befell 50-staters needing Rhode Island to finish the circuit. Somewhere around 2004 (I think), the Breakers Marathon was created to fill the gap. I was supposed to run this race and check off this state back in 2006, but it is one of many races I canceled to play cancer buddy. I finally made it this year.<br /><br />First things first. I knew nothing about the tiny state of Rhode Island. Now, having completed the Breakers Marathon, I still know next to nothing. But I know a little more. I know that Breakers is one of <a href="http://tickets.newportmansions.org/default.aspx">many historical mansions</a> in the oceanside town of Newport. I also now know that Newport, Rhode Island is kind of hilly. Aside from that, I don't know much. Getting from the West Coast to the Northeast is a time-consuming challenge; I finally got into town after dark the evening before the race. And because of pending cancer-related tests, I left right after the race.<br /><br />But the race itself was a wonderful tour of the area, and so I learned a bit along the way. Technically, the course is a point-to-point because the start (the wharf/downtown area of Newport) is different from the finish (a beach on an especially cool isthmus). That finish is only about a mile from the start, though. It really feels like two loops: a 13.1 mile pseudo-loop from the start through some parks skirting the shoreline and all the mansions then passing the finish area, followed by a 13.1 loop touching a bit of shoreline and a whole lot of neighborhoods on the way back to the finish. Call them "the west loop" and "the east loop". The course was quite roly poly for the first 17 miles, and then downright HILLY for the last 9. The elevation chart made it look like there would be a ton of downhill after M20. Not for me. It seemed like a looooong uphill from M17 until just a bit before the finish. My splits confirm this.<br /><br />I like practically every marathon and ultra that I've participated in. Out of 188 so far, I can only think of a few that I truly despised. I've really enjoyed the vast majority, even though the perfect race is quite rare. Races, even the slightly informal-and-small kind, are complex affairs. Stuff happens. Almost all oooops'es are more than balanced out by fun things. I keep telling myself this about Breakers. I really did like the scenery, and what the organizers did right, they did VERY RIGHT. But there were also a few things that were a bit wonky. Now that a week and a half has passed, I guess Breakers falls into my "it was pretty good" category. The Northeast offers up a ton of marathon choices in October. I've enjoyed the other races more, although only Breakers offers the picturesque mansion miles in the middle. For a 50-stater, this is a fine race. If you live in the Northeast and it fits your schedule best, have at it. For travelers from afar, I'd probably suggest Steamtown or Bay State for going fast, or Maine's Mt Desert Island for a real challenge and great views.<br /><br />Finding the race location was a bit more frustrating than it should have been. The instructions/directions to packet pickup at the Newport Yachting Center were clear on the website. But they weren't complete, and they didn't mention that everything was located behind some buildings. Perhaps the buildings were the yachting center? Also, the directions completely hinged on counting traffic lights ("go to the fourth light") instead of street names... and, well, they apparently count differently from me. There were Amica -the race's sponsor- banners marking the general area... but these were invisible at night. And there were no race signs visible from the street at all. Anyway, packet pickup was open until 7p the night before the race. After getting to Newport around 6:45p, parking, and then poking around and around and around, I found the location at precisely 7:02p. Too late. The guy was very friendly, but even though I *saw* the packets sitting there, I wasn't going to get mine. "Come back in the morning". Ok, no prob. If I could have gotten to Newport earlier, I would have. At least I knew where to come now :-) and it was great that they offered race day pickup.<br /><br />Race morning came like race mornings almost always do: a bit before I'd like them. But there it was, and it was time to go. It was dark, cold, and windy outside, but the forecast was for sunshine. This was an oceanside race in October, so I was prepared for wind and cold. I drove back to the same place I had parked the previous night. Now I knew where I was going! Unfortunately, the race website made it sound like all parking would be 10 bucks. Had I actually tried to park next to the race location, this would have been true. But I didn't. I parked where I had parked because that's the lot I thought I was supposed to be in. Turns out, the Newport Yachting Center is wholly different from the Newport Visitors Center... although the visitors center is one of the parking locations listed on the race's website. When I left after the race, it would cost me 25 bucks. Boo. My fault, though. Sort of.<br /><br />I walked down and picked up my stuff. Brrrrr. During that walk, I had noticed a van and what looked like a spray-painted "start" sign on the road. Hmmm. According to the map I had and the instructions on the website, this wasn't where the race was supposed to start. The map and website were wrong. I had plenty of time to figure this out, and discovered a secret set of portapotties with no lines in the process. This worked well for me. But it didn't work well for the race in general. Including the accompanying half, over a thousand folks were supposed to take part in the events. As I stood at the start line about 10 minutes before the scheduled start time, maybe 15 other people stood near me. Uh oh. We knew we were in the right place because the timing company had set up the chip mats here. Where was everyone? I suppose they were at the map's starting line, which perhaps was the start in prior years. About 2 minutes before the scheduled start, a wave of people wandered towards us. I guess the organizers figured out the issue and told everyone to vamoose.<br /><br />And without any ado, and certainly no muss nor fuss, off we went. I was so entranced by all the folks wandering over and trying to spot people I knew that I forgot to check in with myself regarding a goal. Hmm. Well, I had managed a 3:38 a couple weeks prior. I was feeling fine, but I didn't know enough about the course aside from "hills" and "wind". Ok. Today would be a "beat 3:45" kind of day.<br /><br />Now, I realize that my description so far hasn't sounded too positive. Again, the organizers were super friendly. And as we got into the race, my perceptions of things improved markedly. This was a gorgeous course. The first mile wandered through town. Then we headed through some parks and out to the water for our west loop. It was windy. I hooked up with a couple Maniacs from Seattle: Maniac Steve and founding Maniac Chris. Steve tends to be a 3:20-3:30 marathoner. Chris has gotten down to 3:05-3:15, but he seemed to be going out a little slow for that today. I appreciated the company early on, especially with all the confusion at the start... so I ran with them.<br /><br />But that was too fast for my prospective 3:45. I knew this quickly enough, so I let them go near M5, before "going out a little too fast" would cause me problems later. About this time, I noticed another slight frustration with this race. The water stations were really far apart: over 3 miles. I'm used to something closer to 2. On a cold day like this one, 3 worked out ok. I didn't notice that I was getting unbearably thirsty until very late in the race. But I can say that <span style="font-weight:bold;">now</span>... at M5, I didn't know what was going to happen. In fairness to the organizers, their information was clear that the stops would be about 3 miles apart; they didn't mess anything up, really. I could have carried a bottle. But I didn't. It worked out. Still though, they need more stops. This was not an inexpensive race.<br /><br />M7-9 were right next to the ocean and extra windy. This course was on roads that were open to traffic, and for some reason, we (runners) kept snaking from one side of the road to the other. Had I been driving, this would have bugged me. At one point, we were on the left side of the road. A guy and a gal, both wearing headphones, were running on the far left. I was just to the right and slightly behind the gal. And she spit a giant loogie on me. GAH. She didn't want to spit to her left because she would have hit her guy. And she didn't hear that I was there because of her headphones. Just, GAH.<br /><br />Including travel costs, I spent a lot of money to come here. M9-12 of the race made it all worthwhile. Very, very worthwhile. These were the mansion miles. Not just "really big houses owned by guys in the NFL". Actual old-money mansions. With 12 chimneys. And gatehouses bigger than my house. And, oh by the way, with spectacular fall foliage. Many of these places are museums now. Breakers was in here somewhere. It was really cool.<br /><br />Then I was past the mansions. Over the isthmus, and past the finish line. I hit the halfway point about 1:48. Factoring in my 5 fast miles, I was about where I thought I'd be. Assuming I could hold it together, I'd be looking at 3:35-3:40 instead of 3:45. Okey doke. Unfortunately, I didn't know the hills coming up. And they were unkind.<br /><br />But before the hills hit, the east loop offered up a seaside out-and-back between M15 and M17. I saw Maniac Steve, way in front of me and looking strong. Maniac Chris had dropped back slightly and was just a bit in front of me. I also saw a lot of other people I know. "I didn't know x was here!" That darned confusing start... I missed everyone. During the out-and-back, I definitely noticed that the car traffic was getting heavier. Yuck. This would continue through the remainder of the race; it reminded me a lot of the middle miles at the Cape Cod Marathon. I'm pretty sure the cars doubled my stress level.<br /><br />Then it was time for the hills. I don't care what the elevation chart says; M20-M25.5 were up and up and up. I hit M20 at 2:46. I was still on track for something between 3:35 and 3:40. Have I mentioned the hills, though? Yeah. I like hills, but I wasn't that ready for these. Onward I went. On the positive side, the wind was now more like a gentle breeze and I wasn't freezing.<br /><br />About 100 yards past the M22 sign, I came upon a water station. It was marked very clearly "Welcome to Mile #23!" And many of the volunteers encouraged me for the final 3 miles. I dunno whether they set up in the wrong place or what happened here. It didn't bother me much because I knew where I was; I found it kind of funny. Not everybody did, though, based on <a href="http://www.marathonguide.com/races/racedetails.cfm?MIDD=2366081018">the comments I've read on marathonguide.com</a>. Whoops.<br /><br />Somewhere around M24 was a candy stop. Yum. I didn't partake, but it was a fun idea. My watch told me that I had slowed quite a bit since M20. I felt ok, but definitely tired. Would I have felt better with more aid stations? I don't think so, but from a psychological perspective, maybe.<br /><br />Just past M25.5 the relentless up became a nice downhill to the finish. ZOOM.<br /><br />Back onto the isthmus, and I was done. As I was coming into the finish, someone called out my name. It was Maniac Steve, who snapped this picture and then the picture at the top of this report. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SQj6EJYwd1I/AAAAAAAAASw/DhojPYgcSMo/s1600-h/RI+Breakers+2008+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SQj6EJYwd1I/AAAAAAAAASw/DhojPYgcSMo/s320/RI+Breakers+2008+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262731113728603986" /></a><br />It's pretty clear that I wasn't ready to have my picture taken. HA. <span style="font-style:italic;">Cheese!</span><br /><br />3:40. I wasn't that pleased. This was way better than my original "beat 3:45", but I thought I could get closer to 3:35. Not today.<br /><br />A bottle of water and a quick chat with Steve... and then it was on the bus to get to the finisher's food and the parking. On the bus, I found out that Steve had pulled a 3:28 and Chris managed a 3:34. I should have tried to stay with Chris!<br /><br />The food was back at the original packet pickup location. The spread was amazing. All kinds of hot food. Any race with pizza gets bonus points and Breakers had pizza. Fruit. Bagels. Candy. Juice. All great.<br /><br />What they did right, they did VERY RIGHT.<br /><br />Then I paid my 25 bucks, boo, and drove back to the airport.<br /><br />Now that I know what's what, I think the logistics for this race are pretty simple. It's just kind of imposing for out-of-towners who have never been to Newport. I don't know if or when I'll come back, but I really did enjoy the mansions. And, except for the car traffic, I enjoyed the course overall.<br /><br />Next up: I was supposed to travel to Texas for my Dad's 78th birthday and run something called the Miracle Match Marathon in Waco. But some scary-bad cancer tests happened during the week, and I didn't go. Instead, I ran the Tri-Cities Marathon. Not local to Seattle, but at least in the same state.<br /><br />More on that Real Soon Now. There was tragedy; there was comedy. There was pizza.<br /><br />But without making you wait, the scary-bad cancer tests SUCKED, but the results were reasonably good. And thank goodness for that.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-64131251256194208322008-10-28T12:16:00.000-07:002008-10-28T22:09:32.187-07:0010/12/08 Spokane MarathonOriginally, I was going to take this weekend off. Then, in late September, my friend <a href="http://www.marathonmaniacs.com/rip/jackswanson.html">Jack Swanson passed away</a> in Spokane. I can't say that Jack was "my best friend" by any stretch, nor can I truly say that I knew him very well. But I had very good memories of running races with Jack and his wife Gunhild. Jack lost his battle with leukemia. Or maybe it was side effects of the chemo. Ugh. They held services for Jack on September 27th... and I couldn't make it.<br /><br />Jack had run 200 marathons and ultras over a long running career. I was probably in 20 or so of the same races. Spokane is also the home of a 12k race known as "Bloomsday". 30,000 runners, including true elites, descend on Spokane at the beginning of May for this race every year. For various reasons, I've never run it. Jack completed Bloomsday 31 times. Out of 32 Bloomsdays. I think he missed the first one. That's some streak. Jack was pretty sick this past May, and he was escorted in a wheelchair for the event. EXCEPT. There's a very challenging hill starting just before M5 on <a href="http://www.bloomsdayrun.org/assets/images/elevation_map_large.gif">the Bloomsday course</a>. It is known as Doomsday. I heard that Jack got out of the chair and walked up this hill. Holy smokes.<br /><br />As it turns out, the Spokane Marathon was going to be held on October 12th. I didn't have any travel money tied up in other races, and I had missed Jack's services. So at the last minute, I decided to head over the mountains to the lovely city of Spokane.<br /><br />Spokane is a four hour trip from Seattle, and I got there just as the sun was going down the night before the race. I had time to register right before they closed, eat with Jerrod at Subway, and go to bed. Well, I also found time to make a special shirt to wear. Here's the back:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SQd1zJFsq3I/AAAAAAAAASg/FkgSIEg4fps/s1600-h/Jack+Swanson+shirt+small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SQd1zJFsq3I/AAAAAAAAASg/FkgSIEg4fps/s320/Jack+Swanson+shirt+small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5262304211079310194" border="0" /></a><br />What I did *not* have time to do was check out the course. I really don't know much about Spokane. I had asked my friend Bee about it a couple days beforehand, but she didn't tell me much. I think she was probably holding out on me on purpose.<br /><br />The course is a simple loop that starts and finishes at a park near downtown. Well, it is mostly simple. Up one side of a river on roads and bike trails, hop over a bridge at M14, and then head back on the other side of the river. At about M5, there's an extra little loopty-loop through Spokane Falls Community College too. What I did not know... but found out the fun way... is that this course is quite hilly. And at M22, runners get to tackle Doomsday.<br /><br />Spokane is hot in the summer and quite cold in the winter. I think October can go either way, but on race morning, it might as well have been January. 23 degrees! Luckily, the skies were bright blue and there wasn't any wind. Although I ran the race in pants, 3 shirts (not including the Jack shirt), ski cap, and gloves with chemical hand warmers, it seemed quite pleasant. Heh.<br /><br />I had absolutely no plans to run this race fast. Even before I learned about the hill situation, my goal was simply to put in the miles. Especially at 23 degrees. This was originally supposed to be a lower-mileage, no-race weekend. With my 3:38 at Portland the previous weekend, I figured a good "long slow run" pace would be about a minute per mile slower... so a target 4:04 finish. Alas, that's the wrong side of the whole goofy/fake 4:00 mark. And so my race goal became simply "beat 4". But, and this is important, I actually wanted to be <span style="font-style: italic;">near</span> 4 hours. Not knowing the hill situation, I figured that running 9:00/mile pace evenly would do. Ha. The hills, both chugging up and screaming down, taught me differently.<br /><br />I do not have lots of interesting stories to tell about my race. I hooked up early on with Maniac Ken, who is a local. The course was 99% rural and very peaceful. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.riversidestatepark.org/_borders/bp.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 327px; height: 245px;" src="http://www.riversidestatepark.org/_borders/bp.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Ken pointed out interesting sights for me, such as the Bowl and Pitcher in the middle of the river. <br /><br />He also warned me about the gun club we'd pass near M15 (skeet shooting on Sunday mornings!) and tipped me off about Doomsday.<br /><br />We talked about other local races. We talked about Jack. At about M12, I heard hooting and hollering from the other side of the river. Aid station. The aid stations at this race were plentiful, and staffed by high school students from various cross-country and track teams. Runners were supposed to vote for their favorite aid station after the race... so some of the aid station volunteers really got into it. Unfortunately, I have a terrible habit of spacing out most aid stations unless there's something terribly unique or very, very wrong (as there would be at my next race in Rhode Island. But I'll come back to that in my next report), so I was pretty worthless when it came to voting. This is why I voted for the aid station at M16/M17... because I could remember hearing them across the river.<br /><br />Just after that hooting and hollering, the shotgun blasts started. Gun club across the river. I hit the halfway mark at about 1:56. Maybe a little fast, but good enough. Then Ken and I ran over the bridge to turn towards the finish... and the gun club was on our side of the river. BLAM. BLAM. BLAM. Argh. I had to get out of there, so I sped up. Bye, Ken.<br /><br />There had been hills on the other side of the river, but now that the miles had added up, the hills were seeming bigger and nastier. Also, there was a bit more car traffic on this side. Not too bad, though.<br /><br />Near M22, I hit Doomsday. I had forgotten that there was also a half marathon. The half's course had split off from us somewhere during the community college loopty loop... and merged back in right around Doomsday. So just as I was getting prepared to chug up, I started having to weave around walkers. Up I went. Doomsday reminded me a lot of the Hurricane Point hill at Big Sur, although not nearly as long. Like the Big Sur hill, it's definitely a challenge, but much of that is psychological - because of the geography, you can see alllll the wayyyy up the hill. Really though, it's just a hill. Up I went. I thought about Jack. My legs were mostly lead at this point in the race. Hard to imagine getting out of a wheelchair and trudging up. He did. And so I made it up the hill too. Whew.<br /><br />Then the course got a bit weird. Around M24, the course dumped out onto a gravel road in a not-so-nice part of town. It seemed perfectly safe; that wasn't the issue. But it was quite different from what we had seen to that point.<br /><br />Around some turns, back into the park.<br /><br />At M26, someone called out my name. It was Maniac Sean, who had also cheered for me during the Portland Marathon. I learned later that Sean had PRed with a 2:42 and won the race. Go Sean! And on a hilly course, too.<br /><br />I huffed and puffed my way in. 3:55. Pretty much where I wanted to be. No speed records. Not even a good day timewise compared to other recent efforts. But I nailed my goal, and that was much more important. And I was just as tired as I was after my recent 3:38 and 3:40, if not moreso.<br /><br />What a pretty, pretty day in Spokane. That was for you, Jack. When I get to my #200, or perhaps #201, I'll bring out the Jack shirt again :-).<br /><br />Next up: Already happened. In fact, two more races have already happened. I'm behind in writing. Anyway, next up was the Breakers Marathon in Rhode Island. State #48. How did I do? Well! Although the race was a decidedly mixed bag. More on that Real Soon Now. Hopefully, at least.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-58598514086021209932008-10-13T13:07:00.000-07:002008-10-16T17:00:18.496-07:0010/5/08 Portland MarathonThe Portland Marathon was my very first post-sickness marathon, back in 2001. I've come to this race five times before this year, but I've never done that well. Refer back to my <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2007/10/100707-portland-marathon.html">2007 race report</a> for a detailed history. The brief summary:<br /><ul><br /><li>2001: 4:04:04. First marathon, huge positive split, big struggle.</li><br /><li>2002: 4:49. I had not trained a step for months before the race.</li><br /><li>2003: 4:30. My third fastest marathon at the time (4:04, 4:25), but still without great training.</li><br /><li>2004: 4:10. Again, my third fastest (4:03, 4:04) with improved training. Although I was two months removed from a broken leg. Eeeks.</li><br /><li>2006: skipped to be a cancer buddy.</li><br /><li>2007: 4:55. Tried to help a friend run a 4:30. Whoops.</li></ul><br />It was time to run a strong and smart marathon at Portland. Now, I must qualify this. With only about four weeks of solid training, Portland was not going to be a goal <em>go-fast</em> race. But I did want it to be a good step on the way - a step that would represent a marked improvement upon my prior times, and a step that would provide solid training value. And so, without extensive consideration of course factors, race day weather, or how I was feeling at the time, I knew what my goals needed to be: 1) run evenly, and 2) "beat 3:40". 3:40 represents my current benchmark time on a flat course with good weather. I wanted to beat it. And, oh by the way, Portland ain't flat.<br /><br />Portland is an interesting course. Or, maybe it isn't. What I mean is that many people love Portland, and many people most emphatically do NOT love it. Those who don't like it much generally give long sections of the course big thumbs down for boredom. I dunno. It's true that I like the race partially out of sentimentality (or is it just "sentiment"?). But I really do think that the course is interesting. To spice it up, the organizers line the course with entertainment spots. Some of the bands are better than others, but almost all of them are good. And after doing the race six times, it's interesting to see which spots are the same year in and year out... and which ones have changed over time.<br /><br />Briefly, the course consists of two loops: a roly poly 10k from downtown southwards and back, and then a 20 mile loop northwards. Actually, the 20 mile loop is a bit convoluted. M6-M11 is a pancake flat out-and-back through an industrial area. This is a section that people hate; I love it because seeing all the other runners, both faster and slower, is a huge thrill. After a couple mostly downhill miles through a neighborhood, the course starts the long (and this part IS boring) flat trek from M13 to <a href="http://www.portlandbridges.com/00,0,18,0,1,0-portland-oregon.html">the St Johns Bridge</a> at M17. The approach up to the bridge is a steep incline, but it isn't very long. Then over the bridge and back towards downtown on the other side of the river. The elevation chart for the race has been wrong about this section for years; the chart implies a bunch of flat and then a downhill from M21 onwards. In reality, the course rolls a lot after the bridge, and then M19-M21 is a gentle uphill. Gentle but long. The promised downhill DOES materialize at M21... gravity carries you back towards downtown and the finish. Usually the course cuts over <a href="http://www.portlandbridges.com/steel-bridge.html">the Steel Bridge</a> to the downtown side at M24.5. For some reason (construction, perhaps), this year's course cut over <a href="http://www.portlandbridges.com/broadway-bridge.html">the Broadway Bridge</a> at M24. Two miles back... a bit more gentle uphill... a right turn by "the fat lady", a left turn, and done. Easy peasy. Except for the Matterhorn-like hill at M16.5 the course is not overly challenging.<br /><br />The race has also been blessed with great weather. It has rained once on the Portland Marathon in the last twenty years. And that year, 2000, it ended quickly. Talk about good luck. I'm certain that this is one of the reasons why I enjoy this race so much. I've run in some seriously terrible conditions all over the country. Never here.<br /><br />Many races are quick-turnaround trips for me, but not Portland. I usually make a big weekend out of it. And that's what I did this year. I arrived (go Amtrak!) Friday evening just in time to pick up my packet and buy a pink coat at the expo. Then, sushi... the best race weekend meal ever. Way better than Taco Bell or Subway, my usual traveling pre-race meal venues. Saturday morning, I got up and ran about seven miles along the waterfront, over and under various bridges. Knowing that the Steel Bridge wouldn't be in this year's race, I touched it for luck... I <em>always</em> touch it for luck... during this training run. Then more shopping at the expo.<br /><br />Saturday evening, I ate Italian with a big group of people. I almost never do this. I knew more folks than I thought I would, and I met some new ones. Conversations about different races and football. People asked each other about goals for the marathon. I kind of sandbagged my answer to that. At that point, my goal was "beat 3:40", but my stomach's status on race morning has a big effect on things, so I didn't want to say it outloud and tempt fate. I think I said "faster than 4, I hope". Which was accurate, really, just not exact.<br /><br />I checked the weather forecast... partly cloudy, no chance of rain, and cool... and then it was time for bed. I never sleep well the night before a race... especially a race I've been looking forward to, like Portland. But I slept like a baby. And woke up exactly on time. Perfect!<br /><br />Pop tarts? Check. Potty? Check. And then check again, heh. Pink? Check. Including my extra special pink Portland Marathon hat. And out to the start.<br /><br />I got there just before the area got too crowded, and found my way to the 8:30/mile pace signs. As I was standing there, my friend Anne found me. We chatted briefly as the area started packing in the runners. This year, the organizers had changed to chip-embedded paper for timing. By looking at everyone else's feet, I realized that I had attached my paper tag chip thingy upside down (or inside out). Huh. Oh well.<br /><br />The pace leaders showed up. Anne's plan was to stay between the 3:40 and 3:45 groups. I don't really like running with formal pace groups, but I was feeling really good. I decided I'd try to keep the 3:35 group in sight for as long as possible. I still wanted to run evenly, though, so this implied that my "beat 3:40" goal got adjusted slightly to "about 3:35". Fine. The starting area was getting sardine can crowded. Opera version of the National Anthem. Off we went. As one big group.<br /><br />The first mile was a nice, easy cruise through downtown... past my second-favorite music stop: a drum line. It was excellent. I ran with Anne for a bit, and then another friend, Chris, caught me. By intentionally NOT zig-zagging around people, I knew my first mile would be somewhere in the 9:00 range. Then I wanted to settle into the 8:10-8:20ish area... although because the first 10k had lots of little hills, I wasn't too concerned about identical splits. Even effort.<br /><br />Well, except for the potty stop at M5. Sigh. I had felt fine before the race started, I really had. And I ate the "right" stuff the day before. Guess I should have stuck with Taco Bell. Anyway, I spent the first five miles talking to Chris, but I bid him adieu and jumped into the little blue box.<br /><br />My favorite section of the course is the out-and-back between about M6.5 and M11. As I started into this section, I recall quite clearly thinking to myself, "gray skies, but thankfully it isn't going to rain today." I made it to almost M8 before the leaders passed me going the other way. The women's leader was a well-known trail runner from Oregon, Kami Semick. She looked like she was out for an easy jog. She would go on to win the race. I said hello to the faster Maniacs... Maniac Bob for one... as they went by. Then I hit the turnaround and now I was one of the faster people going the other way. And this made me run a little bit faster.<br /><br />Careful with that ax, Eugene. Speeding up too much had the potential for grave difficulty later. So I tried to tone it down. Several people passed in the opposite direction and tried to high five the guy in pink. Sometimes I executed the slap successfully. Sometimes I didn't. Ooops.<br /><br />And then at M10, the rain started. I repeat: <em>at M10, the rain started</em>. What the heck? It never rains here. The forecast specifically said that it would not rain. But there it was. Light at first. Then heavier. Then lighter again. But it started raining at M10 of the Portland Marathon and it did not stop raining until sometime in the evening. Over two hours of running in the rain. Yippee.<br /><br />Out of the out-and-back, through the neighborhood with lots of screaming spectators, and then into the truly boring section of the course. Normally it's boring, except that for three miles, runners are treated to a view of the St Johns Bridge looming way up high. This year it was simply boring; the bridge was obscured by low clouds and yucky rain.<br /><br />I hit the halfway point at 1:47... just about where I wanted to be for an "about 3:35", especially factoring in my slight turbo-speed through the out-and-back. And somewhere around M15, I caught Chris. Interestingly, the 3:35 pace group had been... and was still... ahead of me this entire time, even though I was running slightly faster than a 3:35 pace. I started to see the ghost of the bridge up in the clouds.<br /><br />It was time for the hill. In five prior Portland Marathons, I've only managed to run all the way up this hill once. And that run was one of those "I could probably walk this faster" shuffles. Not this year. I charged up the hill and over the bridge. Woohoo! I was definitely slower up the hill than I had been in prior miles, but I did alright. It was still raining, but it wasn't windy and it wasn't cold. Plus, I was headed back towards the finish now. Alright!<br /><br />Somewhere around M19 is the belly dancer stop. The famous belly dancers. Close your eyes and picture a belly dancer. Nice, huh? The belly dancers in the Portland Marathon are probably not exactly what you pictured. They are nice. And they can dance. Perhaps because of the rain (or maybe they were on a break), this year they weren't numerous. Anyway, let's just say that there's a reason that they are called <em>belly</em> dancers. Shudder.<br /><br />I could tell that I had lost a little bit of my pace going up the bridge hill, and it had not come back. Sure enough, I hit M20 at 2:45. This is usually a good predictor for a 3:35-3:40 finish... to make it closer to 3:35 than 3:40, I'd really need to focus. At least there was a nice downhill coming up.<br /><br />Uh oh. Another potty issue. Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick....<br /><br />At M20.5, a spectator called out my name from the left side of the road. In my peripheral vision, I spotted Fast Maniac Extraordinaire Sean, who would win the Spokane Marathon 7 days later. Thanks, Sean! And then right after that, a familiar voice called me from the right side of the road. It was my friend Dr. Econo. Cool. Alas, quickly moving my head from left to right made me dizzy :-). At least I didn't need to potty again.<br /><br />Headed downhill, my legs felt like they'd been beaten by a hammer. I did the best I could. Maniac Van caught me at M23. I managed to stay with her until the Broadway Bridge at M24, but then she pulled away. She would finish a couple minutes ahead of me. She had also run the Leavenworth Marathon the day before, and I had not. Go, Van.<br /><br />Rain, rain, rain. After the downhill and the Broadway Bridge, the course was a gentle uphill to the finish. Nevertheless, my last three miles went 8:43, 8:21, 8:16. Cool.<br /><br />Past the fat lady. The fat lady is a giant poster of a cartoon opera singer lady in the whole Viking motif. She's always accompanied by an opera soundtrack. Get it? The race must be close to over because the fat lady is singing. Last year, when I was running with my friend, I had played up the fat lady as a very big deal... and then when we ran by it, the fat lady wasn't singing. This year, she was.<br /><br />And then I was done. I didn't notice whether they announced me or not. It was nice to feel like I had made an honest effort and had run a (mostly) smart race. I finished at 3:38. This means that I didn't quite make "about 3:35". 3:36 and 3:37 qualify as "about 3:35". 3:38 was a teensy bit slow. I managed a 1:47/1:51 split - not quite as even as I wanted, but not that bad. Way better than some races, and considering the bridge at M17, pretty good. Besides, 3:38 is my fastest time since May. Faster than my 3:40 two weeks ago on a much easier course. Pretty cool. Also a top 13% finish.<br /><br />As I was eating a popsicle at the finish, in came my friend Anne. She wanted to beat 3:45, and I think she did... I know she qualified for Boston. Woohoo Anne!<br /><br />Unfortunately, once I stopped running, I got super cold. Uncontrollable shivering. So I went back to my hotel room and changed. THEN I went back out onto the course to root on runners. I saw lots of people I know. It was very nice.<br /><br />I love this race... and this year, I was pleased with my effort. Pizza and beer for dinner!<br /><br />Next up: originally, I was going to take the next weekend off. But one of my friends from Spokane passed away recently. Coincidentally, the next weekend would be the Spokane Marathon. So I headed to Spokane.<br /><br />Incidentally, I am already registered for next year's Portland Marathon. They reserve the first 100 numbers for elite runners. My assigned number is #113... so I was the 13th person to register for a race that will host 7500+ people. Alas, it is too bad I couldn't score my Maniac number, #111.<br /><br />"Is ok".Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-67975087029984430332008-10-09T12:24:00.000-07:002008-10-09T18:05:57.493-07:009/28/08 Bellingham Bay MarathonBellingham is a charming city located about 90 minutes north of Seattle, near the Canadian border. Home of Western Washington University (goooooo Vikings!), the city is next to Puget Sound and is surrounded on all other sides by mountains. It is a hilly place. Lots of people in Bellingham must run, because it hosts lots of races. Of the longer stuff, I've run three races here: the <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2007/02/021807-birch-bay-marathon.html">Birch Bay Marathon</a>, the <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2007/03/031707-chuckanut-50k.html">Chuckanut 50k</a>, and the New Year's Eve Last Chance Marathon (which, coincidentally, was founded by my Best Running Buddy herownself). Last year, a new race was offered: the Bellingham Bay Marathon. Whereas Birch Bay is pretty far north of the city, the new race took place in town. I did not do it, which was probably best because I heard that the weather was crummy.<br /><br />This year, the organizers moved the race a couple weeks earlier and changed the course a bit. Of the "lots of people" who must run in Bellingham, I know a few... including Best Running Buddy (BRB, or just Bee). She's lived here her whole life. I signed up. I figured the weather would be crummy again, but I wanted to explore the community and get in some good hill work. Besides, maybe Bee would run with me for a few miles.<br /><br />The day before the race, I took my little dachshund up to Bellingham. We picked up my number and then drove the course with Bee. Oh my. Hills aplenty. And lots of turns early on. The course's start/finish was at the farmer's market area downtown. The first section consisted of a 7 mile roly poly loop through neighborhoods north of downtown. Many "go two blocks, and turn" turns. After passing the start/finish, the course headed due south. Most of this was an out-and-back, including 10 miles on the Interurban Trail. Around M21, the course took a 3 mile diversion from the out-and-back to do a loop through another neighborhood. The trail section was quite roly poly with a couple steep but short hills, but the neighborhood made the trail seem pancake flat. 3 miles of big hills, right where a runner doesn't really want that kind of challenge - between M21 and M24. After that unpleasantness, the course jumped back up onto the trail and back into downtown. With a nice uphill finish :-).<br /><br />A few weeks ago, <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/09/9708-skagit-flats-marathon.html">I ran a 3:40 at the Skagit Flats Marathon</a>. It was a comfortable, conservative pace for the most part... on a very flat course, on a day with warmish weather and not much wind. From that, I decided that 3:35-3:40 was (is) probably my current benchmark time. The next few race goals would be based on that 3:40 and affected by things such as hills and weather. So, for example, the following weekend in Maui, my goal was 3:55, based on a 15-20 minute penalty for the 4 H's: Hawai'ian heat, humidity, and hills. <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/09/91408-maui-marathon.html">My 3:57 was close</a>.<br /><br />My training has steadily improved since Skagit, but three weeks isn't really enough to show much in my results. So, based on that benchmark, I decided that my goal for Bellingham would be "beat 3:50", depending on the weather. A 10 minute penalty for the hills. I wanted to run something close to an even split between the two halves, but I wouldn't try for completely even miles - this would be an even-effort course.<br /><br />And the weather on race morning? Perfect. A chilly, blue skies day with light winds. Essentially the same as Skagit but about 10 degrees cooler. Of course, this meant I was in two shirts, arm warmers, and gloves while most people started off in singlets and short-sleeves. But I was comfortable. Wind... actually, the lack of wind... really does affect how I feel on cool days.<br /><br />I had been extremely paranoid about the parking situation, so I showed up about 90 minutes before the race. I scored great parking. Alas, Bee showed up about 20 minutes before the race and scored even better parking. Huh. It certainly helps to be a local. Anyway, 90 minutes was a long time so I hung out with another friend, Maniac Q-562. Then it was time to line up for the portapotty. And then the start.<br /><br />Wearing pink for my races with BREAST CANCER SUCKS and other messages written on the shirt is an interesting experience. Sometimes, nobody talks to me. Other times, all kinds of people will ask me questions. Just before the start at Bellingham, a lady runner asked to take a picture of me. Ok, fine. So I smiled. No, no. She wanted a picture of the back of my shirt. Ooops. I turned around.<br /><br />Then we started. There were only about 300 people in the full... and a whole lot more in the half. The combined start was fairly crowded, but it thinned out quickly. I was running and chatting with Bee. Around all the crazy corners. Through a park. I thought it was a nice park. Bee told me about the park's former claim to fame before the city cleaned it up. Ew.<br /><br />As we neared the start/finish just past M7, I wished Bee well and made a beeline (heh) for the portapotties. Now, had I known how far away these were, I probably would have held it until the next aid station. The race org had done a spectacular job with the aid stations... plentiful, regular, lots of fluids, <em>and 3-4 portapotties at each station</em>. But anyway, I didn't know, and so off I went. By the time I finished my business and made it back onto the course, Bee was long gone. Based on my pace in M7, M8 (the potty mile), and M9, this was a two minute (!) detour.<br /><br />Onward towards the Interurban Trail. During that two minutes, a lot of people had passed me who were actually running a slightly slower pace than me. Now I was doing the passing, so I tried very hard not to zigzag and not to run *too* fast. There had been a good sized up heading into downtown and the start/finish... leaving downtown towards the trailhead was basically flat.<br /><br />The trail itself was not flat. Not even. Up and down. And up and down. Through the hip neighborhood of Fairhaven, past the start/finish for Chuckanut and Last Chance. Down a switchback and then up a "man, maybe I should walk this" hill near M11. I chose to run it.<br /><br />Up and down. Up and down. The trail conditions were perfect. The turnaround was at M15, so I started seeing people headed the other way starting about M12. I hit the halfway point at 1:51... a bit fast for my "beat 3:50" goal, especially considering the hills still to come.<br /><br />Just before M14, I caught Bee. She looked fresh as a daisy. All kinds of people I know were coming the other way. First Maniac Van. Then Maniac Coconutboy followed quickly by Maniac Coconutgirl. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I saw that we were headed for a major dip in the course.<br /><br />"Hey Bee, is this THE dip?"<br />"Yup, this is the dip."<br /><br />And so it was. That's what the locals call this feature. Down and up. Woohoo! The dip.<br /><br />Around the turnaround, and back through the dip. I pulled away slightly from Bee. Just in time for another potty stop. Sigh. At least this one didn't require a two minute off-course detour.<br /><br />Up and down. And up and down. But now, headed back towards town. I hit M20 at exactly 2:50. Hmmm. Assuming I could hold it together in the final hills, 3:45 was a better target than "beat 3:50". The weather was soooo wonderful, and I was feeling good. Ok. "Beat 3:45". The course exited the trail and entered the neighborhood.<br /><br />There are lots of rides at Disney and Six Flags parks where you sit in a boat or train car through a series of dioramas (think <em>Pirates of the Caribbean</em>). Towards the end, there's almost always a scary section where the music gets foreboding and everything goes very dark.<br /><br />This was totally the transition from the trail and M20 to the neighborhood and M21. The happy yo ho ho squeezebox music was replaced wholly by <em>Dead Men Tell No Tales</em> and electronic <em>Wind Blows Over the River Styx</em> sounds. The weather had not changed. Still beautiful. But the atmosphere had.<br /><br />As the course approached the hill, the guy I was running behind said, "I'm 50. You are 51. I will let you be 50." And he dropped back.<br /><br />The who in the what now?<br /><br />I had no idea what he was talking about. It just fit into the whole creepy vibe. Then it was time for the big hills. 3 miles of <strong>serious</strong> hills. Hills that make Morrissey and Depeche Mode seem bubbly cheery. A few spectators were out, especially near the aid stations in this section. They were all very positive... "a great downhill starting at X" or "it'll be downhill after Y". Alas, they were all wrong. If the trail had been up and down and up and down, this was...<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Up and down</span><span style="font-size:180%;"> and <strong>UP</strong> and <strong>DOWN</strong></span>.<br /><br />Caramba. "It's downhill from here!" Then the creepy section was over. Yo ho ho, a pirate's life for me! Just after M23.5, the course dumped back out onto the trail. Much less hilly in comparison. That said, no, it was <em>not</em> downhill from back there. Not at all.<br /><br />Approaching the finish line, I heard them announce Coconutboy and Coconutgirl. One of my favorite activities is trying to guess which one of them will finish first... today they finished together. That always puts a smile on my face :-). Plus, wow, they had been a bit ahead of me on the out-and-back. I had held up nicely.<br /><br />And then I was done. My updated goal had been "beat 3:45". I ran a 3:44. Woohoo! This made my split 1:51/1:53. Not exactly even, but pretty close. What a nice day.<br /><br />Bee was only a couple minutes behind me... a smoking day. One year removed from foot surgery too. Woohoo Bee!<br /><br />I ate pizza and hung around to talk to folks. All kinds of Maniacs had come to Bellingham. Maniac Shawna won the race; Van came in 3rd. I came in 48th overall... and, aha! Now I figured out that guy's cryptic comment about 50 and 51. He had been counting people who were ahead of him. And I did, in fact, manage to pass a couple folks towards the end. 50, 49, 48.<br /><br />I waited for a bit and watched Maniac Q-562 finish. She had a funny look on her face. Turns out that at one of the aid stations, she had stopped and taken pizza from a volunteer instead of hammer gel. It hadn't been sitting well. Yikes. Reminds me of krispy kremes during the Seattle Marathon or oysters at Newport. Blech.<br /><br />Speaking of Newport, Bellingham utilized the same photographers that work Newport and Yakima. This group is cool because they have on-course photos waiting for you <em>at the finish of the race!</em> And, compared to brightroom, they aren't over-the-top expensive. Mine stunk, but I bought it anyway. How cool to have a picture right there waiting.<br /><br />A great day. Well organized, challenging course and perfect weather. I said bye to Bee, Q-562, Maniac Mary, and a cast of thousands. And it was time to head home.<br /><br />Next up: A return to my first marathon - Portland. It has only rained once on the Portland Marathon in the past 20 years. What would that mean for this year's race? And how would I do? Check back RealSoonNow.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-13156557031431164372008-09-29T10:09:00.000-07:002008-09-29T15:25:08.597-07:009/14/08 Maui Marathon<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SOFOxN6K-FI/AAAAAAAAAOY/P46pV4FuIb8/s1600-h/Maui+2008+1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251565247944915026" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SOFOxN6K-FI/AAAAAAAAAOY/P46pV4FuIb8/s200/Maui+2008+1.jpg" border="0" /></a>I cracked open my fortune cookie after eating a fairly yucky evening meal at Panda Express the night before the Maui Marathon. Why on Earth would I load up with Chinese food the night before a race? Because I was hungry! Actually, I had picked a cheap hotel on the more industrial side of the island near where the race starts. Across the street from my hotel was a mall. The mall is the starting area for the race... it's why I picked the hotel. And the mall has a food court. Rather than getting reacquainted with lots of the fancy, touristy eating places around Maui, I ate with the locals at the food court. A lot. It just happened to be Panda Express' turn the night before the race.<br /><br />So, anyway, I cracked open my cookie. Lo and behold, here was my fortune:<br /><blockquote>Now is the time to set your sights high and "go for it".<br /></blockquote>Alright! Normally, this would be a mighty nice fortune to receive just before a big race. The problem was that this is a Hawai'ian race. I've gotten myself into trouble at these races before. Several times. There would be no going for it. However, I haven't run the Maui Marathon in a few years and the last time I was here (2005), I pulled a very painful 4:08. I did lots of walking and shuffling in the last 10 miles. I haven't done my best training in August and September, and I've had a few health issues... but I'm still in better shape than I was last time. I've also had several bad race experiences in Kona that taught me the hard way what NOT to do. Going for it? That's on the no list.<br /><br />The Maui Marathon is a point-to-point course that starts on the north side of the island at a mall in Kahului. This is the city with the airport. Aside from flying in and out and perhaps taking a helicopter ride, most tourists tend to skip Kahului. The course cuts across the skinny part of the island to the opposite coast at the Ma'alaea fishing village. Then, starting at about M8, the course follows the highway up the west side of the island - Pacific Ocean and island views (Molokini, Kaho'olawe, and Lana'i) on one side, the West Maui Mountains on the other side. At M21, the course detours through the town of Lahaina... all the way down Front Street. Back up to the highway at M24 and onward to the finish at the Ka'anapali resort area. <a href="http://www.mauimarathon.com/images/map2004_1200.jpg">Here is a map</a>.<br /><br />The course is challenging. After a 3 mile long incline from the start to M3, the course is a constant downhill to the coast at M8. Then, hills. Steep ones. Long ones. Hills with false tops. Grueling hills from M8 to M12. This is followed by a screaming downhill to about M14.5. The rest of the course is flat, but this is the hardest section. Huh? Well, the race starts at 5:30a, and the sun doesn't pop over the mountain until 6:30. Maui is already warm at 5:30a, but the humidity hasn't kicked in. It starts heating up and getting sticky about the time that midpackers are hitting the big hills. By the time runners get to the flat 12 miles heading to the finish, it is HOT. The sun beats down onto runners' backs the whole way. And one of two things will happen. If it is not windy, it will be otherworldly humid. If it IS windy, the humidity won't be so bad, but the wind itself will be a challenge. Either way, the second half of the course is by far the harder half even though it is mostly flat.<br /><br />In one form or another, the Maui Marathon has been going on for a very long time. I think this year was the 39th edition. When mainlanders ask me to recommend a Hawai'i marathon, Maui is the one I give them without hesitation. It is hard and it is hot. The middle miles are hilly. But it is spectacularly beautiful and the organizers do a great job. I contrast this to most people's initial choice, Honolulu. The Honolulu Marathon is held just before Christmas, and that attracts people. The problem is that it attracts way too many people; that race is crazy crowded. In fact, Honolulu in general is crowded at that time of year. September in Maui is off-season. The race is small. And... the sights and organization are both better. You might think that Maui in September would be hotter than Honolulu in December, and you'd be right. But Honolulu in December is still hot.<br /><br />All that said, Maui is not the race in which to "go for it". So my Panda fortune was misplaced.<br /><br />Or was it? I suppose there are different ways in which one can <em>go</em>. And there are different things that can be considered <em>it</em>. The weekend before Maui, I ran my fastest race since May... and I did it on suboptimal training and with stitches in my back. Luckily, I got my stitches out before I left for Maui and my health was declared good. Go for it. Huh. For race day, I decided that meant that I wanted to run a 3:55. This would represent a 15 minute penalty on my previous week's time; considering the difference in courses and weather, that seemed about even. It would be more than 10 minutes faster than my last Maui Marathon, and it would be a marathon besides Kona where I beat 4 in Hawai'i. Okey doke. 3:55.<br /><br />I had stayed on the industrial side of the island near the start so that I could sleep in. Most people stay at resorts near the finish. The race supplies a shuttle from the finish area to the start. The race starts at 5:30a. The shuttles leave at 3:30. Catching the shuttle would mean getting up at 2:30. Yikes. Staying on the industrial side would mean a much crummier (but cheaper!) hotel, but it would also mean sleeping in until 4:30. Sold! Besides, I wasn't planning on doing lots of vacation-y stuff anyway. I came over specifically for the race, and I only arranged a long weekend. I just wanted to run and sit outside reading a book. Crummy hotel was fine.<br /><br />In fact, it turned out that my crummy hotel was incredible, for a completely unplanned reason: vog. Vog (volcanic smog) is the noxious stuff that comes out of Kilauea besides lava. Now, Kilauea is on a completely different island, the big island, and usually it only causes minor issues over there. But Kilauea has been incredibly active lately. When I was in Kona back in June, I did not see sun for a week. It was overcast; this was vog. The increased activity has started to push the vog over to the next island... Maui. The touristy side of Maui was overcast, and the other islands were barely visible. Wind is the magic ingredient to blow all this away, but there hadn't been much of a breeze. So it just sat there. On my side of Maui, though, it was blue skies and sunny. Perfect weather for reading books and eating at the food court.<br /><br />I suppose I should tell you about my race now.<br /><br />Race morning came like most early mornings in Maui... 75 degrees and dark. It was already a little bit sticky, and this would be prophetic for later in the day. I walked over to the starting area and learned that the Maui Marathon has grown over the past three years! I met some Maniacs and found my friend Amy from South Dakota. We walked out to the starting line a few minutes before the race started and somehow lined up pretty far in the back. After the Hawai'ian blessing, which we could barely hear, off we went. Or more like... shuffle, shuffle, shuffle... off we went. Luckily, Maui now has chip timing.<br /><br />Amy is an expert at running negative splits. While a negative split would be unlikely in a race like this, we definitely started extra slow and resisted the temptation to zigzag around everybody. The first couple miles were city streets leaving Kahului. It was very dark, especially after hooking up with the highway and leaving town to cross the island. There wasn't much to see yet, except for random guys peeing on sugar cane (tip: there's dark and then there's DARK. It was not DARK. If it is not DARK, duck a little further into the cane, yo). Amy and I had a good conversation.<br /><br />Amy dictated the pace. I wasn't kidding about her skill at running negative splits. Here were our first six miles: 9:33, 9:03, 8:42, 8:32, 7:55, 8:21. I think M5 and M6 were mismarked, but the point is clear. I also knew that 8:20 wouldn't be sustainable, but as we entered Ma'alaea and hit the big hills, I stuck with her.<br /><br />Miles 7 through 12: 7:55, 7:55, 7:54, 8:15, 8:35, 8:47.<br /><br />Uh oh. We had run the first part of the hill way too fast for me. Miles 11 and 12 were slower partially because this was the steepest section of hill, but mostly because (bzzzzzzt) I had been running too fast before that. Not over-the-top too fast like I've done before at Kona, so I didn't expect a full meltdown. I knew the flat section was going to be tough, though.<br /><br />And now the sun was all the way up. It was hot, it was still, and it was sticky. No islands to see because of the vog. Incidentally, vog is not very fun to breathe. Some people handle it better than others. For me, it just makes me breathe harder. I was breathing pretty hard.<br /><br />I let Amy go. I didn't know if she'd pull off a negative split, but I knew that I had no hope of staying with her. Bye, Amy. Towards the top of the hill I caught my first Hawai'ianiac - Maniacs from Oahu. Wily Woo! To that point, he was having a good day. "I might PR." Go, Wily. About two minutes in front of him, I spied Les. Les was the original Hawai'ianiac and has worked hard to recruit a bunch of very nice people. We talked for a second, and then I slowly pulled away. He'd catch me again later (foreshadowing!), and then I'd catch him... and we'd leapfrog to the end. This is exactly what Les and I have done in Kona and at the Volcano Trail Marathon every time we run the same race.<br /><br />After a potty stop somewhere during M13, I hit the half at 1:53. For a 3:55 finish, that was a bit too fast. It was violently hot and still by this point. Ugh.<br /><br />Somewhere around M15, two guys caught me. One guy was quietly and patiently listening to the other guy complain. About everything. He didn't like the heat. He didn't like the hills. He didn't like the haze and the non-view. He didn't like the drink at the aid stations. He thought the course was boring. Dude. You are running in Hawai'i. Shut up. This was one time where slowing down as the race progressed actually served a useful purpose. The two guys pulled away from me, and I let them.<br /><br />The course passed the mile marker 14 beach. Not the marathon's M14... I mean that the beach is next to the highway mile marker labeled 14. Some of the beaches aren't creatively named. Heh. For many years, we used to snorkel at mile marker 14. I remember when the tourist channel on Maui television would recommend it as a nice place to pull off the road and snorkel. I noticed that this has changed. Now the beach sports signs about sharks. Sometimes, a beach will post a shark sign temporarily when one has been spotted. But the sharks move on, and the sign goes away. The signs at mile marker 14 were 1) numerous and 2) permanent. Shark City, I guess. I don't believe I'll be snorkeling there.<br /><br />Around the bend from this beach is the tiny little community of Olowalu. And for the race, Olowalu hosted a big group of taiko drums. Boom boom boom! I'm used to taiko drums at the bottom of a marathon's big hill - like at Big Sur. Olowalu was kind of a random location, and definitely not hilly. Still very cool. Boom boom boom! Maybe I won't melt! Boom boom boom!<br /><br />Somewhere in here, I started taking advantage of something I've never ever utilized before in a hot weather marathon: sponges. Sponges filled with ice cold water. I do not like stuff like this usually. The cold is too much of a shock, and the wet usually makes me clammy. Not today. These sponges were The Best Thing Ever.<br /><br />Around the next bend is a good surfing break. This was about M18 on the course, which I passed somewhere around 8a. Lots of surfers getting in a pre-work or pre-Church ride. It was a great distraction from melting. I also started doing the math to see how likely 3:55 was. I seemed to be right on target.<br /><br />I hit M20 at 2:57. Hmm. If I could hold my pace, I could beat 3:55 for sure. However, I was slowing down. It was going to be tight.<br /><br />At M21.5, the course turned left off the highway and onto a road down into Lahaina. This town has a very interesting history. Once upon a time, it was the capital. It was also the hub of whaling in the islands. Now it is a mix of older buildings and super touristy places like the Hard Rock Cafe. Oh man, it was hot through Lahaina. The Maui Marathon does not have a lot of spectators, but a few folks were rooting for us through town. Miles 22 and 23 ran down Front Street. Normally, the best view of Lana'i would be here. Too much vog today.<br /><br />Yes, indeed, I had started too fast. Those early 8:20 and 7:55 miles gave way to lots of 9:45s. Sigh. The good news was that compared to 2005, I was flying. I remember the death march down Front Street very well. I wasn't doing that this year. I grabbed another sponge from the aid station. Still no melting. I was running. I was passing lots of half marathon walkers and marathoners who looked like me in 2005. I could tell that I was slowly losing 3:55, though. Now I was going to have to gut it out to beat 4.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SOFPDY2g5kI/AAAAAAAAAOg/NJutRpE-F1E/s1600-h/Maui+2008+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251565560120010306" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SOFPDY2g5kI/AAAAAAAAAOg/NJutRpE-F1E/s200/Maui+2008+2.jpg" border="0" /></a>At M24, the course popped back up onto the highway and headed for Ka'anapali and the finish. I tried to pick up the pace a little. Ugh. It was all I could do to hit M26 with a 9:28. The course turned onto the road up to the resorts... there was the finish up the long, curved road beyond the golf course. Ugh. I had not melted yet.<br /><br />And then I was done. Zoom. 3:57. I did not make my 3:55 goal, but it was close. Anyhow, I did beat 4... and I beat my 2005 time by 11 minutes. I was also completely coherent and smiling.<br /><br />I found Amy and a couple of the faster Hawai'ianiacs, Jeff and Johnny. Amy had gained 10+ minutes on me over 14 miles, and she finished at 3:46. Unfortunately, she had had some breathing difficulties at the end... I blame the stale, humid vog... and puked. Yuck.<br /><br />Maniac Cowboy Jeff (he's not really a cowboy; his nickname is 'Cowboy Jeff' because he runs in a straw cowboy hat) had finished right in front of me, Les finished a little bit behind me, and Wily Woo did indeed get his PR. Woo hoo! I spent a couple hours talking to folks and cheering finishers. Then it was time to catch the school bus back to the other side of the island.<br /><br />It dropped me off at the mall, and so I ate lunch at the food court. Maui Tacos.<br /><br />Later on, I came back to the food court for dinner. More Maui Tacos food.<br /><br />The next day, I did some swimming in the morning and then flew back to Seattle. Certainly not the tourist's version of Maui, but I had fun. Considering my recent training, I guess I'm ok with my 3:57. It is time to improve.<br /><br />Next up: after a weekend off (9/20 was J-Lo's anniversary of her mastectomy), it was time for the Bellingham Bay Marathon. Bellingham is a very pretty city located about 90 miles north of Seattle near the Canadian border. Located amongst mountains and right on Puget Sound, Bellingham is hilly. The race itself? Hilly. More on that Real Soon Now.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-40386183395471014402008-09-18T13:39:00.000-07:002008-09-18T17:59:59.298-07:009/7/08 Skagit Flats MarathonA long time ago, before Real Life asserted itself the way that Real Life likes to do, I had considered the Skagit Flats Marathon as the right place (at the right time) to try to repeat Eugene's 3:28. Then Real Life did its thing. Actually, before that, I did a really dumb thing - <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/08/72608-white-river-50-miler.html">I ran the White River 50</a> and hurt myself. This impacted my training. I can't blame Real Life for that. <em>Era estupido</em>.<br /><br />But then, Real Life decided to add insult to injury. Or maybe it was adding injury to injury. I had a hole punched into my back for a biopsy. The biopsy came back good, although I did do the sitcom routine:<br /><blockquote>The results were negative?? Negative! Oh no.<br /><br />Wait.<br /><br />Negative is good, right? Yes? Whew.</blockquote>Heh. So the results were happy, but I had stitches holding my back together. They had held up at a half on Labor Day Monday, so I decided to head up to Skagit six days later. Even though I had been registered for the full for a long time, I told myself that I'd decide between the half and the full when I got there.<br /><br />I felt pretty terrible when I pulled into the parking lot at the high school where the race starts and finishes. I decided to walk around for a bit and see if that made things better. It didn't. It also didn't really make things worse, and I was scoring lots of "poor baby" points from people for looking so pitiful. I made my decision... to delay the decision.<br /><br />For many years, the Skagit Flats course was an inverted balloon on a stick (or upside down keyhole) - basically, a loop with a long out-and-back section in the middle. And "Flats" was an accurate description. The only hill on the whole course was a highway overpass in the first mile. Because of road construction, the course was changed this year. It would be completely out-and-back and completely flat. No overpass.<br /><br />The half and full start at the same time, and the half's turnaround would be 6.5ish miles into the course. This meant that I could start the race, warm up, and THEN decide if I was really up for a full. If I decided to turn back at the half's turnaround, I would need to be careful at the end... nothing like "winning" the full marathon with a sub-2. However, my Best Running Buddy (BRB) was signed up for the half. If things really went wonky, I could attach myself to her with one of those kid leashes and make it back in. Actually, half turnaround aside, I realized that I could turn around just about anywhere I pleased.... provided I didn't try to officially finish in the chutes UNLESS I did the whole thing.<br /><br />So I delayed my decision. BRB wasn't sure how fast she wanted to run, but I was betting she'd go out at a sub-2 half pace (so, 8:30-9:00/mile pace). I figured I'd run some miles with her. IF that's the pace we started at and IF I felt like continuing and IF I had a reasonable day, then "about 3:45" would be my goal. However, I was more interested in running an even race on this very flat course, so if we went out a little faster or a little slower, my time goal might need to be adjusted.<br /><br />Incidentally, some of you have asked me how I pronounce BRB. Is it "Barbie"? Oh no. I think that if I called BRB "Barbie", she might cut me. She's good with knives. It's B-R-B. This is the same as the online acronym for "be right back", of course. So sometimes, it's just "Bee".<br /><br />The weather on race morning was phenomenal. It seems like it is always a nice day at Skagit Flats... cool and blue skies. The usual weather penalty is wind. This year, there wasn't much wind. It was also a bit warmer than normal. A great day to try for my 3:28, actually. Oh well. Before the race, I had on my typical multiple layers of shirts and gloves. I was smart enough to cut that down to ONE shirt before the start, but I was dumb enough to make that one LONG SLEEVE shirt. This would get me later. I also kept the gloves, but I knew I'd just pocket them when I got tired of wearing them. Or when my hands felt boiled.<br /><br />After several trips through the potty lines and a bit of gossip and observation regarding a few other Maniacs, off we went. Me, BRB, and Maniac (and transplanted Hawai'ianiac) Gary. We hit M1 at 9:33. Kind of slow, and something was wrong. I was breathing really hard... I could still hold a conversation, but it didn't feel like a 9:30 mile. We hit M2 at 7:55, and we hadn't adjusted our pace. Aha. The first mile marker had been a little off; we were indeed running faster than 9:30. Strange mile markers would be a recurring theme, unfortunately.<br /><br />We came upon a woman running with four safety pins on the back of her shirt. They weren't attached to anything other than the shirt. No packets of gel, no sign, no oddly placed diaper. I asked BRB and she had no idea, so I sped up to ask the woman about this. The significance of the answer isn't nearly as important as the significance of me asking. See, in real life, I am quiet and fairly introverted. For some reason, I transform when I run. This is one of the things that I enjoy about running; I become much more sociable. The reason for the safety pins: she had a sign attached to her back at one time, but it had been removed. Okey doke.<br /><br />Onward. We got to the turnaround for the half. It seemed like we had been running 8:00-8:15 miles, so I wished BRB well on speeding up and hitting 1:45. She downplayed this and off she went. I decided to continue. HOWEVER, I knew that I was running too fast. I dialed it back. Or tried. I only wanted to slow from 8:15 miles to 8:30-8:40 miles. But the mile markers were wonky, so I had to try to do this by feel. And most of my feeling was concerned with "dang, my back hurts". I tried to get into my breathing and my perceived heart rate (coupled together: perceived exertion) which would have the nice side effect of blocking the back pain.<br /><br />The Skagit course is a bunch of east-west and north-south straight lines connected by 90 degree turns. A lot of them. On and on I ran. Turn and go. Turn and go. By M10, I was cooking. Off came the gloves. I considered going shirtless too but did not. I'm sure that the people near me were happy with my decision.<br /><br />Aside from the true leaders, I didn't start encountering my faster friends until I was in the final section before the turnaround. Huh. The 3:30 pace group went by me heading the other way. The pace leader, Maniac Bob, commented that I was right behind them. What? No way. I shouldn't have been. And a few minutes later, I hit the turnaround and then the halfway point at 1:48. Too fast. Especially because I was now steaming in my long sleeve shirt. Apparently, I hadn't dialed it back that much. I would now.<br /><br />About M18, the 3:35 pace leader passed me. This was also Maniac Bob. Different Bob. At this moment, I realized that I should have volunteered to pace a group... although I would have stuck with Maniac Robert as my name. I thought about hanging with Maniac Bob, but I really didn't think I had 3:35 in me and I didn't want to fall over dead.<br /><br />I hit M20 at 2:46. I was cooked, but I was keeping an ok pace. Unless I crumbled beyond the 10:00/mile barrier, my "about 3:45" goal was going to happen. On a normal day, a 2:45 check-in at M20 means that 3:40 is the better target. Alright then. My new goal became "about 3:40". For a few minutes. It has been a long time since I've run a 3:3x. My new new goal became "beat 3:40".<br /><br />About M22, I passed a few people who had been running with the 3:30 group. No, I was not speeding up. The heat was getting to everyone. I wished them well, but I was focused on my goal. I was more focused on not focusing on my back.<br /><br />The course comes back into town about M24. I was still alive. M25, still alive.<br /><br />And then I messed up. The big course change involved ditching the loop in favor of the out-and-back. But that wasn't the only change... and I didn't notice the other one ahead of time. In the past, the last bit of the course rounded the whole high school and onto the track. As I was trying to hold my pace, my brain factored this into the calculation. I held back. I hit M26 a bit before my brain was ready for it. I figured it was another mismarked mile. It wasn't... all of the sudden, the course turned. Instead of going around the campus, the new course cut through it. I had been holding back too long. There was the finish. And so I did.<br /><br />3:40:26.<br /><br />Considering all my issues lately, I'm pretty pleased. On the other hand, the only reason I didn't hit the doubly revised "beat 3:40" goal was because I held back at the end when I didn't need to do that. 27 seconds!<br /><br />And. I felt really good. I think I could have stuck it out with Maniac Bob... the second Maniac Bob... and gotten close to 3:35. I just didn't know it at the time. That's alright.<br /><br />Speaking of The Bobs (that's an <em>Office Space</em> reference), they both hit their pacer targets. Woohoo.<br /><br />I sprawled onto the football field's grass and didn't move for an hour. I could have run further or faster, but once I stopped, my body clicked off. I hung out with Maniac Dave and Maniac Q-562. We should have discussed gardening.<br /><br />And BRB finished her half in 1:47. More Woohoo!<br /><br />Next up: already happened. Last weekend's Maui Marathon. I got my stitches out between Skagit and Maui. Plus, the race was in Maui. It didn't matter that I didn't run lightspeed. I was in Maui. More on that Real Soon Now.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-84193243923894124922008-09-08T09:24:00.000-07:002008-09-08T12:53:44.330-07:009/1/08 Super Jock N Jill Half Marathon<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SMV3PwEF1aI/AAAAAAAAAN0/ncp2TAadZ1I/s1600-h/SJJ+Half+2008+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5243728453626615202" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SMV3PwEF1aI/AAAAAAAAAN0/ncp2TAadZ1I/s320/SJJ+Half+2008+2.jpg" border="0" /></a>I can run a 1:36 half marathon. Some people would say that this is fast; many people would say that this is slow. But at any rate, I know I can run a 1:36 half because I've run three half marathons this year and my times have been 1:36, 1:36, and 1:37. The half marathon is my favorite distance because it is short enough that I still have a whole productive day left afterwards, it is long enough to feel like a distance challenge, and it is TOO long to run at puke-at-the-end pace. Actually, this is why I almost never run 10ks. I manage puke-at-the-end pace when I run 5ks. A 10k is essentially the same pace, but it is twice as long with twice the pain. Halves are cool.<br /><br />I'd like to improve upon good ol' 1:36. Early in the year, I targeted the Super Jock N Jill Half Marathon (SJJ) as my attempt to go faster. Specifically, I wanted to run a 1:30. Why 1:30? Mostly because it is a nice round number. Also because it would represent about a 30 second improvement on my per mile pace. SJJ is held on Labor Day each year. I've never done it because I'm usually in Texas for our annual family reunion on Labor Day weekends. The past couple years, I've been running marathons on this weekend. This year, I decided to stay home and run the half.<br /><br />Too bad that I'm an idiot.<br /><br />I had known for months that SJJ would be a goal race. In fact, I had also wanted to utilize a full marathon on the following weekend (Skagit Flats) as another target race. Throwing in the White River 50 miler... <em>not</em> a target race of a distance I stink at... one month before my goal races was not smart. And sure enough, I hurt myself at White River. Not only did I need to heal, but this seriously curtailed my training afterwards.<br /><br />I also happen to be an idiot with a real life outside of running. Real life is funny. Ha-ha funny sometimes; strange funny other times. The Tuesday before SJJ, I had to have a biopsy. A nice big hole punched into my back. Stitched up afterwards, the punch stopped hurting after a day. But the stitches themselves and the associated bruise were no treat. Anytime I bent, twisted, or lifted my legs too high, my skin would stretch and OUCH.<br /><br />I got used to it after a few days. I learned the do's and don'ts of moving with stitches in my back. As long as I stuck to "Robot Frankenstein" moves, I was ok. After a few days of no activity, I was able to get in several 4-6 mile runs. I did fine. Slow. Lumbering. But fine.<br /><br />And so I showed up at SJJ undertrained and with a new style of Robot Frankenstein running. No chance for a 1:30. Oh well. But maybe a good chance to put in some miles and talk to people. Besides, one of J-Lo's friends was running the half (this is the friend I ran with at <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2007/10/100707-portland-marathon.html">last year's Portland Marathon</a>) and J-Lo had decided to come out and do the 4 mile walk. So I showed up. Domo arrigato, Mr. Roboto. Frankensteino.<br /><br />SJJ has been around forever. It is a very crowded race. I had heard that the course is flat, and so I didn't bother to do any homework. I knew that much of the course involved a paved bike trail. That's the picture I had in my brain: lots of people on a pancake flat bike trail in rural Western Washington. This was sort of true, and sort of not.<br /><br />SJJ's start and finish are at the <a href="http://www.redhook.com/">Red Hook Brewery</a>, which is on the edge of Woodinville, Washington. The area is indeed rural. There's a brewery, a bunch of wineries, and a sod farm. The course is a loop on mostly roads (with a little bike trail mixed in), but picture a loop where the outermost portion has been pinched by Aunt Annie of Aunt Annie's Pretzels and twisted several times into one of her famous creations. But without the sugar. And while the race's first and last miles are gently roly poly, the pretzel miles are quite hilly. Thanks, Aunt Annie.<br /><br />Labor Day in the Seattle area usually comes with nice weather, and this year followed that trend. Blue skies and cool for race morning. Actually, several of my friends complained about the heat and humidity. I was in two shirts and gloves. Heh. In my last half, I raced in a singlet even though it was cold - very out of character. For this race, I just wanted to be comfortable. So I kept the shirts and gloves.<br /><br />What to do about a race goal? Hmm. My stitches held up for the easy runs, so I decided to try a semi-tempo run during this race: 2 miles of warm up, 6-8 miles at 7:30ish pace, 3-5 miles at an easier pace. Those 7:30 miles would definitely be a bit slow for a true tempo run, but I didn't want to push it too much. Nothing like blowing out stitches in the middle of the country. The math pointed to a 1:40-1:45 finish time. It turns out that this wonderful plan came with a huge "however...". At the time I formed it in my head, I still thought the course would be essentially flat. And I didn't know about the pretzel.<br /><br />The pretzel.<br /><br />After 182 marathons and ultras, 50ish halves, and I don't know how many shorter races, certain memories stick with me. Most of these are not about my "good" (that is, fast) races. They are specific visuals or sounds (audials?) that were extremely vivid and either stuck out or completely augmented the concurrent race experience. For example, at M25 of the Twin Cities Marathon, the course crests a long, challenging uphill. At the top of this hill, the runner is presented with a wonderful view of the course's final downhill mile to the state capitol building. But the memory that sticks with me is a sound. At the top of this hill is a huge church. On race morning, the church rings its big bell - a deep, Big Ben sounding bell. <em>Bonnggggggggg. Bonnggggggg.</em> The noise of 100s of spectators cheering and this bell made a specific moment in time very special, and I will never forget it... even though my race at Twin Cities wasn't very good. There's a similar hill towards the end of the Mt Desert Island Marathon. I have a memory from the top of this hill too. In this case, it's a visual. MDI is a rural marathon with hellaciously bad weather. There are no bands, no taiko drums, no dude playing a grand piano. But at the top of this hill that year was a dude playing an accordian! It was SO random. Whereas the bell at Twin Cities augmented the experience, the accordian at MDI stuck out. It's just as meaningful, but for totally different reasons.<br /><br />I stuck that strange tangent in this report simply to restate: <em>The pretzel</em>. I will never forget the experience of running the pretzel for the first time. When I run this race again, the pretzel will merely be an aspect of a strange course. No big deal. But this first time, I didn't know about the pretzel until I was IN the pretzel. It was disorienting. It was interesting. And it was very very strange. <em>Now what the hell is going on here?</em> Heh.<br /><br />Let's briefly talk about the first 6 miles of the race. I started way back in the pack so that I'd go out slowly. This sounds nice in theory, but in practice this is a tactic that can backfire horribly. One not only needs to be disciplined enough to 'go slow', but one also has to resist the temptation to zigzag around the big pack of people. The zigzagging, with its sprint, side-to-side, slow down repetition can really come back to bite later on. I was good. Early on, I was passed by a very pregnant lady. She was probably 7+ months in, judging from the size of the buddha belly. However, she was in very good shape - very skinny everywhere except for that belly. She went flying by me at a 8:00/mile pace or faster. And I never saw her again. She was racing for two!<br /><br />By M2, the crowd had thinned down and I was able to find a faster pace and pass people without all the zigzagging. I felt good and I was very pleased with myself. The first few miles hadn't been as flat as I was expecting, but they weren't too challenging. I had started slowly, I had picked it up where I wanted to, and I was running well. I was able to mask the nagging sensation in my back. Felt weird, but it didn't hurt. Much. Somewhere in the early miles, the course jumped from the road onto a bike trail section. This part matched what my brain pictured for this race.<br /><br />And then everything changed at M6 when we got to the pretzel. The middle of the course runs through a satellite campus for the University of Washington. Whoever designed this part of the course was either very clever or very drunk. <a href="http://www.davidairey.com/images/design/Escher-relativity.jpg">Or maybe it was Escher</a>. Anyway, at M6, suddenly all the fast leader runners popped out from another road and were headed back towards me. No problem; nothing really out of the ordinary. This quickly changed. We started passing the walkers who had started an hour before us. No problem. Except I also saw other walkers headed off on a slightly different road at the same time. Huh. Then, out of nowhere, here came some more runners on an even different road. This didn't appear to be the same group of leaders nor a group that would be near them.<br /><br />The course turned a corner onto a monster uphill that dumped into the campus. This was the course designer's masterpiece. To the left of me were runners coming at me. These were definitely faster folks because I knew some of them... runners who are ALWAYS in front of me. To the right of me were more runners coming at me. These seemed to be slower runners, perhaps? And if so, this meant that I had run down that part of the course already? Yes. My part of the course looped back around and headed down a hill. Suddenly there were runners above me. And then up the backside of the hill and I was on the part of the course where my faster friends had passed me earlier. Going down the hill that I had already run up, I got a panoramic view of the pretzel. In all its glory on a warm blue skies morning, I saw runners heading in five different directions at one time. It was like some kind of highway cloverleaf.<br /><br />The pretzel lasted for more than 3 miles, from M6 to a bit before M10. I didn't know that the pretzel was coming, and similarly, I didn't really know that I was leaving the pretzel behind as I passed M9. Had I known, I might have stopped at the cloverleaf to soak it all in. Ok, probably not.<br /><br />The rest of the course was flat-ish bike path all the way back to the brewery. Mostly flat except for some path bridges. It seemed we needed to take several turns onto these bridges during the race, and each turn involved a short (20 feet?) steep up to get to the bridge. 20 feet certainly does not qualify as a hill... but these definitely acted as pace disruptors.<br /><br />Anyway, on and around. I was passing walkers throughout much of the last section. Also, the trail was open to everyone and by 10a, lots of families had come out to do a nice holiday bike ride. They didn't seem to enjoy the race so much. Ooops. I passed lots of these folks. And I got passed by lots of faster runners too. While I did not slow my pace to the 'easy run' that I had planned, I definitely slowed some. Most of the people that I had been running with did not slow.<br /><br />Up, around, and back to Red Hook. The last .1 of the 13.1 is an uphill into Red Hook's parking lot. And then I was done. 1:41. Nothing like the 1:30 I wanted to run, but exactly in the 1:40-1:45 range that I planned. My back kind of hurt. Not badly, but maybe I hadn't picked the most appropriate activity six days after having a hole punched into my back.<br /><br />J-Lo had finished her 4 miler and we waited for her friend. She finished somewhere around 1:58. I wish I could say that we sampled some great post-race Red Hook ale, but the race didn't offer this. Plenty of food and jamba juice... but no beer at the brewery race. Hmmm.<br /><br />Next up: yesterday's Skagit Flats Marathon. Originally, it was going to be my first followup attempt since Eugene at "beat 3:30". That changed. Two goal races in two weeks, both derfed. Oh well. I considered not running Skagit, or switching to the half. Ultimately I did the full and all things considered, I did ok. More on that Real Soon Now.<br /><br />My friend Coconut Boy says I'm not getting these reports out fast enough. So perhaps Real Sooner Now. Gotta keep the Coconuts happy.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-2389195312067347202008-09-03T08:33:00.000-07:002008-09-03T22:25:43.269-07:008/23/08 Park City Marathon<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SL7PHHOnC2I/AAAAAAAAANs/00ZeDjOwC9E/s1600-h/Park+City+2008+1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241854737412197218" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SL7PHHOnC2I/AAAAAAAAANs/00ZeDjOwC9E/s320/Park+City+2008+1.jpg" border="0" /></a>Park City is a ski resort community located in the mountains outside of Salt Lake City. "Ski resort community" means that it is up pretty high. The scenery around Park City is an interesting mix and backwards from what I'm used to seeing. My Colorado and Pacific Northwest experience is that the lower elevations are where you find trees and lots of green. As you move higher and get above the treeline, things are sparse. Still quite pretty, but very different. Park City is the opposite. Down low, the scenery is basically high desert - scrubby vegetation with absolutely no trees. Then, as you move up past Park City towards the higher ski resort of Deer Valley, you find trees.<br /><br />The Park City Marathon is a small event (with a bigger half marathon) held in late August. Late August in Salt Lake City can be 90 degrees. Up at Park City, it'll be quite a bit cooler. In fact, race morning can be very cold. <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2007/08/082507-park-city-marathon.html">I ran this race last year</a>. It was the weekend before my first triple; I ran it as a long run and intentionally didn't push things. Without knowing much about the course, I figured this would be a 4:00-4:15 finish. I was popsicle-frozen at the start (no gloves!) and didn't really warm up much. I had more difficulty with the 6500-7300 ft elevation than I thought I would, and I really underestimated the hills along the way. I finished at 4:15 which was close enough to my goal, but it beat me down.<br /><br />Let me tell you about those hills. The course is a basically a loop, but with an out-and-back section in the middle. It's like running three wholly different races consecutively. The first race is a challenging, roly poly 10k on the roads below Park City. "Don't go out too fast" is important advice for any marathon, but it is particularly true here... as you are trying to thaw yourself and find your rhythm, this first 10k is busy taking all of your energy. Then just past M6, the course turns onto a rails-to-trails conversion.<br /><br />Here we go. My standard spiel on rails-to-trails. By definition, these are wide bike trails that were railroads at one time. Trains can't go up or down steep grades, so rails-to-trails never have steep hills. But trains DO need to get where they are going, which may be up higher or down lower. And so, rails-to-trails have gentle ups and downs that can be very long. Ridiculously long in running terms. They are completely runnable; the hills are never so steep that you say "wow, I think I'll walk this". But after miles and miles of running up and up and up, or down and down and down, your legs will be tired of the whole rails-to-trails scene. And your brain will be mush.<br /><br />Especially on this trail. Where possible, rails-to-trails go <em>thataway</em>. No sharp turns. Not even curves unless curves are absolutely required. The Park City Marathon turns onto the Union Pacific trail just past M6 and heads up. 10 miles up. Straight as an arrow, except for a couple zig zags along the way. Actually, only 8ish miles are on the trail. As the course nears Park City (wave as you go by!) and M14.5, it jumps back onto the roads for the 2 mile each-way out-and-back push up to Deer Valley. This is the steepest part of the hill.<br /><br />At M16.5, the course turns around to head back to Park City. Per the elevation chart for this race, you'd think that the last 10 mile section is a look-out-below downhill to the finish. In fact, the few spectators and all the aid station volunteers along the way provide tons of "it's downhill from here!" encouragement.<br /><br />Nope.<br /><br />Ok, the general tendency is downhill. Generally. But there are a couple ups along the way, including one incredibly steep hill inside Park City. The kind of steep where you run it, the guy next to you walks it, and you both get to the top at the same time. Also, a lot of what looks like downhill on the chart seems flat when you are on the course. This last 10 miles could definitely be harder... but starting at 7300 feet after 16+ miles of hills, it's plenty challenging even with gravity helping out. "It's downhill from here!" Yeah.<br /><br />That's the course. The weather on race morning was basically the same as last year: dark for the first 30 minutes, then dawn, then blue skies. The light breeze made it chilly, but it wasn't nearly as cold at the start as last year. Great running weather overall. Of course, I was in two shirts, those trendy (but really geeky looking) sleeves, and gloves while most people were in singlets. Heh. At least I didn't have on long pants.<br /><br />As I mentioned, last year I chose to run this course conservatively because of the following week's triple. This year, I had nothing like that in my schedule. Then again, what I thought of as 'conservative' last year turned out to be plenty hard what with the course's challenges. Plus I'm still recovering from a skinned heel. I decided not to be tricky with training goals - I just set out to beat my time from last year ("beat 4:15"). I also wanted to run a more even race. Last year, I was completely wiped out afterwards. This year, I wanted to be more coherent. Knowing the course in advance, I figured that I could run it smarter and not get psyched out by the long hill and everyone lying to me about the downhill. I was a little worried about my heel.<br /><br />I won't give a mile by mile recap. I managed to run the first 10k evenly and without incident. The 10 mile hill went by. Slowly. Part of the trail runs through open range, and sure enough, there were cows on either side of the course. I suppose I could have stopped to pet a cow, but nah. I hit the halfway point at 2:00... one minute faster than last year. That 2:01 last year meant that I finished the race with an ugly 2:01/2:14 split. And I felt like crap. This year I wanted to be more even, but as I hit the halfway point, I realized that this meant I'd need to be a lot closer to 4:00 than 4:15. Maybe I went out too fast.<br /><br />Last year, I wasn't expecting the steeper grind up to the Deer Valley resort. I think I walked a bit of it, and I know I shuffled a lot of it. This year, I ran the whole thing albeit slowly. I was certainly in a much better mood as I headed back towards Park City this year.<br /><br />It's called the "Park City Marathon", but the start/finish is about 6 miles outside of Park City proper. The course does cruise through town near M18, including the steep hill. Like last year, I walked this hill. Theoretically, I was on the downhill now. I hit M20 at 3:06. I'd have to stay steady to finish somewhere around 4:00. I was out of the trees and back down into the high desert area. There's a famous white barn in Park City. The Marathon even incorporates the barn in their shirt's design. I think I passed the famous white barn at M21. I'm not sure, though, because there's another white barn at M25. I was confused in my report for last year's race. I wrote about a band playing at the white barn near M21. That was incorrect. They were actually near the second white barn at M25. And they were there again this year. 14 or 15 year old guys playing a blues riff. I know it was early on a Sunday morning and God bless them for being awake, but they needed a lesson in music theory. The guitars were playing their not-really-in-tune riff in one key while the electric piano guy was noodling around in a wholly different key. It made me run faster, though. I needed to get out of earshot :-).<br /><br />My last 6 miles were fairly even, around 9:00/mile pace. This was a big improvement over those last miles up the hill between M13 and M16.5. The last two miles were pancake flat and wandered around the perimeter of a couple condominium complexes. It seemed more like 10 miles.<br /><br />Finally, under bright blue 60 degree Utah skies, I hit the finish. 4:02. Well, I beat 4:15. I also ran an even race: a 2:00/2:02 split. I felt basically normal too. Of course, 4:02 is far too close to 4:00, and so I immediately began wondering if I could have beaten 4. I don't know. This is one of the very few races I've done without any potty stops at all... so I couldn't say "well, if I hadn't had to stop..." because I didn't stop. And aside from the steeper uphills, I ran evenly. No magic places from which I could have compressed time. 4:02 will have to do. My heel held up too, which is great.<br /><br />Next up: The Super Jock N' Jill half marathon on labor day near Seattle. Super Jock N' Jill is the original Seattle running store with the really weird name. There are lots of great marathons to run on labor day weekend, but I signed up for this half because once upon a time, this was going to be my go-fast attempt to break 1:30. Too bad I screwed up that plan and other plans by running the White River 50 and messing up my heel. Slowly my heel has gotten better... but I've had to skip important training during the last month. And then a few days before the half, I had to have a little "procedure" that left me with stitches in my back. These stitches pulled (ok, as I write this, they still pull) if I stretched my back or my legs too far in any direction. Wonderful.<br /><br />So Super Jock N' Jill did not work out as my warp speed run. I did finish, though. Nowhere close to 1:30. More on that Real Soon Now.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-42776236331150233562008-08-20T14:51:00.000-07:002008-08-20T22:53:35.799-07:008/17/08 The Light at the End of the Tunnel Marathon<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SKz-7ZmIS7I/AAAAAAAAANc/XYTgqFsrIKw/s1600-h/Tunnel+1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SKz-7ZmIS7I/AAAAAAAAANc/XYTgqFsrIKw/s320/Tunnel+1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236840763161594802" /></a><br />That picture and the other picture below were borrowed from Race Director Brian Pendleton's <a href="http://www.pbase.com/brianpen/tunnelmarathon2007&page=1">album of photos</a> for this race.<br /><br />Last year, Maniac Brian put together a couple of low-key summer events: The Rattlesnake Lake Marathon and The Light at the End of the Tunnel Marathon. Both events utilize two rail-to-trails conversions just outside of Seattle, but the races are very different experiences. <br /><br />Rattlesnake Lake is a 10 mile out-and-back followed by a 16 mile out-and-back. 5 miles of constant downhill on the Snoqualmie Valley Trail (SVT), then back up, then 8 miles up the Iron Horse Trail (IHT), then back down. Trains can't go up steep hills, so rail-to-trail conversions always have really gentle grades. But some of these grades are very long... and sure enough, Rattlesnake Lake really DOES have 13 miles of uphill in the middle of two extended downhills.<br /><br />Light at the End of the Tunnel (let's just call it "Tunnel") starts further up IHT. In fact, it starts on the other side of Snoqualmie Pass near the Hyak area of the Summit at Snoqualmie ski area. Back when they were building the railroad, they had to figure out how to get trains over the pass. They built a tunnel for this... a 2.3 mile long tunnel. When they converted the tracks to recreational trail, they left the tunnel in place. Yes, the IHT goes through a really long tunnel. And this tunnel is dark. However, because there are no turns in the tunnel, one can see the other end fairly quickly - the literal light at the end of the tunnel. The race... Tunnel... starts at Hyak and heads downhill the IHT 21 miles to the SVT, and then 5.2 miles down SVT to the end. A full marathon that's downhill. The whole way. And not steep, quad-busting downhill. Gentle rail-to-trails all the way down.<br /><br />In 2007, both of these races were low-key. I didn't do either one. This year, I decided to do both. Rattlesnake Lake remained low-key (my report is the second part of <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/07/75608-trails-double.html">this</a>). Tunnel blossomed into a much bigger deal. Lots of people wanted to run down the hill really really fast. Maniac Brian worked hard to get the course certified, and the BQ potential attracted more interest. And so, the little event that started with 21 people last year became a 130 person logistical challenge this year. Permitting. Insurance. Water stations... getting big containers of fluid onto a multiuse trail (not driveable) at specific intervals. And trying to figure out rides for people. Tunnel is a point-to-point course. Last year, people just carpooled before and after. 130 people is a lot for that... so Brian arranged for buses. That, in turn, meant trying to find a place to park 70-120 cars. Lots of work!<br /><br />The weather was a little crazy on race morning. Starting about 3a, thunderstorms roared across the suburbs (we call this "the East side") and the foothills of the Cascade Mountains. Which is where the Tunnel's course is located. Thunderstorms! Real lightning! I grew up in Texas where the thunderstorms are intense, long lasting, and loud. In Seattle, a thunderstorm is usually "one and done"... meaning, we hear one clap of thunder and that's it. Show's over. <em>Not this storm</em>. It was crazy. Luckily, it was fast moving and headed from south to north. By the time people started showing up for the buses, the storm was gone. But as folks were driving to the race site, it was pretty scary. It was also very interesting.<br /><br />The aftermath of the storm was also weird. Usually when a storm passes through, it is associated with a cold front. It'll get cold and breezy. <em>Not this storm</em>. Afterwards, it was warm and soupy. Probably close to 70 (usually in summer, it'll be 45-50 in the foothills at sunrise) and 200% humidity. And still.<br /><br />A full school bus of folks opted to start early. The rest of us waited for the two later buses to take us up to Hyak. My bus got lost a couple times, but we still got to the starting area with an hour to spare.<br /><br />I felt like I knew almost everyone who was waiting to start. This isn't exactly true, but it seemed to be this way. A few people who I did not know came up to talk to me about previous race reports. So... hello to those of you who are reading this! Hello to those of you that I have not met! I hope to meet you soon! :-) Anyway, the time before the start passed quickly. It was a sociable morning.<br /><br />While some folks were putting on their game faces to go fast and/or BQ, I knew that I didn't have that kind of day in me. My right heel is really messed up... all the downhill running over the last few weeks took most of the skin off it. I have a skinned heel. Really. And Tunnel would be all downhill. I was a bit nervous; I didn't want my foot to fall off. I had taped it, and I had extra supplies in my Race Ready shorts. So what about a goal? Hmmm. I figured "about 3:45". Up until mid-May, "about 3:40" was my basic goal... 3:45 was a given. Not since, though. Aside from a 3:42 in early June, my best time has been 3:46. And I haven't been consistent, either. My times have been all over the map. Why? Ultras. I've been doing a lot more ultras lately. More importantly, in mid-May <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/06/51708-redmond-watershed-preserve-12.html">I ran a race that was over 50 miles</a>. And then a few weeks ago, I ran <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/08/72608-white-river-50-miler.html">another 50 miler</a>. Both of these races took me 12 hours, give or take. I'm pretty sure that they messed me up too... and I don't just mean my heel. Although I've been able to put in quality training, I just haven't felt 'right' on race days since that 12 hours in May.<br /><br />However, Tunnel would be gentle downhill for 26.2 miles. "About 3:45" seemed doable.<br /><br />Then again, my heel was skinned. It was 70 degrees and climbing, with no wind. And it was so humid that I felt like I was breathing underwater. This was before the race even started. Logic dictated that I should go out very, very conservatively and pick it up as the miles went by IF I felt like it.<br /><br />Sounded like a reasonable strategy. And at 8:05a, off we went. The first .2 was a quick out and back to make the mileage "right", and then we were headed down the trail. Immediately, my logical plan met an unlikely obstacle: the tunnel!<br /><br />As expected, the tunnel was dark. Most of us had headlamps or flashlights. The tunnel was also damp; as we started into the pitch black, I got several dumpings of ice water on my head. Yikes! I considered doing the whole "Dead men tell no tales..." chant from <em>Pirates of the Caribbean</em>, but I didn't want to annoy everybody.<br /><br />Unexpectedly, the tunnel made me speed up. I think what happened was that I was trying to stay clear of other runners, and a small group behind me was pushing the pace. Rather than slow down, I sped up. I also kept getting really close to the side wall. Over and over again, I caught myself just before clipping the wall. And SPLOOSH, my foot would go into an ice puddle. I saw the light at the end of the tunnel, and I went towards the light. <br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SKz_gPNZ5OI/AAAAAAAAANk/dYIIbzN7gB4/s1600-h/Tunnel+2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SKz_gPNZ5OI/AAAAAAAAANk/dYIIbzN7gB4/s320/Tunnel+2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5236841396028695778" /></a><br />It took awhile. Finally, I was out. How fun was that? Brian had done something really cool before the race. We each got a bag to carry through the tunnel. At the exit, there was a box and a Son of Brian. Flashlights into the bag, bags into the box, and off we went. Son of Brian brought the box to the end. Now, the bags were also for our jackets. Usually the tunnel is ice cold. Not today. In fact, as I got closer to the end, it was so steamy that my glasses fogged over and I couldn't see anything. Exiting the tunnel was like entering an oven. Oh my.<br /><br />And when I got to M3... I was at 22:30. Oh no. My <em>conservative</em> start for an "about 3:45" finish should have been 8:45-9:00 miles. I was running 7:30s. I let a bunch of people go by me and tried to settle down.<br /><br />The IHT is neat because they kept some of the old railroad signage for various sidings, exchanges, and long-gone towns as well as mile markers (2220 miles from Chicago, etc). As I was trying to find a better, slower pace, my stomach started bothering me. Great. I had been concerned about the humidity and my heel. I wasn't expecting stomach issues. But there they were, and when that starts happening, it takes precedence. They got really bad about M8, which was near the Bandera exchange. Luckily, there was a bathroom here. I spent quality time at Bandera. Onward.<br /><br />The halfway point was at the Garcia exchange. This happened to be the start of the 20th Century WIMP: <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/06/53108-20th-century-50k-wimp.html">a downhill 50k I ran in May</a>. That race's first 13 miles were the same as the last 13 of Tunnel. I hit halfway at 1:49. Considering that I had started way too fast, I thought that this was a reasonable time for my "about 3:45". I knew the steamy day and my heel would slow me, hopefully only slightly.<br /><br />Just after halfway, my brain or my body... or maybe both... started rebelling. Although my perceived effort was going up, my pace slowed. People started passing me. I wished them well, but I wasn't feeling sociable anymore - a key sign to me that my brain was struggling. Then my stomach punched me again. Rock climbers utilize the cliff next to the trail around M16, and there's a portapotty here for them. I ducked in.<br /><br />Back out of that, I tried to get moving again. Ugh. Maybe half a mile later was an aid station. I stopped again. My bathroom break showed me that I was a lot more dehydrated than normal for the middle of a marathon, so I gulped down extra water and made sure my bottle was full. <br /><br />Off I went again. The good news was that my stomach felt better. The bad news was that my singlet had more water in it than my body. Also, my heel woke up. It yawned and said, "YOU SUCK." Alright. By M18 of a gently downhill marathon in which lots of people were PRing and BQing, I had just entered survival mode. Incidentally, the rest of Tunnel also happens to be M26-42 of the Mt Si 50 Miler, which <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2007/04/042207-mt-si-50-miler.html">I ran last year</a>. As you can tell, I have become verrrrry familiar with the miles I was about to run. Or, really, shuffle.<br /><br />The next aid station was near M19. I stopped again. My brain clearly was not functioning well because I could NOT figure out how to get the valve open on the water container. I turned it 90 degrees to the left. Nothing. I turned it 90 degrees to the right. Nothing. I tilted it and repeated the turns. Nope. I banged on the top like a TV in the 60s. I cursed. Finally, I tried turning the valve 180 degrees. Success. Oh boy. I drank a cup of gatorade. I started down the trail, stopped, turned around, went back, and drank another cup. All in all, I was there for at least 2 minutes. Then I was off again.<br /><br />Just after M21, the course turned off the IHT and onto the SVT. The footing on the SVT is slightly better, but the scenery isn't nearly as good. At this point, I didn't really care about either thing. I was just counting down 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, done. Not as many people were passing me. A few. I was also passing early starters and a few others who were a bit more into death march mode than me.<br /><br />Maniac May caught me right at M22. She had been stung by a bee in the lip! Ouch. I thought my day was going poorly. No bees for me, though. She took off. It looked like she was trying to hit 3:45. I knew it wasn't in the cards for me. She lost me almost immediately.<br /><br />I did the best I could to keep moving. And, in fact, the last two miles were actually close to 8:30s, the pace I needed to hit "about 3:45". Too bad all those miles in the middle were not. And too bad I lost at least 5 minutes in portapotties and standing at aid stations.<br /><br />M26 and the course passed under I-90. Whew. I finished it up. An ugly 3:52 with a gruesome 1:49/2:03 split.<br /><br />I usually don't compare my finish with others, but I will this time just to show how stupid-fast I started and how badly I faded. The group that pushed me through the tunnel included Maniac Shawna. She was just getting warmed up at the time... and finished at 3:18. I had no real business running with her. Maniac Mary passed me around M10 and finished at 3:26. Maniac Van passed me as I was euphemistically "going on break" at M16. She finished at 3:38. I'm assuming this was a bit of a negative split for her... and if I had had a good day, this is probably where I would have landed. Maniac May, bee sting and all, pulled a 3:47. She must have smoked the last 4 miles. She ran 4 miles a full 5 minutes faster than I did.<br /><br />From the results, it looks like about 20% of the entrants BQed. Of course, a lot of people came here specifically to do that... so good for them. It does seem like it would be a fast course for most folks, but it surely was a hot-and-humid day. Impressive work by this group. Actually, impressive work by ALL OF US. I lost 7 pounds, and I wrung it all out of my singlet. It was not a fast course for me, especially with one good leg. Speaking of that, my heel was really hurting afterwards, but it didn't look that bad. It looked way worse after Haulin Aspen <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/08/81008-haulin-aspen-trail-marathon.html">last week</a>! Maybe it's getting better?<br /><br />I decided that I'd take most of the following week (this week, as I write this report) off from running. This isn't going to make me any faster for the upcoming weeks, but I need to heal. <br /><br />Oh yeah. After the race, we got a medal, a nice tech shirt, and a full spread of food. VERY impressive for a low-key race with 21 finishers last year. <br /><br />Incidentally, you might notice from my schedule that Tunnel was supposed to be the second race of a double weekend. I had intended to run a 33 mile race at Blanchard Mountain the day before Tunnel. However, I didn't hook up with the organizers in time and I was worried about my heel. I skipped it. This was probably a good move. I know two people who did 11 miles there and DNFed because they thought it was too hard. Had I tried Blanchard, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have made Tunnel. Even though I felt cruddy during the race and afterwards, I'm glad I was able to complete Tunnel.<br /><br />Next up: Theoretically, I am supposed to run a double this weekend... the Park City Marathon and a new marathon at the Redmond Watershed Preserve. I ran Park City last year. It was a tough race up in the mountains. We'll see what happens. I may just spend two days in my bathtub instead.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-79874125360979058982008-08-18T14:21:00.000-07:002008-08-18T17:14:44.014-07:008/10/08 Haulin Aspen Trail MarathonHaulin Aspen: very fun race with the somewhat goofy name. This is the third year I've run Haulin Aspen (which I'll refer to from here on out as HA). So instead of repeating myself, <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2007/08/081207-haulin-aspen-trail-marathon.html">here</a> is my report from last year. The first few paragraphs discuss the course, so it might be worth a look if you've not read it. Go ahead, I'll wait.<br /><br />Thanks for coming back.<br /><br />In both 2006 and 2007, I ran HA as the second day of a double, coupled with the Saturday Crater Lake Marathon. I consider Crater Lake to be the hardest road marathon in the US, so attempting HA one day later has made for a tough weekend. My HA time for 2006 was 4:45, just about an hour slower than a regular marathon in that timeframe. In 2007, I pulled a 4:32 - a huge improvement, though still a little less than an hour slower than my regular marathon time. In the back of my mind both years was the what-if question: What if I ran HA on its own, not part of a double? It seemed like this would make for a more pleasant experience, and I figured I could run something more like 30-45 minutes slower than a regular marathon.<br /><br />That's what I decided to do this year. As far back as January, I planned on doing the 2008 HA as a single. In <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/01/goals-for-2008.html">my goals for the year</a>, the very last sentence mentions a 4:15 target. Then in May, I accidentally PRed with a 3:28 at Eugene. One of the chain reaction effects of this PR was a new possibility for HA - could I somehow manage a 4:00 finish? Maybe I could.<br /><br />I made a critical judgment error along the way, though. I decided to run the <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2008/08/72608-white-river-50-miler.html">White River 50 Miler</a> two weeks before HA. I knew White River would be hard, but I figured that two weeks would be enough to get back on track. I did not figure on White River beating me down... nor did I factor in the possibility of injury. Sure enough, I messed up one of my heels running on all the crazy-steep downhills for hours and hours.<br /><br />I came into HA with a bum foot that had been screwed up by running down hills. And what is the last 12 miles of HA? Yes. A very long downhill. Hmmm.<br /><br />Nevertheless, I showed up bright and early on race morning. As with the previous two years, the Bend weather did not disappoint: bright blue skies and no wind. It was very cold (38 degrees), just like the past two years. And it was supposed to warm up to 75 during the race, just like the past two years. With all that prior experience on the course and the consistency of the race's weather, I knew how to run, I knew how to deal with nutrition, and I knew how to layer my clothing appropriately. I conveniently forgot about my heel. For awhile, at least.<br /><br />The early starters went out an hour before the regular start. As we were milling at the starting line waiting for the regular start, some of the early starters showed back up. They had apparently gotten lost. Ooops. This would be a theme later in the day, although I didn't get lost. It's a very hard course on which to get lost, actually. There are only a few places where the runner could turn down the wrong road or trail, and they are all marked well.<br /><br />Regular start. And we were off. Early on, my heel felt fine. More accurately, my heel didn't really have a feel at all - meaning, I didn't notice any issues. I wasn't feeling especially spry, but I knew that we had a long road UP. I settled in, determined to run as much of the uphill as possible. This meant running the first flat 3 miles conservatively. I did. I fell in with some chatty folks early on. I had no idea if I'd stay near them throughout the day, but I figured that the hill would make them considerably less chatty :-).<br /><br />The hill. As I recall, in 2006, I charged up this hill way too hard in the early miles. The HA hill starts at M3 and crests at M14. There are a few flats along the way, but it is mostly up... and it gets steeper as it goes. The last mile is an especially grueling set of false summits as the road snakes around the mountain. Anyway, I charged up it in 2006 and specifically recall doing a lot of walking towards the top. 2007 was very different. I mixed in lots of running and walking. For 2008, I wanted to run as much as possible, even if it was slow running.<br /><br />I was mostly successful. Up I went. Up and up. The aid stations were 2-4 miles apart. I stopped at each station... not a <em>lingering</em> stop like I tend to do at ultras, but certainly a full-on "stop" that I would not do in a road marathon. Aside from that, I ran. Sometimes slowly. Sometimes very slowly. I walked a brief steep section in the middle. I mixed walking and running on the last and steepest section of the hill. I felt great.<br /><br />The hill crests around M14, and then there's a brief downhill to M14.5. This is the aid station where the course veers off the road and onto technical singletrack for the long trip down. Last year, I hit this aid station around 2:40. This year, by focusing on running as much as possible, I hit the aid station... at 2:42. What the hell? I was quite frustrated by this turn of events! However, this aid station was run by a very nice couple - an American woman and an Australian man who was going over-the-top with the Aussie references. They were both very VERY friendly and offered up encouragement to the steady stream of walkers (most with shell shocked expressions from the hill). I didn't share my frustration about my time with the aid station folks. They made me smile.<br /><br />And it was time to head down. Just before leaving, I offered up encouragement to the downcast folks who had wandered up behind me. Really fun downhill! Best running ever, anywhere! Great fun!<br /><br />Now. Let's take a break for a second. As you know if you've read my other reports, I am a terrible downhill trail runner. Absolutely terrible. And usually, I don't like these sections. But there's something about HA. For the most part, the downhill isn't steep enough to scare me. There are only a few true switchbacks. It really is fun, and I really AM sincere in my love for this section. Especially after 14 miles, mostly straight up, to get here. It's great fun!<br /><br />So I told everyone. And I headed out.<br /><br />Not 50 yards later... POOF. I was down. Some parts of the trail section are rocky, but a great deal of this trail is nice, soft dirt. I was lucky to superman onto a soft dirt area. Hence, POOF. We always hear that our friends to the north have lots of different words for "snow" because they experience many different types of snow. Similarly, I have different words for "falling during a run".<br /><br />"Superman" is fairly self-explanatory. This is the face first, full extension, land-horizontally fall.<br /><br />A fall that kicks up a big cloud of dust is what I call pulling a "pigpen", after the Peanuts character.<br /><br />I managed a two-fer: a superman with a pigpen landing. 50 yards from the aid station. Right after going on and on about how great this part would be. At least it didn't hurt. I did, unfortunately, get a bunch of mud all over my water bottle.<br /><br />I got up and started running. I had left that aid station at 2:45. With 12 miles left, I'd have to run 12 miles in 90 minutes to make my 4:15 goal. Even with the downhill, this was highly unlikely in a trail race. Plus I had just fallen. I don't really like falling, and so my brain wanted to be extra cautious (that is, timid and slow). Fooey. I ran fast when I could. I tried to have fun.<br /><br />I don't think I fell at all in 2006, though I stumbled a lot. I also stumbled in 2007, and fell twice. The first one was further down... probably M16ish... it was one of my more evil falls ever: a "George of the Jungle". This is where you fall full speed, but instead of hitting the ground, a tree catches you. And not in a good way. You fall full speed until the tree catches you by your face or your shoulder ("Watch out for that...ooooo... tree!!!"). That fall hurt. I didn't want to do that this year. My second fall last year was a pigpen at the bottom of the hill at M24.5. Right in front of an aid station. Classic! At least it didn't hurt.<br /><br />Anyway, I had JUST fallen at M14.5. Lots of time left for more falls. So I sped up until I tripped and stumbled. Then I slowed down. Then I'd try to speed up again. The cycle repeated.<br /><br />A few people passed me going down the hill. I tried to keep up when someone went by, but it wasn't going to happen.<br /><br />By M16, my heel let me know that it was unhappy again. The downhill. Ouch.<br /><br />When I got to the aid station just past M17, I was at 3:12 on the clock. Factoring in the fall, I was pleased with the 27 minutes it had taken me to get here. My foot was not pleased, though. So I lingered longer here than I really wanted to stay. I should have lingered even longer.<br /><br />About a mile down from that aid station, I fell again. Luckily, it was another pigpen... but this one hurt more than normal. I landed on my shoulder. I broke my water bottle. I think I was a bit dazed because I barely remember much except for moving very very slowly from "prone" to "upright". Onward.<br /><br />I hit the aid station at M20 around 3:40. I had made quick work, relatively speaking, of the previous three miles. This tells me that I was definitely running quickly, again relatively speaking, when I had fallen. The M20 aid station is where the half marathon course merges with the full. Although most of the half marathoners had long since passed this way, I knew that a few walkers would still be on the course in front of me. Because my water bottle was broken, I drank what I could. The next aid station would be in 4.5 miles, the longest gap on the course. I did not linger. It was 3:41 on the clock.<br /><br />Off I went. Most of the hill was done by M20, except for a couple rocky, steep switchbacks. I was passed by a few runners on the rocky section, so once again I tried to keep up. I tripped. This is one of the very few places on the course where a fall could put a nasty end to the runner's day. When I tripped, my brain finally took over and said, "no, you are now going to slow down." I gingerly went down the rest of the switchback.<br /><br />My clock watching had really gotten me down by this point. I had 10k after the M20 aid station. I knew the last few miles were flat. I was tired, my brain was telling me to go slowly, I had no water, my shoulder ached from the fall, and my heel was very unhappy. I figured that it would take me at least an hour to finish. That meant something around a 4:41. Almost ten minutes slower than last year... and no Crater Lake the day before. Booooooo.<br /><br />After articulating all those things that were wrong with me, I decided just to focus on the next few yards of trail. I ran a few yards, and then another few yards. Etc. For miles. I passed a few walkers along the way, as well as a few full marathoners that had underestimated the course.<br /><br />Where was the aid station? I figured that I was probably running 10:00 pace, so I started anticipating the final M24.5 aid station at about 4:21. This was where I fell last year, so I also paid particular attention to my footing through here.<br /><br />It didn't come. Wait. Surely I wasn't running THAT slowly. In fact, I was quite sure that I was getting somewhat close to the finish. But where was the aid station?<br /><br />It was nowhere. I made a turn, and unexpectedly, I spied the park's parking area out of the corner of my eye. I was nearing the finish. It dawned on me that the aid station was simply MIA. I had actually passed M24.5 long ago.<br /><br />Finish line. As I approached it, I noticed the clock and my watch. I was at 4:29. Oh my. I tried to get there before the clock flipped to 4:30.<br /><br />My finish time was 4:30:01. HA. Didn't quite make it.<br /><br />I was a bundle of mixed emotions at that finish. I still am. I had managed that last 10k in 49 minutes. For me ON TRAILS, that's actually flying. And I had done it with no fluids whatsoever. And my finish time is the fastest HA I've run. All good!<br /><br />On the other hand, it was only about 2 1/2 minutes faster than last year. Without running Crater Lake the day before. My falls had hurt me. My heel was really hurting. And I spent a lot of that last hour disoriented because of the missing aid station. AND it took me longer to get up the hill this year even though I ran (or thought that I ran) more of it. Hmmm. <br /><br />I try to find the positives when I can, but overall, I was not satisfied with my race this year. Looking back at my training and my race results, I believe it is the number "50" which has been the issue. I hurt my heel during the White River 50. That affected me for sure. But really my numbers have been off ever since the Watershed Preserve 12-hour race back in May. I was a 3:30-3:40 marathoner before then. Not since. Hmmmm.<br /><br />I think I'll do a different race next year instead of Haulin Aspen. Maybe Crater Lake as a single. Maybe something else. But I need a break from this one. And until my heel heals :-), I probably need a break from intense stuff in general. Certainly from downhill.<br /><br />A break, yeah. Next up? Yesterday's Light at the End of the Tunnel Marathon, a rail-to-trails point-to-point course that is 26.2 miles of gentle downhill. I'm an idiot.<br /><br />And that gives you a preview of how I did. Sigh. Check back RealSoonNow for the gory details.<br /><br />The dictionary definition of gory is "covered or stained with gore; bloody." Indeed!<br /><br />Incidentally, several of my friends got off course while headed up HA's hill. Apparently, one of the crossroads was not marked as well as usual. I assume I missed this because I'm familiar with the course. Anyway, they got lost. And by the time they got back on course, the organizer was picking up all the course markings thinking that everyone was in. D'oh! Sorry, folks.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-18188283176489890422008-08-08T13:43:00.000-07:002008-08-08T16:47:37.817-07:008/2/08 The Taco Man Half<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SJzXiHExmBI/AAAAAAAAANM/4rHoY1KoL9I/s1600-h/Taco+Man+2008+2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232293848112273426" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SJzXiHExmBI/AAAAAAAAANM/4rHoY1KoL9I/s320/Taco+Man+2008+2.jpg" border="0" /></a>That's Aunt Annie with me... Maniac Annie. Two fun things about Annie:<br /><ul><br /><li>She won 6 marathons in about 2 1/2 months between April and June. </li><br /><br /><li>She was 3rd female at the White River 50. She finished in 8:29, over four hours faster than me. Four hours! She had time to run another marathon! She had time to drive from Seattle to Portland. And stop for an hour in the middle to eat pizza. She had time to watch <em>Dances With Wolves</em>. The extended version.</li></ul><br />Various people handle the week after a 50 miler very differently. Me? I decided to run a half marathon. Halves are actually my favorite distance. Long enough to feel, well, long. Short enough to make for a fun morning with lots of time left to hang out or do other activities. The weekend after White River offered up two fine marathons, with accompanying halves: Juneau on Saturday and San Francisco on Sunday. I've done both races; I liked both.<br /><br />However, Founding Maniac Tony, otherwise known as "The race director of the Tacoma Marathon", was starting up a brand new half marathon for this weekend: The Tacoma Narrows Half Marathon. The highlights of the new race would include running over the Tacoma Narrows Bridge and running the warning track of Cheney Stadium, where the AAA Tacoma Rainiers play. Those are two great reasons to run it. Plus we'd get a pint glass! Just to make things more fun, I noticed that my brain kept wanting to process the website's url (<a href="http://tacomanarrowshalf.com/">http://tacomanarrowshalf.com/</a>) oddly: Taco Man Arrows. I dubbed the race "The Taco Man Half". And I had to run something called "the Taco Man Half". Heck, I thought briefly of coming up with a Taco Man costume for it. But I didn't. Maniac Annie did, however, convince me to register under a pseudonym. McLovin, the name I'm currently using on the Maniac calendar. It would be the first time I've ever run as McLovin.<br /><br />I am McLovin. And this weekend, it was official.<br /><br />The Taco Man's course was set up to be pretty cool: a point-to-point from the Gig Harbor side of the narrows to the same finish area as May's Tacoma Marathon in downtown Tacoma. After a couple miles of out-and-back, the course heads over the bridge. Then through neighborhoods. The last six miles of the course are essentially the last miles of the marathon course *except* for one nifty change: the full marathon runs <em>near </em>Cheney Stadium, but Taco Man takes a detour <em>through</em> the stadium. Then it's back onto the marathon course along the highway and into downtown. The course is moderately hilly, but not too terrible. Especially when compared to White River :-). And, as with the marathon, it has two miles of downhill to the finish. WOOSH!<br /><br />Alas, "point-to-point" means "shuttle" and lots of the bus drivers got a little lost. Whoops. Luckily, a Gig Harbor local was riding the same bus as me, and when our driver missed the exit, the local runner was able to point out backroads to get us where we needed to be. Phew.<br /><br />And so I arrived at the start line of the Taco Man half with plenty of time to spare. It was a blue sky morning, but kind of cold. I was bundled up in pants, 3 shirts, gloves, and a coat. The first weekend in August and here I was dressed for the final push up to the summit of Mt Rainier.<br /><br />Being seven days removed from my glorious 12:30 in the mountains, I had no plans to actually <em>race</em> the Taco Man. I did need to get in some faster miles for the week, though. I could have used the race for a tempo run (2 miles warm-up, 6-8 miles fast, 3-5 miles easy). However, I knew the course had some long uphills and I just wasn't feeling mentally ready to charge up long hills. So I decided on unstructured running: fast when I wanted to be fast, not-so-fast when I needed a break.<br /><br />Then there was my foot. I had lost the skin off most of my right heel at White River. I'd managed some 5-6 mile runs during the week with minimal pain. It seemed to be healing. I didn't want to reinjure it by pushing too hard in a race that wasn't a Big Deal Goal Race. So... "fast when I wanted to, not fast when I didn't want to" seemed pretty reasonable. That would mean 7:00-7:15-ish miles when in fast mode, and 7:45-8:30s when not. Okey doke.<br /><br />The start was delayed for 15 minutes because a registration snafu/delay had led to long portapotty lines. People need to pee, and you can't rush nature! This gave me some extra time to consider my choice of attire. Island Boy does not like to be cold; I'm very much a wimp about it. I'll usually still be in multiple layers when everyone else is wearing singlets. But I need to work on that. It was a chilly 48 before Taco Man, but it was dry. And it wasn't that windy. And... the race was only 13 miles. Less than two hours (hopefully). Hmmm.<br /><br />I gritted my teeth and took off the layers. Today, Island Boy would run in a singlet. 48. In a singlet. Me. Well, technically, I was hiding as McLovin, but still. Brrr. I stood at the starting line shaking. Brrrrrr.<br /><br />And we were off. I tried to hold back some. Had I been racing, I would have done some warm-up laps before the start. This was my warm up. The race had started in the parking lot of a golf facility. We left the lot and turned down a road away from the highway. This was the out-and-back, and we were headed towards a bike trail. Along the way, we passed a house with a husky tied up out front. This was some dog. He (she?) had his (her?) head tilted all the way back and was in full-on wolf howl mode:<br /><br />Ah-wooooooooooooo!! Ah! Ah! Woooooooooooooooooooooo!<br />(repeat)<br /><br />How cool! I declared something like, "Look! An animatronic dog!" but everyone around me seemed to be racing. As my Spanish friends might say in English, "Is ok".<br /><br />Out to the turnaround and then back the other way. I seemed to be towards the front of the pack. Interesting, but I wasn't going to push it. Then it was back by the non-animatronic husky, through M2, and off we went towards the bridge.<br /><br />The Tacoma Narrows Bridge is LONG. Including the approach, it's also a whole lotta uphill. But the views were totally worth it. Between this and the sights at White River, I'm constantly reminded why this area is such a nice place to live. When it isn't gray and cold. And not factoring in the traffic. Or the costs of food, housing, and gas. Earthquakes. But boy is it pretty here. The bridge also made for some nice photos. Here I am steaming down the Tacoma side.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SJzXs6mjaYI/AAAAAAAAANU/nrJiBJWcJX8/s1600-h/Taco+Man+2008+4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5232294033742850434" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SJzXs6mjaYI/AAAAAAAAANU/nrJiBJWcJX8/s320/Taco+Man+2008+4.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />And "steaming" is pretty accurate. Because guess what? Island Boy in his singlet actually warmed up. It didn't stay 48 very long, especially on the Tacoma side, but it was still in the 50s. I should have been wearing two shirts!<br /><br />M5. Into a neighborhood, and then back out to the highway. And then it was suddenly M8 and time for Cheney Stadium! I thought we'd just kind of run around the warning track. When I got there, however, we entered at the first base-side dugout. Then up the foul line, all the way around the warning track, and out at the 3rd base-side foul pole. There were no spectators in the stadium, but they had the audio cranked and the scoreboard lit up. "Welcome Runners!" For some reason, it made me think about the Astros scoreboard welcoming the Bears towards the end of <em>Bad News Bears Breaking Training</em>. As I was rounding the track, the Rocky theme started. Always good for motivation, and I like it a lot more than Eye of the Tiger.<br /><br />Out of the stadium and back to the highway. The miles were ticking down. The gentle downhill started at M10 as the course zigzagged through an industrial area. At M11, the downhill wasn't so gentle.<br /><br />You know, I really sucked on White River's downhills. A lot. It was depressing. As Ricky Bobby's car says: I WANNA GO FAST. So I tried.<br /><br />M12 was my fastest mile of the race (7:04).<br /><br />Until M13. That became my fastest mile of the race (7:02). Slower than my 5k pace, but way faster than White River.<br /><br />I was hoping that McLovin would get announced at the finish. However, the race didn't seem to have an announcer, at least when I went through the chute. "Is ok."<br /><br />I said hello and offered up encouragement to lots of people during the race, but I didn't get into any involved conversations. Most of the people around me seemed to be really focused on running. After the race, I talked and I talked. :-)<br /><br />Oh. I ran a 1:37:15. 48 seconds slower than my PR. Huh. I wasn't trying to race. Looking back, I am 100% sure that I could have PRed. 7 days out from White River. And my heel held up too. So it's reasonable that I could have PRed without hurting myself in the process. Ah well. I had a groovy experience. And no pressure!<br /><br />One of my stated goals for this year is to run a 1:30 marathon. I haven't done that, and I don't think I could have run <em>that much</em> of a PR at Taco Man. I think I'm pretty close to being ready for an attempt, though.<br /><br />Halves sure are fun. Taco Man was extra fun - well organized, great course. And at the end, I got my promised pint glass.<br /><br />Next up: The Haulin Aspen Trail Marathon on Sunday. It will be the first time I've tried this race without having run Crater Lake (my vote for "Hardest Road Marathon in the US") the day before. Another one of my stated goals is to run a 4:15 at Haulin Aspen, which would be 18 minutes off my previous time there. That's a lot. Haulin Aspen is 12 miles up, 12 miles down, 2 miles flat. Those 12 miles down are mostly technical trail. Downhill on a trail. My favorite thing! It's one of several reasons why my Haulin Aspen times are 45-60 minutes slower than my regular marathon time. Check back Real Soon Now to see what happened!Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-19795340870852553802008-08-06T08:16:00.000-07:002008-08-06T14:32:47.374-07:007/26/08 White River 50 Miler<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SJnw7UVWPaI/AAAAAAAAANE/utq2KfRpas8/s1600-h/White+River+2008+1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231477344028736930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a2RlmhrRgEA/SJnw7UVWPaI/AAAAAAAAANE/utq2KfRpas8/s400/White+River+2008+1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />This picture was taken by Glenn Tachiyama at approximately M16 of the White River 50. Glenn takes the best pictures ever. The look you see is very representative of how I felt for most of the race.<br /><br /><em>The following takes place between 6:30am and 7:30pm on Saturday, July 26th.</em><br /><br /><em>Chirp...Cheep...Chirp...Cheep.</em> (That's supposed to be the countdown clock from the TV show "24". Remember this.)<br /><br />About five years ago, I ran into ultrarunner extraordinaire Scott Jurek at the Seattle Marathon expo. This was long before I had run an ultra, but I was interested in trying one. So I asked Scott for advice on a good ultra for first-timers. His suggestion was White River.<br /><br />Fast forward five years. I've run a few ultras, including two 50 milers. White River did not become my first, but I've heard so many great things from people about the race throughout the years. Against my better judgment... my two 50 milers were not pretty... I signed up. And for the last few months, I've been terrified of the upcoming experience. See, it turns out that Scott recommended it because it is *very* well managed, the course is well marked, and the views are spectacular. He did not recommend it because the course is "easy". In fact, White River is really quite challenging. And it comes with a 13 hour cut-off time. I checked some of my friends' times from prior years. People who are generally 30-60 minutes faster than me in a marathon have times in the 10-12 hour range at White River. Uh oh. That cut-off seemed pretty aggressive. I was terrified of both death (ok, injury) and the sweeper. Odd juxtaposition. True story, though.<br /><br />Held near the Crystal Mountain ski resort near Mt Rainier, White River's course is essentially two mountains: climb, descend, climb, descend. The first climb goes from 2000 up to nearly 5700 feet over 8ish miles. The second climb "only" goes up to about 4800 feet over 8.5ish miles. The trails are single track and jeep road, except for a 6 mile section of gravel road downhill towards the end. Most of the single track is technical, and some sections are <strong>TECHNICAL</strong>. Some of the climb and descent sections are long, but over 50 miles, there's lots of roly poly too. Some of the climbs and descents are somewhat steep. Some parts, ridiculously steep. And a few times, "you have GOT to be kidding" steep. I know that the fast folks run most, if not all, of these sections... and I have no idea <em>how</em>. Especially the downhill switchbacks. Even at a shuffle, I have a hard time negotiating the U-turn at a switchback without sliding off the edge.<br /><br />Oh yes. Edges.<br /><br />Much of the course goes up and down the sides of the two mountains. This means that at any moment, runners are feet...or inches... away from seriously hosing their days. And forcing a Wilhelm Scream (learn about that and listen to it <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wilhelm_scream">here</a>).<br /><br />In the weeks leading up to the race, the organizers had held training runs on each of the course's two halves. It would have been a great idea to come to these. Of course, I didn't because I was running other races. Had I come, obviously, I would have known what I was in for. But I didn't, so I showed up on race morning pretty oblivious to the challenges, aside from knowing that the race would be "hard".<br /><br />I was terrified enough to show up in time to take the early start option. This would give me 14 hours instead of 13, and just before the early start, Maniac Lesa... who had done the two training runs... looked me in the eye and told me, "yes, you want to start early." Yikes. But I didn't. I don't know why. Well, I went back to my truck to get my shoes and the door from the car next to me was blocking my way. That's just an excuse. I suspect that deep down inside, I was perversely excited by the challenge of trying to beat the 13 hour cut-off.<br /><br />In the days leading up to the race, the organizers had sent us a nice description of the course and aid stations along the way. For most aid stations, the document listed pace times for those trying to run a 10 hour and 12 hour race. For the later aid stations, the document also provided the cut-off time for each station. Runners who didn't make it out of a station by the cut-off time would get pulled. The Grim Sweeper! Using a sharpie, I had written the aid station mileage and the 12 hour pace times on my arm. I figured that running close to that 12 hour pace would be reasonable, and it would give me an hour buffer in front of the Grim Sweeper.<br /><br />At 6:15a, we all gathered for a final course briefing. I saw tons of people, including some semi-famous ultrarunners. Many of these people were waaay more serious about blowing through 50 miles than I was. Maybe they were less afraid of death. Most of them certainly didn't seem to be scared of getting swept. Then again, some people didn't give off nearly the same vibes. Lots of smiles. Lots of chatting. I didn't hear much of the course briefing.<br /><br />Just before the start, Maniac Chris gave me some advice: "Take it easy in the first half. It gets really hot in the second half." Ok. It certainly wasn't hot at the start. I was in two shirts, a fleece, and gloves.<br /><br />And then we were off. The 24 clock (really, the 13 clock) started.<br /><br /><em>Chirp...Cheep...Chirp...Cheep</em>.<br /><br />The race starts and finishes at the Buck Creek Campground, which is a short distance from the highway up to Mt Rainier. Oddly out of place in the environment, Buck Creek has an airstrip. We started by running down the road next to the airstrip. I was trying to go slowly. After a bit, we turned onto the singletrack and snaked along a river back towards the campground. And then across the highway. Goodbye, civilization. I almost always have a difficult time in the first crowded miles of a trail race with my pacing. I don't want to get trampled, so I get sucked into the little packs of people. White River was no exception. I thought that I was running slowly, but it was hard to tell. My heartrate was up, but that could have been "I'm running too fast","the big race just started", or "I'm absolutely terrified".<br /><br />We hit the first aid station, Camp Sheppard, at M3.9. I was at 45:43 on the clock... goodie! I was indeed running slowly. Everyone around me stopped. I was carrying two handheld bottles and they were both still full, so I flew through this station as if I were really racing or something. I'd later figure out that most people stopped to ditch clothes. Not me... I was still in three layers and gloves.<br /><br /><em>Chirp...Cheep...Chirp...Cheep</em>.<br /><br />The next aid station, Ranger Creek, would be at M11.7, so essentially 8 miles away. This would be the biggest gap between stations. Our handout cryptically mentioned "Get ready for the first hill on the course." Yeah. After about a mile and half of roly poly, I hit the hill. Switchback up. Lots of fast walking. Not much running. I did the best I could to keep moving at a reasonable clip. Towards the top of the climb, the trail would bend around a ridge and we'd get our first views of Mt Rainier. It looks very different from an elevation of 5000 feet and a few mountains away than it does from Seattle. It almost seemed as though I was looking across, level, at the summit. I knew I wasn't up nearly that high, but it was really cool.<br /><br />Ranger Creek, M11.7. This was a water-only aid station that we'd visit twice. In the absolute middle of nowhere, the volunteers had hiked in all the water. Wow. As I was filling one of my bottles, a bunch of runners pulled into the station. I assume this was the big pack that had stopped at the last aid station. One guy, let's call him Red Shirt Guy, <em>pushed me out of the way</em> so he could get water. He pushed me! I knew we were somewhere towards the back of the pack. This guy was waaay too serious. My time as I left Ranger Creek was 2:38. In a road marathon, I'd be at M20.<br /><br />I left the station with a few others. I was in front of Red Shirt Guy. I heard one gal ask another gal why she was back here. Second gal said "I got caught in a congo." What? I thought about that for a bit as we continued our climb. Then I got it. She had been caught in either a <em>convoy</em> or a <em>conga line</em>. Little trains of runners. A congo. I was tempted to ask her if she enjoyed Africa, but I didn't want to get punched.<br /><br />Welcome to the scariest part of White River. This part of the course is a 5.2 mile (each way) out-and-back between Ranger Creek and Corral Pass. Some parts of the trail were skinny and some parts wide. The climb gave way to a step set of roly polies, including the first "you've got to be kidding" incline/decline. Along the way, there was a snow field. At the end of July. I won't be too dramatic about it because the snow field was only about 100 feet long. But it surely was unexpected! It started to get hot.<br /><br />But this was the scary section because the fast people were now screaming back in the other direction. I usually love out-and-backs because I get to see the fast folks. Not here. Runners headed up (that would be me) were supposed to casually step out of the way of runners coming down. Casually. Except that they were doing Mach 3, and in some parts, stepping out of the way either meant jumping to the up side of the trail and potentially twisting an ankle OR jumping into oblivion on the down side. Or... stepping in that one-foot wide space between the edge of the trail and oblivion as the person blew by. I tried everything, but it was always scary when they came by. And lots of people came by. I really was at the back of the pack.<br /><br />This was also the first section of the course where I encountered blow-down. Blow-down is the funny term that hikers use for trees that have fallen across a trail, usually because of a storm (or maybe rogue mountain beavers). Perhaps I could have hurdled some of these trees in a shorter run, but not in this race. And most of these trees were pretty big. I went under them sometimes, but I found that crouching hurt my back. So usually it was up and over. Gingerly. The fast people coming the other way tended to vault them. It made that <em>yop yop yop yop</em> sound effect like Speed Racer's car when they did. I just sounded like an old man getting out of bed. Usually, someone else would be wanting to pass when I got to a tree. If it wasn't a Speed Racer coming down, it was someone behind me going up. Almost everybody was nice about it. I noticed that sometimes, people going up weren't that nice to those coming down. This was where Red Shirt Guy caught me again. He was headed up and over a tree when Speed Racer coming the other way wanted to do the same. Red Shirt Guy got mad! GAH. Go on ahead, Red Shirt Guy.<br /><br /><em>Chirp...Cheep...Chirp...Cheep</em>.<br /><br />People coming down would sometimes offer up encouragement. A few folks tried to tell me how far I was from the turnaround, the aid station at Corral Pass. This would ultimately be very frustrating because people's estimates were all wonky. It seemed like the station would never appear. I started seeing some folks headed back down who were NOT Speed Racer. And some of the early starters. I knew I must be getting close. In here, I learned a lot of ways to pronounce "Corral". A corral is where they keep horses. Core-RAL. Some people were saying it "coral", like in the ocean. A few times, I heard Cor-EL, like someone in Superman's family. Heh.<br /><br />This was the first sign that perhaps my brain was getting loopy. I came up with that Cor-EL joke the second or third time that I heard it, and it made me laugh out loud at myself. I never do that.<br /><br />Anyway, I finally got to Superman's pass at M16.9. No horses. I had sent a drop bag up to this station, so I spent a couple minutes finding it. Then I ditched the yellow fleece and the gloves. I mixed two bottles of perpetuem. I ate some M&Ms and cookies. An eternity went by. Glaciers may have melted. A few runners came in, including Red Shirt Guy. I heard him declare to the volunteers "Only fast people get to eat potatoes!" I guess he was trying to rationalize why he didn't want to eat a spud? I don't know. Finally, it was time to head back down. I was at 3:53 on the clock. The 12 hour pace for this station was 4:02. Huh. I was ahead, and it was time to run downhill.<br /><br /><em>Chirp...Cheep...Chirp...Cheep</em>. This is the point in a season of 24 where you realize that Jack Bauer is getting way way too much done for a single day. Similarly, I was 17 miles into a 50 miler, and I was beginning to feel it. I was feeling way too yuck way too early. At less than 6000 feet, I couldn't blame the altitude. It was THAT hard of a course for me, and there was a lot more coming. At least the next part would be downhill.<br /><br />Yeah. Downhill. I suck at trail running in general, and running down the hills is my suckiest aspect. I had 5.2 miles back down to water-only Ranger Creek. The top three miles were the same roly poly stuff, but in the down direction, I was more keenly aware of the steep drops that I had previously negotiated with Speed Racer in my face. Yipe. I wish I could say that *I* was Speed Racer now, but no... I was doing old man shuffle on the downhills and hiking the uphills. Not many people headed up as I headed down. A few. One chick with a funny accent. She'd become important to me later. Anyway, this was back-of-the-pack running. About halfway down this section, I passed a woman headed up. "I'm the sweeper". GAH! The Grim Sweeper is following me!<br /><br />I pulled back into Ranger Creek (this time, M22.1) at 5:10. Holy cow. It had taken me 1:15 to go up this section and 1:16 to come down. So much for running down those hills. Sigh. I was asked to take it easy on the water... they were almost out. I filled up only one of my two bottles. I had 5.1 miles of downhill to the next aid station at Buck Creek, near the start/finish. I figured one would do. For some reason, I suddenly recalled Maniac Chris telling me to take it easy on the first hill. In fact, the course description specifically pointed this out. No problem for me. Apparently I can't run down hills.<br /><br /><em>Chirp...Cheep...Chirp...Cheep.</em><br /><br />The 5.2 miles to Buck Creek was ALL downhill. Steeper than the previous section and no roly poly mixed in. Switchbacks. And blow-down that made previous blow-down look like easy trail. I tried to run. Really, I did. The course description reads "this 4.8 mile section of switchback downhill running is a <strong>blast</strong>." I do not think that word means what the course description writer thinks it means. I was absolutely petrified.<br /><br />About halfway down... which at the time I didn't really know was only half; I thought I was down... I encountered a trail washout. The orange tape marking the course seemed to indicate that we were supposed to go around the slide and blow-down by (cautiously?) scaling down the steep side of the hill. I did this to the next flag. I saw that the following flag was even lower. Down I went. And then I saw no more flags.<br /><br />Oh shit.<br /><br />I was on the steep side of a slope and I was absolutely completely lost.<br /><br />Red Shirt Guy was coming down the slope by this point. We looked around and around... and, aha! The next marker was way back up at where the trail continued on the other side of the washout. Looking back, this makes perfect sense. But at the time and already feeling 1) loopy and 2) petrified, it was a miracle revelation. We carefully climbed UP the slope and headed onward.<br /><br />For a second. From far behind me, I heard someone call out, "what do I do now??" I stopped and turned around. A guy was kind of noodling down the hill as I had done.<br /><br />There's a character in the second and third <em>Pirates of the Caribbean</em> movies, one of Davy Jones' creature henchmen. His head dislodges from his body frequently and the head has to direct the headless (and therefore blind... but not deaf, huh?) body back to find the head. One of my favorite lines from the second movie is this guy.<br /><br />"Minudo! Follow my voice. Diss way."<br />(the body stumbles into a tree)<br />"No, no. Dat a tree."<br /><br />That's pretty much the exact dialog I used with the lost guy behind me. I may have even done it with that character's voice. Heh. Anyway, I helped him avoid the stone petrification that I endured. And off I went.<br /><br />Down and around. Down and around. A guy was peeing at a switchback. Not even modestly behind a bush. Yahoo! Down and around. And then from behind me, I heard it. The Wilhelm scream. Oh no, someone just went over the edge. I turned around and looked. Nope, no one had gone over. But the guy I'd helped... let's call him Minudo... he was spread eagled on the side of the hill. Ooops. I went back. He collected himself and I collected his stuff. Had we been skiing, this would have been called a "yard sale". Onward.<br /><br />Incidentally, the course description for this section also contains this gem: "There are lots of good falls in this section." Yes. I believe the writer was trying to tell us about waterfalls. I saw a few. But it meant something altogether different to me. (Wilhelm scream)<br /><br />As I got toward the bottom of the hill, a small pack of people had developed. Me, Minudo, Red Shirt Guy, switchback pee-er, and a couple gals found ourselves at the highway crossing. I talked to the gals for a second and realized that they, along with many other folks, were only doing the first half. A lot of people were dropping by choice or otherwise at the next aid station. After another half a mile, we finally... and I do mean <em>finally</em>... got to Buck Creek.<br /><br />Buck Creek. M27.2. Essentially this was halfway, plus it was close to the start/finish. My truck was right over there. Oh man I was tired. Other people had dropped. I could. I ate some food and drank a coke. Nah, no dropping. Time to head out. I was at 6:25 on the clock. The 12 hour pace was 6:18. At the top of the mountain, I had been 9 minutes ahead of pace. At the bottom, I was 7 minutes behind. Even factoring in some of my unplanned stops, it was clear that I had run down that mountain poorly.<br /><br />And now I was pushing closer to the absolute cut-off. The Grim Sweeper. Crap. I should have gone out early. But I didn't. <em>Chirp...Cheep...Chirp...Cheep.</em><br /><br />The next aid station, Fawn Ridge, was only 4.5 miles away. Only. After a mile or so of flat running next to the river, the trail headed up. It wasn't too steep at first. Suddenly, a guy came sprinting towards me down the hill. Wow. My brain had difficulty processing him. This was not an out-and-back section, so there shouldn't have been anyone headed this way. It was Uli, former winner of this race as well as many Seattle Marathons. He wasn't in the race; he was just running down the hill with his dog. Hiiiiii, Uli. And hi Uli's dog. He was fast too.<br /><br />Over a creek crossing - the only time my feet got wet. Then the hill got steeper and it got hotter. And steeper. And steeper. Finally I was walking the switchbacks. I passed a couple folks in here. I also completely drained two bottles (40 oz) in 4.5 miles.<br /><br />I was at Fawn Ridge. 7:45 on the clock. 4.5 miles took me 1:19. 12 hour pace was 7:33... I was now 8 minutes over. Also, the Grim Sweeper now actually came into play. This aid station was due to close in slightly over 30 minutes. Everyone over this would get yanked. Time to beat feet.<br /><br /><em>Chirp...Cheep...Chirp...Cheep.</em><br /><br />By this point, it finally sunk in that I should not look at the mileage to the next station with the modifier "only". The next station would be Sun Top, 5.3 miles away. Not "only 5.3 miles". The steep hill continued for about three more miles. Up and up. This part of the trail headed up the center of the mountain rather than following the slope around. It was covered with trees, but the forest seemed really strange. I figured it out: no understory at all. Just trees over bare ground. Obviously this area had been logged and replanted. It was weird. Luckily, it wasn't nearly as steep through the forest. The trees gave way to a clear-cut area that was blanketed in wildflowers. This was by far my favorite section of the course for scenery.<br /><br />I popped out at a road. Runners were headed down. Woohoo! I saw Maniac Bob, who was in front of me. He said "3/4ths of a mile to the top." Across the road, I was back in the forest. But a few minutes later, I curved back to the road, this time a bit higher up. This time I saw Maniac Monte, who was also in front of me but apparently behind Bob. "One mile to the top!" GAH. Across the road and back on the trail. More wildflowers. And more switchback. The last (one? 3/4ths??) mile up to Suntop was super steep. My legs were burning. Just before the top, I saw Photographer Glenn T again.<br /><br />"You're limping."<br />"Yeah, I know."<br /><br />I knew what it was. Way back at Corral Pass, <em>you know, M16.9</em>, I had known what was going on. All the downhill had rubbed a blister on one of my heels. A big one. And it had certainly broken a long time ago. One more reason why dropping at Buck Creek had been tempting. I had been choking down the pain for 20 miles. And I had 13 more. I was indeed limping.<br /><br />Suntop, M37. My other drop bag was up here. I had originally planned on changing socks, but I knew that with the blister, I shouldn't. Taking off the shoe and sock might rip off whatever skin was left. I pulled some perpetuem out of the bag and mixed it. Then I ate the best peanut butter sandwich I've ever had in my life. Ever. And I eat a lot of peanut butter. Maniac Leslie arrived at Suntop. Hooray! I was at 9:3o on the clock, still 8 minutes over 12 hour pace. I hadn't really lost more time since Buck Creek. Another reminder - going up hills: good, going down hills: bad. Leslie was a little worried about the cut-off. "Leslie, we have 3 1/2 hours to run a half marathon. We can do this."<br /><br />The next section was the downhill section on the gravel road. Long too: 6.4 miles to the final aid station, Skookum Flats. Essentially, this was a downhill road 10k. Had it not been after 37 miles and 9 1/2 hours of legtime, it might have been fun. But I gritted my teeth, and Leslie and I headed down. Lots of time to discuss the meaning of life in this part. Discussing the meaning of life helped distract me from the incredible eyewatering pain in my foot. We passed a couple folks in this section, including Maniac Don who I had met the day before. Down we went.<br /><br />The Skookum Flats station was located back on trail, about 50 feet off the road. The volunteers were all eating birthday cake. I was offered a piece. It sounded terrible. In retrospect, I can see that my brain was really out of sorts. Cake should have sounded yummy. I was no longer sociable: I wanted to be done. Skookum Flats was at M43.4. The clock was at 10:44. 12 hour pace was 10:27. It had felt like Leslie and I sprinted down the hill, but it had taken 1:13. On the good side, I had shaved a full minute off my difference from the 12 hour pace.<br /><br />We had 2+ hours to finish the race, 6.6 miles. Roly poly miles along the river. On fresh legs, this would have been a groovy trail run. At the end of this race? Old man shuffle. <em>Chirp...Cheep...Chirp...Cheep</em>.<br /><br />Oh man. I could barely move through this section. I told Leslie that I was going to have to go easy and she went off ahead. I tried not to lose sight of her, and I noticed that anytime the course involved going up, I gained. Anytime it involved downhill, I lost ground. Yup.<br /><br />I caught up to Leslie. She had a weird smile on her face. "Coyote!" And she pointed. I looked, but I didn't spot it. She now believes that perhaps she saw a wolf. Either way, that's pretty cool, but I missed it.<br /><br />Every now and then, the course ran across the river's grey sand beaches. It was pretty, but, ugh. Leslie pulled away again. I kept looking at my watch. We must be getting close. But the trail continued with no sign of civilization. I heard a couple voices behind me. Maniac Don had caught up. So had... the chick with the strange accent, who I hadn't seen in 8 hours. She passed me. I passed Leslie. Don and Leslie ran together. I was just slightly in front of them, and Strange Accent Chick was about 100 yards in front of me. <em>Chirp...Cheep...Chirp...Cheep</em>.<br /><br />I saw her rocket up a hill to what looked like a road.<br /><br />I called back to Leslie and Don, "I think we're there." <em>Chirp...Cheep...Chirp...Cheep</em>.<br /><br />I got up to the road. We were indeed on the little road headed into Buck Creek. I spied Strange Accent Chick up ahead making the final turn to the road where this had all started. <em>Chirp...Cheep...Chirp...Cheep</em>. If this was 24, it would be time for the final showdown and twist.<br /><br />Ok. Just finish. Around the corner. People were sitting at a makeshift stage. Awards were being passed out. Some cheering went up for Strange Accent Chick.<br /><br />I glanced at my watch. Yeah, I'd make the cut-off. <em>Chirp...Cheep...Chirp...Cheep</em>.<br /><br />A few cheers for me, and I was done. I hadn't saved the world from some random nuclear threat. No bioweapons were confiscated. But I did finish a ridiculously hard race. At exactly 12:30. 30 minutes before the cut-off. It took me a full 1:46 to complete that last 6.6 mile section, and it didn't involve long climbs or steep descents. I had been +7 against the 12 hour pace, and I finished +30. WOW. I slowed 23 minutes over 6.6 miles. Just, wow.<br /><br />I heard the timers mention that there were only 10 more people out on the course. Two were right behind me... here came Leslie and Don. Woohoo!<br /><br />In the final results, I am slightly higher than "10 before the end" because several early starters actually took longer than me overall, even though they finished before I finished. But not that many. Red Shirt Guy was one of those last 10, though.<br /><br />All the beer was gone. Most of the good drinks were gone. I got a cup of water, and then some excellent hot food.... of which there was PLENTY. I talked to my friends, including Maniac Annie, who had come in third female overall.<br /><br />I thanked Strange Accent Chick for helping pull me to the finish. Turns out, she was (and is) from Venezuela.<br /><br />I went to first aid to finally reveal the bloody sock. While I was in there, a guy was carried in. Minudo! He had fallen one more time and I think it really freaked him out. Plus it hurt. Plus... we had all gone 50 miles, some folks on their feet for 13-14 hours. We were all a little freaked out.<br /><br />But guess what! I did not get taken by The Grim Sweeper! I made my goal.<br /><br />Did I learn anything from my White River adventure? Many things. The most important thing I learned was the value of race-specific training. It's one thing to teach myself how to run 50 miles. But I did not spend nearly enough time learning how to climb. And my biggest weakness... by far... is how to descend. Aside from the last 6.6 miles, my slowest sections were the downhills. If I choose to come back, I have a lot of work to do. That said, I have no real desire to come back. Just, WOW. That was hard. And while it was fun and it feels nice to achieve a difficult goal, there comes a point where the cost/benefit doesn't really work out. Said differently: I can't think of anything in life that is fun for 13 hours.<br /><br />I am glad I ran White River, though. And for those who want to run a 50, I would not hesitate to recommend it. The race org was outstanding and the course was really cool. But I think I'd be a bit more descriptive than Scott Jurek was with me :-).<br /><br />Next up: The all-new Tacoma Narrows Half, which I lovingly call "The Taco Man half" because of their website's url: <a href="http://tacomanarrowshalf.com/">http://tacomanarrowshalf.com/</a>. Considering that I was seven days removed from White River and missing all the skin from the heel of my right foot, I did pretty well. More on that Real Soon Now.<br /><br />And if you read this whole report, you deserve a special prize. Thanks.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-88244302772449892012008-07-28T13:23:00.000-07:002008-07-28T16:21:41.219-07:007/19/08 El Scorcho!The El Scorcho 50k was my 177th marathon+ultra since being sick. You'd think that after 176 long races, I'd know how to run them properly. I still make mistakes, though. Sometimes lots of them. Lots of rookie mistakes.<br /><br />Welcome to my race at El Scorcho.<br /><br />But first... what kind of funky race has a name like "El Scorcho"? A 50k held in Ft Worth, Texas, during the hottest time of year. Fear not, though. To help with the heat, El Scorcho starts at midnight. And that's why I signed up. A 50k at midnight! With a funny name!<br /><br />Actually, that was the secondary reason why I signed up. The primary reason was because I was planning a trip to Dallas that weekend anyway. My sister had arranged a surprise party for our parents' 35th anniversary, and the whole family would be there. Groovy - I could go to a party and run a race. In fact, I'd have to leave the party in order to run the race. I had no idea how my body would handle running all night long, so I figured that filling it up with party food might give me that extra kick I'd need to stay sharp.<br /><br />Ok, not really. Welcome to the first of several rookie mistakes I'd make for my 177th marathon and ultra: screwy nutrition. Think about the typical race. You wake up on race morning and eat a little something. How about chicken fajitas! And chips and salsa! And cake! In fairness, I topped it off with fruit. I also stayed away from the beer. Instead, as I was sitting outside of my parents' house in 95 degree heat at the party catered by <a href="http://www.pappasitos.com/">Pappasitos</a>, I drank 5 or 6 diet cokes. Yum. Just what a person needs a few hours before an ultra. It wasn't supposed to be that way; I meant to be good. But I was hungry, I was at a party, and it was there. Besides, I figured that if I ate about 7p, it would be...uh... processed within 5 hours.<br /><br />I've run a few midnight races. There's a 5k in Seattle that's held every Independence Day exactly at midnight. I've done that race in "serious" race mode. I've also showed up to it somewhat tipsy. I've never done well there. Something about running at night is wacky - my body gets confused. That midnight 5k is usually 2 minutes slower than my typical 5k time, and that's a lot for 3.11 miles.<br /><br />El Scorcho is a 5k course that participants repeat 10 times... except for the folks registered in "La Scorchita", the 25k sister event. The course meanders along gravel and asphalt bike trails (and a bit of grass, like a cross country course) in Ft Worth's Trinity Park. It is not at all technical, though being held in the middle of the night makes it a little trickier. Some of the course is lit, and some is not. Although this year's race was held on a full moon weekend, a couple sections seemed very dark indeed. Most of us had headlamps and/or flashlights. A few brave souls did not.<br /><br />Counting both the 50k and the 25k, the event was kind of a big deal. Lots of runners and lots of friends-and-family spectators... at least for the 25k. The organizers utilized chip timing, and thank goodness for that. Who wants to be counting laps at 4a? Additionally, the course offered two aid stations - a chance to drink every 1.5 miles. No need to carry a bottle nor worry about food.<br /><br />Thinking that parking and finding the race site might be confusing, I showed up about 90 minutes early. I was wrong... Trinity Park was easy to find. The parking situation was phenomenal - a football stadium's parking lot that could easily fit 10x more cars than necessary for El Scorcho. And the lot was lit, an amazingly important detail for a middle-of-the-night event. I picked up my stuff, and with 85 minutes to spare, I went searching for Maniacs and 50-staters. Many people were setting up for the night with camping chairs, coolers, and a few tents. I met Maniac Claude and The Boones, the 50-stater royalty. Some folks who know me at various internet message boards (hello, RunningAHEAD) came up to say hi. Wearing pink is like having a bright shining beacon sometimes. It was great meeting everyone.<br /><br />Finally, it was about time to start. The 50k would go off promptly at midnight; the 25k would start 10-15 minutes later. I was amazed at the number of people who had signed up. I didn't think all-night running would be a big attraction, but I was wrong. And the 25k seemed to be an even bigger draw. How cool.<br /><br />Off we went. I didn't really have a solid goal for this race. I didn't know anything about the course, and I didn't know anything about how my body would handle running at night. I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before either. I knew it wasn't going to be technical, and I didn't think there would be hills, so I decided on a round number: I wanted to finish somewhere near 5 hours. Assuming I ran the race evenly, this would be easy to track; I needed to run 10 30-minute laps. No sweat. Except that it was dark and there were no mile markers. The only way I could tell how fast I was running was by my breathing and pulse. Both of which were different at night, especially while I was talking to folks. Hmmm. If anything, I wanted my first lap to be slow. I'd get the lay of the land, get warmed up, and then go faster later.<br /><br />The course had an out-and-back section with a bit of grass running, then it cut through the "woods" (hey, it was dark. In the daylight, the trees might have been sparse. I don't know) over to the aid station. Then, back on the trail, over a couple bridges, out to a road by a bunch of neon lights, back on the trail to a playground, more trail, and then the start/finish area.<br /><br />My 1st lap was 27:18. Uh oh. Rookie mistake #2: I went out too fast. A whole minute per mile too fast, and that's a lot. So I slowed down.<br /><br />Even in the middle of the night, July in Ft Worth can be over 80 degrees, and so electrolyte replacement would be important. El Scorcho utilized NUUN as its electrolyte drink. NUUN is a little fizzy tablet that comes in a small tube, kind of like Airborne. I have a tube of it in my kitchen, and it has never been opened. NUUN just seems weird. Welcome to my next rookie mistake: trying something new on race day (or night). I've never had it in my life, but El Scorcho started out hot... and I was downing two cups of it every 1.5 miles. For a little while, at least.<br /><br />The 25k folks had started 10 minutes after us. By the 2nd lap, all the faster 25kers had passed me. There were lots of people to talk to, and there were lots of lights flashing around. It was surreal.<br /><br />Back to the start/finish. My 2nd lap was 27:28. Crap. I had intentionally tried to slow down... and had managed a full extra 10 seconds. 10k in, and I was still one minute per mile too fast. The interesting part was that while I was too fast for my somewhat random goal of 5 hours, I didn't know if I was too fast for my level of fitness. Maybe I could keep this up. By the 2nd lap, I knew that El Scorcho's course was pancake flat. Plus, as the evening wore on, the temperature was cooling off. I had managed exactly 5 hours at a slightly downhill 50k back in May.<br /><br />Extra training, flat course, warm weather. Maybe I could beat 5. Then again, maybe not. One minute per mile over 31 miles is a heck of a lot faster than 5. Had someone asked me before the race "are you ready for a 4:29 50k?", I would have given them an emphatic NO. Also, once again I let the warm weather go to my head. I like warm, and I like hot, but it doesn't make me faster. Sometimes I trick myself into thinking it does. Rookie mistake #4. Anyway, I decided that I'd try to keep my laps under 30 and try to beat 5.<br /><br />By the 3rd lap, I began to realize that even in the dark, 10 laps of the same thing might get exceedingly boring. I started to learn really intricate details about the course. I counted the number of bridges we went under. I counted the number of times we crossed the tiny train tracks. Trinity Park used to have (and might still have) one of those little trains that kids ride - like in the movie <em>The Jerk</em>. And I could tell when my body chemistry started getting out of kilter. The first change was behavioral. By the middle of the 3rd lap, I wasn't so chatty. The second change was bigger - vertigo. Not super bad... I wasn't falling over. I was just slightly dizzy. But this was only the 3rd lap! Oh my. Then towards the end of the 3rd lap, my stomach started to go sour.<br /><br />My 3rd lap was 29:19. I had slowed down, but I was right at my adjusted "laps under 30" goal. I was beginning to feel it, though. And it was not good.<br /><br />My 4th lap was filled with self-doubt. Six more afterwards! Plus, the faster 25kers were into their last lap... and so some of the spectators were starting to leave. Oh man. Nevertheless, my throat kept drying out, and I kept gulping the NUUN. That's when the sloshing started; fluid wasn't clearing my stomach. I hadn't gotten any dizzier, but the dizziness also didn't pass.<br /><br />My 4th lap was 30:38. The trend was in the wrong direction, and it was finally crystal clear to me that I had gone out WAY too fast. My new goal was called "finish upright". My stomach was sloshy and sour. My head was spinning. I tried not to be grumpy. On the good side of the ledger, I was still sweating properly, I wasn't breathing hard, and I didn't have a headache. I figured that I wasn't overly dehydrated and heat exhaustion hadn't knocked me down. So I continued.<br /><br />The 5th lap was more of the same. I tried not to drink as much, but I stuck with the NUUN when I did drink. Sloshy. Sour. I ate a chunk of banana at the aid station, but mostly my brain was saying "No food!" My belly was now kind of distended. Yup, my stomach was stuck. 33:18. My first half was 2:28, but my splits were getting ugly. And it felt like I was running pretty hard just to hit 33 minutes. Finish upright.<br /><br />I started the 6th lap as a nice walk in the park. I was waaay past the point of racing. Maniac Claude passed me in here. Good luck, dude. Onward. I did a little of the "old man shuffle". And then a lot of the old man shuffle. Wow.<br /><br />As I approached the aid station, my body told me in no uncertain terms: <em>it is time</em>. Time for what? I won't be graphic about it. It was time for my digestive system to have a showdown with itself. I was in the OK Corral. Would the Clantons win? Or the Earps? (or the urps?) Have you ever seen a Western where the two guys in the shootout manage to shoot each other? Right, nobody wins. Or maybe everyone does.<br /><br />Anyway. Time passed. Stuff came up. Stuff went out. Time passed.<br /><br />After that, it finally dawned on me that perhaps NUUN was not my thing. Water and the electrolyte tablets in my pocket would have to do. Bananas if I wanted some calories. No more NUUN. The 6th lap was a brutal 35:21, though that did include a great showdown gunfight thingy. Entertaining for all! My belly was no longer distended. Nor did I slosh.<br /><br />By the 7th lap, I figured I could do the whole course without my flashlight. Perhaps even blindfolded. I saw some interesting stuff on this lap, though. It helped that I was slowly shuffling. Exhaustion had set in for some, and other people were probably having the same food issues as me. Some guy had managed to go off course during the out-and-back section, and a gal was following him. Somehow, he managed to avoid a wire fence, but she did not. It caught her right in the midsection and she went face-first into the concrete. I approached her at the same time as a bicycle cop who had been patroling the course. He asked her if she was ok. "Yeah, except I busted some teeth."<br /><br />YIKES.<br /><br />Because the cop was there to help, I shuffled off. It dawned on me that I clearly wasn't feeling *that* badly. I was still coherent. I hadn't gone off course. I wasn't as dizzy as I had been. I continued with the old man shuffle, but I started to be sociable to others again. Interesting. Behavioral changes had been the first sign that my body was losing it, and now the opposite change in behavior was one of my first clues that I might be recovering. So did I switch back to NUUN at the aid station? Oh hell no. That 7th lap was a 40:11, almost the same time as if I had walked the whole thing.<br /><br />I was feeling a little bit better. Off I went. I don't remember much about the 8th lap... not because I was out of it; actually I was fine. An uneventful lap was a GOOD thing. 34:22. Still slow, but better than the previous two laps. My belly was working again, and I was able to do something between a shuffle and a run. I remember asking the spectators at the start/finish if it was really 4a (YES!), and off I went.<br /><br />It's amazing how many details I was still learning by my 9th lap of <em>the exact same thing</em>. This was good. As I hit the aid station, I decided it was time to turn my semi-shuffle/run into an actual run. I didn't know if I could, but I was bored, and it was time to try. Ouch. It was kind of like my running muscles had gone to sleep and I was slapping them into wakefulness. They didn't like it, but reluctantly... slowly over the next mile... they did indeed wake up. I finished the 9th lap at 33:39, but I'm pretty sure that the second half of that lap was much peppier than the first. It certainly felt that way.<br /><br />Oh man. Time for my last lap! I did not dawdle at the start/finish. No loitering. It was ok; most of the spectators were asleep. I noticed that the trash bucket was filled with beer bottles. Hmmm. Must have been quite the party.<br /><br />No loitering. I ran. It felt like I was running my 5k race pace, although I was actually going much much slower. As I passed little clusters of awake spectators, I told them thank you and goodnight. I blew through the aid station. Thank you and goodnight. I knew how many steps to the two bridges, I knew where the turns were, I knew when to step off the curb without adjusting my stride... I was FLYING! At maybe a 9:30/mile pace. HA. That's slow for me, but hella faster than the previous few laps, and anyway it felt like I was sprinting. I was passing all kinds of people, but I didn't know what lap they were on. When I could, I whispered some encouragement and then I disappeared into the night.<br /><br />As I approached the finish, the guy in front of me decided to do a cartwheel for his big finish. Woohoo. I didn't do anything quite so dramatic. I just sort of stopped.<br /><br />5:21. Yuck. I had run an ugly 2:28/2:53 split. But a bar graph of my laps would show an interesting bell-shaped curve:<br /><br />27:18, 27:28, 29:19, 30:38, 33:18, 35:21, 40:11, 34:22, 33:39, 29:38<br /><br />Had I not made so many goofy mistakes, that middle part probably would look better. I was happy that my last lap was in line with my 3rd lap (the 1st two laps were clearly too fast). Based on the last lap, I'm pretty sure that "about 5 hours" was the reasonable goal. Now I know.<br /><br />The food at the end of El Scorcho was really odd: bottles of water and pasta. I was happy to have some water, but who wants pasta after a race? Especially at 5:30a? There had been fruit, but it was all gone. I needed some calories and I wanted to go to bed, so I didn't stick around long.<br /><br />I did run into Claude before I left. He had run a 4:52 and came in 15th overall! WOOHOO!<br /><br />I came in 28th out of 91. I think a few others DNFed. Lots of people had issues with the heat and the whole "middle of the night" thing. I'd be really happy about a top third finish had I run a smart race. I did not run a smart race. I'll stick with being happy about that last lap :-).<br /><br />So I drove 45 minutes to my parents house and managed a few hours of fitful sleep before spending the rest of the day at the emergency room :-(. My father was feeling poorly. Turns out that he has an aortic aneurysm. Boo for that, but he's doing ok now.<br /><br />Next up: the race that has scared me for the past few months. The White River 50 Miler. How did I do? Well, I didn't come in last. More about that RealSoonNow.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11410113.post-27306831698644744832008-07-22T10:28:00.000-07:002008-07-22T13:15:58.924-07:007/13/08 Missoula MarathonThe Missoula Marathon was a new race last year. <a href="http://srlopez-maniac111.blogspot.com/2007/07/071507-missoula-marathon.html">I did it</a>; I was pleasantly surprised by both the town of Missoula and the race itself. You never know how a first-time event is going to go, and it was really good. A lot of Maniacs signed up for the race last year... for this year's version, even more signed up from all over the place. Never underestimate the drawing power of a well-managed small race, especially during a month with few choices :-).<br /><br />I felt quite blah during last year's race and struggled to the finish. My 3:53 wasn't out of line with my other summer times, though, and I wrote in the report "I definitely could have had a 3:45 race". Afterwards, a local TV station interviewed me. This made the day even more interesting. The blahs didn't last.<br /><br />I guess I'm famous in Missoula. This year, a nice guy from the local ABC station emailed me a few weeks before the race to arrange an interview. Sweet. And so, when I showed up in Missoula to pick up my packet, I also got to spend a few minutes in front of a camera.<br /><br />I've done a few TV things, and they've all gone the same way. The guy/gal running the camera asks questions and kind of interviews me while recording my responses. Then later, some of what I said gets spliced into video of other things and narration by another person (not the guy/gal I talked to). This sounds like it could be nefarious and end poorly, but in all cases... so far!... the organization has gone out of its way to make me look good. The ABC gig was no exception. He probably talked to me for 15 minutes and asked me all kinds of questions. We talked about the 65 marathons I ran last year. I told him about my favorite race. How to train to run lots of races. Food. How leukemia and breast cancer have affected me. How much I like Missoula (which wasn't a lie - it really IS a neat place). Of all that, I got a 15 second sound bite in the middle of the story. Hee. But they chose a good one.<br /><br />Anyway... after my 15 minutes of fame, I did a nice recovery run through the downtown area and across a rail-to-trails trail near the university. I had wanted to run up to the giant M...<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://snyderrobotics.com/images/GetStillImage2%20m.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://snyderrobotics.com/images/GetStillImage2%20m.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />...but they'd recently had a big fire on that mountain and the trail was closed. After that, some of my Maniac friends picked me up for dinner (great food, nice people, miserable service) and then ice cream at the KOA Kampground. Then back to my hotel and sleep. For a few hours, at least. The Missoula Marathon is a point-to-point course with a 4:30 shuttle to the start. I had to get up at 3:30 to prepare.<br /><br />Last year's race started at 65 degrees, but quickly spiked to 90 with high humidity. This year was much more tolerable. It was a chilly 48 at the starting area and thanks to the 4:30a shuttle/6a start, we were there for awhile. I had planned well and had tons of layers which I dumped in a bag just before the start. I actually started the race in what would be considered skimpy by Island Boy standards: shorts, singlet, ditchable gloves, and a ditchable long sleeve shirt.<br /><br />While waiting at the start, I got to meet so many Maniacs. Lots of folks I know in Seattle came over, but there are lots of new Maniacs who I don't know. And July in Missoula attracted them. It was fun talking to everyone, and it made the chilly wait go by quickly.<br /><br />Time to start. They changed the course this year somewhat, but the basics matched last year's race: a point-to-point course from Frenchtown down backroads into downtown Missoula. The course is flat-to-gently-rolling, except for one big hill between M13 and M15. This is a fun hill, roughly equivalent to the one I call "mama bear" in the middle of Yakima (aka "the second of Yakima's three progressively harder hills"). Amusingly, the only hill in this race happens to be on a road named Big Flat Road. No it isn't, I promise you.<br /><br />Yeah, still time to start. How about a race goal? I had the same blah feeling that I had at last year's start. Maybe it's the Montana water? Or getting up at 3:30? I don't know. Based on my recent training, the ease of the course, and the weather at the start, it could have been a 3:35 day. However, the blahs made me relax that to "about 3:45". Plus I knew the weather might be a wildcard. It was supposed to stay in the 60s-70s throughout the morning with bright sun and a little wind. But I know about Montana wind. If it got truly windy from the wrong direction, or if the temperatures spiked higher, then the day could get rough. So that additional 10-12 minutes seemed reasonable.<br /><br />And with that, BOOM, we were off. BOOM. A cannon has signaled the start of the Missoula Marathon both years. A real cannon, not one of those confetti poseurs. BOOM. Woohoo! <em>What? I can't hear</em>.<br /><br />As predicted, I started off blah. Or is it "blahly"? Whatever it is, it felt yucky. The first half of the course wandered through farm/ranchland. At M4, the course ran through a papermill. Ok, not technically <em>through</em> the main building, but the buildings were on both sides. Last year, this was where I went offroad to visit a portapotty in the middle of nowhere. This year, I looked for the portapotty, but it was gone. This was ok; I didn't need to go :-). I just wanted to spot it for nostalgic reasons. Isn't that weird? As I approach 200 marathons, some of my memories involve portapotties. Right-e-o.<br /><br />The ABC guy showed up somewhere in here to film me as well as a couple other folks. He'd be on the side of the road with his camera. Then after I had passed, he'd drive ahead, set up, and do it again. A bit later, he drove up next to me and filmed me for a minute or so while he drove. Is this legal? It felt incredibly strange, and it seemed like far longer than a minute. I enjoy speaking in front of people. If you've read enough of these reports, you know I usually don't mind being the center of attention. Heck, I run in pink. But by the end of that minute, I was beginning to feel incredibly self-conscious. Hmm. I can't imagine being an elite at the front of a big race with motorcycles and cameras on me for a couple hours. Luckily, Mr "about 3:45" won't ever have to face that. Heh.<br /><br />I hit the halfway point at 1:53. To actually beat 3:45, I'd have to run a negative split. For "about 3:45", I was right on the money. Not bad for the blahs. The weather had indeed warmed up... and the ditchable shirt had long since been ditched. But it wasn't <em>too</em> warm, and the wind had not become a factor. Time for the big hill.<br /><br />Going up the hill, I passed a guy walking up it backwards. I had a strong sense of deja vu... I'd seen him last year too. Seems as though he has weak or damaged quad muscles and he firmly believes that walking up the hill backwards is the only way he can get up it. Okey doke. Given that I passed him at M14ish, this meant he had been running faster than me before the hill. Perhaps he'd catch me again on the other side.<br /><br />By the two hour mark, all the runners were spread out. I was never completely alone, but it was easy to tell when someone was "sneaking up" from behind. And around M16, I began to notice a slender, blonde woman in black gaining on me slowly. She caught me around M18. She seemed pretty focused, so I decided not to try small talk. We just ran. She had a red shirt balled up in her hand. Aha. A pace group leader. Pace groups are/is one reason (of many) why Missoula is a cool small marathon. For this race, some leaders stick with their groups for the whole race, and others swap out halfway. So here was a woman who had passed off her pacing duties and was now attempting a negative split. Maybe I could stick with Negative Splits Chick.<br /><br />And maybe not. She passed me around M20 as the course turned into Missoula. It wasn't a complete dusting, but it was clear that she was going to pull away. She had a huge negative split coming her way; I did not. As she went by, I glanced at her face. Huh. <em>I think I know her.</em> My brain started flipping through its face recognition rolodex trying to figure out why... or if... I knew her. Nothing came up, so I figured that I must have seen her at a race somewhere. I see lots of people. I could have asked, but she really did look intense. And "don't I know you?" felt too pickup-y. Off she went.<br /><br />I still felt blah. The final miles were ticking down, and I was trying to keep my pace. This was where the organizers had changed the course. Last year, we zigzagged through neighborhoods and then a mall parking lot. Then it was a grueling sun-blasted last few miles over a bike trail to the finish. This year, we did a lot more neighborhood zigzagging. This was weird because at many points, I could look over a couple blocks and see runners on different streets. The very pleasant side-effect, though, was that this section offered a ton of shade. No mall and not much bike trail.<br /><br />I was passing a bunch of people. Some of these were half marathon walkers. Others were marathoners who had gotten too hot. Island Boy felt blah, but at least not "blah and too hot". My pace stayed consistent. And although Negative Splits Chick had pulled away from me, she never got completely out of sight.<br /><br />Over the river and across the bridge...<br /><br /><em>Robert Lopez, from Seattle.</em><br /><br />Woohoo, I got announced. ABC guy was at the finish and shook my hand. That was nice. I didn't notice him recording, but he must have been... because my finish made the final video. Not once, but twice. Huh.<br /><br />3:46. Hmm. Well, that's what I call "about 3:45". It's also a very even race - I ran a 1:53/1:53 split. Considering how I felt, I did ok. However, I had managed a couple low 3:40s and a 3:28 back in April and May on much harder courses. Something is off slightly about my training. Still though, I made my goal.<br /><br />I grabbed a bottle of water and saw Negative Splits Chick walking away. I took the opportunity to congratulate her on pulling what seemed like a huge negative split. She congratulated me on my pink. And we parted. I was in search of food. I found some, including really wacky popsicles. Natural popsicles. How natural?? Well, I had a watermelon popsicle. And it had seeds. My watermelon popsicle had seeds! Perhaps a little <em>too</em> natural :-).<br /><br />As I was recovering, I ran into sooo many people that I've seen at other races. How cool. I ran into a couple who had seen me in Kona. I talked to Maniac Chester's wife. I met a bunch of new Maniacs. And then I stumbled across <a href="http://humbletriathlete.blogspot.com/">Shirley Pratt</a>. She actually lives in Kona part-time. I haven't seen Shirley since 2005, when she was running a bunch of marathons in support of folks in the military. Lots has happened in the past three years!<br /><br />After eating and chatting, I went to grab my stuff and glanced at the posted results. There she was: Negative Splits Chick had run a 3:45. And, oh my. I saw her name. <a href="http://www.racheltoor.com/">Rachel Toor</a>. It clicked why my brain had been poking me. I don't KNOW know Rachel, but I certainly know OF Rachel: she's a writer as well as being a well-traveled pace group leader and ultrarunner. She wrote a hilarious column about pacing the Las Vegas Marathon for <a href="http://www.marathonandbeyond.com/">Marathon and Beyond</a>. She has a recurring column in Running Times. And, the coolest thing for me, she writes for the <a href="http://chronicle.com/">Chronicle of Higher Education</a>. Neat!<br /><br />How I wished that I would have recognized her. I also wished, kind of, that I had spoken to her while we were running together... but she really did seem focused. So I went looking. I found some other pace group folks and, sure enough, they pointed me Rachel's way. I actually called her 'Negative Splits Chick'. <em>Hey Negative Splits Chick, you're famous</em>. Not my most gracious opening, but she didn't call a cop nor punch me. I finally got my opportunity to say a real hello and offer up a thanks for all the groovy writing.<br /><br />And that was that. This year's Missoula Marathon. I felt just as blah as last year for most of the race, but I had more fun this time around. And randomly seeing all those people I knew after the race was very fun. Running with a celebrity too. And oh yeah, I got on TV.<br /><br />See the results of the interview and the in-action video <a href="http://www.abcmontana.com/sports/local/25205604.html?video=YHI&t=a">here</a>, in the middle of the sportscast.<br /><br />Next up: yes, it has already happened. El Scorcho! I won't 'splain that. To learn about El Scorcho, check back RealSoonNow.Robert Lópezhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08803658118367854557noreply@blogger.com0