The Big November Race Report

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.

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.

As noted, the month began with the Manchester City Marathon (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.

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.

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.

And, alas, that was much more interesting than my race :-(. The organizers did a fine job; I just wasn't that into it.

The following weekend involved no racing. I actually tapered! And that brings me to my trip to Texas for the new San Antonio Rock N Roll Marathon (11/16).

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?"

Well, it wasn't all 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.

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.

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.

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.

The following weekend was Monkey weekend. Specifically, the Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey Marathon 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 this year, 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.

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.

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 Atlanta Marathon (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.

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.

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.

I did.

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.

Two days after Atlanta, I ran the new doesn't-roll-off-your-tongue Seattle Marathon 5k (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.

The next day was the Seattle Marathon (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.

Go-Fast day.

It was time to PR.

My post sickness PR is currently 3:28. I decided to try for 3:25-3:27.

How did I do?

Uh. Well. Huh. Deciding on Go-Fast during a race is not the smartest way to play. Not only had I not tapered, but I had run two marathons and a 5k in the preceding seven days. Go Fast.

I think I'll save this story for next time. But I bet you can figure out the results!

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.

10/26/08 Tri-Cities Marathon

October 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.

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.

HOWEVER.

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. Only. Hey, this beats 2006 at Napa where the 20 mph headwind lasted 25 miles. Sometimes you have to make up your own good news :-).

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

At M8, the course crossed the Blue Bridge 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.

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.

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.

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.

Up to the next bridge to cross the river yet again. This would be a big suspension bridge, officially called the Cable Bridge. 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.

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.

And there was Mel dead center in the path, probably doing the same thing.

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.

Ok, I'm almost to Mel. Hmmm. How shall I pass.... SPLAT!

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.

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.

The nodding kind of hurt, though.

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.

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.

Slowly at first, but then I got my running legs back. And I did manage to pass Mel just after the bridge! :-)

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.

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 :-).

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

Good one, dude.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Maybe I should run with a helmet. Sigh.

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.

More on that Real Soon Now.

10/18/08 Breakers Marathon

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.

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.

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 many historical mansions 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 now... 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 the comments I've read on marathonguide.com. Whoops.

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.

Just past M25.5 the relentless up became a nice downhill to the finish. ZOOM.

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.

It's pretty clear that I wasn't ready to have my picture taken. HA. Cheese!

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.

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!

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.

What they did right, they did VERY RIGHT.

Then I paid my 25 bucks, boo, and drove back to the airport.

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.

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.

More on that Real Soon Now. There was tragedy; there was comedy. There was pizza.

But without making you wait, the scary-bad cancer tests SUCKED, but the results were reasonably good. And thank goodness for that.

10/12/08 Spokane Marathon

Originally, I was going to take this weekend off. Then, in late September, my friend Jack Swanson passed away 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.

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 the Bloomsday course. It is known as Doomsday. I heard that Jack got out of the chair and walked up this hill. Holy smokes.

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.

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:


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.

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.

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.

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 near 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.

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.

Ken pointed out interesting sights for me, such as the Bowl and Pitcher in the middle of the river.

He also warned me about the gun club we'd pass near M15 (skeet shooting on Sunday mornings!) and tipped me off about Doomsday.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Around some turns, back into the park.

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.

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.

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 :-).

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.

10/5/08 Portland Marathon

The 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 2007 race report for a detailed history. The brief summary:

• 2001: 4:04:04. First marathon, huge positive split, big struggle.


• 2002: 4:49. I had not trained a step for months before the race.


• 2003: 4:30. My third fastest marathon at the time (4:04, 4:25), but still without great training.


• 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.


• 2006: skipped to be a cancer buddy.


• 2007: 4:55. Tried to help a friend run a 4:30. Whoops.

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 go-fast 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.

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.

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 the St Johns Bridge 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 the Steel Bridge to the downtown side at M24.5. For some reason (construction, perhaps), this year's course cut over the Broadway Bridge 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.

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.

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 always touch it for luck... during this training run. Then more shopping at the expo.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

And then at M10, the rain started. I repeat: at M10, the rain started. 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.

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.

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.

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!

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 belly dancers. Shudder.

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.

Uh oh. Another potty issue. Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick....

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

I love this race... and this year, I was pleased with my effort. Pizza and beer for dinner!

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.

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.

"Is ok".

9/28/08 Bellingham Bay Marathon

Bellingham 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 Birch Bay Marathon, the Chuckanut 50k, 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.

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.

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 :-).

A few weeks ago, I ran a 3:40 at the Skagit Flats Marathon. 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. My 3:57 was close.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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, and 3-4 portapotties at each station. 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"Hey Bee, is this THE dip?"
"Yup, this is the dip."

And so it was. That's what the locals call this feature. Down and up. Woohoo! The dip.

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.

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.

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 Pirates of the Caribbean). Towards the end, there's almost always a scary section where the music gets foreboding and everything goes very dark.

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 Dead Men Tell No Tales and electronic Wind Blows Over the River Styx sounds. The weather had not changed. Still beautiful. But the atmosphere had.

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.

The who in the what now?

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 serious 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...

Up and down and UP and DOWN.

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 not downhill from back there. Not at all.

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.

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.

Bee was only a couple minutes behind me... a smoking day. One year removed from foot surgery too. Woohoo Bee!

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.

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.

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 at the finish of the race! 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.

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.

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.

9/14/08 Maui Marathon

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.

So, anyway, I cracked open my cookie. Lo and behold, here was my fortune:

Now is the time to set your sights high and "go for it".

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.

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. Here is a map.

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.

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.

All that said, Maui is not the race in which to "go for it". So my Panda fortune was misplaced.

Or was it? I suppose there are different ways in which one can go. And there are different things that can be considered it. 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.

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.

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.

I suppose I should tell you about my race now.

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.

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.

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.

Miles 7 through 12: 7:55, 7:55, 7:54, 8:15, 8:35, 8:47.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

It dropped me off at the mall, and so I ate lunch at the food court. Maui Tacos.

Later on, I came back to the food court for dinner. More Maui Tacos food.

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.

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.