It's been a long time since I've run a race. The ol' blog says March 2, 2014. It's been 489 days since I last raced. There might be a support group for that. It's been even longer since I raced a 5k, but I remembered it well.
At the Loveland Liberty 5k on this 4th of July, I let old habits guide me. I woke up ready to go with some nerves in my stomach. I arrived early and warmed up, sprinkled in a few of my favorite warm-up plyometrics, drank a little water, and headed to the start line.
My goal was to break 20 minutes. I've done a little training over the last six weeks, some hills, some weight lifting, some tempo runs and this felt like an attainable goal.
As I stood at the starting line, I had jitters and doubts. The doubts were seriously out-muscling the jitters. In honor of the 4th of July, the pre-start activities included The Star Spangled Banner. My doubts disappeared. It didn't matter if I ran fast. I got to run. There were a lot of things that mattered more than my time.
Boom went the cannon. A whole lot of runners exploded into their trot. I'd forgotten how slow casual races start. My pace wasn't going to be that fast, but it needed to be faster than that. At the first turn, I ran wide and started picking people off. I stayed wide for a quarter mile or so until I settled in behind a group of high school girls. They were wearing cleats and sounded like tap dancers. I sped up to get past them, but the alpha girl made her move at the same time. Tap, tap, tap, we raced on through the mile. I made another move and put a little distance between us, but the tapping wouldn't go away.
My ambition soon outstripped my training and the tapping grew louder. A small pack, now with only one tap dancer overtook me. I tried to stay in contact, but mile 2 proved to be a long one. I was pleased to remember that races take place all over, not just up front. I think I relearn this lesson every time. I surged a bit and caught a fading teen boy. I tried to encourage him to close the gap on the group that just passed him and come along with me, but my words seemed to have the opposite effect and he blew up and disappeared. I had only slightly better luck.
Nearing the final 800 meters, I looked up to see the green shorts and the flailing limbs of the tap dancer. I told myself to make a move. I knew I could overtake her. My body responded with a resounding two step surge and I made no progress.
800 meters turned into 200 meters and finally my mind convinced my body to surge. I closed the gap on the tap dancer, but was quickly running out of room. Tap dancer won the female division in 20:01. I crossed close behind in 20:03.
I was 17th overall, 3rd in my age division and have ample room for improvement. My oldest niece PRed and has closed the gap between us to under 8 minutes.
I have a goal that involves edging her out in 5k races all through high school. There are some naysayers out there, but all the best goals attract the naysayers, right?
Showing posts with label run. Show all posts
Showing posts with label run. Show all posts
Monday, July 06, 2015
Monday, March 03, 2014
Sports, sports, sports!
It will come as no surprise that I'm back to write about my sports.
First, I had the opportunity to return to good old Team Schaefer in DC for this year's winter league tournament. Besides being pleased to see so many friendly faces, I was also pleased to finish a season after I cut short last year's with a move. Team Schaefer wouldn't be able to capture last year's winning ways, but I was thrilled to play alongside teammates of yore like Matt, Ryan, Ali, Scrap and Sam and to meet and battle with new teammates. We ended up 1-3 on the day. I snagged a few D's, won a few battles, and enjoyed scraping up my body with a variety of failed layouts. One of my favorite moments came on a line with Matt, Scrap, and Sam. Sam got the D, the disc moved quickly and Scrap put up a nice throw that I could track down in the end zone. My favorite personal play (other than perhaps winning a battle of the beards in the air) was a strange one. I dove for a disc as my opponent went to catch it. He was successful, but I got my whole hand on the disc. Rather than let go, I tugged on it to keep my balance and he ended up swinging me around into position to put on a mark. I don't think it was as intentional on my part as it sounds, but it worked out well and I was happy I hadn't let go until my balance was regained.
I miss those games on the mall, the polo fields, and glug, glug, glugging with Team Schaefer.
I returned to games under the lights for winter league playoffs mile high style, still battered a bit from the weekend. In a wild scheduling twist, what had once been a game I was to miss became one I could make although without the rest I would have liked. I arrived and dragged myself through a warm-up. I declined to start, hoping instead that I could be ready off the bench. Unfortunately, the team seemed to be in the same mode. We played very little defense in the first half and fell behind. We switched to a zone and I had some good success in the cup, but then our offense faltered, particularly in the red zone. The game was over and so was our season. It was not the way I thought we'd go out.
To continue the trend of underperforming, I ran a 3 mile race yesterday. I can tell you about the skiing the day before or the fact that it was once again about 10 degrees with snow and ice on the ground, but I think the real story is that I'm out of shape. Running once a week and playing Ultimate once a week and then doing a little (stress on little) are not keeping me in good shape. This series of races I'm in is handicapped, so based on the performance at the 10k, I had a rather favorable start time. I knew I could run away from my group and that I had lots of people to pass, but I could tell that the miles were not flying by. I battled throughout, and in the last 400 meters had passed all, but one young man, probably 12 or 13. I pulled up behind him with about 200 meters to go and to his credit he kicked it in. I was kicking too and I had two thoughts, 1. It seems kind of mean to beat a kid, 2. Maybe he's not going to break.
I put aside the first and pushed on. Fairly quickly, the kid's kick wore out and I cruised into the finish line in what turned out to be (readers of this blog from way back when will know) second place overall. I actually finished 14th by time, a survival of a 20:14, 6:45 per mile pace. I don't really understand what this does to my season points or the trophy series, but I've got a 4 miler in April where I can start to figure that out. These slow times may actually help me in this series if I can find a way to build up my base and start running like I mean it again.
Until we sports again...
First, I had the opportunity to return to good old Team Schaefer in DC for this year's winter league tournament. Besides being pleased to see so many friendly faces, I was also pleased to finish a season after I cut short last year's with a move. Team Schaefer wouldn't be able to capture last year's winning ways, but I was thrilled to play alongside teammates of yore like Matt, Ryan, Ali, Scrap and Sam and to meet and battle with new teammates. We ended up 1-3 on the day. I snagged a few D's, won a few battles, and enjoyed scraping up my body with a variety of failed layouts. One of my favorite moments came on a line with Matt, Scrap, and Sam. Sam got the D, the disc moved quickly and Scrap put up a nice throw that I could track down in the end zone. My favorite personal play (other than perhaps winning a battle of the beards in the air) was a strange one. I dove for a disc as my opponent went to catch it. He was successful, but I got my whole hand on the disc. Rather than let go, I tugged on it to keep my balance and he ended up swinging me around into position to put on a mark. I don't think it was as intentional on my part as it sounds, but it worked out well and I was happy I hadn't let go until my balance was regained.
I miss those games on the mall, the polo fields, and glug, glug, glugging with Team Schaefer.
I returned to games under the lights for winter league playoffs mile high style, still battered a bit from the weekend. In a wild scheduling twist, what had once been a game I was to miss became one I could make although without the rest I would have liked. I arrived and dragged myself through a warm-up. I declined to start, hoping instead that I could be ready off the bench. Unfortunately, the team seemed to be in the same mode. We played very little defense in the first half and fell behind. We switched to a zone and I had some good success in the cup, but then our offense faltered, particularly in the red zone. The game was over and so was our season. It was not the way I thought we'd go out.
To continue the trend of underperforming, I ran a 3 mile race yesterday. I can tell you about the skiing the day before or the fact that it was once again about 10 degrees with snow and ice on the ground, but I think the real story is that I'm out of shape. Running once a week and playing Ultimate once a week and then doing a little (stress on little) are not keeping me in good shape. This series of races I'm in is handicapped, so based on the performance at the 10k, I had a rather favorable start time. I knew I could run away from my group and that I had lots of people to pass, but I could tell that the miles were not flying by. I battled throughout, and in the last 400 meters had passed all, but one young man, probably 12 or 13. I pulled up behind him with about 200 meters to go and to his credit he kicked it in. I was kicking too and I had two thoughts, 1. It seems kind of mean to beat a kid, 2. Maybe he's not going to break.
I put aside the first and pushed on. Fairly quickly, the kid's kick wore out and I cruised into the finish line in what turned out to be (readers of this blog from way back when will know) second place overall. I actually finished 14th by time, a survival of a 20:14, 6:45 per mile pace. I don't really understand what this does to my season points or the trophy series, but I've got a 4 miler in April where I can start to figure that out. These slow times may actually help me in this series if I can find a way to build up my base and start running like I mean it again.
Until we sports again...
Wednesday, January 08, 2014
Brrr. I haven't lost a step. I've misplaced a staircase.
The singing of the radio alarm was not what I wanted to hear. I could skip the race, sleep in, and run on my own later. C gave me a little push, she could tell I was resisting my plans. Anger roiled inside of me, I just wanted to sleep.
I got up a few minutes later, still angry, but pushed by my plan. It was snowing lightly when I walked outside. I got to the race at Twin Lakes early and stood around awkwardly. I felt underdressed. I thought the owners of yak-traks attached to their shoes looked wise. Then I found out that a 5k wouldn't count for the race series. I would be running a 10k.
My 2.5 mile race on Christmas Eve had been slow and tiring. I haven't run 6 miles in quite some time. I added a few minutes to my estimated time so I could be handicapped and I was given a time to start of 9:37. Nearly 30 minutes after "race time" in this staggered start event.
I spent much of my time in the car trying to stay warm in the snowy 10 degree morning. When I emerged for a warm-up, I realized that there was nothing warm about me. I added a layer of coat and gloves and unloaded a few more nerves in the facilities.
I was one of the last four to start the race. I left alone and shot off into the snow. I quickly caught up to the person who started in front of me, his red jacket a clear early goal. I realized I was probably moving too fast for this long of a race and tucked in behind him. We were soon passed by the two behind us. As we approached mile 2, I began to unravel.
I lost touch with red jacket and began the long process of holding on. I was alone at the turn-around, running in last place. Without a watch, I can only guess that I'd run about 20 minutes for the 5k. The pain of continuing kept mounting, but after the out on an out and back course, there was only back now.
I set my sights on the man in front of me. I didn't recognize him. In this race, there was no telling where he'd started. I made up some ground, but my steps were labored and my beard frozen.
I passed a few walkers and worked my way closer to the man in front of me. The world was cold and white and that man and the pain in my side felt like my only company. I worked closer, but not quickly. This felt like a tortoise and the hare situation. Slowly and steadily, I passed the man at about mile 5.
He congratulated me and urged me onward. I struggled ahead and focused on the next person. Three times I thought we were nearing the final curve and twice I was sorely disappointed. I passed one more woman with a quarter mile to go.
I stared at the white snow beneath me and begged me feet to carry me to the finish. They did. Reluctantly.
I finished cold and tired in a running time of about 47:42. It was my slowest timed 10k in ages, perhaps ever.
It was the highlight of my day.
Saturday, November 09, 2013
18:53 for a 5k
If I had to put a percentage on it, I'd say I was seventy-five percent just happy to be outside running and twenty-five percent, come on, man.
I knew when we lined up at the starting line that it was probably going to be about a four-man race. People were avoiding the front like it was the firing line. I didn't really feel like I was in shape to win. My feet have been hurting a lot lately, especially since the broken sesamoid and the exercise hasn't really been a priority. All of that and I was a little antsy without my watch. At go, the wire-to-wire leader bolted out front and I tucked in behind him. I felt good, like the pace was in my comfort zone, and he kept checking his watch. It seemed to be more of a nervous tic than anything else, but maybe it was helping him with pace. I hoped it meant he was beatable.
It didn't.
I hung on his shoulder for about 600 meters and then I couldn't hang anymore. It didn't feel like he was pulling away, but his breathing was silent and mine was panting. I knew things weren't going great when the mile took ages to arrive. I tried not to let him run away from me too much, but 15 seconds became 20 and then the twists and turns of the course took him farther and farther out of my vision.
Third and fourth place were about as far back from me as I was from the leader. When I hit the two-mile mark and thought, "I could be done now," I started to wonder how this 5k was going to end.
I tried to press on. I glanced back a few times and watched as fourth moved past third and wondered if he was on his way to get me. I looked forward and did my best to make sure that wouldn't happen.
The final stretch was a climb and after an initial surge, I wilted a bit, but then in the last 150 meters, I willed myself to finish strong. The leader was about a minute and a half ahead and third was out of view and just under a minute behind, but I finished fighting off imaginary opponents.
I broke 19 minutes and am not all together surprised, but I sure would like to get in a few more runs and start moving the clock in the other direction. It doesn't work that way for age, but it can work that way for races, can't it?
I knew when we lined up at the starting line that it was probably going to be about a four-man race. People were avoiding the front like it was the firing line. I didn't really feel like I was in shape to win. My feet have been hurting a lot lately, especially since the broken sesamoid and the exercise hasn't really been a priority. All of that and I was a little antsy without my watch. At go, the wire-to-wire leader bolted out front and I tucked in behind him. I felt good, like the pace was in my comfort zone, and he kept checking his watch. It seemed to be more of a nervous tic than anything else, but maybe it was helping him with pace. I hoped it meant he was beatable.
It didn't.
I hung on his shoulder for about 600 meters and then I couldn't hang anymore. It didn't feel like he was pulling away, but his breathing was silent and mine was panting. I knew things weren't going great when the mile took ages to arrive. I tried not to let him run away from me too much, but 15 seconds became 20 and then the twists and turns of the course took him farther and farther out of my vision.
Third and fourth place were about as far back from me as I was from the leader. When I hit the two-mile mark and thought, "I could be done now," I started to wonder how this 5k was going to end.
I tried to press on. I glanced back a few times and watched as fourth moved past third and wondered if he was on his way to get me. I looked forward and did my best to make sure that wouldn't happen.
The final stretch was a climb and after an initial surge, I wilted a bit, but then in the last 150 meters, I willed myself to finish strong. The leader was about a minute and a half ahead and third was out of view and just under a minute behind, but I finished fighting off imaginary opponents.
I broke 19 minutes and am not all together surprised, but I sure would like to get in a few more runs and start moving the clock in the other direction. It doesn't work that way for age, but it can work that way for races, can't it?
Saturday, July 06, 2013
From lungbuster to 5k
It's been a big week for sports. I went to a tournament in Breckenridge last weekend. I was invited up Friday morning. The team was thrown together, but the setting was perfect. I had several of those "I can't believe I live here" moments as I was looking at the mountains and preparing for my first non-beach Ultimate tournament in ages.
The team, named GRUDGE, came together well. We clicked, we pulled in pick-up after pick-up, sometimes from the very team that would play us next. The pick-ups seemed to get better as the weekend went on. We went 2-2 on Saturday. I had 5 turns and a few nice highlights including a grab on a hammer that had seemingly sailed over my head. Somehow I hung in the air and it stuck to my hand. Sunday, we made quick work of the first team, although my layout resulted in some ringing ears and then we made pretty quick work to avenge a loss from Saturday. We took our semi-final game to 9-9 before succumbing 13-10. I got to land our last punch, though, with a down wind high release backhand break. I'm skipping over a few moments, including a not-so-pretty argument where I was unintentionally in a guy's face regarding a strip call and a whole lot of anger over bad score-keeping. I'm skipping over some good moments too including a hot tub and no turns on Sunday that I can recall. I'm amazed and thrilled that I made it through 7 games. I've definitely hurt worse.
I farmed on Monday and played in a disappointing league game that we lost by a point. My feet and boy were starting to complain, but I managed a slow bike ride and a light run to get ready for the 5k still ahead.
Good times.
Nursing some soreness, I entered a 5k on the fourth of July. It was poorly run, but I was able to knock it out with a performance that looked a lot like my last 5k. The plan was to follow one of my brother-in-law's high school stars, but in the first 400 meters I realized that her pace wasn't quite what I had in mind. I heard cheers for her all the way though, so my pace wasn't a whole lot quicker. There wasn't a lot of intrigue in the race. I'd expected 18:30 and I ran 18:26. I was fighting hard to beat the lead dog at mile one (5:52), but never saw him again after he and his owner stopped for water. I crossed the 2-mile alone at 11:46, passed one more guy with about 800 meters to go, struggled to manufacture any sort of kick and finished 8th, well back of 7th and about 10 seconds ahead of 9th.
It was nice to be back on the fields and on the run. I need to grab a little more of that glory this summer.
The team, named GRUDGE, came together well. We clicked, we pulled in pick-up after pick-up, sometimes from the very team that would play us next. The pick-ups seemed to get better as the weekend went on. We went 2-2 on Saturday. I had 5 turns and a few nice highlights including a grab on a hammer that had seemingly sailed over my head. Somehow I hung in the air and it stuck to my hand. Sunday, we made quick work of the first team, although my layout resulted in some ringing ears and then we made pretty quick work to avenge a loss from Saturday. We took our semi-final game to 9-9 before succumbing 13-10. I got to land our last punch, though, with a down wind high release backhand break. I'm skipping over a few moments, including a not-so-pretty argument where I was unintentionally in a guy's face regarding a strip call and a whole lot of anger over bad score-keeping. I'm skipping over some good moments too including a hot tub and no turns on Sunday that I can recall. I'm amazed and thrilled that I made it through 7 games. I've definitely hurt worse.
I farmed on Monday and played in a disappointing league game that we lost by a point. My feet and boy were starting to complain, but I managed a slow bike ride and a light run to get ready for the 5k still ahead.
Good times.
Nursing some soreness, I entered a 5k on the fourth of July. It was poorly run, but I was able to knock it out with a performance that looked a lot like my last 5k. The plan was to follow one of my brother-in-law's high school stars, but in the first 400 meters I realized that her pace wasn't quite what I had in mind. I heard cheers for her all the way though, so my pace wasn't a whole lot quicker. There wasn't a lot of intrigue in the race. I'd expected 18:30 and I ran 18:26. I was fighting hard to beat the lead dog at mile one (5:52), but never saw him again after he and his owner stopped for water. I crossed the 2-mile alone at 11:46, passed one more guy with about 800 meters to go, struggled to manufacture any sort of kick and finished 8th, well back of 7th and about 10 seconds ahead of 9th.
It was nice to be back on the fields and on the run. I need to grab a little more of that glory this summer.
Friday, June 15, 2012
A flight to nowhere, a honeymoon, and a 15 year reunion
The vacation did not begin well. After 30 minutes of flying toward KC, the pilot announced we were returning to DC. The delays became cancellation and the scramble to get a new flight as the tornado rolled into town became a scramble to find a flight the next day. Thanks to the generosity of C&L, we made the most of our flight to DC with a nice dinner and some movie watching.
After a sunrise jaunt to Chi-town, we nabbed a stand-by flight to KC and got to town well ahead of my cousin's wedding. The wedding was a jumbled gyration of family and FOG. It was over before the DJ even had a chance to play "Call me maybe". He did manage to play the cupid shuffle twice thanks to Madeline's request, however. My nieces danced 'til late, but would not be outdone by the bride and groom who kept going strong even after this clean up crew began removing decorations. This apple doesn't fall far from that tree.
Although some of the FOG dispersed, two clans headed out for an annual canoe trip, now with honeymooning. The usual water gun fights were complimented with a rope drop. The rope drop is a close cousin of the rope swing, but instead of that graceful arc out over the deep water of the Niangua, this involved hands being ripped raw from the rope as those of us who tried fell into the water. Tedward had more luck than I did, but I feel lucky that my only injury was rope burn.
I enjoy canoeing as it happens, but I think I enjoy it more in retrospect. It's such a peaceful activity with an occasional burst of activity and tension. It's a good mixture of relaxing and interesting. Parker made her first trip successfully. She relaxed so much that at different points on the trip she fell asleep, head lolling while the boat drifted down stream.
My sister discovered that although the her grown-up version enjoys canoeing far more than the teenage version, she still doesn't want to run a boat, at least not with her kids in it. For a while I wondered if I'd contributed to this lack of confidence, but then I decided that even if I hadn't been running the boat in our teen years, she would have resisted. It really seemed like she didn't like it those years. Eventually, every woman on the trip (except my mom) decided that, at least on a river like this, she preferred a kayak. I don't think it was a statement of independence as much as it was a comment on boat agility.
I particularly argue this since C and I closed out the week with a tandem ride. It didn't solve all our problems, but it was nice to be on the same bike ride at the same time. We would get better with starting given time. That required a little extra trust.
My story telling feels off now, but I'm trying to fight through it. My final paragraph is about the 15-year reunion I had with my track. My legs had no zip, but I still wanted to run a mile. It resulted in a pretty evenly paced 5:19. This is a good 4 seconds per year slower than, well, 15 years ago. I don't know that this is entirely reflective of my state of fitness, but it's pretty close as I continue to fight with this same mess. I'm back to PT and hoping to get over the hump. I want to sprint again and jump again (and yeah, play some Ultimate again.)
After a sunrise jaunt to Chi-town, we nabbed a stand-by flight to KC and got to town well ahead of my cousin's wedding. The wedding was a jumbled gyration of family and FOG. It was over before the DJ even had a chance to play "Call me maybe". He did manage to play the cupid shuffle twice thanks to Madeline's request, however. My nieces danced 'til late, but would not be outdone by the bride and groom who kept going strong even after this clean up crew began removing decorations. This apple doesn't fall far from that tree.
Although some of the FOG dispersed, two clans headed out for an annual canoe trip, now with honeymooning. The usual water gun fights were complimented with a rope drop. The rope drop is a close cousin of the rope swing, but instead of that graceful arc out over the deep water of the Niangua, this involved hands being ripped raw from the rope as those of us who tried fell into the water. Tedward had more luck than I did, but I feel lucky that my only injury was rope burn.
I enjoy canoeing as it happens, but I think I enjoy it more in retrospect. It's such a peaceful activity with an occasional burst of activity and tension. It's a good mixture of relaxing and interesting. Parker made her first trip successfully. She relaxed so much that at different points on the trip she fell asleep, head lolling while the boat drifted down stream.
My sister discovered that although the her grown-up version enjoys canoeing far more than the teenage version, she still doesn't want to run a boat, at least not with her kids in it. For a while I wondered if I'd contributed to this lack of confidence, but then I decided that even if I hadn't been running the boat in our teen years, she would have resisted. It really seemed like she didn't like it those years. Eventually, every woman on the trip (except my mom) decided that, at least on a river like this, she preferred a kayak. I don't think it was a statement of independence as much as it was a comment on boat agility.
I particularly argue this since C and I closed out the week with a tandem ride. It didn't solve all our problems, but it was nice to be on the same bike ride at the same time. We would get better with starting given time. That required a little extra trust.
My story telling feels off now, but I'm trying to fight through it. My final paragraph is about the 15-year reunion I had with my track. My legs had no zip, but I still wanted to run a mile. It resulted in a pretty evenly paced 5:19. This is a good 4 seconds per year slower than, well, 15 years ago. I don't know that this is entirely reflective of my state of fitness, but it's pretty close as I continue to fight with this same mess. I'm back to PT and hoping to get over the hump. I want to sprint again and jump again (and yeah, play some Ultimate again.)
Saturday, May 05, 2012
17 months of rest leaves me feeling fresh
I woke up nervous. It was nice to have that feeling back. It's been too long since I raced. My body still knew what to do. I joined Sam and Matt on a warm-up to the start of the MBT 5k. I went to the bathroom early and often. We had too much time to warm-up or not enough desire to get a full warm-up going. Either way, it seemed the only thing warming up was the sunshine.
I had plans. Plans are important. I never follow my plans, but that doesn't make them less important. I planned to run 6:15 miles. That would have netted a 19:25. That's just a touch faster than my slowest 5k I believe. After 17 months, it seemed like conservative was the way to go.
The leisurely morning finally turned into a race. It was a typical small road race where people are shy about toeing the starting line. We ended up in the pole position. We got out faster than 6:15. I couldn't tell how fast, but I used my plans to slow myself down. I found myself in about 10th place and struggling with pace. Was I out too fast or was this too slow? I felt like I was in the way. I tucked in behind a woman for a bit and then she pulled away. On we ran. I felt good, like I was holding something back. I had no pain. All systems were go.
We made the first turn and I caught two guys on the downhill. I was tucked in behind them, but on this out and back course where runners were supposed to stay to the left, we found runners and walkers had gone right. I surged past the two and began waving frantically, even arguing for a moment on the run. That got me going.
I thought I saw the halfway mark and I was at 9:17. My plans were out the window, but I felt ok with pace. I just hoped I could hold it. I picked off a few more folks. At the second turn I passed another and found myself in fifth. The woman from earlier and one guy were within striking distance. Second place was off in the distance and first was long gone. I struggled a bit and checked my watch. It read 14 and change. I didn't really do a pace calculation, but I told myself, "Give me 4 more minutes. That's all." I passed Matt and Sam heading the other way and Matt pointed out the guy in third. His message crystallized my goal. I accelerated slightly. I passed the man in third and set my sights on the lead woman. She was running well. I cheered her as I went by, hoping she'd accept my support and knowing that she might come back on me at the end.
I held her off with a final push around the corner and up the hill. I hit 18:28, a 5:57 pace. I hope this pushes me back into the game. I feel a little tightness tonight, but for the most part I feel good. I'm happy to be back racing and perhaps happy to be back writing about it too.
I had plans. Plans are important. I never follow my plans, but that doesn't make them less important. I planned to run 6:15 miles. That would have netted a 19:25. That's just a touch faster than my slowest 5k I believe. After 17 months, it seemed like conservative was the way to go.
The leisurely morning finally turned into a race. It was a typical small road race where people are shy about toeing the starting line. We ended up in the pole position. We got out faster than 6:15. I couldn't tell how fast, but I used my plans to slow myself down. I found myself in about 10th place and struggling with pace. Was I out too fast or was this too slow? I felt like I was in the way. I tucked in behind a woman for a bit and then she pulled away. On we ran. I felt good, like I was holding something back. I had no pain. All systems were go.
We made the first turn and I caught two guys on the downhill. I was tucked in behind them, but on this out and back course where runners were supposed to stay to the left, we found runners and walkers had gone right. I surged past the two and began waving frantically, even arguing for a moment on the run. That got me going.
I thought I saw the halfway mark and I was at 9:17. My plans were out the window, but I felt ok with pace. I just hoped I could hold it. I picked off a few more folks. At the second turn I passed another and found myself in fifth. The woman from earlier and one guy were within striking distance. Second place was off in the distance and first was long gone. I struggled a bit and checked my watch. It read 14 and change. I didn't really do a pace calculation, but I told myself, "Give me 4 more minutes. That's all." I passed Matt and Sam heading the other way and Matt pointed out the guy in third. His message crystallized my goal. I accelerated slightly. I passed the man in third and set my sights on the lead woman. She was running well. I cheered her as I went by, hoping she'd accept my support and knowing that she might come back on me at the end.
I held her off with a final push around the corner and up the hill. I hit 18:28, a 5:57 pace. I hope this pushes me back into the game. I feel a little tightness tonight, but for the most part I feel good. I'm happy to be back racing and perhaps happy to be back writing about it too.
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Isn't there an REM song like this?
Ears submerged in water, the sound of splashing dulled, legs kicking, eyes focused on ceiling tiles, I felt a calm that has been elusive in recent weeks. On my back, slicing through the water, I was in an active recovery. The real difference from the laps I would crawl before and after was my ability to breathe. With the gasping and thrashing gone, swimming laps in the neighborhood pool became a meditation.
I've been swimming more times this year than I go most summers. With running and Ultimate not available the way I'd really like and the idea of a triathlon never quite sticking, it seemed like a good time to head to the pool. I've been fortunate to have a teacher on a few of my swims. Jim imparts the wisdom of his high school swimming days as best he can remember. His explanations of form taught me more about swimming in 30 minutes than I've learned in 20 years.
After a dip or two into the water, I purchased goggles and they have also changed swimming for me. If I was prone to hyperbole, I'd say they opened up an underwater world. If not a world, they've at least allowed me to see when I'm submerged which means I don't have to hold my head above water to look out. I haven't mastered all of this, but not bobbing my head out there increases efficiency considerably.
I swim with urgency. Like I'm being chased by sharks. This is ok for a length or two, but since I'm still working on breathing techniques and since I'm trying to get in a workout, this often leads to large sips of pool water and hacking coughs that echo off water and wall.
On Wednesday, I watched other swimmers and they move their arms more slowly, rhythmically, like a runner who understands pace rather than a child trying not to drown. I often compare my swimming experiences to running experiences. I'm fascinated by the breakdown, that point where physically and mentally I can no longer keep my form. It comes quickly in swimming, but it's so soft compared to running. The thrash is similar, in running it's harder on the legs than the arms, but the overall wobble is familiar. Yet, the swimming collapse would be so much stiller, so much quieter. I don't see legs buckling and balance teetering. I just see sinking.
After my swim, I ran home. It's less than half a mile, but my legs felt shaky. My body didn't quite know how to react. I couldn't go much faster, but I sensed I could go on much farther. It felt wonderfully terrible. It felt affirming. It felt like accomplishment.
What does REM have to say about that?
I've been swimming more times this year than I go most summers. With running and Ultimate not available the way I'd really like and the idea of a triathlon never quite sticking, it seemed like a good time to head to the pool. I've been fortunate to have a teacher on a few of my swims. Jim imparts the wisdom of his high school swimming days as best he can remember. His explanations of form taught me more about swimming in 30 minutes than I've learned in 20 years.
After a dip or two into the water, I purchased goggles and they have also changed swimming for me. If I was prone to hyperbole, I'd say they opened up an underwater world. If not a world, they've at least allowed me to see when I'm submerged which means I don't have to hold my head above water to look out. I haven't mastered all of this, but not bobbing my head out there increases efficiency considerably.
I swim with urgency. Like I'm being chased by sharks. This is ok for a length or two, but since I'm still working on breathing techniques and since I'm trying to get in a workout, this often leads to large sips of pool water and hacking coughs that echo off water and wall.
On Wednesday, I watched other swimmers and they move their arms more slowly, rhythmically, like a runner who understands pace rather than a child trying not to drown. I often compare my swimming experiences to running experiences. I'm fascinated by the breakdown, that point where physically and mentally I can no longer keep my form. It comes quickly in swimming, but it's so soft compared to running. The thrash is similar, in running it's harder on the legs than the arms, but the overall wobble is familiar. Yet, the swimming collapse would be so much stiller, so much quieter. I don't see legs buckling and balance teetering. I just see sinking.
After my swim, I ran home. It's less than half a mile, but my legs felt shaky. My body didn't quite know how to react. I couldn't go much faster, but I sensed I could go on much farther. It felt wonderfully terrible. It felt affirming. It felt like accomplishment.
What does REM have to say about that?
Thursday, October 27, 2011
A bit of pride, a bit of jealousy
My friends ran a 50-miler last weekend. Read Paul's recap here. I'm awed by that accomplishment. I don't know that 50 miles of running is something I ever need to do, but I don't like that I missed out on this running adventure.
I didn't just miss out either; my running right now is in another universe. They ran for 7 hours, I ran for 7 minutes. Other than Wildwood and bike commutes, I haven't really done any exercising since July. I would complain about my 7 minutes since it felt far from right, but I won't. Instead, I'll tell you about reaching for my shoes. Sometime in August, I took my running shoes out of the hallway and stored them high up in the closet. My black dress shoes that don't get out much go up in the closet. Today, even in the rain and the hint of a cold, I reached up into the closet and pulled down my dormant running shoes. They looked white and clean. They were firm and crisp, almost like new. As I gingerly brought them down, I had to push away high school cross country practices and recreational 5ks. I couldn't call up those memories today. Today I just had to put one foot in front of the other.
Today was another step on a long journey.
My friends ran a 50-miler last weekend. Read Paul's recap here. I'm awed by that accomplishment. I don't know that 50 miles of running is something I ever need to do, but I don't like that I missed out on this running adventure.
I didn't just miss out either; my running right now is in another universe. They ran for 7 hours, I ran for 7 minutes. Other than Wildwood and bike commutes, I haven't really done any exercising since July. I would complain about my 7 minutes since it felt far from right, but I won't. Instead, I'll tell you about reaching for my shoes. Sometime in August, I took my running shoes out of the hallway and stored them high up in the closet. My black dress shoes that don't get out much go up in the closet. Today, even in the rain and the hint of a cold, I reached up into the closet and pulled down my dormant running shoes. They looked white and clean. They were firm and crisp, almost like new. As I gingerly brought them down, I had to push away high school cross country practices and recreational 5ks. I couldn't call up those memories today. Today I just had to put one foot in front of the other.
Today was another step on a long journey.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Philadelphia quicksand or How I learned to watch the clock and stop worrying about the place
It doesn't get better. It only gets worse. -Matt
We arrived just before 10 PM, Bull, Murray, Matt, and I, taking Philly and a bit of silly, in the dark of night. Our directions weren't clear, and yet, when we stopped and got of of the car we found ourselves just outside of the campsite. At that point, it was more city park, more make-out spot, more odd place to be after dark than anything else. Just on the other side of the building where the indomitable Rocky climbed the steps in triumph, we set up Paul's house-sized tent by headlamp. We went to bed in one of only three tents on the site and woke to a growing tent city.
The race started at 10 AM. Our relay team of 5 had shrunk to 4, with me nursing an injury. I'd hoped that rest, acupuncture, doctor, stretching, miracles might lead to recovery, but as I tested myself soon after sunrise, I knew it was not to be. I readied my support.
As we talked to other runners in various iterations of the 20in24 event, we realized that flexibility abounded. Some runners were running 24 hours. Some part of relays running 4 laps each of the 8.4 mile course, some part of relays running only 1 lap each. We had 10 laps, 84 miles, but we could divide those laps any way we wanted. Recognizing that I wanted to do more than support and that the challenge of 10 laps by 3 individuals would be a big one, I offered to walk a lap. Maybe I could run a bit if things went well. Regardless, I could provide Paul and Matt a rest before they embarked on clearing 20 or 30 miles for the day and I could contribute more to the team than just support. It felt right and I hoped it would work.
As we circled museum drive looking for parking, Paul and Matt hatched a plan and negotiated who would run 4 laps and who would be left with only 3. Then it was 10 AM.
Paul kicked off the running portion of the adventure for the team known as Fast Fraction Five. I started my watch. Marie, Matt and I then made our way back to the tent and the shade, glorious shade, to wait for our team to be announced over the loudspeaker. We conversed and snacked and laid the groundwork for an enjoyable Saturday cycle. When Paul reached two miles from the finish of the loop, a PA announcer would interrupt the blaring music to let us know. At least that was the intent. With about 50 minutes gone by, I began to expect the announcement that didn't come. We soon headed back to the start line, just in case. As we arrived, so did Paul. We'd botched the first hand off, but only by a few moments as Paul came in right around 61 minutes. Matt bounded into action and left for lap 2.
Paul got a drink and his first wet towel and we returned to the tent and shade. Paul gave us an economics lesson while we waited for Matt. Team names like Gingerbread men, Dirty Birds 1 (and 2), B'more Charmers were read over the loudspeaker. Concepts like debt and deficit and Nutella were discussed. The latter less for economical reasons and more for snack reasons. Matt arrived early, but the announcers were on it. So, the team waited together for his arrival at the chute as he cruised in having looped in about 55 or 56 minutes.
Exact times seemed too much for me to track, but I busied myself with paying close attention to pace and making sure we were ready when the runner on the course came in. Although race day comfort is a personal thing, I also found myself trying as much as I could to be involved in the off-the-course comfort of the team. If all went well, I wouldn't walk until nearly 6 PM, so my day would be largely spent in support of FFF. I wanted to embrace that and being in the company of friends. At the early stages, it was easy. Marie was off and clicking through her first lap. Paul and Matt discussed their first loops and I tended to snacking, listening, and writing the early portions of this retelling. About 68 minutes later, off went Paul for his second lap.
We'd just passed the 3 hour mark and were sending out Paul for the fourth leg. The race was off to a good start. Marie toyed with idea of napping and brushed off compliments of her speed. We waited longer than expected for Paul. I thought I'd accounted for some delay, but I was nervous that we'd again missed the announcement on the loudspeaker. My nervousness was slightly misplaced, as Paul had some runner's trouble on his second loop. He still came in at 64 minutes, but he was a little pale and quite a bit rattled. We got him cooled off inside for a bit and calmed down a few notches while Matt made his second loop. The body was ok and there was time to rest.
The PA announcements came in spurts, interrupting the likes of Beyonce or Phil Collins in turn. Got the runs, On your left, Blank Romans, Molasses were all making their way through the course. We began to hear about the ultra-marathoners over the PA as well. A subdued celebration with light applause echoed for the scratch on the surface for those brave souls taking on the course on their own, lap after lap after lap.
Matt was back in 58 minutes. He handed off the yellow and sweat-covered wristband of joy to Marie for her second and final lap. Most relay teams were now in or nearing the first round of their runners. Our brave team was taking on their second lap already. The vibe in the camp was upbeat. People were happy to be done with a loop, proud of their accomplishment, and only tired in little ways. FFF still had a big day ahead, but Paul's swagger had started to return, and Matt looked well. If I looked closely though, I could see they both had a hollower look of fatigue that other campers would soon know. I knew and they knew they could go on, but we also knew they had a lot still to ask of their bodies.
While Marie was out, Matt hatched a revision to the plan. Paul readily agreed. We'd push me to leg 9, so that way Matt would be fresher if he was needed in all or in part for leg 10. I didn't mind, another 70 minutes of waiting to walk didn't change my day much at all. So it would be.
Marie came through in about 76 minutes, pushing us near the 6 hour and 22 minute mark for the day. The three who were acting as five, held us in fifth through 6 laps in the 10 lap division, as Paul took out again. After Marie cooled off and settled a bit, her first question was about Paul. Moments before Marie had finished her leg, and several minutes after he'd wearily declared the next loop would be a slow one, the color and confidence had returned to his face. Paul would knock out his third leg just fine. We could sense it.
He did while Marie basked in being done for the day. Matt knocked out a fine last leg of his own while I started to develop a few jitters. I had a two hour walk ahead of me. I knew I could walk 8.4 miles and I was fairly certain I could do it without much pain, but could I do it "fast" and more than that did I want to? The questions swirled in my head and the snack food rolled a bit in my stomach.
As I stood waiting for the hand off, I eyed young fast runners jealously. I told Paul that I was shooting for 2 hours to give him some sense of when to expect me. Matt came in, wished me well, and handed me the sweat covered wrist band. I stuffed it in my pocket feeling more disgust than joy and waddled off. As the perspiration of the sweat band seeped through my pocket, I turned the corner around the art museum, and picked off two others, one resting ultra-marathoner and another walker like me. As I searched for my identity as a walker, I was fortunate not to be passed by anyone until nearly 3/4 of a mile. Soon after the runners came by, but it didn't hurt to be passed. This was my pace and passing happened. It just did.
If we believe the mile markers, and I'm told we didn't, my first mile was in 14:30. At times, I glanced at the scenery. At times, I focused on my breathing and tried to manage or improve my nagging injuries. I found times where I was lost in the speed of my breathing and my walking, times where the world melted away just like it does when I run. I tried not to look at my watch much, knowing that I'd be out on the course for a good long time. I thought I'd found a groove and skipped right through mile two, but it wasn't true. Mile two came in another slow 14 minutes. The relative speed of the miles would get better, though.
I passed walking runners and runners passed me. Some exchanged positive words and others slipped by silently. I lost and found focus. I grabbed water or Gatorade when I passed by the relief stands. My steps weren't the steps of a runner, but my time and place were still measured by getting to the next mile. This sense of purpose, this fight for focus, these are reasons I run and the reasons that walking on this day were ok. I had time to consider my pain points and I had time to try to make adjustments to correct that pain. I had time to see some scenery. As I made the turn nearing halfway, the sun and the hills worked together to cast shadows on the bridges and the river, but not on the cemetery on the hill. The cemetery was bathed in evening light with shadowed bridges below. None of my teammates saw the cemetery at all, even though the course passed right by it. I didn't see it all, sometimes lost in my own thoughts, and never allowing myself to lollygag, even if my walk slowed.
The team Nice View From Behind passed me by and I gave a cheer. Then I began to notice others in our division go by. I struggled to keep some within striking distance for our last runner, but the difference between walk and run was vast. Four miles became five and the time to go seemed almost pleasant and manageable. Aided by a salty pretzel, I passed and was passed and passed and was passed again by one of the ultra-marathoners. Being in a battle, I on my 8 mile walk and he on his 100 mile run, seemed strange, almost wrong, and yet still a little motivating.
As we neared mile 6, I was passed by a division competitor who then slowed to a walk. I passed him, but soon he passed me again. He didn't last long though and by mile 7, my walk was once again closing in on him. They'd radioed in that my finish was coming, probably still 26 minutes away, but still coming and I knew that FFF would be waiting.
I wanted to close the gap on my competition, but I had no other walking gear. I kept my man in site for some time. Then as the signs on the road read 1/2 a mile to go, my eyes started to water. Desperately, I wanted to gallop. I wanted to close out the race with a wicked kick. I wanted to support my team with speed. I wanted to do what I do well. I wanted to run, not walk. I wanted to test my guts and my mettle against those other runners around me. I wanted to prove that I was runner, to hear my lungs heave and my heart beat and to feel that exhausted satisfaction of the finish line. I wiped my eyes and steadied my walk. I was a walker today. Paul would close the gap. Despite what my head and my heart and my lungs told me, my side, my groin, my back had been telling me for weeks not to run. I'd gone 8 miles not running. There was no reason not to go .4 miles more as a walker.
In about 1 hour and 53 minutes, I'd covered the course and handed the now nearly dry wristband of joy to Paul for FFF's final leg. Darkness was moments away and the full moon was rising.
The team had packed the tent in my absence. My legs did have more soreness than I expected. I wobbled just a touch as we packed up a little more and waited to celebrate with Paul.
He came in 11 hours and 25 minutes after we'd begun. He'd had to walk a bit in the last leg, but still finished strong. He grabbed more cold wet towels and we celebrated with rest and dance moves. Marie, Matt, Paul and I relished our collective success, our very different days, and our shared joy. We relished it as we snacked and talked our way, sometimes delirious way, home.
Maybe the body and the legs didn't get better as the day wore on, but it did get better. There's a reward in trying and a reward in finishing and there's a reward in doing it together. Thanks, team.
*Matt did clarify that he only meant in the context of getting more tired in a long distance race and not in general.
It doesn't get better. It only gets worse. -Matt
We arrived just before 10 PM, Bull, Murray, Matt, and I, taking Philly and a bit of silly, in the dark of night. Our directions weren't clear, and yet, when we stopped and got of of the car we found ourselves just outside of the campsite. At that point, it was more city park, more make-out spot, more odd place to be after dark than anything else. Just on the other side of the building where the indomitable Rocky climbed the steps in triumph, we set up Paul's house-sized tent by headlamp. We went to bed in one of only three tents on the site and woke to a growing tent city.
The race started at 10 AM. Our relay team of 5 had shrunk to 4, with me nursing an injury. I'd hoped that rest, acupuncture, doctor, stretching, miracles might lead to recovery, but as I tested myself soon after sunrise, I knew it was not to be. I readied my support.
As we talked to other runners in various iterations of the 20in24 event, we realized that flexibility abounded. Some runners were running 24 hours. Some part of relays running 4 laps each of the 8.4 mile course, some part of relays running only 1 lap each. We had 10 laps, 84 miles, but we could divide those laps any way we wanted. Recognizing that I wanted to do more than support and that the challenge of 10 laps by 3 individuals would be a big one, I offered to walk a lap. Maybe I could run a bit if things went well. Regardless, I could provide Paul and Matt a rest before they embarked on clearing 20 or 30 miles for the day and I could contribute more to the team than just support. It felt right and I hoped it would work.
As we circled museum drive looking for parking, Paul and Matt hatched a plan and negotiated who would run 4 laps and who would be left with only 3. Then it was 10 AM.
Paul kicked off the running portion of the adventure for the team known as Fast Fraction Five. I started my watch. Marie, Matt and I then made our way back to the tent and the shade, glorious shade, to wait for our team to be announced over the loudspeaker. We conversed and snacked and laid the groundwork for an enjoyable Saturday cycle. When Paul reached two miles from the finish of the loop, a PA announcer would interrupt the blaring music to let us know. At least that was the intent. With about 50 minutes gone by, I began to expect the announcement that didn't come. We soon headed back to the start line, just in case. As we arrived, so did Paul. We'd botched the first hand off, but only by a few moments as Paul came in right around 61 minutes. Matt bounded into action and left for lap 2.
Paul got a drink and his first wet towel and we returned to the tent and shade. Paul gave us an economics lesson while we waited for Matt. Team names like Gingerbread men, Dirty Birds 1 (and 2), B'more Charmers were read over the loudspeaker. Concepts like debt and deficit and Nutella were discussed. The latter less for economical reasons and more for snack reasons. Matt arrived early, but the announcers were on it. So, the team waited together for his arrival at the chute as he cruised in having looped in about 55 or 56 minutes.
Exact times seemed too much for me to track, but I busied myself with paying close attention to pace and making sure we were ready when the runner on the course came in. Although race day comfort is a personal thing, I also found myself trying as much as I could to be involved in the off-the-course comfort of the team. If all went well, I wouldn't walk until nearly 6 PM, so my day would be largely spent in support of FFF. I wanted to embrace that and being in the company of friends. At the early stages, it was easy. Marie was off and clicking through her first lap. Paul and Matt discussed their first loops and I tended to snacking, listening, and writing the early portions of this retelling. About 68 minutes later, off went Paul for his second lap.
We'd just passed the 3 hour mark and were sending out Paul for the fourth leg. The race was off to a good start. Marie toyed with idea of napping and brushed off compliments of her speed. We waited longer than expected for Paul. I thought I'd accounted for some delay, but I was nervous that we'd again missed the announcement on the loudspeaker. My nervousness was slightly misplaced, as Paul had some runner's trouble on his second loop. He still came in at 64 minutes, but he was a little pale and quite a bit rattled. We got him cooled off inside for a bit and calmed down a few notches while Matt made his second loop. The body was ok and there was time to rest.
The PA announcements came in spurts, interrupting the likes of Beyonce or Phil Collins in turn. Got the runs, On your left, Blank Romans, Molasses were all making their way through the course. We began to hear about the ultra-marathoners over the PA as well. A subdued celebration with light applause echoed for the scratch on the surface for those brave souls taking on the course on their own, lap after lap after lap.
Matt was back in 58 minutes. He handed off the yellow and sweat-covered wristband of joy to Marie for her second and final lap. Most relay teams were now in or nearing the first round of their runners. Our brave team was taking on their second lap already. The vibe in the camp was upbeat. People were happy to be done with a loop, proud of their accomplishment, and only tired in little ways. FFF still had a big day ahead, but Paul's swagger had started to return, and Matt looked well. If I looked closely though, I could see they both had a hollower look of fatigue that other campers would soon know. I knew and they knew they could go on, but we also knew they had a lot still to ask of their bodies.
While Marie was out, Matt hatched a revision to the plan. Paul readily agreed. We'd push me to leg 9, so that way Matt would be fresher if he was needed in all or in part for leg 10. I didn't mind, another 70 minutes of waiting to walk didn't change my day much at all. So it would be.
Marie came through in about 76 minutes, pushing us near the 6 hour and 22 minute mark for the day. The three who were acting as five, held us in fifth through 6 laps in the 10 lap division, as Paul took out again. After Marie cooled off and settled a bit, her first question was about Paul. Moments before Marie had finished her leg, and several minutes after he'd wearily declared the next loop would be a slow one, the color and confidence had returned to his face. Paul would knock out his third leg just fine. We could sense it.
He did while Marie basked in being done for the day. Matt knocked out a fine last leg of his own while I started to develop a few jitters. I had a two hour walk ahead of me. I knew I could walk 8.4 miles and I was fairly certain I could do it without much pain, but could I do it "fast" and more than that did I want to? The questions swirled in my head and the snack food rolled a bit in my stomach.
As I stood waiting for the hand off, I eyed young fast runners jealously. I told Paul that I was shooting for 2 hours to give him some sense of when to expect me. Matt came in, wished me well, and handed me the sweat covered wrist band. I stuffed it in my pocket feeling more disgust than joy and waddled off. As the perspiration of the sweat band seeped through my pocket, I turned the corner around the art museum, and picked off two others, one resting ultra-marathoner and another walker like me. As I searched for my identity as a walker, I was fortunate not to be passed by anyone until nearly 3/4 of a mile. Soon after the runners came by, but it didn't hurt to be passed. This was my pace and passing happened. It just did.
If we believe the mile markers, and I'm told we didn't, my first mile was in 14:30. At times, I glanced at the scenery. At times, I focused on my breathing and tried to manage or improve my nagging injuries. I found times where I was lost in the speed of my breathing and my walking, times where the world melted away just like it does when I run. I tried not to look at my watch much, knowing that I'd be out on the course for a good long time. I thought I'd found a groove and skipped right through mile two, but it wasn't true. Mile two came in another slow 14 minutes. The relative speed of the miles would get better, though.
I passed walking runners and runners passed me. Some exchanged positive words and others slipped by silently. I lost and found focus. I grabbed water or Gatorade when I passed by the relief stands. My steps weren't the steps of a runner, but my time and place were still measured by getting to the next mile. This sense of purpose, this fight for focus, these are reasons I run and the reasons that walking on this day were ok. I had time to consider my pain points and I had time to try to make adjustments to correct that pain. I had time to see some scenery. As I made the turn nearing halfway, the sun and the hills worked together to cast shadows on the bridges and the river, but not on the cemetery on the hill. The cemetery was bathed in evening light with shadowed bridges below. None of my teammates saw the cemetery at all, even though the course passed right by it. I didn't see it all, sometimes lost in my own thoughts, and never allowing myself to lollygag, even if my walk slowed.
The team Nice View From Behind passed me by and I gave a cheer. Then I began to notice others in our division go by. I struggled to keep some within striking distance for our last runner, but the difference between walk and run was vast. Four miles became five and the time to go seemed almost pleasant and manageable. Aided by a salty pretzel, I passed and was passed and passed and was passed again by one of the ultra-marathoners. Being in a battle, I on my 8 mile walk and he on his 100 mile run, seemed strange, almost wrong, and yet still a little motivating.
As we neared mile 6, I was passed by a division competitor who then slowed to a walk. I passed him, but soon he passed me again. He didn't last long though and by mile 7, my walk was once again closing in on him. They'd radioed in that my finish was coming, probably still 26 minutes away, but still coming and I knew that FFF would be waiting.
I wanted to close the gap on my competition, but I had no other walking gear. I kept my man in site for some time. Then as the signs on the road read 1/2 a mile to go, my eyes started to water. Desperately, I wanted to gallop. I wanted to close out the race with a wicked kick. I wanted to support my team with speed. I wanted to do what I do well. I wanted to run, not walk. I wanted to test my guts and my mettle against those other runners around me. I wanted to prove that I was runner, to hear my lungs heave and my heart beat and to feel that exhausted satisfaction of the finish line. I wiped my eyes and steadied my walk. I was a walker today. Paul would close the gap. Despite what my head and my heart and my lungs told me, my side, my groin, my back had been telling me for weeks not to run. I'd gone 8 miles not running. There was no reason not to go .4 miles more as a walker.
In about 1 hour and 53 minutes, I'd covered the course and handed the now nearly dry wristband of joy to Paul for FFF's final leg. Darkness was moments away and the full moon was rising.
The team had packed the tent in my absence. My legs did have more soreness than I expected. I wobbled just a touch as we packed up a little more and waited to celebrate with Paul.
He came in 11 hours and 25 minutes after we'd begun. He'd had to walk a bit in the last leg, but still finished strong. He grabbed more cold wet towels and we celebrated with rest and dance moves. Marie, Matt, Paul and I relished our collective success, our very different days, and our shared joy. We relished it as we snacked and talked our way, sometimes delirious way, home.
Maybe the body and the legs didn't get better as the day wore on, but it did get better. There's a reward in trying and a reward in finishing and there's a reward in doing it together. Thanks, team.
*Matt did clarify that he only meant in the context of getting more tired in a long distance race and not in general.
Monday, June 06, 2011
Five fingers, five toes
I finally ran in my Vibram five finger shoes. I've been walking in them a few times a week for a while. I work out in them, but I hadn't been on a run. They work my ankle support muscles and my calves, even on a walk. For the run, I was tentative at first. I found a park near Chicago. The ground was soft, a little muddy even. I warmed up properly. I trotted through the grass. I delicately placed my feet. I avoided tree roots and watched for drunkard's glass. I gingerly stepped over asphalt and sidewalk and tried to stay on the path. The single track wound around the way. I chased it and got more comfortable with the run. I sped up. My strides didn't lengthen, they had to quicken. My heels grazed the ground. My ankle creaked, but on I sped over grass and mud. Stepping lightly again over asphalt and concrete. Pace quickening. Choppy stops. Up the muddy hill I ran. All my toes engaged. I felt balanced even in the slippery conditions. I wrapped it up in 20 minutes. My calves and hamstrings both felt used. My shoes were wet with mud and sweat.
Man, do they stink now.
I finally ran in my Vibram five finger shoes. I've been walking in them a few times a week for a while. I work out in them, but I hadn't been on a run. They work my ankle support muscles and my calves, even on a walk. For the run, I was tentative at first. I found a park near Chicago. The ground was soft, a little muddy even. I warmed up properly. I trotted through the grass. I delicately placed my feet. I avoided tree roots and watched for drunkard's glass. I gingerly stepped over asphalt and sidewalk and tried to stay on the path. The single track wound around the way. I chased it and got more comfortable with the run. I sped up. My strides didn't lengthen, they had to quicken. My heels grazed the ground. My ankle creaked, but on I sped over grass and mud. Stepping lightly again over asphalt and concrete. Pace quickening. Choppy stops. Up the muddy hill I ran. All my toes engaged. I felt balanced even in the slippery conditions. I wrapped it up in 20 minutes. My calves and hamstrings both felt used. My shoes were wet with mud and sweat.
Man, do they stink now.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Other things cooking (more Ultimate)
I've got about six things that I've been meaning to post. Let me give the short version here and see if I can find my way back.
1. Vibram Five Fingers- I bought a pair after serious (for me) shopping. I haven't run in them yet, but so far I'm pleased. I like the theory of minimalist running.
2. Paul's Boston success- I followed along on a combination of Twitter, Facebook, and alerts from the race itself. It was this weird collective but lonely experience. It reminded me of the Internet.
3. Conference for Habit- The men had an up and down tournament, but beat Navy twice, once in a wild nail biter where a 9-2 lead became a 9-8 lead, became a 12-8 lead, became a 15-13 victory. That was the third place game. It turned out 4 of the 6 teams went on to Regionals, but at the time we thought it was only going to be three. It was the first D-III Conference after the reorganization. I'm giving it mixed reviews with Regionals coming up this weekend.
4. Regionals for the women- I didn't get to watch, but they held seed in a tiny five team region with only one bid to Nationals. Injury and absence proved difficult, but I think lessons were learned.
5. Elections and awards for Habit. It was a wacky fun night, but the Andrew Stillerman freshman of the year award went to Rich and the newly created Tada Gan Irracht award went to Ben who would also be named captain. There were senior cakes, hilarious underclassmen awards, and good fun as well.
6. Some combination of regionals, trying out for a team, and what I feel about next year. I still want the job as Ultimate coach, but I'm wondering if I'm the right fit. More discussion and reflection (at least in real life) on that to come. Leaning toward a mid-level mixed team, but haven't fully committed.
More later. Maybe.
I've got about six things that I've been meaning to post. Let me give the short version here and see if I can find my way back.
1. Vibram Five Fingers- I bought a pair after serious (for me) shopping. I haven't run in them yet, but so far I'm pleased. I like the theory of minimalist running.
2. Paul's Boston success- I followed along on a combination of Twitter, Facebook, and alerts from the race itself. It was this weird collective but lonely experience. It reminded me of the Internet.
3. Conference for Habit- The men had an up and down tournament, but beat Navy twice, once in a wild nail biter where a 9-2 lead became a 9-8 lead, became a 12-8 lead, became a 15-13 victory. That was the third place game. It turned out 4 of the 6 teams went on to Regionals, but at the time we thought it was only going to be three. It was the first D-III Conference after the reorganization. I'm giving it mixed reviews with Regionals coming up this weekend.
4. Regionals for the women- I didn't get to watch, but they held seed in a tiny five team region with only one bid to Nationals. Injury and absence proved difficult, but I think lessons were learned.
5. Elections and awards for Habit. It was a wacky fun night, but the Andrew Stillerman freshman of the year award went to Rich and the newly created Tada Gan Irracht award went to Ben who would also be named captain. There were senior cakes, hilarious underclassmen awards, and good fun as well.
6. Some combination of regionals, trying out for a team, and what I feel about next year. I still want the job as Ultimate coach, but I'm wondering if I'm the right fit. More discussion and reflection (at least in real life) on that to come. Leaning toward a mid-level mixed team, but haven't fully committed.
More later. Maybe.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Don't be cruel
The following scene remixes my Saturday from a week ago. I couldn't find a way to include a memorial for my neighbor Yelba, but somehow I think that's probably for the best.
I glanced outside to find six snowflakes on a windshield. The track workout is on, I thought to myself. After breakfast, a toothbrushing, and some unrelated thoughts playing pong in my mind, I looked again to find the white coming down hard. I checked my phone. I checked email. No one was going to give up. With nothing left to check, I headed out the door. Purposefully overdressed, running ahead of schedule, I tromped down 14th on my way to the track.
With a Lincoln look-a-like in one cage and a cardboard Washington Monument dipping down to enter the other, round one of the Elvis Birthday Fight Club was all but underway. Lincoln would land the early punches and take control of the phallus. What looked like certain victory was snatched away when a trap door opened in the cardboard masonry and out popped a six shooter.
The track was white with snow. The quiet seemed more morning related than snow-related, but once my partners arrived it was obvious we'd have the track to ourselves. We warmed up slowly, our footfalls tracing the oval in shoe sizes.
Lil' Dutch and more than her fair share of make-up were disrobing. The poor seating arrangement blocked anything below waist level and for the most part this seemed ok. Out came the tassles, on went the twirling. What a curious talent. With a mixture of awe, horror, amusement and something not entirely unrelated to arousal, I watched spinning tassles with my head bobbing in time.
Paul went out too fast in the first half mile. I couldn't keep pace knowing that I was under-trained and we still had seven halves to run. I wanted to slow Paul down, but wasn't sure that my pace was the right pace, so I let him go and sought a realist's pace while trying not to slip on snow. The rest lap came quickly and soon we launched into another half and another round.
Colonel Sanders seemed to handle the chicken easily, he may have even choked it, but then just as the match seemed to be in hand, he took to making a racist rant. It wasn't long before the crowd turned on him and his goose was cooked. The chicken would live to fight another day.
By the third half, Paul had come back down to earth and I had sped up slightly. I felt ok at our 5:30ish mile pace, but was unsure how long I'd last. I lasted longer than the giant cross-dressing man. He won his early round, but then fell to a better-dressed opponent.
I made it through four and five before the personal bargaining began. I'd do one and sit one I thought. Or, I'd sit now, so I could finish the last one ok. Yet somehow, like the burlesque dancer on burlesque dancer fight that broke out in the middle rounds, it seemed like I just didn't know when to quit. As shirts and boots were tossed aside and as I seemed to recover just enough each time, I survived five and six, then happened upon half number seven.
A robot was fighting a chicken and technical difficulties ensued. I stayed close through seven convincing myself that I'd be done after it was over. Then I couldn't quite quit. I started eight. I tucked in behind Paul and ran strong for 400 meters. Chicken wings were flying. Robots were dancing the chicken. Chickens were dancing the robot. It was a back and forth battle and my mind lost. I slowed considerably, and fell off the pace. Way off. It's not how I like to finish a workout, not how I want to finish races.
I think the chicken emerged victorious. I don't think that was a metaphor. Thanks Elvis. Thanks Paul and Bill.
The following scene remixes my Saturday from a week ago. I couldn't find a way to include a memorial for my neighbor Yelba, but somehow I think that's probably for the best.
I glanced outside to find six snowflakes on a windshield. The track workout is on, I thought to myself. After breakfast, a toothbrushing, and some unrelated thoughts playing pong in my mind, I looked again to find the white coming down hard. I checked my phone. I checked email. No one was going to give up. With nothing left to check, I headed out the door. Purposefully overdressed, running ahead of schedule, I tromped down 14th on my way to the track.
With a Lincoln look-a-like in one cage and a cardboard Washington Monument dipping down to enter the other, round one of the Elvis Birthday Fight Club was all but underway. Lincoln would land the early punches and take control of the phallus. What looked like certain victory was snatched away when a trap door opened in the cardboard masonry and out popped a six shooter.
The track was white with snow. The quiet seemed more morning related than snow-related, but once my partners arrived it was obvious we'd have the track to ourselves. We warmed up slowly, our footfalls tracing the oval in shoe sizes.
Lil' Dutch and more than her fair share of make-up were disrobing. The poor seating arrangement blocked anything below waist level and for the most part this seemed ok. Out came the tassles, on went the twirling. What a curious talent. With a mixture of awe, horror, amusement and something not entirely unrelated to arousal, I watched spinning tassles with my head bobbing in time.
Paul went out too fast in the first half mile. I couldn't keep pace knowing that I was under-trained and we still had seven halves to run. I wanted to slow Paul down, but wasn't sure that my pace was the right pace, so I let him go and sought a realist's pace while trying not to slip on snow. The rest lap came quickly and soon we launched into another half and another round.
Colonel Sanders seemed to handle the chicken easily, he may have even choked it, but then just as the match seemed to be in hand, he took to making a racist rant. It wasn't long before the crowd turned on him and his goose was cooked. The chicken would live to fight another day.
By the third half, Paul had come back down to earth and I had sped up slightly. I felt ok at our 5:30ish mile pace, but was unsure how long I'd last. I lasted longer than the giant cross-dressing man. He won his early round, but then fell to a better-dressed opponent.
I made it through four and five before the personal bargaining began. I'd do one and sit one I thought. Or, I'd sit now, so I could finish the last one ok. Yet somehow, like the burlesque dancer on burlesque dancer fight that broke out in the middle rounds, it seemed like I just didn't know when to quit. As shirts and boots were tossed aside and as I seemed to recover just enough each time, I survived five and six, then happened upon half number seven.
A robot was fighting a chicken and technical difficulties ensued. I stayed close through seven convincing myself that I'd be done after it was over. Then I couldn't quite quit. I started eight. I tucked in behind Paul and ran strong for 400 meters. Chicken wings were flying. Robots were dancing the chicken. Chickens were dancing the robot. It was a back and forth battle and my mind lost. I slowed considerably, and fell off the pace. Way off. It's not how I like to finish a workout, not how I want to finish races.
I think the chicken emerged victorious. I don't think that was a metaphor. Thanks Elvis. Thanks Paul and Bill.
Saturday, January 01, 2011
Happy New Year
1...2...3... Go. I woke up today, drove to Gaithersburg, got lost, managed a long line and an abbreviated warm-up and then found myself at the front of the starting group at a 5k. This is the third year of the last four that I've kicked off with this race, so the comparisons are getting a little too telling.
I didn't mean to start from the front. At some point, I had a conservative plan of running 5:50 per mile. In the front, that plan seemed foolish. Instead, I decided I should run with the gentlemen surrounding me. After all, I could keep pace, even if it was a faster pace than I wanted. I did keep pace, through most of a mile, which clicked off at about 5:27. Then my weak last few months of training and my ongoing battles with cold and flu-like symptoms kicked in and 10th place became 11th, became 13th, became clinging to 13th. The two mile came at 11:20 and the pain kept coming. I kept clinging to 13th place and finally sauntered home in 18:21. It was a battle and I probably cost myself 10 to 15 seconds with that start. The ego won out and I paid for it.
Now, I have all of 2011 to think about it. I didn't break the 5 minute mile in 2010. I've started off 2011 with the stuff of a freshman. It's time to get going again. Hello '11, here I come.
1...2...3... Go. I woke up today, drove to Gaithersburg, got lost, managed a long line and an abbreviated warm-up and then found myself at the front of the starting group at a 5k. This is the third year of the last four that I've kicked off with this race, so the comparisons are getting a little too telling.
I didn't mean to start from the front. At some point, I had a conservative plan of running 5:50 per mile. In the front, that plan seemed foolish. Instead, I decided I should run with the gentlemen surrounding me. After all, I could keep pace, even if it was a faster pace than I wanted. I did keep pace, through most of a mile, which clicked off at about 5:27. Then my weak last few months of training and my ongoing battles with cold and flu-like symptoms kicked in and 10th place became 11th, became 13th, became clinging to 13th. The two mile came at 11:20 and the pain kept coming. I kept clinging to 13th place and finally sauntered home in 18:21. It was a battle and I probably cost myself 10 to 15 seconds with that start. The ego won out and I paid for it.
Now, I have all of 2011 to think about it. I didn't break the 5 minute mile in 2010. I've started off 2011 with the stuff of a freshman. It's time to get going again. Hello '11, here I come.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
I just felt like running
Here's the poetic version:
'Twas the night before jingling and all through the house,
my hacking cough was scaring the mouse.
Paul was recovering from an intestinal party
Amelia announced that she'd be quite tardy.
Michelle tracked down friends from her personal history
while Bill disappeared leaving only a mystery.
The maybe's had all turned to no
while the tiny drops of rain wished to be snow.
Darkness and fog were the monuments' blanket
and four of us wondered if we could tank it.
Surrounded by Santa's caps and elfish hoisery
jingle bells were scattered from shoelace to rosary.
Packed in like sardines enjoying a can,
we heard nothing but jingling and saw bouncing man.
On Katie, on Michelle, on Dave, and Paul
running a 10k for one and all.
Paul bolted early like a missile toe should,
and conquered Hain's point before the rest of us would.
Next came Dave alone, then Michelle and Katie as a duet,
all ran as quickly as their bodies would let.
The fog never lifted, but spirits were bright
those elfish legs were quite a sight.
All four finished wet and strong,
to the cheers of a jingle bell song.
And then before the risen sun,
we said "That was fun."
Oh and also,
"Merry Christmas to all and to all a good run."
Results here.
Bill did join us and so we managed to place 14th as a team!
The prose version follows:
The runny nose started on Wednesday. The hamstring strain on Thursday. The ankle has been acting up for a couple of weeks and the back jumped into the mix early last week. As the nose was joined by a sore throat and a cough, I stopped pressing and started trying to heal. Cough syrup and vitamin C were in heavy rotation with sleeping.
As I went to bed last night, nursing my NyQuil, I wondered if running in the Jingle Bell 10k was wise. I still wondered at quarter to five when I woke up. I didn't want to miss the race. There was a loose team counting on me and it also happens to be the social event of my weekend. Sniffling, I borrowed a car and headed to the polo fields for the second Sunday in a row.
I arrived by 6 since I still needed to pick up my race bib. I found there are parking spaces in the middle of the night and the early morning. Under the cover of darkness and fog, I picked up my packet and bided my time, inefficiently, I might add. I spent some of the wee hour forgiving myself for taking a car to the race. Not every test of my mettle needs to test every single mettle I've got. I wasn't worried about my race performance, I knew it was going to be a rough day. My main worry was ramifications later in the week and general discomfort from cold and rain. The rain was light. At around 7, I gathered with pieces of a team and we casually made our way to the starting line. We eschewed the warm-up in favor of polite conversation.
I remained well dressed and warm up until start time. Even then, I decided to keep all my clothes on and choose comfort bordering on overheating over a swifter outlook. We missed "go" but followed the hundreds in front of us. I trudged out of the gate and Paul took off. I sped up after him, but could tell that I couldn't keep pace today. I crossed the mile in a comfortable 6:12. I passed a few more people and then found my battleground. In another 6:35, I crossed the two mile mark. Just under a third of the way through and finishing seemed possible.
The jingle bells were louder this year. Perhaps they echoed off the fog on the Potomac. Or maybe my breathing wasn't quite as heavy. There were good moments where I felt strong and fast and bad moments where I felt sickly. For a while "here comes Santa Claus" played on repeat in my head. I crossed the 5k just a hair under 20 minutes, my optimism was intact but fading. I chased some nice looking elf legs and traded places with several challengers in a see-saw battle.
I tried to recall the quote I'd sent out to the team- "It's
very hard to understand in the beginning that the whole idea is not to
beat the other runners. Eventually you learn that the competition is
against the little voice inside you that wants to quit." ~Dr. George
Sheehan. I never came up with it directly, but I felt it most of the way as I battled myself above all others.
I passed mile 5 right at 33 minutes. A sub 40 minute 10k still seemed possible, but it wasn't. I struggled mightily during the last mile and then closed as hard as I could. I finished in 40:53 in 108th place. I was nearly 4 minutes slower than last year, but I was ahead of some of my challengers of this day and behind some others.
Knowing that I'd been sick and unsure of whether I'd even run, I remembered that running fast isn't the only reason I run. Having a sense of purpose, a reason to wake up before the sun and be excited is a reason. So is meeting people and sharing an experience. So is competition which occurs just as vigorously at 6:35 per mile as it does anywhere else. I didn't feel wacky out in the rain. I just felt alive. It's hard to ask for more than that, especially before 9 AM on a Sunday.
Here's the poetic version:
'Twas the night before jingling and all through the house,
my hacking cough was scaring the mouse.
Paul was recovering from an intestinal party
Amelia announced that she'd be quite tardy.
Michelle tracked down friends from her personal history
while Bill disappeared leaving only a mystery.
The maybe's had all turned to no
while the tiny drops of rain wished to be snow.
Darkness and fog were the monuments' blanket
and four of us wondered if we could tank it.
Surrounded by Santa's caps and elfish hoisery
jingle bells were scattered from shoelace to rosary.
Packed in like sardines enjoying a can,
we heard nothing but jingling and saw bouncing man.
On Katie, on Michelle, on Dave, and Paul
running a 10k for one and all.
Paul bolted early like a missile toe should,
and conquered Hain's point before the rest of us would.
Next came Dave alone, then Michelle and Katie as a duet,
all ran as quickly as their bodies would let.
The fog never lifted, but spirits were bright
those elfish legs were quite a sight.
All four finished wet and strong,
to the cheers of a jingle bell song.
And then before the risen sun,
we said "That was fun."
Oh and also,
"Merry Christmas to all and to all a good run."
Results here.
Bill did join us and so we managed to place 14th as a team!
The prose version follows:
The runny nose started on Wednesday. The hamstring strain on Thursday. The ankle has been acting up for a couple of weeks and the back jumped into the mix early last week. As the nose was joined by a sore throat and a cough, I stopped pressing and started trying to heal. Cough syrup and vitamin C were in heavy rotation with sleeping.
As I went to bed last night, nursing my NyQuil, I wondered if running in the Jingle Bell 10k was wise. I still wondered at quarter to five when I woke up. I didn't want to miss the race. There was a loose team counting on me and it also happens to be the social event of my weekend. Sniffling, I borrowed a car and headed to the polo fields for the second Sunday in a row.
I arrived by 6 since I still needed to pick up my race bib. I found there are parking spaces in the middle of the night and the early morning. Under the cover of darkness and fog, I picked up my packet and bided my time, inefficiently, I might add. I spent some of the wee hour forgiving myself for taking a car to the race. Not every test of my mettle needs to test every single mettle I've got. I wasn't worried about my race performance, I knew it was going to be a rough day. My main worry was ramifications later in the week and general discomfort from cold and rain. The rain was light. At around 7, I gathered with pieces of a team and we casually made our way to the starting line. We eschewed the warm-up in favor of polite conversation.
I remained well dressed and warm up until start time. Even then, I decided to keep all my clothes on and choose comfort bordering on overheating over a swifter outlook. We missed "go" but followed the hundreds in front of us. I trudged out of the gate and Paul took off. I sped up after him, but could tell that I couldn't keep pace today. I crossed the mile in a comfortable 6:12. I passed a few more people and then found my battleground. In another 6:35, I crossed the two mile mark. Just under a third of the way through and finishing seemed possible.
The jingle bells were louder this year. Perhaps they echoed off the fog on the Potomac. Or maybe my breathing wasn't quite as heavy. There were good moments where I felt strong and fast and bad moments where I felt sickly. For a while "here comes Santa Claus" played on repeat in my head. I crossed the 5k just a hair under 20 minutes, my optimism was intact but fading. I chased some nice looking elf legs and traded places with several challengers in a see-saw battle.
I tried to recall the quote I'd sent out to the team- "It's
very hard to understand in the beginning that the whole idea is not to
beat the other runners. Eventually you learn that the competition is
against the little voice inside you that wants to quit." ~Dr. George
Sheehan. I never came up with it directly, but I felt it most of the way as I battled myself above all others.
I passed mile 5 right at 33 minutes. A sub 40 minute 10k still seemed possible, but it wasn't. I struggled mightily during the last mile and then closed as hard as I could. I finished in 40:53 in 108th place. I was nearly 4 minutes slower than last year, but I was ahead of some of my challengers of this day and behind some others.
Knowing that I'd been sick and unsure of whether I'd even run, I remembered that running fast isn't the only reason I run. Having a sense of purpose, a reason to wake up before the sun and be excited is a reason. So is meeting people and sharing an experience. So is competition which occurs just as vigorously at 6:35 per mile as it does anywhere else. I didn't feel wacky out in the rain. I just felt alive. It's hard to ask for more than that, especially before 9 AM on a Sunday.
Thursday, October 07, 2010
It all works out
The following anecdotes are connected, but I cannot prove it. That sounds far more compelling than it is. There aren't many moments when I wish I had a car, but Saturday I had one of those moments. Arriving by Metro at a Virginia high school, I discovered that I was actually supposed to be playing Ultimate at a Maryland middle school. Without a car, I had no hope of switching states to make even part of the game. I was stranded without Ultimate. Also, I forgot my public transit reading material. All of this, to quote some surfer dude, bummed me out.
In order to make up for missed Ultimate, I began to search for a suitable running replacement on Sunday morning. I found one, not too far away, but decided that the price and the early schedule did not suit me well, so I went about my normal schedule. As I awaited Sunday scrimmage with Habit, a sign went up on the wall behind me. It was a sign for a 5k. It was a sign for a 5k that started in 20 minutes. This late advertisement was perfect for me, but did suggest some level of disorganization.
Scrimmage time and race time supposedly coincided. I stood around waiting for players for the scrimmage and then decided that I could run a 5k and probably be ready for scrimmage when warm-ups concluded. My guess turned out to be a little off, but I went to enter the race. I expected a $5 race and was instead told that the entry fee was $25. Whoa, I said with a $10 bill in my hand. I don't need to race that much I thought as I backed up from the table. With a look to the left and right, the official decided that $10 were better than $0 and I was entered in the race. I was then asked if I'd be in the under 15, 15-21, or 21 and above category. I looked at the choices on the page and asked, "Do you want my age?"
"No, your time," was the reply
I'm no slouch when it comes to a 5k, but if anybody showed up on this Sunday morning to run under 15 minutes, they should really consider a return to division one college athletics. I picked the middle category and began to wonder what I was getting in to. I was getting in to laps on the track. That was ok, at least it was until they said that we'd be running 14 laps. I did some calculating in my head. I admit it wasn't sophisticated, but 5k is 5000 meters. It's an actual distance not a cute name for a run. The 14 laps on a track would each be 400 meters long. That would yield 5600 meters. This was no 5k. Still ok, but a little annoying since the track was probably marked with a 5k starting mark, it being a track and all.
We lined up on the starting line. No one was interested in lane 1, so I took it figuring that I wouldn't be too far off the lead. I tried to determine if passing slower runners should occur on the inside or the outside, but the race "official" could only tell me to use good running etiquette. That was really no help at all.
We heard go and we ran. For the first 400-800 meters, I led and tried to control my pace to be right at 6 minutes per mile. I heard footsteps and wondered how long they would be present. Soon they died off as I held my pace. It was almost right at 6 minutes at the mile. I was responsibly counting my laps which turned out to be fortunate when the "official" asked me what lap I was on. I focused harder on not losing track of my laps after that. I kept clicking through at slightly under 6 minutes per mile pace and as I felt comfortable began to speed up a bit. Round and round and round I went. I kicked it in as best I could the last two laps, ran 20:15, shook a couple of hands, and then walked away to be present at Ultimate practice. It was strangely disconnected and satisfying.
As I was leaving, someone called out to me, "Come get your prize." They seemed unsure about something, so I assumed it was a joke, but no, there was a prize. Someday soon, I'll bowl for free. The spoils. The spoils.
The following anecdotes are connected, but I cannot prove it. That sounds far more compelling than it is. There aren't many moments when I wish I had a car, but Saturday I had one of those moments. Arriving by Metro at a Virginia high school, I discovered that I was actually supposed to be playing Ultimate at a Maryland middle school. Without a car, I had no hope of switching states to make even part of the game. I was stranded without Ultimate. Also, I forgot my public transit reading material. All of this, to quote some surfer dude, bummed me out.
In order to make up for missed Ultimate, I began to search for a suitable running replacement on Sunday morning. I found one, not too far away, but decided that the price and the early schedule did not suit me well, so I went about my normal schedule. As I awaited Sunday scrimmage with Habit, a sign went up on the wall behind me. It was a sign for a 5k. It was a sign for a 5k that started in 20 minutes. This late advertisement was perfect for me, but did suggest some level of disorganization.
Scrimmage time and race time supposedly coincided. I stood around waiting for players for the scrimmage and then decided that I could run a 5k and probably be ready for scrimmage when warm-ups concluded. My guess turned out to be a little off, but I went to enter the race. I expected a $5 race and was instead told that the entry fee was $25. Whoa, I said with a $10 bill in my hand. I don't need to race that much I thought as I backed up from the table. With a look to the left and right, the official decided that $10 were better than $0 and I was entered in the race. I was then asked if I'd be in the under 15, 15-21, or 21 and above category. I looked at the choices on the page and asked, "Do you want my age?"
"No, your time," was the reply
I'm no slouch when it comes to a 5k, but if anybody showed up on this Sunday morning to run under 15 minutes, they should really consider a return to division one college athletics. I picked the middle category and began to wonder what I was getting in to. I was getting in to laps on the track. That was ok, at least it was until they said that we'd be running 14 laps. I did some calculating in my head. I admit it wasn't sophisticated, but 5k is 5000 meters. It's an actual distance not a cute name for a run. The 14 laps on a track would each be 400 meters long. That would yield 5600 meters. This was no 5k. Still ok, but a little annoying since the track was probably marked with a 5k starting mark, it being a track and all.
We lined up on the starting line. No one was interested in lane 1, so I took it figuring that I wouldn't be too far off the lead. I tried to determine if passing slower runners should occur on the inside or the outside, but the race "official" could only tell me to use good running etiquette. That was really no help at all.
We heard go and we ran. For the first 400-800 meters, I led and tried to control my pace to be right at 6 minutes per mile. I heard footsteps and wondered how long they would be present. Soon they died off as I held my pace. It was almost right at 6 minutes at the mile. I was responsibly counting my laps which turned out to be fortunate when the "official" asked me what lap I was on. I focused harder on not losing track of my laps after that. I kept clicking through at slightly under 6 minutes per mile pace and as I felt comfortable began to speed up a bit. Round and round and round I went. I kicked it in as best I could the last two laps, ran 20:15, shook a couple of hands, and then walked away to be present at Ultimate practice. It was strangely disconnected and satisfying.
As I was leaving, someone called out to me, "Come get your prize." They seemed unsure about something, so I assumed it was a joke, but no, there was a prize. Someday soon, I'll bowl for free. The spoils. The spoils.
Monday, May 31, 2010
There's bubble in your eye, sucka
Nostalgiaville, USA- In the process of cleaning out my folks' basement, I have discovered many interesting items. I'm a little dismayed by my attitude toward the baseball cards for instance. I have a box full of them. Most are housed in plastic sleeves and organized by team. I'm no longer interested in them, but clearly I spent a big chunk of 1988-1990 buying, trading, and organizing them. It seems callous to toss them. Initially I pulled out the Royals and the Cardinals cards, along with a few pitchers that I followed- Dwight Gooden, Oral Hershesier, Roger Clemens, but then I realized that I didn't really want to keep those collections either. It's time to part ways with a box full of cards. I'm struggling with the trashing (whatever form it may take) of something that at one time was so valuable in time and money. It's hitting me a little hard.
The next item to hit me hard is one that I've been searching for. Earlier this month, I ran a brisk 10k in 36:58. I was pretty proud of it. Since I've only run a few 10k races in my life I figured this one had to be approaching my PR, or personal record. I asked my parents to take a look to see if they could locate results from the only 10k race I remembered from high school. They had no luck finding the results. I asked a friend if he had the results and he figured he lost the results in a move. I was starting to think that I should just call it. Maybe I ran 36:30 in high school. I could go after 36:30.
Welllll, it looks like I didn't give high school me enough credit. I found the results. In '95, I ran 35:40. In '97, I ran 34:43. I need to shave about 22 seconds PER mile off of my time. Um. I'm afraid that means that I have a lot more lifting and running to do. I really thought the 10k time was the most reachable. The course is very flat and of my events, that one probably comes closest.
For comparison sake, let's look at some figures. Most recent mile: 4.41. Best: 4.18. Difference of 23 seconds, over 1 mile. Most recent 5k: 17.11. Best: 15:46. Difference of 1 minute 25 seconds over 3.1 miles or 27 seconds per mile. Looks like this is all pretty close, but the 10k seems most reachable.
It's time to get to work, or at least it's time to get back to cleaning up the basement.
Nostalgiaville, USA- In the process of cleaning out my folks' basement, I have discovered many interesting items. I'm a little dismayed by my attitude toward the baseball cards for instance. I have a box full of them. Most are housed in plastic sleeves and organized by team. I'm no longer interested in them, but clearly I spent a big chunk of 1988-1990 buying, trading, and organizing them. It seems callous to toss them. Initially I pulled out the Royals and the Cardinals cards, along with a few pitchers that I followed- Dwight Gooden, Oral Hershesier, Roger Clemens, but then I realized that I didn't really want to keep those collections either. It's time to part ways with a box full of cards. I'm struggling with the trashing (whatever form it may take) of something that at one time was so valuable in time and money. It's hitting me a little hard.
The next item to hit me hard is one that I've been searching for. Earlier this month, I ran a brisk 10k in 36:58. I was pretty proud of it. Since I've only run a few 10k races in my life I figured this one had to be approaching my PR, or personal record. I asked my parents to take a look to see if they could locate results from the only 10k race I remembered from high school. They had no luck finding the results. I asked a friend if he had the results and he figured he lost the results in a move. I was starting to think that I should just call it. Maybe I ran 36:30 in high school. I could go after 36:30.
Welllll, it looks like I didn't give high school me enough credit. I found the results. In '95, I ran 35:40. In '97, I ran 34:43. I need to shave about 22 seconds PER mile off of my time. Um. I'm afraid that means that I have a lot more lifting and running to do. I really thought the 10k time was the most reachable. The course is very flat and of my events, that one probably comes closest.
For comparison sake, let's look at some figures. Most recent mile: 4.41. Best: 4.18. Difference of 23 seconds, over 1 mile. Most recent 5k: 17.11. Best: 15:46. Difference of 1 minute 25 seconds over 3.1 miles or 27 seconds per mile. Looks like this is all pretty close, but the 10k seems most reachable.
It's time to get to work, or at least it's time to get back to cleaning up the basement.
Monday, May 17, 2010
The three branches of Sunday
Only the judicial branch was not well represented in my Sunday plans. Decisions were made, judgments were passed, and the day reigned supreme, but it was the executive branch, I watched eight episodes of season four The West Wing while recovering, and the legislative branch, I ran a 10k on Capitol Hill, that were the highlights.
I didn’t want to miss a race so close to home. ML and I tried to form a team named “Declarations of Swiftness”, but we ended up declaring our speed only to one another. Fortunately, that was quite enjoyable. I did the wrong things in preparation for the race. I played Ultimate on Saturday. I stayed up and on my feet and even had a few drinks Saturday night. Yet, at the sound of my alarm on Sunday morning, I was ready to go. To me this either highlights the fortunes of genetics or highlights the importance of the more general decisions that get made in life rather than the ones immediately preceding an athletic endeavor.
I endeavored to run reasonably fast. As usual, I hadn’t really trained for the specific race I was about to enter. I thought I’d go out a little slower than my general goal, say 6:15 in the first mile and try to build from there. Those with exceptional recall may remember that a similar plan was enacted for the 10k I ran in December. The story line is remarkably similar. I got distracted in my warm-up catching up with ML, but was still fairly ready when race time rolled around. At first, ML and I stood toward the front of the thousands, but as the minutes came ever closer to start time, I decided that I wanted to be nearly at the starting line. I moved up and chose a spot about three rows deep. At “GO”, the masses bolted. I was immediately stuck behind two young girls, but soon found a space on the outside and made a move. I’d guess about fifty runners stretched out ahead of me. I ran down the center line of the road and watched as the pack began to spread. At the first real waggle around a park, I could still see the leaders moving at lickety-split speed. I was up on my toes and making comfortable, but fast strides. Strategy was again out the window and I crossed the mile at 5:55.
Right on cue, C appeared on the street to cheer me on. In a moment of frivolity, I crossed over to give her a high-five. It was nice to have the support. I returned to the pack and continued to pick away at the runners in front of me. Meanwhile, the sun continued to pick away the clouds. It had started as a cool morning, perfect running weather, but as we neared RFK, the sun sent telegrams from summertime and the wind picked up too. It was lonely, hot, and windy as we rounded the stadium. I made note of it and then focused again on the runner in front of me. I spent a lot of time focused on the next runner. I remember very little of the scenery, even less than usual. My focus was quite pleasing. My thirst, less so.
Back up the slightest hill on the out and back section, I crossed the two mile in 11:50. My pace had not changed. I grabbed at the early water stop with some greed, told C to look for M and went back to my business of chasing backs. I don’t know what happened to mile three or really four. I know I crossed mile four at 23:35 and was pleased that I’d sped up just slightly. I did wonder for a moment if I could hold my pace, but mostly I kept looking ahead. As the pack in front of me broke apart little by little and more runners had separation from each other, I kept passing one at a time. As we neared the downhill of Capitol Hill, I tried hard to encourage one runner to join me in my chase. He wasn’t the only runner I encouraged to try to combine forces, but he was the only one that responded. He stuck with me for several hundred meters as we closed in on another runner. With only a few more meters to go before we closed the gap though, I seemed to lose my new partner. I moved past another and another as we made our way down the hill. I watched the leaders rip by as they made their way through the last turnaround. Third place followed soon after. With a slight estimate, I figured that I was currently running in about fifteenth place. Just before the turn, I picked off the woman who was in second place. By the time I reached the up portion of Capitol Hill, I had the leading woman in my sights. My motivation remained steady and I put a target on her back. I was still closing the gap at about three-quarters of the way up the hill when I couldn’t close any more. I lost a few steps in that last quarter of the hill and a bit more at the crest. It wasn’t a lot, but it was noticeable. I was still moving well, but my legs no longer seemed to be moving at quite the same pace.
At the six mile mark, I was able to recover a little and I began to close the gap a bit. I raced past photographers and I heard the click of their shutters. As soon as I went by I heard more clicks. I hadn’t been passed for miles and I really didn’t want to be passed now. I tried to surge. When I finally turned the corner and could see the finish line, I gave a pretty good kick, but I knew that I was really only fighting to hold off challengers behind me. I could not challenge the woman in front of me.
It was a good race. I ran nine seconds faster than I did in December. My time was 36:58. I placed fourteenth overall and fifth in my age group. I’m pleased.
Only the judicial branch was not well represented in my Sunday plans. Decisions were made, judgments were passed, and the day reigned supreme, but it was the executive branch, I watched eight episodes of season four The West Wing while recovering, and the legislative branch, I ran a 10k on Capitol Hill, that were the highlights.
I didn’t want to miss a race so close to home. ML and I tried to form a team named “Declarations of Swiftness”, but we ended up declaring our speed only to one another. Fortunately, that was quite enjoyable. I did the wrong things in preparation for the race. I played Ultimate on Saturday. I stayed up and on my feet and even had a few drinks Saturday night. Yet, at the sound of my alarm on Sunday morning, I was ready to go. To me this either highlights the fortunes of genetics or highlights the importance of the more general decisions that get made in life rather than the ones immediately preceding an athletic endeavor.
I endeavored to run reasonably fast. As usual, I hadn’t really trained for the specific race I was about to enter. I thought I’d go out a little slower than my general goal, say 6:15 in the first mile and try to build from there. Those with exceptional recall may remember that a similar plan was enacted for the 10k I ran in December. The story line is remarkably similar. I got distracted in my warm-up catching up with ML, but was still fairly ready when race time rolled around. At first, ML and I stood toward the front of the thousands, but as the minutes came ever closer to start time, I decided that I wanted to be nearly at the starting line. I moved up and chose a spot about three rows deep. At “GO”, the masses bolted. I was immediately stuck behind two young girls, but soon found a space on the outside and made a move. I’d guess about fifty runners stretched out ahead of me. I ran down the center line of the road and watched as the pack began to spread. At the first real waggle around a park, I could still see the leaders moving at lickety-split speed. I was up on my toes and making comfortable, but fast strides. Strategy was again out the window and I crossed the mile at 5:55.
Right on cue, C appeared on the street to cheer me on. In a moment of frivolity, I crossed over to give her a high-five. It was nice to have the support. I returned to the pack and continued to pick away at the runners in front of me. Meanwhile, the sun continued to pick away the clouds. It had started as a cool morning, perfect running weather, but as we neared RFK, the sun sent telegrams from summertime and the wind picked up too. It was lonely, hot, and windy as we rounded the stadium. I made note of it and then focused again on the runner in front of me. I spent a lot of time focused on the next runner. I remember very little of the scenery, even less than usual. My focus was quite pleasing. My thirst, less so.
Back up the slightest hill on the out and back section, I crossed the two mile in 11:50. My pace had not changed. I grabbed at the early water stop with some greed, told C to look for M and went back to my business of chasing backs. I don’t know what happened to mile three or really four. I know I crossed mile four at 23:35 and was pleased that I’d sped up just slightly. I did wonder for a moment if I could hold my pace, but mostly I kept looking ahead. As the pack in front of me broke apart little by little and more runners had separation from each other, I kept passing one at a time. As we neared the downhill of Capitol Hill, I tried hard to encourage one runner to join me in my chase. He wasn’t the only runner I encouraged to try to combine forces, but he was the only one that responded. He stuck with me for several hundred meters as we closed in on another runner. With only a few more meters to go before we closed the gap though, I seemed to lose my new partner. I moved past another and another as we made our way down the hill. I watched the leaders rip by as they made their way through the last turnaround. Third place followed soon after. With a slight estimate, I figured that I was currently running in about fifteenth place. Just before the turn, I picked off the woman who was in second place. By the time I reached the up portion of Capitol Hill, I had the leading woman in my sights. My motivation remained steady and I put a target on her back. I was still closing the gap at about three-quarters of the way up the hill when I couldn’t close any more. I lost a few steps in that last quarter of the hill and a bit more at the crest. It wasn’t a lot, but it was noticeable. I was still moving well, but my legs no longer seemed to be moving at quite the same pace.
At the six mile mark, I was able to recover a little and I began to close the gap a bit. I raced past photographers and I heard the click of their shutters. As soon as I went by I heard more clicks. I hadn’t been passed for miles and I really didn’t want to be passed now. I tried to surge. When I finally turned the corner and could see the finish line, I gave a pretty good kick, but I knew that I was really only fighting to hold off challengers behind me. I could not challenge the woman in front of me.
It was a good race. I ran nine seconds faster than I did in December. My time was 36:58. I placed fourteenth overall and fifth in my age group. I’m pleased.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Shamrockin'
Thanks to public transportation, I was early to the St. Patrick's Day 8k. The city was relatively quiet and grey thanks to possible rain and the lost hour of daylight savings time. I considered a number of warm-up options, but finally settled on walking the course in reverse for a while and then starting my run in that direction before turning around to warm-up on the last mile to focus my finish. It was a perfect temperature for running, a bit cold for standing around, but just warm enough for the single layer during the race. I wasn't very nervous. I had a few flashes of pre-race jitters and I had to slow my warm-up down, but for the most part I was calm like Pennsylvania Avenue on this Sunday morning.
The race had a team element, like the 10k in December. Many participants from that group returned and we added in some new legs. We'd gone from Team Shiver to Shiver Me Shamrocks, ShiMeSham for short. People seemed genuinely excited to be together. I had trouble focusing on both racing and socializing, but I managed. MB helped me coax the team into a warm-up. I had us go through a similar route including the little out and back down 10th street that extended the finish just a bit. It was a strategic warm-up, but we didn't communicate it well enough and so still left a few people surprised.
The starting line was packed with green-clad runners. We stood and chatted as we waited for "Go". I again had trouble focusing on the race and the chatter, but found something soothing about being around so many familiar smiles. We were a ways back in the pack again, but it felt right, like we should stay with the team rather than forcing them out of their comfort zone or splitting apart.
Go. We went, slowly at first, weaving our way through green human traffic. There were four of us together who had similar goals. AS was the wild card, younger and faster than the rest of us, but he fell in with us for the early part of the race. MB, PJ, and I all had designs of running 5:50 miles and holding that over 8k. PJ moved first and we dodged and weaved trying to follow. He seemed to be moving fast and I worried that my pacing was poor or I wasn't having a good day. I had to let him go a little bit and found that I wasn't moving as well as I'd thought. I had a first mile split of 5:57. I was in a little hole, but I figured it was as much the slow start as anything. After we climbed the hill near Columbus Circle and turned back, the four of us began to bunch. MB and I traded the lead a few times while still passing people at a good clip. The advantage of starting back is that passing people goes on for long stretches. We chewed through another 9 minutes that I barely noticed or remembered. I didn't see a two mile marker or much else. Only the sounds of a few clapping hands and the light thunder of hundreds of shuffling feet remain in my memory. AS silently made a move. He looked silky smooth and was made smoother by my awareness of MB's labored breathing. I looked over at MB and offered up an encouraging word as I strode after AS. I crossed the 5k mark at 17:56 (18:03 by the officials). I tried to do calculations in my head, but had to settle for a general awareness that I was nearly on schedule and maybe a bit ahead. I was still near AS; MB and PJ weren't far behind. As we approached the four mile mark, AS began to pull away. I offered up some encouragement and lost a few steps, grabbed a drink and lost a few more. AS was out of reach with less than a mile to go.
In the territory I'd warmed up in, I looked at the 23:04 on my watch and called on the couple of mile-repeat workouts I had done. I knew I needed to run as I'd finished those, preferably in the low 5:40s and definitely under 6 minutes. I made my move, which after looking at some time charts, seems to mean I didn't slow down. We made the turn on 10th and I looked back to see MB gaining. After being unable to hang with him in the 10k, I really wanted to edge him out in the 8k. He propelled me forward. My other goal was trying to track down all the green. I wanted to beat everyone in that hue. I may not have succeeded, but I came very close. I chased a guy in a Clark jersey, but I couldn't quite catch him and finished in 28:41.
I pause from the narrative for a moment to try to determine how that could be. My original goal had been 29:30, just a few seconds per mile faster than my 10k time. My adjusted goal had become 29 to 29:10, about 10 seconds per mile faster. Here I was at nearly 13 seconds faster per mile. I believe there were a number of contributing factors, both the workouts of mile repeats and the presence of AS as well as the team, the temperature, and general success with my new eating plan and the use of an energy gel before the race to fight off hunger. Based on various race time calculators from the 10k, I should have run about 29 minutes*. I like to think it was more than just a good day.
Back in the race, MB came in ten seconds later and PJ soon after. We cheered on the others and returned to our chatting. I was pleased with the race and the results. We thought that third place as a team was a possibility after our fourth place finish in December. The decision to stay for the awards was made and it turned out to be a good one. Not only did we win prizes in the raffle, but we also picked up three age division awards; I snagged second (Update: Now third, apparently they lost somebody) in the 30-34 category (after removing the four who were in the top ten, so really I was sixth). That meant a gift certificate and a new green shirt! The winning wasn't over though, as they announced the team victor and that team was Shiver Me Shamrocks. Jubilation ensued. Our top four (including at least one of the other gender, our captain SM) averaged 30:06. The second place team averaged 30:45. We were in very good shape and quite pleased. We gladly accepted the trophy and vowed to take to the streets again.
*I've never used a calculator like this for anything but curiosity, but based on my times for various events last year the thing matches up well. Only that mile really throws it off. This 8k is a little off too. Maybe good things are coming.
Thanks to public transportation, I was early to the St. Patrick's Day 8k. The city was relatively quiet and grey thanks to possible rain and the lost hour of daylight savings time. I considered a number of warm-up options, but finally settled on walking the course in reverse for a while and then starting my run in that direction before turning around to warm-up on the last mile to focus my finish. It was a perfect temperature for running, a bit cold for standing around, but just warm enough for the single layer during the race. I wasn't very nervous. I had a few flashes of pre-race jitters and I had to slow my warm-up down, but for the most part I was calm like Pennsylvania Avenue on this Sunday morning.
The race had a team element, like the 10k in December. Many participants from that group returned and we added in some new legs. We'd gone from Team Shiver to Shiver Me Shamrocks, ShiMeSham for short. People seemed genuinely excited to be together. I had trouble focusing on both racing and socializing, but I managed. MB helped me coax the team into a warm-up. I had us go through a similar route including the little out and back down 10th street that extended the finish just a bit. It was a strategic warm-up, but we didn't communicate it well enough and so still left a few people surprised.
The starting line was packed with green-clad runners. We stood and chatted as we waited for "Go". I again had trouble focusing on the race and the chatter, but found something soothing about being around so many familiar smiles. We were a ways back in the pack again, but it felt right, like we should stay with the team rather than forcing them out of their comfort zone or splitting apart.
Go. We went, slowly at first, weaving our way through green human traffic. There were four of us together who had similar goals. AS was the wild card, younger and faster than the rest of us, but he fell in with us for the early part of the race. MB, PJ, and I all had designs of running 5:50 miles and holding that over 8k. PJ moved first and we dodged and weaved trying to follow. He seemed to be moving fast and I worried that my pacing was poor or I wasn't having a good day. I had to let him go a little bit and found that I wasn't moving as well as I'd thought. I had a first mile split of 5:57. I was in a little hole, but I figured it was as much the slow start as anything. After we climbed the hill near Columbus Circle and turned back, the four of us began to bunch. MB and I traded the lead a few times while still passing people at a good clip. The advantage of starting back is that passing people goes on for long stretches. We chewed through another 9 minutes that I barely noticed or remembered. I didn't see a two mile marker or much else. Only the sounds of a few clapping hands and the light thunder of hundreds of shuffling feet remain in my memory. AS silently made a move. He looked silky smooth and was made smoother by my awareness of MB's labored breathing. I looked over at MB and offered up an encouraging word as I strode after AS. I crossed the 5k mark at 17:56 (18:03 by the officials). I tried to do calculations in my head, but had to settle for a general awareness that I was nearly on schedule and maybe a bit ahead. I was still near AS; MB and PJ weren't far behind. As we approached the four mile mark, AS began to pull away. I offered up some encouragement and lost a few steps, grabbed a drink and lost a few more. AS was out of reach with less than a mile to go.
In the territory I'd warmed up in, I looked at the 23:04 on my watch and called on the couple of mile-repeat workouts I had done. I knew I needed to run as I'd finished those, preferably in the low 5:40s and definitely under 6 minutes. I made my move, which after looking at some time charts, seems to mean I didn't slow down. We made the turn on 10th and I looked back to see MB gaining. After being unable to hang with him in the 10k, I really wanted to edge him out in the 8k. He propelled me forward. My other goal was trying to track down all the green. I wanted to beat everyone in that hue. I may not have succeeded, but I came very close. I chased a guy in a Clark jersey, but I couldn't quite catch him and finished in 28:41.
I pause from the narrative for a moment to try to determine how that could be. My original goal had been 29:30, just a few seconds per mile faster than my 10k time. My adjusted goal had become 29 to 29:10, about 10 seconds per mile faster. Here I was at nearly 13 seconds faster per mile. I believe there were a number of contributing factors, both the workouts of mile repeats and the presence of AS as well as the team, the temperature, and general success with my new eating plan and the use of an energy gel before the race to fight off hunger. Based on various race time calculators from the 10k, I should have run about 29 minutes*. I like to think it was more than just a good day.
Back in the race, MB came in ten seconds later and PJ soon after. We cheered on the others and returned to our chatting. I was pleased with the race and the results. We thought that third place as a team was a possibility after our fourth place finish in December. The decision to stay for the awards was made and it turned out to be a good one. Not only did we win prizes in the raffle, but we also picked up three age division awards; I snagged second (Update: Now third, apparently they lost somebody) in the 30-34 category (after removing the four who were in the top ten, so really I was sixth). That meant a gift certificate and a new green shirt! The winning wasn't over though, as they announced the team victor and that team was Shiver Me Shamrocks. Jubilation ensued. Our top four (including at least one of the other gender, our captain SM) averaged 30:06. The second place team averaged 30:45. We were in very good shape and quite pleased. We gladly accepted the trophy and vowed to take to the streets again.
*I've never used a calculator like this for anything but curiosity, but based on my times for various events last year the thing matches up well. Only that mile really throws it off. This 8k is a little off too. Maybe good things are coming.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Top 10 top 10 lists from the last 10 years as we head into 2010
I'm working on 10 lists to highlight some of my experiences over the last decade. I'm afraid that some of my lists are going to be more heavily weighted to the last few years because I don't remember stuff that well. I don't have all 10 lists yet, but I'll keep at it. Some of this may spill into next year.
Top 10 books I read in the last 10 years
10. Pistol: The Story of Pete Maravich
9. Count of Monte Cristo
8. Jitterbug Perfume
7. Harry Potter (I'm just lumping them all together, but I preferred the ones with Quidditch)
6. Ender's Game
5. Interpreter of Maladies
4. Prodigal Summer
3. The Perfect Mile
2. Bel Canto
1. Time Traveler's Wife
Top 10 years of the last 10
1. 2004
2. 2009
3. 2001
4. 2005
5. 2006
6. 2008
7. 2000
8. 2003
9. 2002
10. 2007
Top 10 songs played on iTunes (This is obviously skewed to the mid to late aughts)
10. Drunken Lullabies by Flogging Molly
9. Feel Good Inc. by Gorillaz
8. Pale Moon by Shannon McNally
7. Screaming Infidelities by Dashboard Confessional
6. These Boots Are Made for Walkin' by Jessica Simpson
5. Gracie by Ben Folds
4. Age Six Racer by Dashboard Confessional
3. Half Acre by Hem
2. The Comeback by Shout Out Louds
1. 1B by Yo-yo Ma, Mark O'Connor and Edgar Meyer
Top 10 Athletic Achievements (I really feel like I'm forgetting something)
10.6k victory
9. making HOV and contributing in the early season
8. consistent weight training (165 front squat!)
7. Return to Ultimate after the year (?) of the psoas
6. The Golden Cup from Wildwood
5. Sectionals '02 game-winning Callahan
4. Pacing MB to a 5-minute mile on the first try
3.breaking 30 minutes in a 5-miler PRs including 15:46 5k, 29:36 5-miler...
2. 4:41 mile, the fastest in quite some time by bunches
1. The training and completion of the Marine Corps Marathon in '04
1a. MUtants and the Peter L. Offense Sectionals '01
Top 10 TV shows (some on DVD)
1. Gilmore Girls
2. Buffy The Vampire Slayer
3. The Office
4. Friends
5. Project Runway
6. Coupling
7. Flight of the Conchords
8. Sports Night
9. Ed
10. Alias
I'm working on 10 lists to highlight some of my experiences over the last decade. I'm afraid that some of my lists are going to be more heavily weighted to the last few years because I don't remember stuff that well. I don't have all 10 lists yet, but I'll keep at it. Some of this may spill into next year.
Top 10 books I read in the last 10 years
10. Pistol: The Story of Pete Maravich
9. Count of Monte Cristo
8. Jitterbug Perfume
7. Harry Potter (I'm just lumping them all together, but I preferred the ones with Quidditch)
6. Ender's Game
5. Interpreter of Maladies
4. Prodigal Summer
3. The Perfect Mile
2. Bel Canto
1. Time Traveler's Wife
Top 10 years of the last 10
1. 2004
2. 2009
3. 2001
4. 2005
5. 2006
6. 2008
7. 2000
8. 2003
9. 2002
10. 2007
Top 10 songs played on iTunes (This is obviously skewed to the mid to late aughts)
10. Drunken Lullabies by Flogging Molly
9. Feel Good Inc. by Gorillaz
8. Pale Moon by Shannon McNally
7. Screaming Infidelities by Dashboard Confessional
6. These Boots Are Made for Walkin' by Jessica Simpson
5. Gracie by Ben Folds
4. Age Six Racer by Dashboard Confessional
3. Half Acre by Hem
2. The Comeback by Shout Out Louds
1. 1B by Yo-yo Ma, Mark O'Connor and Edgar Meyer
Top 10 Athletic Achievements (I really feel like I'm forgetting something)
10.
9. making HOV and contributing in the early season
8. consistent weight training (165 front squat!)
7. Return to Ultimate after the year (?) of the psoas
6. The Golden Cup from Wildwood
5. Sectionals '02 game-winning Callahan
4. Pacing MB to a 5-minute mile on the first try
3.
2. 4:41 mile, the fastest in quite some time by bunches
1. The training and completion of the Marine Corps Marathon in '04
1a. MUtants and the Peter L. Offense Sectionals '01
Top 10 TV shows (some on DVD)
1. Gilmore Girls
2. Buffy The Vampire Slayer
3. The Office
4. Friends
5. Project Runway
6. Coupling
7. Flight of the Conchords
8. Sports Night
9. Ed
10. Alias
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