Year End

2013 started off with a goal, running at least a half marathon every month for the whole year. Well, I did it*! Pause. Why the asterisk? Well, I need a couple more days to pull it off. It's hard to find runs in some months and December happens to be one of those months, so I need to spill over into 2014 by four days to accomplish my goal.  Even though I have to do that, I'm still calling my goal good!  Here are the totals for the year:

6 Half Marathons
4 Marathons
2 soon to be 3 25K's
and my hometown 5K that I'll include just because it's a race

For a grand total of 1,550.1 miles run this year!  That's damn impressive if you ask me. It's so impressive, I decided to treat myself to a new pair of shoes.

Night in the Castle, errr Dungeon?

Tis the season for some romance! I'm the real deal, the complete package. I know it doesn't seem that way, running all over town with my shirt off and shorts to impress the ladies like a typical jock.  Oh, there's so much more to me than the hot bod. To prove this, I figured taking my special lady out for not only a fine dinner, but also a night at a castle would only solidify (at least in my own mind) what a great guy I am. How do you think this fairy tale is going to end?

Before I blur the lines too much with my misty haze of the truth, I'll admit it was CT's idea to simply have dinner at the Castle and not my own. There, I said it, so I need to work on this romance thing.  While researching, I decided it would be my surprise to turn our dinner date to a full evening. Why not? We hadn't done anything like this before, why not go for the full experience and treat ourselves to something neither of us had ever done. Thirty seconds after clicking "buy", I got hit with a feeling that I rushed into my decision. Nah, everything will be fine, it feels a little drafty here. Thirty minutes later, curiosity got the better of me and that strange feeling after clicking buy got the better of me and I found myself checking some of the reviews.  Knight and Day (like what I did with that?), ugh! For every positive, there was at least one scalding awful review, what had I gotten us into?

Our stay at the Castle remained a secret until the day of, which I was proud of. The beans (not magic ones) were spilled only because I didn't want to be responsible for trying to pack everything we'd need for an overnight stay and thought it would be best to tell CT the plan. She seemed surprised, so either she's a good liar or it kind of worked.

Standing waiting to be checked in, that feeling came back. That same one that I felt purchasing this adventure, something just felt odd. This is an old Castle, ghosts maybe? Our room was nice, not four star hotel big city nice, but it had character.  Don't want to overuse odd, so I'll say strange to open the outside door and be in the bathroom, but hey, there are times when bathroom is the first room you want to hit, coming from a runner.

We took in the atmosphere of our room at first. I wouldn't say it felt like a room in a castle, I'd probably say more of a Victorian feel. Do I even know what that is? Who is writing this? The novelty wore off soon enough and we wanted to explore the rest of the castle.  We we able to peak in a couple of the rooms that were still left unoccupied. Each had their own them and nitch. Occupied rooms had their doors closed, yet one of the staff opened one of the rooms for us.  It smelled weird and both CT and I discovered at the same time this room really was occupied, her by seeing a curling iron in the bathroom and me by seeing a cell phone charging. As if two mice, we scurried out of the room before being discovered, whoops!

This whole time, the staff were busy setting up dinner tables on our level and even the landing of the stairwell, hmmm. With our exploring ending with slight embarrassment, we figured might as well eat dinner.  Here is where our first real sign of trouble started. "Oh, we have two Christmas parties we are hosting tonight, so you won't be eating in the dinning room." The Princess and Prince were now banished to eating dinner on the landing of the stairwell. We can "roll" with the punches pretty well and it wasn't a big deal.  Many of the reviews were critical of one of the courses of the meal being a roll. That's just kind of funny to us, again only adds to the overall story.  It turned out to be a private dinner (in the stairwell), while I'd want to say it was completely reserved for us, I think it may have to do with that latter, more on this in a minute. Either way, it felt odd that nobody else ate dinner.

After dinner, we retired back to our suite. Wanting to relax, this is when we tried the TV only to find it wasn't functioning.  This might have been CT's breaking point.  She wanted to call the front desk and have it fixed. I explained, we are in a castle, they didn't have TV back then, we can survive without it (meanwhile playing on my tablet). There is another funny story here, but this blog has a rating system and I have to leave out some details to keep the readers guessing.

Anyway, fast forward about an hour and the Christmas parties are in full swing because the noise is a constant cocktail party bantering. Romantic! One of the things I really wanted to experience was the hot tub on the roof overlooking the city. I thought at night, in the winter, it would be something to remember for sure. The thought of walking out the room, through what essentially is dinner tables to get to the roof seemed like bad taste, even for me. Good thing I booked a room with a Jacuzzi tub! CT started the tub and came back to bed and at this point began to feel ill.  Remember the latter, well this is it and it is food poising.  There went dinner. On her return trip to bed, she reported that the tub was filling very slowly.  Hoping she'd feel better after a little nap, I continued to let the tub fill as I continued to play on my tablet, damn castles without TV! About fifteen minutes later, I decided to check the tub, two inches! That's it! At this rate, it will be another hundred years before this thing fills! This may have been by breaking point, but now it was simply a quest to see how long would it take to fill this tub, since my Princess had now fallen into a deep sleep.  You ready for this?  One and a half hours to fill!  At this point, I'd almost call it despair. Room problems, dinner problems, how did it come to this? Here I sit in a Jacuzzi tub, by myself, listening to the commotion of a party, watching my sick wife sleep.  Do I know how to have a good time or what?

The story isn't over yet, one last thing.  We had made early plans for the next day prior to booking this fiasco. Even though we had those plans, I still felt like we could get breakfast in at the Castle when I saw when the kitchen started. On the dot, we arrive downstairs to hopefully end this adventure on a positive. What did we find? Not even the ghosts were up, the Castle was dead.  Figuring we might as well pack the car, then come back and by then there would be activity, nope.  At this point, we simply shrugged our shoulders and left the key at the vacant front desk.

If this is how Kings and Queens live, they can have it.  We could have ordered pizza and stayed at local hotel and had a much more romantic, quiet, experience. Prior to staying CT had been worried that ghosts might be living in this Castle, but after our experience, I'm convinced any ghosts that had been living there have long since left for better living conditions.                      

Like a Turtle

Speed, it's what every runner wants. Few are gifted enough to have it naturally and even those who do are required to put ridiculous amounts of time and effort to keep it. It seems like I run crazy amounts, to make minimal gains, and I know it doesn't even scratch the surface of what real runners do.  It's kind of sickening, but at the same time, I have a whole new level of respect to them. Where do I fall between the Tortoise and the Hare? I'd like to think closer to the hare, but today I'm a turtle.

This is the last scheduled race before the end of the year. The last race should be special, right?  Well, special enough to get us out of town for a mini vacation.  Say hello, to Mackinac Island!  Who schedules a summer time island for the tail end of fall? Well, runners of course!  It's a chilly, dreary, day to start with as we wait for the ferry.  The line waiting for the boat looks much longer than the boat could hold. Who knew there were this many hardcore, boarder line psychotic people.  As it turns out, standing room only for our group of Superstars, but at least we were inside.  Oh, those poor suckers outside dealing with the wind and splashing water.  See, should have got to the dock sooner!  Speed is good, again.

This race has three options, the half marathon, a 5.7 mile run, and get this a 5.7 mile walk. Why would I even mention this?  Wait for it, suspense is best for story telling, the one time speed isn't best. I signed us up for this race before CT got injured. The race powers wouldn't let her defer to next year, but they would let her switch to the walk. Now, don't get me wrong, CT is happy to be doing anything, and although it's not running, it's something. You'd think that simply being able to participate and not having to only watch would be the icing on the cake for her. No, the icing on cake with the cherry on top, better make that a TURTLE sundae, was when she found out they also give awards for walking! Her eyes started sparkling like only hers can. Oh boy, competitive CT is back.

Once on the island, we all get settled. As you know, to me there is no such thing as a race that is too cold. That being said, it was damn cold with the wind.  Luckily, we could hide in the building prior to the start. To say CT was antsy, is an understatement, stressing over if she'd place in her age group, wanting first. She finally had to go line up early.  The shorter run and walk started earlier than my race, but I couldn't stand outside in the elements long enough to see her off. My plan was to stay in the warmth until about five minutes before her start, then see her off. Just as I was about to do that, sis Downhill, told me let her go, she's in her zone, she's starting to get snippy! That was enough for me, to heed the advice of Downhill. I know all about that zone, best to stay clear!

Holy crowded!  Lining up, it was a mob of people in a little space. I suppose it helped to keep warm, but it was almost impossible to even see where the start was. I had a vague idea of how the course would go. The first two miles were along the shore, then the next nine were over and around the interior or the island on "trails" and the final two were back on the same road we started on. This wouldn't be a flat course and I knew the biggest climb would be from about mile two to five. I figured I'd have an advantage here, but also didn't want to push too hard to burn too much energy, but based on this cattle heard of people, I was now worried about how big these trails were. This would go against all my race strategies, but told myself to go out fast to avoid getting stuck behind people if the trails were tight. Speed.

Splish, splash, goes the starting gun. Is this a triathlon? Two steps past crossing the starting line, two huge pools of water laid in wait. There is NO WAY I'm running thirteen miles in soaking shoes. I did my best impression of a basilisk (Look it up), again speed! Past the water, the challenge became dodging people and horse poop for the first mile. Going fast, trying not to spend too much energy making unnecessary moves, I felt pretty good, until some young kid blew by me. Speed. Things are thinning out and now it's just a matter of finding the grove. As I caught and passed small pockets of people, I couldn't help but notice how poor people race. Granted, running along the curves of the shoreline was scenic, but I was amazed at how many people stuck to the edge of the curve that they were running, without at least trying to being on the inside, let alone adjusting in an attempt to run the tangents. I caught and passed so many people when I really didn't feel like I was running faster than them, simply by cutting the angles. Hell, maybe I don't need speed, if everybody wants to add distance to their run.

Mile two is where the trail started.  Trail turned out to be an exaggeration. Dirt road is more like it.  Maybe starting out fast wasn't the best idea, because I clearly didn't have to worry about getting stuck behind people on a narrow trail. Before I could second guess my strategy, there was a huge mud puddle, bog, swamp thing spanning the entire width of the trail. Skirting the edge as best as possible seemed to work, but it was also very slippery. Now, I was glad I started out fast because the people were now thinned out enough were it became easier to plan and navigate around the water hazards.

Somewhere in this section the hill definitely started.  Passing a volunteer, she cheerfully announced to the woman in front of me she was woman number ten. As I pass, nothing. Does that mean I'm so far back I don't count for the guys? Or is it because I'm a guy, that I don't matter?  What a bunch of bullshit, or on this run I suppose it should be horseshit! Either way, it annoyed me. Sorry number ten, the hill is here and this (meaning being a head of me), isn't going down. There goes number ten, then nine, and eight females.

The middle miles leveled out. Figuring the worse was over, I felt pretty good, besides almost drinking part of a tree that had fallen into my water cup at a water station.  While not exactly on PR pace, I was doing much better than I thought I would considering I had just ran a marathon six days earlier.  But, then the rollers started.  Up and down, up and down, over and over. Scouting the course on the web, this caught me completely off guard.  Brutal. This is where Karma caught up with me for making it a game passing those women, starting too fast, and probably not falling in one of those many puddles. My hip started bothering me and all I could do was wish for the trail portion to end and road back to the finish to start.

Nine guys passed me and I swear they all looked like they were in my age group in this section. Even though I had slowed, I still was clocking some great miles. It frustrated me that these guys were catching me, but at the same time I knew my time was going to end up being pretty darn good. Damn hares, maybe they'll need a nap before the end.

Crossing the finish line, I somehow managed to run my third fastest half marathon time on what was a damn hilly course. I gave CT a hug, she was all smiles with her medal for her race. Then it was hobbling to the building to change and attempt to warm up. Inside, we checked the results. For me? Fourth in my group. Not fast enough to be the hare, but I guess I still have my hair, so those nine guys who passed me must have just looked old. Sure enough, CT the walker, placed first in her age group! Can you believe that? It shouldn't surprise, but she she is coming off surgery, and she still gets an award. Figures, the "injured" turtle of the group, is really the hare.                

TDS

The morning started staring at a shirt. A few years ago, all my race gear would be laid out the night before neatly organized, ready at a moments notice. My race bib would even already be attached to the shirt I was planning on wearing. It was done under the pretense of preventing anything being forgotten, but honestly it was nerves and the excitement leading up to the race. That adrenaline rush has worn off and waiting until the last minute, seems more natural to my style. Seven o'clock? Maybe, I did it because I didn't have the vast selection of shirts to choose from. Now, heck, I have my choice of color coordinating the shirt to the race itself, the theme, or matching my shoes. The choices, oh my! Green it is!

Preparing for this marathon has me very unsure of how things will go. On one hand, I know I haven't put anywhere near the amount of time or miles getting ready for this race. On the other hand, a few weeks ago, I crushed by previous best half marathon time. Then there's my hip. It's been bothering me off and on since that run. Some runs by mile two it's bugging me, other's it holds off until mile eight. Rested legs versus nagging minor injury, roll the dice and see what happens today.  Uncertainty, just like selecting a shirt.

Lined up behind the pace group I wanted to finish.  Planned my GU spots slightly different for this marathon. I'm always paranoid carrying too much stuff. My new plan to avoid The Wall, has me taking more GU earlier in the race, specifically at mile six and every three after than. Compared to about every six in previous marathons. That's a lot of GU to carry, so I intended to run with three on my body and grab the two free ones along the course. Three GU's loading down my short shorts, lets get this party started!

The first miles were easy and relaxed. It seems like I've run this course so many damn times now, I feel like I almost know where the pot holes are. By mile three, I had closed the gap of space I gave the pace group and it was starting to feel congested. Hey, there's Steve! I'll probably regret this, but felt it was time to build my pace group buffer.

Four to nine miles were a blur. Hey, there's Rob and Chris! Whoops, I missed grabbing a free GU as I passed by.  Then, there's the turn off for the half marathon people, lucky dogs!  Why do I do this again? At this point the light bulb when off and dawned on me that at least my hip isn't bothering me.

Ten to fifteen are the prettiest of the run.  Here, I'm still feeling very good.  I've taken now all of my GU's. My half split has me on PR pace.  Still, tons of miles to go, but most happy about not having to deal with my hip.

Sixteen, there it is, that slight twinge of there is just something not right with my hip.  In addition to feeling it, it's the first time I notice my time being slower than what I thought I was running.  This is where the fun starts. Did I mention how much I despise this part of the course?  At this point it's an out and back on this awful graded trail.  I swear that tracking devices also don't work here in this twilight zone of a trail and every mile is in fact two.  By eighteen, I was in definite pain and was feeling funny.  Figured, I'd muscle through it as best I could until twenty, then decide what goals I had for myself.

By twenty, I knew a PR wasn't going to happen.  I was still ahead of the pace group I wanted, but was just offered the worst flavor GU, which I turned down thinking I'd have a chance to grab another flavor, nope that was it.  For all my planning on increasing my GU consumption, I was going to end up using the same amount I've always used.  I didn't ponder this long because now in addition to feeling a little funny, hip, now had a new source of pain coming from my inner thigh.

Even though I was feeling funny, I knew the tell tail signs of chafing. What is going on here? I've only had this issue one race where I was stupidly pouring water on myself in an attempt to cool off.  Besides, the occasional water stop spill while drinking and running, I didn't think my shorts were getting that wet. Regardless of why or how, this was the most immediate problem, hip pain was a distant thought.  Between twenty-one and twenty-two, the pace group caught and passed me.  Once that happened, all thoughts of going for a time went out the window and surviving became the plan.

The final miles were ugly, but I wasn't going for style points either.  Getting across the line for Marathon number eight was good enough for me.  When I did cross, I'm not sure if I was more relived to be done with the damn thing or surprised to the fact with how bad my inner thigh hurt, my time was respectable. I'll spare you, the reader, with the gross chafing picture.  You are welcome.

So, what is TDS? Is it the condition that cause the chafing? No, maybe, yes. TDS, I'm labeling as That Damn Shirt. I've spoken about how I've got my little runner routines, how I do them, but I don't believe them.  Well, I've had it with this shirt!  Only bad races have resulted when wearing this shirt.  Prior to selecting it this morning, I ruled out how silly that superstition was, and tempted fate.  The result, TDS. The result, is you'll never see this shirt on me again come race day!  

 

For a Big Mac

A year ago, I stood injured and unable to start a race for the first time of my short career, the Park 2 Park Half Marathon.  It was my first race designated cheerleader and spectator, not runner.  There's nothing easy about running thirteen point one miles, but being forced to watch, taught me watching was WAY more difficult.  That was my first taste and hopefully the last of being injured.  This year, CT is only a couple days from getting surgery, so it should be obvious she's not running.  It's a catch twenty-two, she wants to watch and support me, but at the same time I remember how awful it felt to watch and not being able to run. There's really no way that I'd be able to talk her out of it, so here we go.

I like to think that deep down I believe in logic, things that make sense over the supernatural.  Sure, I've got a couple of my pre-race superstitions, but I'd like to think I do them more for repetition and comfort than believing they'll magically help me.  Driving to the race, both CT and I watched this amazingly bright shooting star come streaking towards the ground.  I asked if she made a wish, she did.  I did too, but mine was in fun, not because I believe it would come true, logic, right?

Marathon training is winding down.  Last week was the last (and my first) twenty miler of the season. Needless to say, my miles are down and that was evident because I struggled towards the end.  That has brought me to the conclusion that next month's marathon is going to run strictly for fun and I won't be trying to set any PR's.  Today's run is suppose to be a pace run, so I figured might as well do a half marathon, especially since I missed this race last year.  Since I'm not planning on running the marathon fast, I figured today I'd run today's race at the pace I'd like to be able to run a marathon at someday.  That pace would put me at about a 1:42 finish.  Not close to my PR time for a half, but I think a very respectable time.  Well, I thought it was respectable, until I verbalized out loud to CT what time I was planning on.  You would have thought I served her the sourest drink in the world, while kicking her bad leg, with the face she made.  It was truly awful! She then informed me that if I ran a 1:35, she'd buy me a Big Mac.  A 1:35?! Keep in mind my PR is a 1:36 and that day the stars aligned.  Ridiculous!  I haven't come close to running that fast in a while and even then, not for a half.  She is out of her mind!

I was still in shock as I wandered up to the starting line.  1:35? That is so damn ridiculous, where did she pull that number from?  No way I'm getting a Big Mac today.  "You sandbagging it today?", as I get knocked out of my stupor. That's the comment I got from a guy who typically runs with the local run groups.  Sheesh, rough crowd today, simply because I lined up behind the eight minute pace group! Sandbagging and 1:35?What's next?

Whoosh (my impression of a shooting star sound), goes the gun.  They changed the course and venue this year and it just so happens that about a mile out is the apex of the race with there being a spot where we cross three times in the race as course makes somewhat of a figure eight.  I had CT head there, so she could watch and dare I say support.  Sure enough, I can see her in the distance coming on on the first mile.  I also notice a running friend who happens to be a Gazelle just ahead of me.  First thing out of CT's mouth, "Don't let her beat you!".  As if a 1:35 wasn't a tall enough task, now I had this added pressure added.

It was nice to have a familiar face to run with, even if it did mean going faster than I wanted.  The first mile clocked in close to "my" projected finish time.  Mile two, right about my PR pace.  Uggh, should I really be doing this?  The miles did seem fairly easy and I didn't feel like I was pushing too hard, so I figured just go with it and see what happens.  Mile three, still at PR pace.  Mile four, there's CT again. The Gazelle decided to ditch her first layer, I debated, but ultimately decided if I were going to attempt to keep up with this Gazelle, I better take mine off as well.  CT became a gear check station as clothing went flying towards her. Mile four, even faster than PR pace! Is that right?

At this point, I had to smile a little as the Gazelle now began pointing out people who she was planning on catching. Hmm, that sounds like somebody else I know.  Mile five is in the books and WTF is wrong with my watch, it just said I did an under seven minute mile?  Mile six, again under seven.  I've never clocked under seven minute miles in ANY of my long races.  Oh man, I'm in some serious trouble because eventually running this fast is going to catch up with me and I'll be sorry.  I can't slow down though, team Gazelle is rocking. The Gazelle runs the place, I support the place with all the gear I buy! Teamwork! Seven, under seven. Eight, at seven, and it's only there because of hitting a water stop. This is crazy!

At this point, I was honestly really starting to get worried.  I haven't run close to this fast for this long in a while.  I figured the end was moments away at any point.  Then I noticed the Gazelle started to fidget with her shirt and bib more.  Did she push too hard and her were her wheels coming off?  Mile nine, it finally started to feel like work.  Between nine and ten, I could tell maintaining this pace wasn't going to happen.  I figured I'd attempt to make it to ten, then I'd free the Gazelle and let her finish at her own pace without me holding her back.  At ten, I told her this and decided I wasn't going to try to hang with her, but I also wouldn't take my foot of the gas either, maintain.  Mile eleven, not under seven, but still better than PR pace. Twelve, still better.  At this point I was involved with runner math in my head.  I figured I'd have my PR, but wasn't sure if I'd pull off the Big Mac.

It wasn't until the last mile finally clicked on my watch, that it sunk in that I could fall apart and run an easy pace mile and still get a 1:35.  Things were starting to get sore and tired.  It was great seeing CT on the final stretch to the finish line.  It was even better seeing her at the finish line standing next to the clock with a 1:33 on it!  Holy Sh*t!  Or should I say Holy Big Mac?

Never in my wildest dreams did I think I'd be able to pull a run off like this.  Makes me wonder what CT wished for with that shooting star.

The Beast

CT is injured. I can't even remember the last time I ran double digit miles. The last few short runs have been a struggle to complete. This isn't good. Expecting the ray of hope to turn this all around? Don't. Just when it seems like it can't get any worse, I find myself standing in the woods staring at the trail that brought me to tears last year in what I can only describe as one of the hardest runs of my life. Not exactly set for a confidence builder.

Prior to lining up for the start, I took off my team colors. Yup, running naked again. I'm starting to think there is something to this running with my shirt off. Shirtless might be like shorts in winter, there's some kind of immediate respect given. Who knew. Not one, but two people were suddenly asking me questions about the course like I'm the seasoned pro. Shirt on, nobody cares. Shirt off, noticed. One person even moved back further from the starting line based on my look. Never, would have expected this. If they only knew how worried I actually was!

Last year, I wasn't prepared at all for what I got myself into. This year, I had a mental image of the whole course, specifically where the climbs would be burned into my brain (probably from the pain). No idea if it will help, but don't plan on burning myself out too quickly, then get subjected to the course beating me to a pulp at the end. Run smart, run to survive.

I don't remember the sound of the start, just the surge forward. My mind was flooded with all kinds of thoughts from how great it is to be with my running group, to disappointed CT wasn't able to run, to worries like finishing like a wreck or letting certain people beat me. This year the course started with a loop on a different trail. We were all clumped together and people rushed to run around people on the narrow trail.  I figured I'd have thirteen miles to catch them, most likely on the hills when they will be walking. I probably did start slower than I should have, close to mile two, I heard a member of my group wondering why I was going so slow. This started, the awaking.

Here's the mile two hill. Three hundred sixty five days ago, I was already feeling tired and wanted to walk by the top of this monster. Now, it feels like I'm coasting. But something is happening, can you feel it? What started with an itch, "going too slow", became at twitch, who was ahead of me? Snarl. There's this other group that has team shirts. They existed before us, they have way more members, probably faster too, but I'm here to say we are better. My mind flashes to a quote a from one of my favorite movies, "The Cowboys are finished, you understand? I see a red sash, I kill the man wearin' it!". Well, replace red sash with the other team's shirt color and replace kill with passing and you get the idea. What's that smell?

Somewhere around mile six, I caught one of the people I had no business being behind.  Not to mention, one of the shirts got by me and disappeared ahead.  I spent far too long behind a clump of four runners who were practically on each other's heels.  I couldn't find my moment to get around all of them at once on the narrow trail, so waited them out and finally was able to get round them two at time when they slowed going down a hill.  Passed them, then getting by the person who had no business being ahead of me, it was now time to track down the shirt.  What the hell is this really long hair growing on my back?

No more holding back.  No more worries.  What's happening to me? Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrah! I'd rip my shirt off, but it's already gone. The Beast, RRRROAR is unleashed!  Hide the women and children, lock the doors, the hunt has begun.  Mile eight, the shirt who passed me earlier is now behind me. Then another, then another. Just when I think I can relax, off in the distance, there's a flash of that color through the trees again, plus I can smell'em! To be fair, not all were the other team's shirts, it just seems to be the "in" color, but it didn't matter, they were all going down!  The Beast don't care!  AaaaaHooo!

At eleven, I felt like I was leaving carnage behind. Severed limbs, ripped out hearts, from my victims unable to escape, maybe even a few broken trees. Should I be checked for rabies? Just before twelve, I was already planning my finish. I was hoping to find some mud or dirt that and give myself war paint under my eyes. With the hills done, I still had more to give and was planning on clocking a seven minute mile for the final mile. Then it happened, there's the finish line. It's over. Shit! That's it? It's over, I want more! Rrrrrrrrr! The Beast is still craving defenseless runners, but there aren't anymore. Is this what Bruce Banner feels changing back from the Hulk? Talk about anticlimactic. So much left to give, yet it's over. Hope The Beast didn't rip my shorts and they still fit me when the other guy comes back, otherwise this is gonna be embarrassing.  Dammit, and why when I changed back, did all the back hair stay?!

Finished 26th overall. Might not seem that impressive, but that's over twenty spots and over thirty minutes better than last year. What a difference a year makes, going from broken and questioning if I'd even run again, to becoming some kind of savage animal.

Oh and for the record, STILL the best group and a bunch of animals! (Or is that one Beast among a bunch of beauties?)

            

Hometown Pride

"What was your time?" The question caught me off guard.  It's the first time somebody has asked me that following a race that wasn't family or a friend.  Thinking this had to be the latter, since I was standing in my hometown, I answered before even recognized who asked me, "20:13".  I didn't recognize this woman and as quickly as she asked and got my response she was gone.  That was weird.

Two years ago, it was letting my parents finally see me race.  Last year, it was about CT setting her sights on winning "her" trophy, but turned into her dad getting to see her race and me watching my mom run her first 5K. This year, while I wouldn't say it is a goal, I'm motivated to run my hometown race in the "19's". While I haven't been specifically training for doing this, it has been on my mind. But, I already spilled the beans in the first paragraph my time, it should be obvious that I didn't get in the "19's", but there's always more of a story.

CT and I have a habit of mirroring each other, just not at exactly the same time.  When she has a great race, I usually have my worst race and vise versa.  If one of us is healthy, the other is fighting some nagging injury. Last year, I had just hurt my achilles a few days before this race.  It was a game time decision how hard I could even push it and there were some tender laps done in the parking lot before the race testing my ankle. This year, it's CT limping around the parking lot trying to deciding if she's going to run or not with what we think is runner's knee.  Even though I was worried, I was optimistic that it probably wouldn't be comfortable for her, but she'd still be able to run and I know she'd be fast enough to do well.  Within about ten feet of warming up though, I could already tell it wasn't going to happen.  Luckily, I didn't have to convince her it was in her best interest to give this race up and run another day, she decided for herself.  She might, be learning this thing called better judgement when it comes to her body! Shocking!

Personal glory is great, but one of the parts that I like about this race is we both win.  It's only happened twice, but both times we've ran, CT and I walked away with medals.  Thirty minutes before the start, I already knew it wasn't going to happen this year.  That's a psychological hit.  It bums me out that our streak is coming to an end.  This whole summer I've gone minimal, no headphones, no music, but I needed to fall back on my bread and butter song to do some soul searching as I warmed up.

Vanity is gone, as I lined up for the start.  The shirt is coming off and staying off, watch out!  Rrrrrrrip it goes as the gun fires.  The first mile was pretty typical, kids starting out too quickly and getting burned out  in the first half mile.  When I hit the first mile I was at a 6:12, which is slower than I wanted to be.  At this point I knew the 19's were going to be very hard to pull off.  What's next on the goals, if I can't get that one?  Well, who's ahead of me because I still plan on placing!  There's a kid about half my height just ahead, no real worry that he's in my age group, though I had to smile because he didn't like me passing him and proceeded to pass me again, which only gassed him more and that was the last I saw of him.  Next was a guy that could be in my age group, lacking lots of hair though, but he was breathing like Death was one step behind, figured I had him.  By mile two, there weren't very many people left.  There was a girl and an old guy within striking distance.  Neither of which would be in my group, but it did hurt my feelings that it wasn't until the last turn before I knew I'd get the old guy.

Rounding the last turn, I could see the clock and it just hit 20:02. All hopes of the 19's really did vanish at that point.  I didn't have the heart to blow past the girl in the final stretch, because even though I lost my vanity, I'm still a good guy.  Now, had there been a 19 on the clock, all bets would have been off, but that's just between us.  This is where the picture was taken, yes that's me getting chick'd at the end!

I ran back to do what is now the traditional run in with my mom.  CT thought I should have coached her harder, but she did great and whether she knows it or not, in the final stretch I had already decided who she was going to beat to the line, which she did.

Now, back to the rest of the story.  Why did I get asked my time?  It's because I'm now holding the first place trophy!  Watching where the woman went after walked away, she ended up walking up to one of the guys I passed in the middle mile, now holding a second place medal.  Almost sounds like something CT would do. Pretty sure I have a target on my back, for next year.  

Twenty years since I left this town, I came back in the year 2013 to post a 20:13 and win "MY" trophy!

Vanity has it's Price

What month is it?  What race number is this one?  Things have slowed down, though the weather has heated up.  The monthly race challenge is still going on and in addition the normal, make that the usual, marathon training has started back up.  I keep thinking after each marathon, the end is in sight, but it never seems to work out that way.  There always seems to be one more to train for.  I'll try not to complain too much, especially since it's time to run an easy half marathon (when did these become easy?).

This week's race feels like it should actually be named after us.  CT has won it the past two years and she practically claims it as hers.  I can lay no such claim.  Even though I've ran it just as often as she has, I have yet to crack into the top spots.  For some reason, I expect they'll probably only consider naming it after us, if we both start winning (or get famous, or get rich and give them a huge donation).  Time to step up.

Normally, I share the lessons I learned later in the blog, but I'm going to just come out and say this one, don't go for a twenty mile bike ride the day before a race.  Granted, it's biking and it's easy, but it's still takes time from resting legs that are going to come in handy for thirteen miles the next day.

You'll enjoy the sound of the gun this race, slap, slap, SLAP!  Excitement, nerves are the usual reasons wanting a race to start. This morning, it was wanting to keep my own blood!  The mosquitoes were awful, hungry, and swarming the exposed skin and bad body odor of a group of runners.

The early miles were uneventful.  Mainly, tried to keep the pace easy and get a feel for what today would let me do.  Though I was a little worried about the heat, the temp wasn't bad.  Once I settled in, I was actually kind of surprised how fast I was going.

Close to the halfway point, I couldn't stand the guy running in front of me any longer.  I wouldn't say I surged past him or even pulled away, but I definitely got tired of looking at his flailing arms.  It was on a slight incline on this flat course and made me feel better.  These poor people don't even know what hills are!

About mile ten I started to get tired and hot, so I decided to get my sexy on and took off my shirt.  While this wasn't going to be like my previous best half marathons where towards the end I still had enough to get even faster, I knew I was safe to stay at the pace I was running at and would finish pretty good, maybe even place this time!  Back country roads, hardly anybody around, might as well work on my tan some.

With two turns to go, this is where I made my fateful mistake, vanity.  Not wanting to cause a scene at the finish line as I crossed the line with my glistening. tone, tan, sexy, body with my shirt off, I stopped for few seconds to put my shirt back on.  In those few seconds, two people passed me.  Probably can guess the rest, sure enough one of them was in my age group and claimed what was my third place finish because I didn't want to cause fainting at the finish line.  Me thinking of the people, made me miss finally placing in this race!

Lesson learned, next time, watch out!  The shirt, may just stay off!                

Numbar 7

Committing to a race a month, of at least of at least a half marathon or more, was dumb.  What was I thinking?  I'm only in month five, but for some reason I sit on the cusp of running my seventh race.  This is the killer stretch for the year.  In a month and a half, four races, three of which are marathons, well provided I can finish this next one.

The good thing about being tired, it's easy to make excuses.  That's my excuse!  Of course, at mile twenty one, things get even more tiring.  I'm fast forwarding some, but this is point where it finally dawned on me that maybe doing so many races, wasn't the best idea.  Cool on paper, but on the pavement it's got much more sweat and tears.

The Bayshore Marathon was planned to be the crown jewel in all the races this season.  Last year, I just missed my goal time and I figured it would be the race this year with the potential for the best things.  Even to the point of following in my footsteps to recreate the day.  Same hotel, same group of friends, and most importantly the same pre-race meal.  You know, the place that last year almost started a mutiny, but this year my same crew was bragging about it!

Waiting at the starting line, still not feeling "it".  This makes how may marathons in a row?  Nobody reads these things, so I'm going to document it, but THE most important event of race morning didn't happen either.  I've been hush about it lately, but I'm talking about the morning bathroom visit didn't happen, again. This makes so many races in a row now, I think maybe I need to start training in this area.  It doesn't help that CT has been putting pressure on herself to do well on this run, she may have even predicted herself beating me.  I can't remember for sure or if this her pattern now, I think she always assumes she's gonna beat me.

Bang goes the gun.  Maybe the tired excuse was used a bit early, but I had already given myself a pass for this race.  Try to have fun, enjoy it, and whatever happens, happens.  Mile one is always slow, lots of turns and generally too crowded to move well.  Mile two things are spreading out and it's easier to find the path you want.  Just as I'm about to lock in my comfortable pace, who do I see but CT and her partner in crime. Granted, I'm a little behind my pace, but somehow they were still ahead of me.  Either CT is feeling it today or she's going out a little fast, not to mention making sure I feel the heat of the target on my back the whole way, so much for trying to have fun.

The miles keep cranking and things feel very relaxed, this is good.  Each mile I'm banking fifteen seconds, sometimes thirty seconds.  Of course, I did the same thing last year.  At the turn around point, last year I could already tell the battle had started.  This year, going into the half way point, I felt relaxed and besides a little pain in my arch, things felt good.  Well, until I started seeing the runners who were behind me.  Both CT and her accomplice were right on my heels!  Holy sh!t, I'm running faster than the pace I need and they are right on me.  I've got two battles coming.

Mile eighteen is here and I'm still going.  This is the point last year where I started to die out, I can remember the exact spot.  My foot is definitely bothering me, but I'm still clocking miles better than the pace I need.  If I can just get to mile twenty-two, I know even though I crashed there in the Martian Marathon, I was still able to pull out the time I wanted.

Mile twenty is my nemesis and it's here.  Two marathons, a 25K, and seventy five percent done with marathon three in a month and a half caught up with me, I decided I was tired.  No shame, no bad feelings, simply I needed a break.  This wasn't the typical punch to the face hitting the wall, this was a much softer blow to the ego of you've done enough.  Race pace ceased, even easy running pace stopped, this was going to be another walk and run to the finish.

Walking gives plenty of time to think and I'll be honest, I did check over my shoulder a couple of times making sure CT wasn't within eye-sight.  I don't even know what the point of checking was, because if I saw her coming, the wheels were off and there was nothing I could do besides tripping her, had she been coming. While certainly not the way I wanted to finish this race, I continued to chug along.  The closer I got the end, the more frequently I'd check my watch.  Even though the wheels came off earlier than the Martian Marathon, I was still ahead of my time, I could still PR this thing.

The last mile, there was some sole searching, internal fighting, and will power.  The pain in my foot was there. Remembering this part of the course last year and also struggling was fresh in my mind.  Dammit, how long is this damn mile?  Then thoughts of running all this way, only to miss getting a PR would feel worse than any current pain, yet as motivating as that should be, my body not listening to me to even give me just a little more.  Just as I was about to shut down and walk again, almost within eye-sight of the finish line, I heard it, people cheering my name!  First it was a couple of the Superstars, then around the next corner, fellow running friends who had also suffered the months of training.  If they were giving energy, I didn't get any, but the support did prevented me from quitting one last time.  That was a huge boost to a tired heart.  I needed that.

Crossing the line, I knew I PR'd.  That alone, makes the pain go away. Actually, it didn't.  I did forget about the foot that was bothering me briefly, but that was quickly replaced with calf cramps so bad that I resorted to sitting on the ground waiting for CT to finish.  Even though I was disappointed in not being able to finish this race how I wanted, the calf pain told me I ran it hard, not to mention looking like a salt block.  Five minutes faster than last year and a minute better than my previous PR, all on tired legs.  Maybe there is something to the lucky number seven, this being my seventh marathon and is now the bar.  

    



   

With Speed, Come Perks

This could easily be titled Redemption Week or maybe the Redemption Club.  A week after the Kalamazoo Marathon beats me, it's starting to become tradition to run the Fifth Third River Bank after to feel better.  Well, at least last year worked out that way.  This year, honestly I didn't even have the heart to attempt redemption.  It seems like it's been so long since I've had a good run, one that I'm proud of.  I was so bummed coming off the marathon, I waited too long to even register for the River Bank before the online registration closed.  I figured that was a sign, to not do it.  Instead, I was reminded by CT that I did earn my spot in the Under Two Hour Club and should do it.  On the last day possible, she drove to the expo to register us.

The running joke (ha running, get it?) is that it always rains during this race.  Being this is only my second time lining up for this race, I can't speak to that, but this year the weather was much more to my liking, cool.  This is also the first race that I can remember wearing a thin sweatshirt prior to the race start with the intention of dropping it once the race started.  It's a cheap sweatshirt, but logical me still feels like that's a waste.  So, last minute, I thought I'd check it at the gear check line.  The River Bank is a huge race and the gear check line almost equaled the bathroom lines!  Forget that!  This whole time CT was itching for me to check out the Two Hour Club.  I was still reluctant because it would split us up.  But now, I figured what the heck.

Not only does Two Hour Club have select access, but it's also in it's own building.  The first perk turned out not only did I get access to the building, but I was also allowed guests.  Suddenly, this went from being a cool notion to being almost like rockstar status!  With a flash of my yellow bib, the doors open, smiling faces appear, the warmth of heat blasts my face and if I'm not mistaken the clouds opened up and a ray of sunlight hit me, ahhhhhh!  I'm not sure if I was more impressed with this status change or realizing that CT was definitely going to owe me for allowing her access to this Utopia!  Don't worry, she took it as humbly as she always does, when she told me I better run fast today to make sure I get her in the Club next year!

Plenty of seating, food, drinks, the list goes on and on.  Oh and the whole point for me going in to check this place out, the gear check?  Simply, walk up, put your stuff in a bag, done.  They even had free stuff not to mention a huge TV showing the event live.  The only thing missing that I could tell were the scantly clad  woman feeding grapes to you or giving massages.  At least that's how it felt.

As race time approached, I had already made up my mind, I'm getting in this Club again!  Yes, I've had a few bad runs lately, but the streak is ending today!  Even though I positioned myself just in front of the pace group aiming to finish at the two hour mark, my aim was on the next pace group.  Try to keep them insight for the first half, then see what's left for the finish.

Clink (of the champagne glasses) goes the start horn.  Damn, lots of people run this race!  I'm sure even more would, if they knew the perks of the Two Hour Club, but I'm now sworn to secrecy!  The race doesn't seem quite as packed as it was last year, but then again it's not nearly as warm as it was last year where all I remember was the awful BO on overly sweaty bodies trying to rub up against me.  Gross!  Somewhere around the first mile mark, I remember somebody flying a drone with what I'd guess was a camera on it.  I have to admit, that was kind of cool and would have enjoyed seeing the pictures from it or even flying it, you know doing those nerd things instead of running 25K.

Most of the miles all blur together in this race.  I think it's because many of them are spent staring at the person in front of you for so many miles point blank.  It isn't much before mile ten when things actually start to open up.  It was probably the nerd thoughts around mile one, but for some reason I was cranking on math and time, mainly trying to figure out exactly what pace I'd need to stay in the club.  I knew all I had to do was prevent the pace group behind me from passing.  At the same time, I'm pretty much staying with the next fastest pace group.  For the record, a 7:44 per mile pace is needed to get in the Club.  The pace group I was running with was the 7:30 per mile group, which is damn fast.  Even so, looking at my watch, still doesn't leave much room for error.  To be in this Club, you have to earn it for sure.

At thirteen miles, I was starting to get tired, but I had also passed the 7:30 pace group.  With two miles left, I started passing people who were cramping up.  While I didn't feel the energy to push any harder and decided it wasn't necessary to prove anything else.  I'd be in the Club again, beat my time from last year, and finally had a good run that I was proud of, victory enough.  

It could have been the weather finally being on my side.  Maybe, I was just due.  Or possibly it was the motivation after seeing the perks of being in the Club.  Whatever it was or the combination, it guaranteed entry into next year's Club!  

The Third Time, is ...

The Kalamazoo Marathon has beaten me twice.  The first time, it wasn't even a fair fight.  Does anybody really do well on their first marathon?  Well, it humbled me.  The second fight, I knew what to expect, trained harder and went into the fight overconfident.  Result?  Let's just say embarrassed.  This third time, it is going to be the charm, it has to be!

I'm due. It's just expected that this will be the attempt where the curse of the Kalamazoo Marathon is lifted off by back and I finally walk away with a victory against it.  What should happen and what does happen are two different things entirely.  Here's this year's story.

The week before the start, I'm actually afraid.  I do admit the first time, there were a ton of nerves.  The second time, calm and cool, even cocky.  This time, maybe it's the looming showdown, maybe it's the taste of two defeats in my mouth, but I've got a bad feeling about this run.  It's silly really.  Same course, a distance I just did a few weeks ago, there shouldn't be anything to fear.  But with running, so much is mental and to top off everything else working in my head, my arch enemy the heat is back in town.  My last two runs prior, both ended at four miles.  Not because I was tapering, but because I was dead exhausted from the heat.  It takes weeks to adjust to temperature increases, this Spring took it's time getting here this year, and suddenly there has been a thirty degree swing and it feels more like Summer.  This is going to be ugly.

Standing at the starting line, my phone probably felt like it ran a marathon with as often as I had checked the hourly temperature predictions over the past few days.  I've made some many race plans, none like this one though.  The plan is simple, survive.  Let's see how this works, errrrrrrrt goes the start horn.

The early miles were easy.  Not because I was feeling great, but because I was too damn scared to run any faster.  It's an unsettling feeling worried if I'd still be running after four miles, when I know there's twenty-two miles to go.  Reaching five miles felt like a victory.

At mile ten, I was still moving and upright.  There might be something to this slower pace stuff.  There were also some familiar faces cheering for me, which helped build even more confidence back.  Miles thirteen to fifteen flashed back memories of the previous marathons.  Both times, it was in these miles I started to feel the tell tale signs of the up coming struggles.  Yet, I'm still moving.  Maybe, just maybe this running slower to avoid overheating will actually sneak defeat from my nemesis.

Then, it happened.  It started as a simple brain impulse to walk a quick second to catch a breather.  A few other runners seemed to be doing the same thing.  I thought it would be a quick pause, then back to it.  Once I started again, I knew right away that I had put in motion that what I was most afraid of, defeat.  While I had done better than I thought I would up until this point, from here on out, the last ten miles weren't going to be pretty and they weren't going to be the charm I had been hoping for.

At mile twenty one, the smiling CT caught up with me.  While she wasn't on pace to get what time she was hoping for, she was still looking good.  She offered words of encouragement, even offered to finish with me, but this has become my struggle.  I sent her on her way and told her I'd see her at the end.

The final miles brought more familiar faces, though it didn't make it any easier.  I crossed the line a little slower than last year, but still a little better than the first year.  At least I seem to be consistent on this course.

As for next year, I'm not sure what to say.  Part of me feels like I'll give it another try.  Another part of me feels like it's a battle against a bully that I'll never win.  But I do know, the third time is NOT the charm!
                

Some Goals Are Closer Than Others

It's Marathon time, again.  This makes race number four for the year.  Today is an important day, not only for the ridiculous amount of time spent training for a marathon, but this is the first race for CT to potentially qualify for the Boston Marathon.

There's no possibility for me to qualify, unless I'm able to use a bike.  I say that, but then a training run happens, like last week.  Some days something just clicks, I didn't intend to push it, but somebody in the run group wanted to do a pace run, so I figured what the heck, I'd man up and keep him company.  What happened?  I ended up crushing my previous best half marathon time.  On a training run.  How fast was it?  The pace I ran, suddenly it would be good enough to qualify for Boston, if (big if) I could do it for another thirteen miles.

Here's where the dilemma starts.  Suddenly, there are three options on how to run this marathon.  Do I pace CT?  Making sure she's at the pace she needs to qualify and be there for encouragement if she needs it.  Do I run my own race, shoot for the goal pace I set for myself last year and just missed?  Or do I attempt the impossible and also try to qualify?  That run last week has me wondering.  I know it's beyond stupid to even contemplate trying, but what if by some magic whatever got in me last week is still around?

Race morning, the temps are in my sweet spot.  Will this be the day?  CT has been excited for this day for the past couple of nights, unable to sleep.  How do I feel?  I can't say it's been there every good race I've had, but most good races it's there, the distinct feeling of something extra.  What the hell is this extra?  Maybe it's confidence, maybe it's magic, but it whatever it is, I just knew I was going to have a great run.  Well, today, I don't feel it.  I suppose I'm a little disappointed, but that's how it goes.  Without it being there, the dilemma is now reduced down to two choices.  Actually, the choice has already been made.  Thinking it over, I decided that it would mean more to CT to reach her goal completely on her own, if I did it by her side, then it becomes potentially I helped.  I don't want that, this accomplishment means so much and takes so much, it's only fair the person doing it gets full credit.  CT is running her race and I'm running mine.

It's cold standing behind the start line.  I find myself annoyed because this will probably be the only marathon that I'll ever run where the temperature is in my sweet spot and I'm missing the feeling.  Months of training and it comes down to hit or miss if it's going to be there.  In early blog posts, I made mention of important the morning bathroom visit is, well, the feeling is next most important.  Snapping out of my pre-race haze, the announcer says something about getting the course re-certified.  That's odd.

Toot goes the horn (yeah, it wasn't feeling it today either).  The first mile I tailed CT.  Hey, I said I wanted her to do it on her own, not that I wasn't going to keep my eye on her!  Really, I wanted to make 100% sure she wasn't going to start out too fast.  8:28, right where she should be.  As I passed her, I gave her 3, 4, 0, signals on my hand.  She had no idea what I was trying to say and yelled at me to look where I was going instead of turning around to look back at her.  It was suppose to mean I'll see her in 3:40 (which is her qualifying time).

At mile four, something changed.  Though I hadn't run the marathon here before, I had run the half marathon.  That day, I was out of my mind, but I distinctly remember crossing this street, not turning down the one I just did.  I second guessed myself, until one more turn had me in a residential neighborhood.  This definitely did not happen last year.  What is going on?  Next thing I see is a mile marker for mile 6 and mile 20.  That's weird they are going to loop us in this neighborhood again.  I'm convinced running, while running, makes the mind very slow because I didn't figure out what was really going on until about mile 10.  At this point, a turn was made on the original road that I remembered crossing last year, only to see a turn around point, but also a completely flooded road.  Ahhh, that explains the course change.  The full ramifications were still coming though, at mile 11, smack dab into the 10K runners heading back to the beginning of the course.  Now, I wouldn't complain, if I could get credit for running a marathon when only doing a half, but as some cruel trick would have it, marathoners got turned one street before the finish line to do the entire loop just completed, again.  Oh and it gets better, just about the moment I got back to the original starting point, toot goes the horn and here come all the half marathoners flooding the street all around me.  Had I been trying to qualify for Boston, I'd be very pissed that I'd have to fight two other groups of runners.  Luckily, I wasn't, but I definitely felt bad for CT.

Mile 16, I was getting warm enough to be uncomfortable, so off came the long sleeve.  Not great, but I still felt pretty good.  Mile 20, I got a little slower and began to get tired, but the wall hadn't shown it's ugly face. At this point if I could just maintain, I'd finish at exactly what I had been training for. I even smiled as a passed a few runners who had started their battles with the wall.  Maybe, just maybe I could get all the way through a marathon without crashing!

Mile 22 is where the struggle started.  While not feeling that I wanted this morning, this is the sure sign I made the right decision not to push my limits.  The current feeling, is the signal running is over.  It started with walking through the water stop.  As soon as I slowed down, it only took seconds for my calves to flood with lactic acid and begin to scream.  This was a new feeling, it felt like a surge of pain.  I think this is the point I really first looked at my watch.  Bad runner math and all,  even with four more miles, I was confident I could still get my PR and my under 3:30 goal that I wanted last year.

Mile 25, a glance at my watch and finishing under 3:30 was in serious jeopardy.  Even though I trained to run harder and faster at the end, there was nothing left in the tank.  My legs hurt, but seeing the clock roll from 3:29:59 to 3:30:00 with twenty feet to go felt like a dagger.  Crossing the line, stopping my watch, I didn't even want to look at it.  I hadn't started right at the front, my only hope now is that I started far enough back to safe me some time.  I didn't dwell on it, I couldn't dwell on it, my legs were on fire!  Okay, the pain in my legs is officially worse than finishing 3:30:01 and for me to say that, I think it should be obvious how bad my legs hurt.  

Fighting through the pain and cramping, it was everything I could do to get my jacket back on and get situated where I could see CT finish.  No suspense, no build up, no need, before I could barely get ready to watch for her, there she goes!  I could see the clock and it was 3:36!  Not only did she do it, but she crushed it!  I don't even want to admit it, but she was on my heels!

Insert the crying hug from the previous blog post here, although this time I'm the one crying more.  I'm so proud of her, yet I'll admit it here, our hug was long and I wanted it to end because I could barely stand up!  Thirty seconds after qualifying for Boston, CT is reduced to massaging my calves in her moment of glory.

When the dust settled, I squeaked out my goal.  I should be ecstatic with that, but I'm not.  I was very confident I'd be able to do a low 3:20.  Knowing I lost all that time in the final four minutes is tough.  Not sure if it can be explained as easy as just not my day, needed more training, or if it's simply the limits of what my body can do.  Even though I've got some work to do, CT's ticket is stamped!

It seems silly, but I want to congratulate the Green Mambas.  They have gotten me to every running goal I've set for myself.  In a year's time, they own every running PR I have.  They have aged, got plenty of miles on them, and although aren't as bright as they used to be, I love them. The morning of race day, even though I had my newer pair with me, it didn't seem right to lace up anything but the Mambas.  I have so many good memories in them, two best buddies, just going out for a run.  

Not sure if I ever put it in writing in this blog, but I have verbally stated it before, marathons will be done when CT qualifies for Boston and I run under 3:30.  Chances of that happening?  Reread the title again.        
             

Ultra Crazy Train

The Kal-Haven Trail and I have a love/hate relationship, maybe it's more of a bond.  We go back a long way, the trail and I, or maybe it's just because I've been in this area so long.  In the moment, the memories are always something awful, like my friend John making me ride on the trail to spend time with him.  Or even more recently, when first starting running, it always felt like death himself was two steps behind.  After the fact, my memories are vastly different (better).

Thirty three and a half miles!  I spelled it out instead of simply using numbers, because I want it to seem longer.  Even then, it doesn't do the length justice.  Only a fool would want to bike that distance.  At least that's what I'd tell myself every time John wanted to do it.  For as ridiculous as I thought that was, it never even entered my head that people would or could run that far.  Only a damn fool would attempt something that stupid!  A person would have to crazy...(do you know where this is going?)

It's 7:59 am and I'm giving a kiss to my fiancee and wishing her good luck as she is going to give this foolishness a try.  This is where I'm taking FULL credit for aptly naming her CT and I did it within minutes of meeting her.  Completely off topic, but this obviously shows I'm a reincarnated Indian Chief.  Clearly, she is Crazy to even want to attempt this.  Train, also seems very appropriate since this feet is going to take place on an old railroad route.  The clock hits 8:00 and there she goes.  Honestly, I'm not sure what is going to come out on the other side, but here we go.

Because I'm the sensible one, my race is only half of this trail and that's being generous.  My leg is only 16 miles (see, I won't even spell it out because it's so short).  The plan is to get my teammate started, sneak out along the route and check on my soul-mate, then get ready to take over at the halfway point.  The staggered start between the solo runners and the team relays made it a little challenging, but I got out to the ten mile point and waited.   That was my first real look at the trail conditions, which were horrible.  A few inches of hard packed snow that had ruts all over in it. Watching the first few runners coming through, I could tell every step had to be planned. As if thirty-three and a half miles weren't difficult enough, mother nature really played a cruel trick to make each step twice as hard.  There's CT!  From a distance, I could see the smile on her face, which eased some nerves.  But as soon as there was some relief, she also said her foot was bothering her.  Good lord, twenty-three and a half more miles to go, on a sore foot, with the trail a mess?  This CT might get derailed.

It's a mixed bag of nerves waiting at the halfway point.  Anxious to run, but also worried how CT is doing and knowing that on my leg I've got zero input on how she's doing.  There she is!  She's still smiling.  If I could make the NASCAR sounds of a tire change I would, that was my one good idea to have a fresh pair of shoes and socks for her.  That will be the first and last time NASCAR ever appears in this blog by the way.  Off she goes again.  I'm glad I got to see her before having to run my leg, so thank you slow teammate!  Now, I also know that I will be able to see her another time on the way, provided I can catch her.

Here's my teammate.  No gun sound this time, just a simple high five, oh and instructions where to find the car, hopefully the GPS is programmed right, good job, and whatever else needed to be said without wasting precious time on the clock.  This will be my third time running this leg, both times prior I did pretty good, but this time I had the goal of raising the bar.  16 miles in 2 hours comes out to a nice round number of 8 MPH. I want it.  I've flirted with that speed for that distance before, but have always came up short.  Really, there's nothing significant about it, other than I wondering if I could do it.  The trail condition was horrible!  The saving grace seemed to be a vehicle had driven down the trail at some point which made the tire tracks the best thing to run on.  Even so, it was not exactly stable footing and caused my first short related injury.  Running in that narrow tire track at times cause my shoes to gently brush my calf muscle on my other foot ever so often.  Expand that out over ten or so miles, gently turns to missing skin.  The final miles the snow disappeared, but what replaced it was wet concrete of the trail.  Hmmm, do I run straight down the middle splashing in wet slop or run on the edge of the trail waiting for the ankle twist of who knows way laying hidden?  In the end, it was a mix of trying to pick the lesser of the evils.

For as bad as the trail conditions were, I was running at exactly the pace I needed for my goal.  Which made it all the more confusing why it was taking me so long to catch CT.  Granted, she had a bit of a head start, but I was flying, passing people like they were standing still.  Had she gotten hurt?  Did her sister pick her up?  Where was she?  With ten miles to go, finally, I saw her.  On passing, we walked some, I offered her words of encouragement, told her how great she was doing, etc.  Her comment back?  She thought there were four girls ahead of her!  Why do I even worry about this animal?  She's in pain, know she's tired, what's she worried about, what her place is going to be!  As I took off, I think this where my mind eased.  Any doubt she would be unable to finish this craziness, gone.  Only thing left to do is wait for her at the finish line.

Damn close to my goal.  Finished with a 2:02.  Slightly disappointing, but deep down I know I would have had it if the trail was an actual trail and not an obstacle course.  As a team, we got 4th overall.  Secretly, I wanted to place too, but there is always next year.

Watching CT cross the line was a wave of emotions.  I expected to see a hobbling, broken, mess. She was tired, yet I almost expected to see her pull her shirt open to reveal the Superwoman "S".  I'm proud of her, happy for her, happy for her accomplishment, hell I'm even happy she's still alive.  Seeing her cry, only made me cry.  Which brings me to this picture, which is my new favorite race photo.  This is now my Ultra Crazy Train.  Oh, and if you are wondering, she finished first in her age group!

This trail brings some awful physical abuse, but also some life defining moments.  Thank you Kal-Haven trail.      

The Zero

When it comes to running, I'm a nobody, a zero.  Not a single person groans under their breath, "ugh, he showed up", out of fear on race day.  Nobody sizes me up.  There are no interviews, no press conferences. Rightly so, I'm not fast enough to make a name for myself, not crazy enough to run some ridiculously long distance to write a book.  I do wonder though, what would the attention and whispers be like?

Half Marathon number two for the year is about to start.  Here's the thing though, there are whispers, there are looks out of corners of eyes, even some pointing at me.  Have I arrived?  Have I got remarkably faster?  Think again!  What is causing this sudden attention, wait for it, I'm wearing shorts.  Are my legs really that damn sexy?  No, this excitement is simply because it's zero degrees outside and apparently it's odd to wear shorts.  I don't quite get it, it's a race, I like to wear what I train in and what I'm most comfortable in.  "Don't you get cold?"  That's the question I get. Ahhh, the price of fame!  Maybe, obscurity is best after all.  Though I have to admit, my favorite reaction so far has been on a training run where a car slowed down as it passed, only to yell at me "I'm telling your mother!".  This could be my form of intimidation, people naturally assume I'm tough to not wear pants.  If they only knew, I just don't like pants. Regardless, here I stand at the starting line, in shorts, to run the Winter Blast Half Marathon. Zeeeeerrrrrroooooooooo, goes the horn!

The first couple miles were uneventful.  The internal mental struggle wasn't trying to stay warm, but attempting to talk myself into staying at a slower pace.  The air was crisp, running felt easy to the point I knew that I was starting quicker than I probably should.  At mile four, I saw it, my first motivation.  A woman had a jacket on with the phrase "you've been chicked" on it.  A month ago, I'd never heard of that term before.  These two guys stood joking around how one of their buddies got "chicked" at the end of a race (yeah, so I was sizing them up in that given moment, don't judge me).  Chicked, if you want to look it up, is the act of letting a woman getting the better of you.  I'd like to think that I'm progressive enough to honestly believe sexes are equal, heck I run with a clan of women, they beat me physically and mentally all the time.  But, something about advertising the fact by a stranger seemed to get under my skin and in that moment, I decided that she was not going to chicked me.  My pace quickens and she got shorted!  Yes, you've heard it here first! Shorted, verb, the act of getting passed by a person in shorts (we'll try to forget about the other variation on the verb).

Mile six, I was gaining on a friend that I have no business gaining on. As I pulled along side, I made the casual joke of "I guess you overdressed for this race and are overheating".  Unfortunately,  his knee was bothering him.  Honestly, I kind of like him hurt.  His hurt pace is my fast race pace.  It was almost the halfway point, I was running very well, felt good and at this point was the first time I thought about trying for my PR.  If I could maintain this pace, I'd be close.  When I got my PR, I felt like I ran out of my mind that day.  Out of all my runs, it has been the one I didn't think I could improve on, especially after my Achilles problem.  Now, it seemed possible.  I decided that I'd maintain, run with my friend, then at mile ten, I'd make the decision if I'd try to break my PR.

Ten is here.  Four people are within eyesight, but checking my watch, so is my PR.  There is no doubt what has to happen, time to chase my PR.  I've been running fast, but time to see if there's a little extra left.  Besides, one guy ahead of me, I can't stand the way he runs!  Time to short him and the other three people I can see.  By mile eleven, something very strange happened.  Something that's never happened to me before, there was nobody, maybe we should say zero people were ahead of me.  It's not like there were lots of curves and I just couldn't see people, there were just zero. At one point there was the long straight away which two years ago I had to walk during a 5K that used this same course because I was tired.  Today, I'm running a faster per mile pace at the end of a half marathon than I did for that 5K. Would it happen again?  Was I pushing myself too hard?  Here come the thoughts of doubt.  But, at the same time those feelings are going on, there's this whole other feeling of this is what the lead feels like?  At one point I actually had to ask volunteers if I was going the right direction.  It's actually kind of lonely here with zero in front.  Suddenly the roles have reversed, now I feel hunted.  I bet those who can see me, want to beat the guy in shorts, it won't happen today.

Of course there were runners in front, but the final two point one miles, never saw another runner.  Zero to chase, zero to wonder about the next day had I pushed a little harder.  Crossing the finish line, I didn't even have to look at the clock, I knew it was a PR.  For crushing what I thought was my most impressive PR, it felt mellow.  I think I felt most proud of running a very consistent, fast pace, but still was able to find a slightly faster gear in the final miles.  Before, I needed a runner's high and a threat from CT to get my time.  This time, I played my usual games of finding people I had to beat, but beyond that it was just running.  I hope this is a sign I've improved.

When the snow settled, my PR also turned into a third place finish in my age group!  I've never placed in a race longer than a 5K, that may be even more special to me than my time.  When I think back to mile ten and debating to push a little harder or listen to the voices to take it easy and coast, it was a defining moment. Two of the final four people I passed and five of next ten people that finished behind me were in my age group, talk about closely contested.  Had I relaxed just a little, the results would not have been the same.  I'll write it again, just to remind myself, but always give it max effort.  It's a much better feeling.

Today, I turned from zero to hero.....well, in my own mind.                                      

13.1 or More for 12

That title might be my new password, it's cryptic enough. Okay, maybe it's not that difficult, especially considering what most of these posts are about. 13.1 is of course a half marathon and the twelve, well that's how many months there are in a year. Figure it out yet? Yup, 2013 is going to be about running a race of at least a half distance in length every month for the entire year. The idea was thrown out there by a running friend, I kind of liked the idea, so here we go!

When I win the lotto, a challenge like this will be much easier. Simple logic would say find races in the winter months in beautiful, warm locations. Since that isn't going to happen any time soon (probably would help if I bought tickets), a quarter of the effort is finding races that happen as locally as possible in the winter months. No surprise, but for some reason people don't seem to like running in the snow. I know, that's crazy...perfect time for a race if you ask me!

Big goals this year, hopefully lessons learned. Keep in mind, I'm saying that, yet I'm lined up in shorts. Bang goes the gun, for the start of the Snowman Half Marathon. Since my last race, my Achilles has completely healed. It doesn't feel as if my speed is back to where it was prior to getting hurt, but I also feel stronger than I did. Not sure how that works out. I've got a different approach to training this year and that's run easy for the first half, then speed up. The hope is to prepare myself for the hardest late miles. Road conditions play a part in this, especially in the snow, but the goal is to stick with this formula and see what happens.

The first couple miles were on paved roads, the snow wasn't bad, but I could tell extra effort was being used. From about mile three until mile ten, the course became country back roads with potholes everywhere. Add some snow and hills to that and suddenly I'm glad of my plan to run the first half easy. Plenty of courses are out and back, but this one added a "T" type pattern where it was possible to see the leaders two times. I don't worry about the leaders much, I'd say it's more a curiosity to what they look like, does it look like they are struggling, or are they just sickeningly good form pros who shouldn't be running this damn race anyway? I may have digressed here a bit. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy seeing how CT and friends are doing as well, but this race is the first that I can remember getting a sense of shame. I spotted an old man, and I don't just mean a guy in the next age group, I mean and OLD man so far ahead of me, it actually hurt. Granted I'm running easy, but my easy is still doing a hell of a lot of work and I think is a very respectable pace. To have OLD man crushing me, doesn't help the ego.

Mile seven is here, the point where I told myself I could pick up the pace. I couldn't do it. Don't get depressed quite yet. I couldn't do it because I was running up hill, into a strong wind, in the deepest snow to this point. Learning, remember? Better judgement said to wait a little longer. Patience paid off. Somewhere close to mile eight is when things cleared up and the governor came unhooked.

The last five miles were some of the best miles I've logged. I didn't start with the intention, but the more people I caught and passed, I did begin to wonder where OLD man was. On the fourth to last turn, I spotted him. It's fitting that I caught him on a hill. As I passed, I could help but tell him how awesome he was doing and inspiring he was...oh and I hope to be as fast as he is when I'm his age. FYI, 66 years old, took me eleven miles to catch him, and he still looked good!

Wasn't close to a PR for me, but it did end up being my second fastest half marathon to date, in the snow. Race #1 of 2013 in the books.