Saturday, October 26, 2013

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.                

Sunday, October 20, 2013

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!