My (running) Life in Medals - 2009 Pocono Marathon

Both years I ran the Pocono Marathon were big years for me for different reasons.  In 2008, I had a breakthrough race that opened the door for everything I've been able to accomplish sense.  In 2009 I returned to the fast course on a mission to qualify for Boston.  I had failed at the 2008 Chicago Marathon at getting a BQ time when I blew up at mile 19.5.

I had nailed most of my long runs.  I had been crushing my track workouts.  And I'd received a plethora of great advice from Jonathan Cane.  The plan was to grab a BQ, which was 3:10:59.  JC wisely made me realize that a 3:05 and a 3:10 gave me the same end result, so I shouldn't risk blowing up by gunning for a 3:05.

The weather in 2009 at Pocono was almost as good as it was in 2008.  There was a slight headwind for the first few miles before the course did a 180 and we'd catch a tailwind for the remainder of the course.  My friend, and multiple world record holder, Chris Solarz was also running the race.  As the race begin, Chris, a veteran, of more marathons than all of us combined, pointed out a tall runner moving along at about my pace and told me to tuck in behind him and draft.  Solarz ran next to me for a while, but faded after a few miles.  Although a much faster runner than me, he was only running the race for fun.

After the 180 on the course, I set out on my own with the wind at my back.  The miles were easy.  I felt phenomenal.  I was way ahead of pace, but in the back of my head I still had memories of Chicago.  When I came through the halfway point, I had PR'ed the half marathon and felt like I could conquer the world, but I had to keep my emotions in check.  It wasn't until the 24 mile mark that I was sure I had the race in the bag.  I conquered the final hill of the course, which wasn't easy.  I just had to hold on for 2 miles and I had a lot of time in the bank.

I was hurting, but I dug deep.  The course was flat to the finish and I knew what I had to tackle since I'd run the race the year before.  Finally I entered the track.  I had .2 miles to go and I had 5 minutes to spare.  I looked across and saw the finish line and knew I was about to qualify for Boston...and I started to hyperventilate.  I imagined passing out and DNF-ing only meters from the finish line, but I was able to compose myself and came in for the finish.  I almost immediately called Coach Cane.  He was my first call.

In the end, I ended up running that 3:05, but had I gone out gunning for that, I likely would have gone out even faster and blown up.  When I crossed the finish line I had absolutely nothing left.  One second faster per mile and I don't know that I would have been able to hold on.  I know I did all the physical work, but I still credit JC for planting the seed for success.

Three hour run

I hit Bull Creek tonight for a three hour run and didn't see another soul for the duration of the run.  As much as I miss NYC sometimes, you just don't get that kind of solitude in the city.  It was 103 degrees when I started the run, which I'm sure is part of the reason for the absence of other runners, mountain bikers, and hikers.  The good part is that I found out that my hydration pack is good for 3 hours worth of running, even in extreme heat.  I'm finally learning the back trails out at Bull Creek and have a nice loop that takes about 45 minutes to complete.  I still need to explore more of the side trails because I have a feeling I can extend that loop to at least an hour.

I wonder where that goes...

It's a good thing that I look at side trails and think, "I wonder where that leads?"  It's also good that once I start on that path, I'm not scared to head up 60 degree inclines to find out.  If I'd stayed on the well-worn paths that provide about 5 miles of running at Bull Creek, I would have never discovered the miles and miles of trails that aren't found on maps.  It will take me a long time to learn where all the trails lead, but I estimate there's probably 10+ miles of trail out there to cover.  Add in the 5 I already knew about and the fact that I can access Forest Ridge after July 31st, and I can connect enough trail to probably run 25-30 miles, if not more.

The best part is that its only about a 20 minute easy run from home to the first trailhead.  From there, outside of a .3 mile section, all of the 30ish miles would be on trail.

I've yet to explore the 20+ miles of trail out at Walnut Creek, and there's still about 16 miles at Georgetown Lake I've not hit up yet.  Plus, I have the 8 miles in each direction at the Greenbelt.

My (running) Life in Medals - 2006 NYC Half Marathon

This shiny little guy, in many ways, represents the start of my running life in NYC.

Before, I get to the NYC Half...The Queens Half in the same year (2006) was probably the start of it all.  I had been in NYC for less than a year and I had been running casually in Jersey City during the time I had lived there.  My amazing friend Tessa knew I was a runner and that I had done a couple marathons, so she asked me if I would help her train and then run the Queens Half Marathon with her.  In about six weeks, she had quit smoking, trained, and knocked out the Queens Half in under 2 hours.  If they had given out medals for this race, this story would have received its own entry.

I think she help spark my motivation to move from jogger to runner.  I registered for the inaugural NYC Half without knowing a single other person that was doing it.  I'd never registered or run a race without doing it with a friend or friends.  I think I ran about a 1:45 and thought it was blazing fast.  Over the next 4+ years, I ran almost everywhere imaginable in Manhattan (and covered significant parts of other boroughs), but the one thing I'll always remember from the NYC Half is the amazing feeling of running through a closed-off Times Square.

Dreaded DNF

Did Not Finish

I always thought those words would be hard to swallow.

El Scorcho marked my first DNF of my running life, however, I'm not finding it hard to accept.  My DNF was due to a choice to drop after stopping to help someone else.  I physically could have continued, but decided to call it a night to make sure Katie was OK and to ensure she was going to be ok.  We'll come back to the decision.

Katie and I arrived at the race site and quickly ran into Ben, who guided us to an area near the start/finish they had carved out to set up camp.  Katie and I organized our things, used the restroom, and nervously awaited the start of the 50K.  There was an excitement in the air as midnight neared.  When the horn sounded, I took off a little quicker than I should have, but wasn't pushing too hard.  It was hot and the sweat instantly began running out of my pores.  Although dark, most of the course was visible without a headlamp due to street lamps and ambient light from the full moon.

On the second loop I started running/chatting with another runner who was from Ft. Worth.  As we talked, the miles clicked off easily and we continued speeding up until we were clocking 7:58s.  I wanted to slow down to 8:15-8:30 for the first half, but the miles kept coming at around 8 no matter how much we tried to slow down.  After the 4th lap, I made sure I slowed down to 8:20-8:30 for my next couple miles.  As I neared the end of my 5th lap, I started to feel my legs getting heavy.  In addition to that, my hip was hurting a decent amount and I was beginning to feel some GI issues coming on.

I started weighing my options.  I knew I was in the top 10, but I wasn't sure exactly where.  I could continue my pace and most likely blow up around mile 25 or so.  I could back off the pace a little, suffer a lot, and hopefully hold on to a top 10 finish.  I clocked about a 2:07 for the first half and knew that even a 4:30 would likely get me into the top 10.  Lastly, I could back way off my pace and just cruise through the finish with minimal discomfort.  Or I could take the third option, but wait on Katie.  That option would make the second half of the run more enjoyable and I'd make sure I could get Katie through the finish line for her first ultra.  As an added bonus, it would allow me some time to get fluids back in my system, as I could tell I was pretty low.

(We know a lot of the same people, so my apologies to Katie if she didn't want people to know the details of her night)

When I arrived at where we had our things stationed, I stopped and waited.  Time went by.  I waited longer.  And longer.  I started worrying that I somehow missed Katie go by already.  Finally a little over 20 minutes later, she came in.  I asked her how she was feeling and she said "not good."  I told her what my plan was and she seemed happy that we'd be running together.  She mentioned that her stomach was upset and then almost immediately started vomiting.  We talked through how she felt and agreed that we could walk and run until her stomach settled and she was able to get fluids in her system.  I was worried about the amount of calories and water she lost from vomiting, but figured that if we took it easy enough, she could catch up enough to get through the race.  We jogged  slowly with a couple walking breaks for the first mile as Katie took in fluids and some salt tablets.

Shortly after the first mile, she vomited again.  I was really starting to worry about dehydration.  At the next aid station, she tried to stomach a single bite of a banana and some NUUN.  I thought that maybe the NUUN would help since it didn't contain sugar, however, that came up fairly quickly.  Around the 2.5 mile mark Katie had already vomited about 6 times.  I looked at her and said, "you are done."  She said, "I know," but i could hear the reluctance and disappointment in her voice.  The last six tenths of a mile was really tough for her.  She couldn't walk more than about 30 yards without having to sit down.  She was dizzy and continued vomiting.

Katie told me repeatedly that I could go on running, but I'd already made the decision that in her condition, if she had to drop, I was dropping.  It really wasn't even a decision.  There was no way I was going to leave her on her own in the condition she was in.  Even if I left her with the medical staff, I wasn't going to make her wait another 2+ hours for me to finish the race.  And in addition to that, I was mentally already out of race mode and my muscles had cooled down.  We found one of the race directors and let him know we were dropping out.

Even after the race, Katie continued to vomit.  There was nothing we could find that she could keep down.  She was so dehydrated that I could tell by looking at her.  She had lost that much weight from fluid loss.

In the end, a DNF is a DNF regardless of circumstances.  I was physically able to finish had I made the decision to continue on, however, the most important thing that night was not finishing and getting a shiny medal.  I'm completely comfortable with my decision to take my first DNF, even in retrospect.  It was the right thing to do.

DNF...I have unfinished business to take care of at El Scorcho 2012.

My (running) Life in Medals - 2008 NYC Marathon

In 2008, I was lucky enough to have a friend who was able to get me guaranteed entry to the NYC Marathon.  I was doing the Chicago Marathon only two weeks before, but you don't turn down guaranteed entry if its offered.

At work, we had a long week of events, athlete appearances, and Run Club activities that kept me on my feet for long hours.  The marathon was going to be my time to relax and enjoy the city after a long week of little sleep.

After four years of watching the marathon, I was finally going to get a chance to see the race from the inside.  With only two weeks to recover, I decided I was going to enjoy the marathon and not worry about time.  As I ran through Brooklyn, I waved to the crowds and quickly chatted with other runners I knew as I passed.  The real fun started after I crossed the Queensboro Bridge.  I entered first avenue and quickly moved to the right-hand side.  The vast majority of runners clung to the left.  I handed out High-fives for 60 blocks on first avenue.  I stopped  to hug friends and stopped a few times to talk to people.  When I re-entered Manhattan, I re-started my mission of high-fives for everyone.  A quick chat with the City Coach cheering section and I was back on my way.  Being the manager of RUN NYC Run Club afforded me the luxury of knowing hundreds of people along the course, each greeting me with a smile or a yell.  In Central Park, I spotted more friends as I made my "victory lap."  When I finally crossed the finish line, I dropped and did a somersault across the finish line, which confused the volunteers who initially thought I had collapsed.

That night, I went to the Telephone Bar and celebrated the marathon with friends and fellow runners.  It was one of the first times I spent some quality time with many of the people who became training partners, and more importantly, good friends.

My (running) Life in Medals

I often see the debate online of what to do with the medals runners get at the end of marathons and other shorter races these days.  To some, they are prized possessions, proudly displayed on the wall of their home or apartment.  They'll gladly engage you in conversation of every detail of the race if they spot you glancing in the general direction of one of the shiny accolades.  To others, they are junk.  They'll give them to their kids, nieces, nephews, or even throw them away.  And if you make a comment on their apathy toward the medal, they will gladly engage you in conversation of every detail of the race.

Me?  I'm somewhere in between.  Mine hang on a doorknob in the closet.  I keep all the medals from races.  Even worse, I save all my bibs as well, but that's for another day.  Some of my medals have meaning to me and others don't hold a lot of significance.    What I've realized though is each of those races is a part of who I am, who my friends are, and what was going on in my life at the time.  So I figured I'd give each medal one more chance to shine, and reflect on the race and my life.

What better way to kick all this off than to go back to where it all started for me.  Yesterday, while digging through some boxes at my parents' house, I came across this medal:

This simple medal is from 1988-89, when I was in the 5th grade.  There was a presidential challenge/initiative to get kids more active, so we were required to complete a couple 1/4 mile laps around the playground at the beginning of each recess period.  After laps were run, kids were free to go play on the monkey bars or join a game of kickball.  We had just moved to Rockdale, Texas, and I didn't have many friends.  Instead of the normal recess activities, the 5th grade me continued to run long after everyone else went on to play tag.  I was the weird kid who ran, which I'm sure didn't help with the friend-making.  I'm really not sure what motivated me to keep running, but in retrospect, it doesn't seem odd at all.  At the end of the school year, I had amassed 61 1/4 miles, which resulted in being called up in front of the entire school and presented with this medal.  It was a rough year in school for me, but I did eventually make some friends...and found my way onto the cross country team a couple years later.

Contador

Contador is a good 4-ish minutes back of the yellow jersey as of the end of today's stage.  He got dropped today in the final section of the climb to the finish.  What does this mean?  Well, it could be that we're seeing the effects of him riding the Giro and blowing away everyone by 6 minutes.  He's still recovering and just doesn't have that extra gear again yet.  Or, maybe its b/c he's cleaner than he has been in a few years.  Maybe its a little harder for him to find that gear when he's not injecting it into his body.  I'm sure it doesn't help that he's crashed several times so far in the tour.  You tend to be a little stiff and a little less aggressive, at least temporarily, after crashing.

My guess, its a combination of all of the above.

I'll be the first to admit that I don't Contador and quite enjoy seeing him struggle.  I still won't be surprised to see him attack relentlessly in the coming days, but based on what I've seen thus far, he probably won't be too successful.

As a side note, I know there aren't a lot of black cyclists out there (relatively speaking) and even fewer in the pro ranks, but I was shocked to learn that 2011 marked the color barrier being broken at the Tour de France.  Yohann Gene is the first black cyclist to ever ride in the Tour.

Hoogerland!

You can order here...

Conundrum

Austin is an interesting place.  When I left here 5+ years ago, RunTex owned this town.  Now, there are running stores everywhere.  Countless runners are on the loop at Town Lake all day, every day.  There's a plethora of cyclists and triathletes.  There's a multitude of trails to run.  Yet, there doesn't appear to be much in the way of free group runs.  I've dug around and found a couple group rides, but runs are hard to come by.  I've been to one up north, which I mentioned in a previous post.  However, it wasn't much of a group.  There seem to be plenty of groups, but everything costs money here.  I was just searching around and one of the running stores even charges $5 for you to "drop in" and test out their runs.  Are you kidding me?

Maybe what I'm looking for is out there, but it's definitely going to take a while to find it.  The more I sit and think, the more I feel as though I'm going to have to start my own group.  Problem is, I don't have people to start it with.  Very few of my friends here are runners/cyclists, and those that are, are not serious enough about it to really approach about joining a team.  I need to meet people in the scene, but its difficult when the scene seems to be very fragmented and groups want money.

A week from El Scorcho

We're less than a week out from El Scorcho.  I feel pretty good about the race, but I have no idea how I'm going to do.  I've been training in much hotter temps than we'll be seeing in the middle of the night, and the terrain I've been running on is much more difficult.  I'm hoping that translates into a good race.  We'll find out next weekend.

In Other News

One good thing about being unemployed is that I've been able to watch the Tour every day.  It hasn't been overly exciting so far, but there have been a ridiculous amount of crashes.  And none more ridiculous than the media car taking out Johnny Hoogerland and Juan Antonio Flecha.  I'm sure most of you have seen it, but if not, here's the video:




And here's a photo of the aftermath:

And in the world of triathlon, Chrissie Wellington set yet another WR at the Ironman Distance, although not at an m-dot event.  It's almost a "ho hum" thing these days when she breaks her own record.  However, Andreas Raelert set the new men's record today too.  Both times us mere mortals (and even some pros) can only dream about: 8:18:13 and 7:41:33 respectively.  Read more here.

Is it a dead body?

Last night Katie and I went to hit a group run at Texas Running Company.  I don't really know what to say other than, I really miss my NYC training groups/friends.  There were probably 8-10 people there for the run and one store employee (I won't call her a pacer, as she was just kind of there to run).  I took the route for what it was, as I know there's no Central Park in north Austin.  I'm sure the downtown locations of running stores provide something more similar to Central Park running.  However, I was running pretty easy (I averaged 9 min miles for the first two miles) and I was still much faster than the closest person other than Katie.  I don't mind running easy just to meet new people, but if I'm running easy and still leaving the group behind, the run is pretty worthless.  I'll give the group another shot and see if anyone a little faster shows up, but if not, its not worth the time and gas to drive there.  There are better routes I can run from the house.

After the "group" run, Katie and I still had about 2 more hours to knock out, so we went over to the Upper Bull Creek trails.  While exploring one of the side trails, we came upon what in retrospect was  most likely a fort build by some kids.  However, when I stumbled upon it, I had a flashback to running up on a homeless encampment in Dallas.   So when I almost ran into it, my first instinct was to turn around immediately.  As we ran back down the trail Katie asked, "Was it a bum?  Was it a dead body?"

Exploring more trails

I'm quite surprised at the abundance of trails in the area.  I'd run a few sections in my previous Austin life, but I wasn't aware of the amount of trails right in this area of town.  Tonight I ran the trails in the Upper Bull Creek Greenbelt.  There are two separate trails, but they can be connected via about a 1/4 mile on the road.  I got in 45 minutes and didn't even cover all of the trail on the north section.  I can't wait to head back down and explore a couple of the side trails there.

Katie and I also explored some of the steeper sections of Lower Bull Creek yesterday that are along the ridge away from the water.  There were several side trails there as well that I wouldn't mind checking out next time I'm down there.  And I really can't wait to get into the Forest Hill Preserve once it opens back up in August.  There's apparently many miles of trails there and they connect to St Edwards (another ~3 mile trail system), Upper Bull Creek, and Lower Bull Creek.  Plus, there's the Thumper Trail that all the mountain bikers rave about, which I might check out in the near future.

Last really long run

Katie and I did our last long run before El Scorcho tonight.  We knocked out 4 hours, which was Katie's longest training run ever.  We started with 2:45 on the trails down at Bull Creek, but ran out of light before we could get in a final loop.  We made the quick drive home and then did the last hour and 45 on the roads, cranking out some hills before finishing up on the crushed limestone in the neighborhoods behind the house.  Although pacing is definitely slow, I feel like I'm finally getting use to the heat, which is nice since I have A LOT of miles to run this summer.