13.5 miles

Gloriously slow, but I got in 13.5 miles yesterday. I was going to do my long run on saturday, but 40 mph wind gusts and pouring rain did not sound like conducive conditions. I went out yesterday and slowly knocked out a long run. I'm pretty sore today, but it's a good sore. I'm feeling a slight tightness in my leg, but as long as it doesn't turn out to be anything, I'm on track for being able to run Boston.

I'm getting excited to actually be running a race again. I only did 4 races last year, and 3 of those were in the spring. I can't wait to do a bunch this year.

Another 4 miles

I visited Niketown Run Club tonight for the first time in a long time. It was nice to see some people I hadn't seen in a while. I got in a fairly easy 4 miler. I felt some "twinges" in my achilles, but its really hard to tell if they are real or just in my head because I'm paranoid. I'm taking tomorrow off and I'll get back on the running on thursday. Halfway through the week and so far so good...

This week determines my future.

I could be back on track for Boston (and Bear Mountain). We'll soon know. If I can make it through this week pain-free, then I'm good to go. So far, I've not had any issues.

I got in a few decent runs last week and ended with a 9 miler on sunday. I followed that up with a 6 miler last night at around 7:50 pace. I've got a few solid runs planned for this week culminating with a 12-14 miler on sunday. If I make it through that, I'll be much more optimistic.

I hit the pool last night too, which was nice. I got in 30 minutes of easy swimming after my run.

Crossing my fingers for this to be a good week.

Chicago Marathon '07 - RR

Chicago Marathon Race Report

Chicago experienced the hottest temperatures ever for the marathon this year. It was absolutely brutal. Here's a detailed report:



I got up at 5:30 a.m. and got ready for the race. When we headed outside, it actually felt pretty good outside, so I was hoping that perhaps the heat wouldn't be as bad as predicted. We took the train down to the start and by the time we got there it was already hot enough outside that I was sweating just walking to the bustling starting area. I bid farewell to my friend Jene, who had a position in one of the starting corrals. The corrals are for people who have run certain times in their age and gender so that they don't have to be in the massive open starting area. I went and checked my bag and then entered the open starting area at the back. I spend the next thirty minutes working my way up toward the 3:30 pace area, but I was only able to make it up to around the 4 hour pace area before the crowd of anxious runners was too thick to naviagate through. As we waited on the start of the race, I chatted with an older gentleman who was from Kerrville, Texas. Finally the start of the race was signalled. I waited as the thousands of people in front of me began the race before I was able to actually start forward progress. When I finally crossed the starting line, over eight minutes had already elapsed on the official race clock. Its a good thing someone invented chip timing, which doesn't start an individual runner's time until he/she actually crosses the starting line. Just walking to the starting line caused me to sweat quite a bit. I was already drinking water from the bottle I had planned to carry for the first five miles or so in order to skip the initial crowded water stations.



I was afraid my first mile would be ridiculously slow due to the mass start, but I found it somewhat easy to navigate through the crowd, as the streets for the first mile were quite wide allowing me to pass people on the edge of the street. The crowd cheering us on was five and six people deep for much of the first mile. When I crossed the first mile marker, I was right on pace as my watch showed 8:00. Unfortunately, the streets narrowed after the first mile and I was blocked by the slower runners. Several times I was run into by inconsiderate or inexperienced runners who decided they would cut in front of me and stop to say hello to family and friends who were cheering them on. When I crossed the second mile clock, I had logged an 8:20 second mile, which was putting me at a deficit I knew I'd have to make up if I were to reach my goal of a sub-3:30 time. As I went into miles three and four, I logged sub 8 minute miles, slowly chipping away at the twenty seconds added in mile two. The heat was getting worse as time ticked by and by mile four I was completely soaked with sweat. I finished off my bottle of water before mile five and had already taken the first of the electrolyte tablets I brought along to help ward off muscle cramps. Feeling sluggish just before mile five, I took the first of my power gels to try and give me a little boost. The energy kicked in and I continued to chip away at the extra time, but I started to wonder how long I could hold the pace due to the heat. At mile eight, the course made a turn onto a road where the buildings shaded much of the street. With the slight breeze, I felt a bit rejuvinated and continued my assault. As I glanced around, I realized two things. There were already people walking, struggling in the heat. The other was that that crowd had not dissapated. The people were no longer six deep, but there wasn't an inch of the course that wasn't occupied by people cheering. I hit the 15K mark a little slower than my projected pace, but I was still whittling away at the twenty seconds I lost on mile two.



Passing the halfway mark, I was only about two minutes off my overall projected pace, but reality was quickly sinking in. Looking around, there were people going down everywhere. Multitudes were walking. Everywhere I looked people were trying to stretch out muscle cramps. Paramedics were treating those who had succumbed to the intense heat. Just after the halfway point, I spotted a marquee outside of a bank. Flashing before me was "10:02 a.m." immediately followed by "92 degrees." It was somewhere around this juncture that I realized that there was no way I was coming in under 3:30, so I readjusted my goal to run a sub 3:40. I continued to put one foot in front of the other, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Even the crowds cheering couldn't help motivate me, and as I looked around my fellow runners all I saw was suffering. By the time I reached mile 15, I decided to throw time goals out the window and just get myself across the finish line. I started noticing people with pace cards on their backs that read "3:10" and "3:20" running with those of us who had fallen to a 3:50 pace. I reached into my pocked to grab another electrolyte tablet and only found loose salt in my pocket. I had sweat so much that the gel caplets had dissolved in my pocket leaving behind the salt they once contained. Wiping the salt granules from my hand, I looked over and saw that one of the official pacers for the race had removed his pacing sign and had succumbed to the heat. At this time, I also realized that I had stopped sweating, which was an obvious sign of dehydration. I knew I was going to be in trouble if I were to keep exerting myself, but I didn't want to stop. Luckily I was approaching a water station. I jogged to the water station and picked up two cups of Gatorade Endurance. I downed both full cups and moved on to the water station where I drank a glass of water and then dumped another cup over my head. I slowed my pace quite a bit and added in sections of walking to minimize exertion, while I repeated my massive intake of water for the next few miles until I felt sweat carving its way down my face once again.



As I continued my slow pace through the later miles of the race, I noticed the steady stream of runners crowding to the side of the street into a small strip of shadow cast by the buildings seeking any refuge from the blistering heat. I ran through the Mexican neighborhood and took advantage of a couple water stations that were run by spectators. Through the neighborhoods, spectators were spraying down runners with their water hoses and businesses were handing out ice to the overheated runners. I noticed a runner strapped to a stretcher being attended to by medical staff. As we neared mile 18, we entered Chinatown. There is no worse smell at mile 18 in an inferno than the thick smell of chinese food. I struggled through Chinatown and passed mile 20. The water stations in the later part of the race were stocked with bananas, which I devoured. Bananas are a great source of energy and help to hydrate due to their high water content. I had to keep telling myself to just get the next mile marker. It was difficult to push through and times and my body wanted to quit. I took a few short walking breaks to extend the little energy I had on reserve.



Once I crossed the 25 mile marker, I increased my pace just wanting to end the hell I was enduring. I came upon the second to last turn in the race, less than a half mile from the finish when I heard someone yell out, "stop running, the race has been cancelled. just walk." Thinking it was some sort of sick joke, I continued running. A short time later before I made my final turn to the last stretch, cops and medics were all yelling to stop running. The race had been cancelled. There was no way I was going to give it up only a quarter mile from the finish. As I continued to run, a cop stepped out into the stream of runners with his hand up telling me to stop running. I looked at him and said "I've run 26 miles, there's no way I'm stopping now." I sidestepped him, made my final turn and took the finish line. It was a slow 4:04:xx finish, but I felt fortunate just to cross the finish line.



In the hours after the race, I began to learn just how brutal the sun had been. Over 10,000 entrants didn't even show up for the race. Of the 35,000 that ran, only 24,000 finished. They ran out of ambulances as over 300 people were taken to hospitals. Several people were in critical condition. One man died due to a heart condition, but I'm sure the heat only exacerbated his condition. Runners still on the course were re-routed or bussed back to the starting line. They were not allowed to finish due to the extreme conditions. The race was absolutely brutal, and I was lucky enough to finish. Had I not readjusted my goals during the race and listened to my body, I could have very easily been on of the people who were hospitalized.

Jay Mountain Marathon - RR

July '07

Jay Mountain Marathon - Race Report

I didn't really proof this, so i'm sure there are many typos.

A quick look at race start quickly gave a little insight into how my day was going to go. There was a "corral" where the runners were to start. The course was flat for about ten yards beyond the starting line and then started up a steep hill. Prior to the start of the race, the race director gave a speech detailing the course and what to do if you needed to drop out, etc. As he was describing the ascent up Jay Peak, he said, "if you want to run up the peak, be my guest," and then he started laughing. As he continued to describe the course, I gave a few nervous chuckles.

At 8 am, the signal was given to begin and I started up the first hill. From the start, it looked like the hill flattened out at the top. However, once I reached the top, the course turned to the right and we entered the woods on a snowmobile trail still ascending. We continued to ascend as the snowmobile trail turned into a single-track trail in the woods. Patches of thick mud appeared at somewhat regular intervals, but they weren't too hard to avoid. After what I can only guess was a few miles, we reached a section where the terrain was so steep that there were two sections where we had to use an attached rope to help pull ourselves up the incline. The single-track trails continued as I made my way up more and more incline, with very little downhill or flat sections. Calves burning, sweating, and panting, I arrived at Aid Station 1 after 4.5 grueling miles of almost all uphill running. I downed some water and Gatorade, ate some pretzels, and snagged a few M&Ms before heading out.

Leaving Aid Station 1 found me running a short distance down a dirt road before heading back into the woods. I'd noticed the humidity prior, but it was starting to take its toll. When I reached the first brook section, I was momentarily relieved as the cool water chilled the air a few degrees. Relieved, that is, until I stepped into the water and my feet started to cramp up from the cold water temperature. I kept moving and my feet eventually gave up on trying to cramp, but the footing in the brook was quite unstable. The water ranged from ankle to waist deep and the entire brook bed consisted of slick rocks ranging in size from pebbles to large boulders. Slipping and falling was inevitable, but I tried to minimize the spills. Eventually I fell at one point and hit my knee on a large rock that was hidden below the surface of the water. A sharp pain shot up my leg and I was momentarily unable to put any weight on my leg. I limped forward as I began to wonder if I was going to have to drop out of the race. I slowly maneuvered through the brook as the flexibility returned to my knee and the pain slowly faded. People all around were falling into the frigid water. Eventually I saw an exit point and climbed the steep embankment onto the road only to find out that the course went right down the embankment on the opposite side of the road and back into the water.

I successfully navigated the remainder of the brook section without any more serious falls. As I exited the water and began to once again run uphill, the small rocks that had found their way into my shoes and socks positioned themselves into areas of extreme discomfort under my feet. As I rounded a corner after the crest of a hill, I heard clapping and cheering, which meant that Aid Station 2 was within reach. Soon I saw the welcome sight of tables of Gatorade and the knowledge that my first drop bag laid nearby. I grabbed some quick snacks and chugged some water and Gatorade before turning to the right to accept my drop bag from one of the volunteers. As I got my bag, I got my first glimpse of Jay Peak and my eyes widened in complete shock at the ascent which lay before me. "Holy Crap," I muttered as another racers just simply agreed with a "yeah." I'd seen the peak from a distance while driving to the start, but there was no way of grasping just how steep the ascent was going to be before arriving at AS 2.

Casting thoughts of my impending ascent aside, I took my drop bag and sat down in the grass. I immediately removed my shoes and socks. I wiped off my feet with a towel, put on fresh socks, and shook the rocks out of my shoes while ingesting a handful of beef jerky. I slipped my shoes back on and they had drained so well that my feet barely felt wet at all. I hopped up, put a power gel in the back pocket of my shirt, and strapped on my Camelbak. Before me stood the daunting task of a 2000 foot ascent over the course of the next 1.7 miles. I handed my drop bag back to one of the volunteers and started a slow jog uphill, but quickly realized that I would not be running to the peak. I joined the scores of other runners who had relented to the mountain and were making the hike to the summit. The trail became steeper and steeper as I wound my way toward the sky. Breathing heavily and sweating I kept putting one foot in front of the other as my calves burned intensely. As I passed other runners or other runners passed me, everyone inquired how I was doing, gave a quick vote of confidence, or joked about the insanity of the race. I was beginning to realize that this was not a race but a test of human endurance and will, and that we were all in it together.

The temperature dropped as the wind picked up and carried dark clouds with it. The promised thunderstorms appeared as if they were going to make a visit after all. About 3/4 of the way up the mountain I decided I needed a little boost of energy so I ingested the PowerGel to try and power me through to the summit. As I rounded a corner, I saw some runners coming down on another trail from the summit. I knew I had to be close, but a brutal climb still stretched out in front of me. I reached the summit with several other runners to the applause of a small crowd at Aid Station 3. I grabbed some food and drank some Gatorade before removing my shoes to
pick out a few straggling rocks that had made their presence known the entire assault on the summit. Ten miles down. Twenty-three to go and my legs already felt like jelly.

I started the descent thinking that I could easily cruise down the mountain and recover a bit before tackling the remainder of the course. What I found out was that although the descent was faster, it definitely wasn't any easier. The route down was just as steep as the ascent. If I were to
let gravity do all the work I'd pick up way too much speed and likely end up tumbling down about 2000 feet. Trying to slow my progress was painful on the knees and quite difficult. The process of slowing my rate of speed caused my foot to slide to the front of my shoe on each step. With the
quick rate of descent, the friction caused between my foot and the shoe quickly created an intense heat, which began to make my feet burn. I was actually worried that I would literally scorch my feet to the point of blisters, but I had no way to stop the action of my foot sliding in my
shoe. As the landscape continued to drop away in front of me, short, wooden bridges covered a series of small ravines that gave me relief, albeit very short, from the burning of my feet.

Eventually the angle of the descent eased to something a bit more manageable as we re-entered the woods and began the bushwhacking section. This stretch of "trail" was simply marked by flagging tape and arrow signs; there was no actual trail. The mud was thick and there was no way to avoid it as I kept an eye out for the next course marker. Legs heavy with caked mud, I continued to forge my way through the thick trees and undergrowth losing the course several times. The 4.5 miles from the summit of Jay to Aid Station 4 seemed more like 45 miles, but I eventually came upon the Aid Station where I grabbed liquids and food to recharge. My legs really felt beat down and I was wondering how I was going to summon the strength to complete another 19 miles of insanity.

Leaving AS 4 the course treated me to a couple miles of packed gravel roads. Initially, I was quite glad to have a surface a bit more familiar, but I quickly realized that the harder surface was causing some pain in my knees. I enjoyed the mostly flat and downhill terrain, but I was, somehow, almost wishing to be back in the woods fighting through shin-deep mud. The friendly banter among runners continued as veterans of the course laughed about wondering why they were doing the course again before revealing that they'd likely be back again next year. This seems to be common among runners. Days after a grueling race, we seem to forget all about the pain and suffering, only remembering the challenge and the fun parts of the race. Then about 15 miles into the next race we question why we are doing it again. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

The gravel road behind me, I re-entered the woods and found myself once again fighting through mud, dirt, and gallons of sweat. The sweat was making its way into my eyes and I had no way of preventing it. Hands caked in mud, I could relieve my stinging eyes, and so I squinted, grunted and kept putting one aching foot in front of the other. I navigated a short brook section, saying hello to the locals that were sitting on their back porches watching the runners stumble through the water.

I eventually arrived at Aid Station 5 and grabbed some salty boiled potatoes. A couple of the other runners were worriedly discussing making AS 6 before the 6 hour cut-off. We had an hour and twenty minutes to make the mere 4.5 miles from AS 5 to AS 6, but the average travel time between the two was 90 minutes with the fastest ever being 45 minutes. I quickly stuffed my face with food and drink before departing not wanting to be cut off. Shortly after leaving behind AS 5, I remembered that the cut off had been extended due to the longer course and the wet conditions of the course. I ran along a mowed path through a field as I talked with an older gentleman who had previously run the full and the half marathons, so he knew the course relatively well. I knew there was an impending ominous stretch of brook running before I made it to the next aid station, but it seemed to never arrive. We crossed a waist deep stream and then went back into the woods. I found myself running alone through the woods up and down hills and through the mud. Finally, after a very steep descent, I arrived at the next brook section. Relieved to cool off in the water, I quickly felt small rocks make their home under my feet as I navigated the frigid waters. In several places the course returned to the steep embankments through the thick dirt before spitting me back out into the water. Every time I took a weird step, my calves tried to cramp up. I had to clamor over large rock formations along the bank several times to avoid waterfalls and deep pools of water.

I exited the brook and moved up a steep section of trail that meandered through the woods. I was glad to be done with the brook section, until I turned the corner and realized that the trail had only detoured through the woods to take me around a very large waterfall that was obviously too dangerous for runners to attempt. There was an unmanned water station just before the makeshift stairs back down to the brook. I quickly filled my camelbak with water and re-entered the brook. Under my feet was an army of small rocks creating discomfort on every step. Now my hips joined my quads in their relentless effort to cramp. The course left and returned to the brook several times before finally leaving behind the gurgling stream. I felt as if I had to be closing in on the next aid station, but i really had no idea since my watch decided to quit working prior to the race. I fell in behind a trio of friends who were running the race together and we made our way through the woods. Another runner caught up to us as we found ourselves in the "swamp" on a single-track trail that was nearly impossible to run through. The ground consisted of trampled dried grasses, thick mud, and multitudes of puddles of water. The grass around us was eye level and was only broken up by areas where the water formed small lakes. Small tree stumps and fallen limbs slowed our progress as we passed a beaver dam on our right. Fighting to avoid mud, it eventually became inevitable what we had to run through it. I took a couple falls in the mud as did the other four runners I was with. The heat through the swamp area was sweltering. We finally left behind the swamp, but in accordance with the rest of the course, just as you are glad to be done with a section, the course presents another ridiculous obstacle.

The obstacle this time was yet another steep hill, which found most runners walking. The course went past a driveway and found its way onto a primitive dirt road. The road continued to climb. I knew the river crossing was before Aid Station 6, so I was wondering when we'd return to a lower altitude to where a river would lie. The road made a few plunges and each time I hoped the river would be soon, but I was disappointed each time. The course was beginning to beat me down both physically and mentally. As hunger pangs grew in my stomach, my mind began to shift to negative thoughts. I started thinking that I could stop and never run again. I thought that it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if I didn't make it to the next aid station before the cut off. Twenty-four miles of the course was tough enough. Of course I wasn't thinking clearly because if I got cut off, I would be quite disappointed later. The road gave way to more single track through the woods and my pace slowed to what must have been a hybrid of running and walking. I was doing the motions of running, but I was probably moving as fast as walking. I was running alone and my mental state was rapidly declining rapidly when I finally heard some people yelling "whoo hoo!" I figured it HAD to be the river crossing. I picked up my pace, rounded a corner and saw the river.

My mental state improved dramatically knowing that AS 6 was on the other side of the river, I had made it prior to the cut-off, I could feed my growling stomach, and I could ditch my camelback. I grabbed a hold of the rope and hopped in the river. The water felt splendid as I used my upper body to move across the river allowing my legs some much needed rest. I climbed the ladder and came out of the water ready to get to the aid station that had to be near by. I headed up a hill with a group of other runners, but the trail just kept going. Where was the aid station? I was under the impression that the aid station was just after the river crossing, but apparently "just after" to the Race Director meant another half mile uphill through single-track trails.

I FINALLY reached Aid Station 6, gathered my drop bag, and sat down a little over 6 hours after starting the race. Twenty Four miles in six hours! I finished the 60K (37.2 miles) in six and a half hours without even training for it. This race is insane. I once again pulled off my shoes and socks, dried off my feet, and attempted to remove as many rocks as possible. I ate a PB&J, stuffed beef jerky into my jersey pock along with a PowerGel and some Shot Bloks, and drank Gatorade. I went to the table and grazed on the different foods available. I had made AS 6 and avoided the cut-off. I could take my time on the next nine miles and make the finish. I'd made twenty-four miles, how hard could the next nine be?

I left the aid station in a slow jog, but quickly slowed to a walk as I decided to go ahead and eat all my beef jerky on the move to replenish the salts and try to curtail my muscle cramps. A quarter of a mile or so after the aid station, I came to a rather steep hill and figured it must be what the race director had called the "hill from hell" during his pre-race speech. I could see why. At this point in the race, and hill was going to be bad. I decided to walk it and just finish off my beef jerky since most people were walking anyway. When I crested the hill and came to a flat section, I realized just how hard the next nine miles could be. The hill I had just walked suddenly became very small as I stared at the real "hill from hell" that stood in front of me. I couldn't even see the top of the hill because it rose for what looked like miles. Every runner on the hill was walking and they looked like ants slowly moving up the landscape. I jogged the flat section and moved onto the hill. I joined my other runners in walking the hill. I had a few more short conversations on the brutal ascent which was over a mile and just as steep as sections of Jay Peak. Eventually, I made it up the hill, which seemed like more of a mountain, and the course moved on to some rough logging roads. I was once again running by myself. My mental state was in limbo. I knew I was going to finish, but the course was really taking its toll on me. I felt like I had plenty of energy, but my legs were very fatigued and it was getting harder and harder to keep lifting my feet and move them forward. I eventually heard clapping and saw a woman with her dog who gave words of encouragement. I knew I was near Aid Station 7! I moved off the dirt road and onto the paved road and picked up my pace. There was a line of people cheering and a couple of volunteers on four-wheelers. I was perplexed though, as I didn't see the actual station. I passed the four-wheelers and realized that the aid station wasn't there. I was absolutely crushed. I followed another dirt road, which began to rise and I just started walking. All the positive energy had been sucked out of me.

A race veteran passed me and said, "good idea to save your energy, there's a big sand dune coming up." What little energy I had drained from my body and I just hung my head as I trudged along. I rounded a few more corners and started down a curved sandy road when I spotted the sand dune. It was massive. The first level of the dune was about fifty steep feet. There was a short flat section and then the dune continued up for another at least one hundred feet. I started making my way up the dune. I had to use my hands to scramble up the incline due to the insane angle of the dune. Once I reached the top, the course ambled back into the woods and up a steep hill on more single track trails. After about a half mile, I found myself running along a narrow trail next to a cornfield. In the distance I could hear cheering, and I knew that the aid station was indeed nearby this time. I ran around the perimeter of the cornfield and spotted the aid station on the other side of the road. Once there, I relished the fact that I only had five short miles left before I would have completed the race.

I ate some more boiled potatoes and drank a small amount of Pepsi while I reflected on the twenty-eight miles that I felt in my legs. I was worried about the next section of the course. The next aid station was a mere two miles away, which lead me to believe that it was going to be a difficult two miles. I pushed some branches away and moved into the woods again at a slow pace. The landscape through the woods was rolling and eventually gave way to a dirt road, which, in turn, gave way to a paved road. I kept a slow pace on the pavement trying to minimize the impact on my joints. Before I knew it, I had crossed a field and was at the final aid station marking the thirty mile mark.

I sat down in the grass and removed as many rocks as I could from my shoes that had worked their way out from under the insole. After parting with the debris, I took a quick drink of water and started the final stretch of the course. My spirits were quite high. I was tired, hurting, hungry, and beaten down, but I was going to finish the race. I passed a few runners who had decided to walk the final three miles to the finish. The course followed a winding path that skirted the edge of the woods and farmers' fields. Eventually, the course turned back into the woods and presented me with mud hole after mud hole. I caught up to a couple of other runners who were trying not to lose shoes in the thick, pungent sludge. Most places the mud was only about ankle deep, but there was no way of knowing how far you would sink when you took a step. Sometimes it was solid and sometimes I sank to my knee. The mud stunk and stuck to my shoes and legs to make every step heavier. We crossed a road and then re-entered the woods for another short stretch of mud and muck. Finally we started ascending a bit and the mud gave way to drier ground.

I joined two other runners in a discussion of the Tour de France and the issue of doping. As we talked, I forgot about the fatigue and even the running itself. We were moving at a slow pace, but we covered a couple miles without me even realizing it. Before crossing a short bridge, a girl passed us and said, "let's get this over with, we've got less than ten minutes left." Reality returned and I realized that I was almost finished with the daunting task that I had set out to tackle hours ago. A smile found its way onto my face and my pace quickened. After a short ascent, we came out of the woods near a pond and the grass was a manicured green. I heard someone ask if "this was it" and there was a reply of "yes." My pace quickened as I ran toward the final hill which led to the finish line. Another runner came up on my right and we began to race each other to the hill. As we began the descent, I could slow myself down and quickly left the other runner behind. I had absolutely no control of my legs and I was worried about tumbling down the hill to the finish line, but somehow kept my balance. Just as I crossed the finish line, my calf cramped up reminding me what I'd just gone through.

As a volunteer placed the metal over my head, that familiar feeling of accomplishment that comes with finishing a difficult race came over me and all the pain melted away. I stretched out the cramp and walked under the tent as the skies opened up. Several runners I'd shared the course with came to congratulate me and make small talk after the race. We had all survived. Although I'd run sections of the race alone, I was never tackling this race alone. The culture of Jay Mountain wouldn't allow it. We were all tackling the course with our own legs, but every runner was there in support of the entire field of competitors. It didn't matter if someone's finishing time was ten hours or six hours, congratulations were spread around. It was a culture I've never felt, or at least to that extreme, during any sort of road race. I was asked immediately after the race if I thought I'd do it again. I was unsure. There were definitely parts of the course I enjoyed, but I was remembering the difficulties, the pain. I said I needed more time to digest everything.

It's been almost a week. Would I do it again? You bet. No one ever said I was sane.

You have to be crazy to attempt Jay Mountain and even crazier to finish. But every single person who finished that race is a certified badass, and I have no qualms about calling myself one after finishing that race.

33 miles. 8:32:20. 16:13 pace. 150th place overall, 79th in the male division. I definitely didn't set any speed records, but I finished, and that's all that matters.

In an effort to consolidate race reports...Tour de Bridge

June '07

The Ultimate Multi-State Five Borough Trans-Manhattan tour de Bridge Challenge 2K7

The Ultimate Multi-State Five Borough Trans-Manhattan tour de Bridge Challenge 2K7

We dropped out stuff off at a friend's apartment and then jumped on the 1 train up to the bronx. It took about 45 minutes to get up there. As the train pulled into the station, we notice it started sprinkling. We ran about 50 feet and then stopped to take some pictures on the Broadway bridge and then headed into manhattan.

Current Tally: 1 Subway Ride, 1 Bridge, 2 Boroughs

We continued south on broadway and then turned to the west and headed into Inwood Park. We made a few wrong turns in the park, but eventually came back out on the streets and went south. We made it onto riverside drive and then out to the greenway next to the cloisters. We continued our route south and stopped somewhere along the way to take a picture of the George Washington bridge in the distance. A few miles later we arrived at the George Washington bridge where we made a few wrong turns trying to find the pedestrian walkway. Eventually we found it as it continued to rain lightly. When we started up the ramp to the bridge we passed a couple guys on bikes with BOB trailers who were having a hell of a time trying to navigate the sharp turns. We got onto the bridge and stopped to take a couple pictures and the two cyclists caught up. We asked where they were going and they said they were headed to Vancouver. It was day one. They had maps to the other side of pennsylvania and then they were going to figure the rest out later. We talked to them a bit and we talked about TX4K. Eventually we bid them good luck and goodbye and continued west on the bridge. We bagged Jersey, took a picture and headed back over the bridge. On out way back, Jene mentioned that she was glad it was raining b/c it actually felt nice.

Current Tally: 1 subway ride, 2 Bridges, 2 States, 2 Boroughs

We decided we needed to skip the Tri-Borough bridge b/c we were going to have to come back via a pedestrian bridge that closed at dusk and we didn't want to get stuck in queens not knowing the area. So we headed down the west side of the island through some neighborhoods and eventually riverside park. We followed the greenway until we hit 55th street and then made our turn east. A couple blocks later we stopped at a bodega and grabbed some food. I ate a banana and a stick of beef jerky. Also grabbed a gatorade. We walked a few avenues as we ate and let our food settle a bit. This is about the time the skies opened up. We started running again at 6th Avenue in the steady rain. Eventually we turned at 1st Ave and saw the Queensboro bridge in front of us. We stopped under some scaffolding to consult our map and then went for the bridge. We eventually found the entrance to the bridge and headed up the incline. It was pouring on us as we laughed about the conditions and continued to plod along. We stopped at the top of the bridge to take a picture of the Roosevelt Island cable car and then made the descent. We had to stop again under the bridge to consult the map.

Current Tally: 1 Subway Ride, 3 Bridges, 2 States, 3 Boroughs

We figure out our directions and headed back west to catch 11th Ave. On the way we actually passed a couple other runners who were as soaked as we were. We turned and headed south on 11th Ave toward the Pulaski Bridge. It only took us a short bit to hit the Pulaski and we made our way over it into Brooklyn.

Current Tally: 1 Subway Ride, 4 Bridges, 2 States, 4 Boroughs

Once into Brooklyn, we stopped under some scaffolding to check the map again and then headed deeper into Brooklyn. By the time we made it through the neighborhoods around where Jene lives and to the entrance to the Williamsburg bridge, the rain was coming down pretty steady. We stopped for a couple of pictures in the rain at the Williamsburg Bridge and then headed up the long incline to the top of the bridge and then back down the other side.

Current Tally: 1 Subway Ride, 5 Bridges, 2 States, 4 Boroughs

Back in manhattan, we turned south and went into chinatown where we got somewhat turned around and added some mileage trying to find our way to the Manhattan Bridge. The rain was still coming down pretty steady, but we eventually fought through traffic and made it onto the bridge. Running over the bridge we could see south to the brooklyn which marked the last bridge we need to take. We came down off the bridge and crossed the street as the wind started howling and the rain was coming down sideways.

Current Tally: 1 Subway Ride, 5 Bridges, 2 States, 4 Boroughs

We laughed as the rain pounded us, but it was just a short run to the entrance to the brooklyn bridge. We started up the bridge and were totally exposed. The rain was pelting us and felt like needles b/c the wind was so intense. We continued our assault on the final bridge. Every other bridge we had at least seen one other unfortunate soul, but the brooklyn completely desolate. We came down the bridge and celebrated with a couple high fives. It was cold and miserable, so we briefly contemplated skipping the run down to and the ferry ride.

Current Tally: 1 Subway Ride, 7 Bridges, 2 States, 4 Boroughs

We put thoughts of quitting out of our minds and headed south to the ferry. We stopped to take pictures with the Bull and then made our way down to the Staten Island Ferry. We arrived just before they closed the doors to the departing ferry and walked in. All eyes immediately were focused on us. We were completely soaked from head to toe and were dripping all over the ferry. The line to the snack bar was too long, so we decided to forgo the beers for the ride over and would get them on our way back. We found a place upstairs away from people and sat shivering, much to the disgust of a woman sitting across from us. 15 mins later, we arrived at Staten Island and departed the ferry.

Current Tally: 1 Subway Ride, 7 Bridges, 2 States, 5 Boroughs, 1 Ferry Ride

We made a SHORT jog in the station to make it official and then entered the departing ferry. The rain was cold and we found ourselves shaking from the elements. We decided to substitute hot chocolate for beers and attempted to warm up on the ride back to manhattan. We exited the ferry and went to take the 1 train, but it was not running.

Current Tally: 1 Subway Ride, 7 Bridges, 2 States, 5 Boroughs, 2 Ferry Rides

We jumped on the Q and went up to union square. it was pouring so hard we took a cab to our friend's place to pick up our stuff.

so that was it.

Grand Total: 2 Subway Rides, 7 Bridges, 2 States, 5 Boroughs, 2 Ferry Rides, 1 cab ride, 1 hot chocolate, and 25.02+ miles

I feel find today, although I have an overall general feeling of fatigue. My legs are a little sore, but nothing bad. My feet don't like me, but I'll probably be back out pounding the pavement on wednesday.

here's the rough map of the run for anyone interested:

http://www.mapmyrun.com/run/united-states/ny/new-york/458167658

we have decided to make it an annual run, so the first sunday of June next year will mark the next run!

A shuffle is better than nothing

I've been doing a little running and my heel seems to be ok, but I've yet to try to really run. I got in about 45 minutes tonight along the promenade in Portland tonight. It was a slow shuffle, but I made it through. I never really felt fatigued, but I definitely have NO speed. I had a few "feelings" in my heel, but I have no idea if they were real or in my head. My heel doesn't hurt now, so I'm going to make another attempt in the morning and see how it goes. I'm not getting too excited, but if things go well tomorrow, I could be on my way to being able to (slowly) run Boston.