Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Rudolph's Red Nose 5K Pre-Race

Sadly this is 5 days of growth.
I have lots of bad ideas.  And some terrible ideas, I do repeatedly.  My lovely wife attributes this to my stubborn, and often-outright, stupidity.  Apparently, I'm just too dumb to learn.  Every time I'm off from work for more than 2 days, like I was over the Thanksgiving holiday, I grow a "beard."  Or at least it would be if it actually grew in.  I can't even claim a manly Judge Lance Ito beard.  Instead my beard looks...well...let's just say it looks bad.  Kinda like a half-shavenm, motley chihuahua's butt.  Very bad.  

Likewise, some might say that continuing to do the Rudolph's Red Nose 5K would be a bad idea for me.  Maybe not chihuahua beard bad, but bad nonetheless.  Let me explain.  The Rudolph race is a night race usually the first Friday night in December.  Typically this is a very cold night.  I do not like the cold.  I'm a little man from a small Pacific island near the equator.  I'm not genetically designed to handle the cold.  I like it not.  The course is mostly an out-and-back with a large hill that has to be contended with both ways.  Traditionally this hill has made me it's bitch for the last two years.  So why do I keep running this race?  Well I probably wouldn't, if it wasn't so much fun!  The race kicks off Nashville's Christmas parade, so the course is lined with excited children and families.  The racers range from the serious to the playful with just as many elves as there are elites, possibly even more on the elf side.  Also this is the race that got me started two years ago.  So despite the the freezing temps that rob me of my manhood and the cold wind that burns to breathe in, I will continue to run this fun little 5k for as long as I can.  In essence it connects me to my running roots. It reminds me of those days when it was painful just to run even 1 mile.  It reminds me to let go and just have fun.  Now if I could only grow that beard....

Sunday, November 14, 2010

Chickamauga Battlefield Marathon Race Recap

Hail my running brothers and sisters!  If it wasn't true before, it is true now, that I can count myself as a marathoner.  Yesterday was the second official marathon that I finished.  While I didn't have the finish for which I was hoping, I was glad that I was able to 1) actually run this race (as opposed to the Middle Half which was a DNS) and 2)  actually finish this one (as opposed to the Country Music Marathon).  Post-race excuses and rationalizations:  Unfortunately I believe that my accident a month ago weighed heavily on the outcome of this race.  Missing two weeks of training and 2 big long runs (which included a race to test my speed and endurance) left me unsure as to whether I would be able to run this race.  When I was able to get back to training, I ran every step tentatively, wincing at every pain, because I was sure that it was an indication of an impending stress fracture.  Still I was determined to run this race, even if I had to crawl across the finish line. Luckily that wasn't necessary, though at times during the race, I was sure that it was a near thing.

For background, the Chickamauga Battlefield Marathon takes place in Ft. Oglethorpe, GA on the Civil War battlefield of Chickamauga.  It's a small race of about 500 runners for the marathon.  There were also about 700 half-marathoners.  Likewise the expo was small with a few vendors.  Still it was a nice, friendly atmosphere that emphasized paying tribute to the history of the area as well as being friendly to families.  The hours before the race, I stood huddled with several other runners around a heater inside the registration tent as the 39 degree chill felt much colder.  Still I managed to take care of some of my normal pre-race rituals (poop and pee), but I did not do a warm-up jog.  I was just too darn cold!

Eventually, they called for the imminent start, so I lined up with the rest of the runners at the starting line.  I found the 3:40 pacer and stood near him.  Chickamauga starts off their race by firing a canon (they also fire it for the first finishers of the marathon, half and jr-marathon!).  I knew about it, but I still jumped when they fired it.  Early on, I had decided to hold back and keep an easy, but quick pace.  I just wasn't sure what I could handle physically since the accident and  loss of training time.  Still as the miles ticked away, I felt strong and stable as I stayed with the pace group.  I stopped at the water stops for a minute or two and even took a porta-potty pit stop once or twice.  

The race itself was beautiful and eerie.  We started out at dawn and as the sun rose through the air, I could see rays of sunlight cut through the treetops and fog.  It was like some hazy special effect, and at any moment, I kept expecting to see a ghostly Civil War soldier materialize out of the fog.  Adding to this, the steam from the runners' labored breathing added to the ghostly quality of the race.  I almost stopped to take a picture of this scene (and wished that I had), but my competitive drive wouldn't let me give up the pace.  The course was generally flat, but it had a fair number of hills and some decent elevation to make it challenging.  Though it was a double loop course, the scenery of the park and the monuments throughout the battlefield never made the course seem boring.  There were plenty of volunteers riding on bikes throughout the course checking on runners, providing medical aid, duct tape (for blistered runners!), and Powerade from their bicycle baskets, if necessary.  The water stops and aid stations were well-manned and well-stocked.  So all-in-all, my race experience went fairly well.

Mile 15.  Feeling good.
Now the race was supposed to provide shuttles (in this case, small school buses) that would take spectators to various points along the race every 15 minutes or so.  According to my lovely bride, this did not happen.  So it was, that I was only able to see my family at mile 15 before the finish.  When they saw me, I was still feeling good and moving well unlike when they saw me at mile 18 of the Country Music Marathon.  I was just ahead of the 3:40 pace group by maybe a minute or two, and after shedding my extra clothes and kissing my family, I headed back to the race.  About 1/2 a mile into mile 16, I noticed the first bit of cramping.  I was surprised as I had tried to maintain my fluid intake, and had even made sure to drink a big bottle of water prior to the race.  I soon came upon another water/potty stop and decided to use the "facilities."  That's when I discovered that my pee-pee urine was a darkish brown.  Now, I'm no dummy (though my lovely bride has told me that I can be a dumbass).  I know what this means.  I'm majorly dehydrated.  I cursed my lack of training and started downing the Gatorade that my lovely bride had given me when I saw my family.  I thought briefly about dropping out, but I dismissed that thought immediately.  I kept sipping on my Gatorade, and when I got to a water stop, I two-fisted water and Powerade from the volunteers.  Still the cramping, like my pace, got worse.  I briefly hoped that if I could slow down to 9-10 minute miles that I might have some hope of finishing under 4 hours, and had I been able to do that, I probably would have finished under 4 hours.  

My daughter running to me at the finish.
However, my legs were screaming at me to stop.  My IT band was flaring in fiery, hot pain from the top of my thigh down to my knee, and every tendon and muscle touching it joined in the hate-fest.  At several points, I had to stop and bend over to stretch out my calves and thighs, or I might have locked up on the spot.  Around mile 24, I made an attempt at finishing stronger than my last few miles, but the pain was too much. Throw in that I was not mentally ready for it, this time my pace again dropped to crawl.  Still I refused to quit, though I must have been quite a sight as a couple volunteers asked me if I was okay.  I told them that I felt better earlier this morning, but I would be fine once I finished.  Eventually I did reach the finish.  I even passed several people, but I got passed by even more.  Still, nothing was better than seeing my family waving at me as I crossed the line.  My children ran out to me and my lovely bride hugged me and told me how proud she was of me.  I told her that I was glad to just be standing.

With the help of my family, I stiff-legged my way over to the Finisher's tent and ate and drank as much food as I could get my hands on.  Pizza never tasted so good as it did in that moment.  Before I could stuff a 4th piece of pizza into my mouth, the officials were calling for the start of the Jr. Marathon, of which both my children were participating.  I waved my wife and kids on telling them to hurry to the start as I gingerly followed behind them.  When I caught up to them, my kids were picking their way up to the line.  I gave them hugs of encouragement and my son told me that he was going to try to win it!  I told him to go for it and stepped back to my wife.  At the last minute, I decided to see if my daughter wanted me to follow her (hoping she wouldn't need me), and hobbled towards her.  Before I got to her,  the canon went off and the crowd of kids rushed off the line.  I'm not sure why, but I walked behind, following the crowd. That's when I saw the crowd of kids move around something and the officials rushing into the pack.  I knew from my experience with cross-country that meant someone had fallen, and somehow, I knew that it was my daughter.  In fact, it was.  She is so small that I imagine she could not keep her balance with the surge of the crowd and she was trampled.  The officials had picked her up and she was crying loudly.  I came up on them, told them that I was her father, and I scooped her up into my arms.  I'll admit that I had little left in the tank, but even I couldn't just let my little girl stand there crying.  So while she clung to my neck, I started walking around the junior course.  I tried soothing her, so I could calm her down and she could finish her race.  I don't know why, but for some reason, I thought it would matter to her if she didn't finish.  I carried her for awhile, and eventually I was able to calm her down enough so that she could walk. Holding her hand, we walked the course well behind the pack.  We talked a bit, and though I wasn't able to get her to stop sobbing, she kept going.  She even agreed to shuffle-jog into the finish when her brother came back to us and she got her medal.  After that, I let her have as many cookies as she wanted!

Team Vallejo finishing the Jr. Marathon!

Overall, the race was a great experience.  The course was beautiful and the weather was near perfect.  The officials and volunteers were friendly and helpful.  Now for the usual post-race questions:  Was I hoping for a better race?  Of course, I was.  Am I happy/proud with how I did?  Absolutely.  It wasn't the epic fail of the Country Music Marathon, and I proved that I can still overcome adversity to finish something that I started.  Was this race dedicated to anyone?  Yes.  Of course, I dedicated this race to my mom, but also to my friend Joe Lynn Smith and my sister-in-law's Uncle Bob.  Will I do another marathon?  Absolutely.  I think that I'm going to take another stab at the Country Music Marathon for next year, but I may end up pacing a friend.  What about qualifying for Boston?  I'm not saying it's out, but unless I really re-vamp and re-focus my training, it doesn't seem likely.  The marathon is such a beast, I have no idea how Ultra guys do longer.  I think that I'm just way too competitive to give up on striving for Boston, but realistically I can only mentally train to race one marathon a year.  I think that physically I can do more than 1 marathon a year, but rolling out sub-8's for 26.2 miles is a lot to train for.  Official time:  4:07:03, 9:26/mi.  I finished 38th out of 71 in my age group (Ugh.  I'm a Masters now.  When did I get so old?) and 182 out of 502 finishers overall.  My pace times were (thanks to Garmin) in order:  8:21,  8:21, 8:08, 8:50, 7:35, 7:51, 7:58, 8:14, 8:19, 8:13, 8:29, 8:30, 8:11, 8:28, 8:11, 9:16, 8:20, 9:19, 11:50, 10:38, 11:14, 12:47, 11:48, 9:50, 11:58, 11:47 and 10:18 for the final .2 of a mile.

For now, I am going to rest and recover.  I'm going to re-vamp my training plan and hopefully get ready for my final race of the year, the Rudolph's Red Nose 5k this December.  Keep the faith, kids!

Sunday, November 7, 2010

End of the Week Recap 11/7/10

Hail my running brothers and sisters!  I am now approaching my final week before the Chickamauga Marathon.  As most of you know (all 2 of you that actually read my blog), I was in a car accident that pretty much derailed my training.  I've reconciled myself (if I keep telling myself this, it may even become true) to the idea that I won't be able to reach my goal this time.  Since returning to training, I've kept my distances up, but my speed work has been sucktastic non-existent.  I've been reading Once a Runner and Again to Carthage for inspiration.  Sadly, all I want to do is finish the books again instead of run.  Ugh.  It doesn't help that my 3rd and 4th grade basketball has started, and guess who is coaching?  Yeah, I know.  Shocker.  Don't worry, those boys will be running a fair number of suicides.  All right.  That's it.  Wish me luck.  Keep the faith.  See you at the finish line!

Flag Counter

free counters