Toeing the Line in Tucson - the 2007 Tucson Marathon Race Report

Toeing the Line in Tucson – the 2007 Tucson Marathon Report


Coffee for my breakfast

Shot of whiskey on the side

It's a dark and dreary morning

With the clouds covering up the sky

[Chorus:]The forecast calls for pain

The forecast calls for pain

My baby's turning cold.......And the forecast calls for pain

Robert Cray – Forecast (Calls for Pain) – from the Album “Midnight Stroll”

Yes, I did do the Tucson Marathon on Sunday, December 2. My Winter Headquarters hometown race as it were.

There were as always many amazing things and aspects to the experience, but the words that come to mind when starting this blog were “Never Mind”

Here goes:

Never Mind that I hadn’t trained a lick since Portland (okay, a 15K at the end of October, a cross-country 5k on Thanksgiving and a quick 7-miler a week ago Saturday with Cayelin’s 22-year old Speed Demon Daughter Jenna – but little consistent running, and no long distance work)

Never Mind that I hadn’t run since the aforementioned Saturday Jenna Run

Never Mind that I spent Monday through Friday this last week gone and busy, I flew up to Portland, OR last Monday, and on Tuesday helped Daniel Giamario load a 28-Foot Diesel Penske moving truck (uphill and in the rain) with all his earthly possessions (including several dozen 50-80 pound boxes of books) We also loaded his Jeep Cherokee on a car carrier, and hooked it to the truck resulting in about a 40 foot long, 12 foot high rig. We then drove 1,500 miles straight down the I-5 through Oregon, all of California, Los Angeles, then across to Phoenix, and down to Tucson, arriving late on Thursday night. Then, on Friday, we unloaded all the stuff (again, in the rain, but now in TUCSON) into his rented apartment, and turned in the truck by 6:00 pm.

Never Mind that during said journey, Daniel and I smoked several big bomber cigars, listened to Jazz and loud Rock and Roll and subsisted on such healthy fare as Taco Bell, Jack-in-the-box and Trader Joe’s Truffles. We also washed down such epicurean gastronomic fare with lukewarm bottles of Martinelli’s Sparkling Apple Juice.

(Healthy lifestyle choices, that’s Daniel and I!)

So, most of the week was either sitting in an uncomfortable rental truck seat, making WIDE turns, or doing non-stop leg-presses schlepping heavy-ass boxes and furniture.

And oh, yeah Never Mind that…hadn’t I broken a toe not four weeks back? (for details, see my last blog “Burning Race Fees”)

So, Never Mind all that….on Saturday, Cayelin and I went over to the Hilton El Conquistador on the north end of town and got my packet and timing chip for the race on Sunday.

Before I get to the race details, let me back up a few weeks.

I was really pleased at all the responses I got to my last, somewhat whiny blog about Burning Race fees and the recent broken toe injury I had suffered. A key factor in my decision to actually run this race regardless was not only my normal pigheadedness, but a kindly inquiry from my good friend Will S, who, in response to the blog wrote to me:

……how bad is your toe now? can you walk? even, painfully, without seriously damaging yourself or putting yourself too far behind in healing...if...you were to WALK the marathon?
seems the Taurean enjoyment might even be more augmented; you'd earn the shirt wearing for DARN sure; you'd still be able to say you completed six marathons this year...well, you get the idea!

It was a well-timed reminder of my self-proclaimed “Zen Training Program” practicing non-attachment to outcome – a great life lesson for all things, not just specific events.

Like Marathons.

So, Thanks Brother Will!

I think…

Read on……

I’ve done the Tucson Marathon twice before – in 2002 and 2003. Both times I remembered it as being a pretty low-key event, not a big-city type race, and fairly well run and marked. I also remembered a fairly rolling, but not hard, and mostly downhill course. The Expo was a typical small-race expo, located in the aforementioned El-Conquistador resort, a desert-type resort center, with spectacular mountain views. It was, as usual a bit of a labyrinth trying to find the correct meeting room that the expo was being held in, but we prevailed, finding it after navigating the outside courtyards, complex lobby, and a few long hallways.

I noticed right away that the Tucson T-shirt hadn’t changed much since 2002 – it’s a white cotton short sleeve, with the same emblem and information embedded on the front (it’s called the Holualoa Tucson Marathon, which sounds blatantly Hawaiian, though it’s not), and the same emblem of likenesses of Kokopelli, a Petroglyph Sun, and a Cactus, in succession.
Not much has changed T-shirt wise since 2002, thought the quality is a little cheaper. And since both the Marathon and Half Marathon shirts are the same, the sponsor for the Half Marathon – Damascus Bakeries – is also represented on the front. No one from Tucson that I talked to had ever heard of Damascus Bakeries, so who knows what that was all about? No bread, or pastries were evident during the entire event.

Yeah, I’m a T-shirt snob…..but I got spoiled in Fox Cities this year, and also in Medford at the Pine line Marathon, so I know races can get good apparel….Tucson just, apparently doesn’t.

Typical expo stuff – a Chiropracter, National Running Center, a local Shoe Store, Sunglasses and Cliff bars – however, there was a “Sock Survey” booth where you could fill out a form, which asked about your athletic sock-buying preferences, and willingness to pay up to $10 for a good pair of cushioned socks. By taking the survey, you got a free pair of socks. So, I did. Strange looking socks also – but free, however I refrained from trying them out on race day.

We were done with the expo in short order, and headed back across town. That day – Saturday - was the third day of some all-day soaking rains. Not typical for Tucson at this time of year – and I was slightly concerned that the conditions for this – advertised always as a “fast downhill course” - was going to be treacherous and miserable. Sunday forecast called for clearing and ‘60’s with 10-15 mph winds out of the East Northeast – so it looked okay.

Inside the bag-o-stuff from the expo was the course map with elevation chart, which showed a pretty exaggerated totally downhill course, starting at 4,800 feet above sea level and ending at 3,062 feet, with each mile marker seemingly at a lesser elevation than the one before. Net down hill, right?

Wrong. As my bitter experience for more than one race has proven to me – elevation charts LIE LIE LIE!!!!

More on that later.

So, after watching “Leap of Faith” (apropos title!) on DVD with Cayelin on Saturday night, I spent a rather sleepless night and rolled out about 03:30 am. The first bus was to leave a place called Ventana Medical Center at 5:00 am, and I did remember from years past that it was a good idea to get there early to be on the bus as they often filled up and sometimes actually ran out of room for marathoners. (they actually issue dire warnings about this in their “info for Race Day”) And, since I couldn’t sleep, I decided to catch a good parking spot and bus ride.

Headed across town in the dark, a 45 minute ride, even without traffic – Tucson is a big, sprawling city and we are definitely on the way south side. Got to the Medical center, which was located way up at the end of a “dark desert highway” and found a really long line of school buses. Parked the Toyota, and sat for a few minutes in the dark, and then headed to the front of the line of buses.

I was directed by some dark figure with a flashlight to the first bus, and stepping up encountered…..The North Pole, complete with Santa Claus and Santa Land! There was a bearded, elderly Santa-lookalike bus driver complete with resplendent white beard and Red Stocking Cap, sitting behind the wheel.

“Merry Christmas” he boomed.

“Same to you,” I dazedly replied, thinking, “Man – sleep deprivation has gotta be getting to me”

The entire bus was festooned from end to end with multi-colored Christmas lights, red garland and bouncing stuffed Reindeer suspended from hooks. It looked professionally done, but was trippy to say the least.

After ascertaining that this was, indeed, the bus for the FULL marathon, I made my way towards the back and grabbed a seat. Soon the bus was full and we pulled out for a long ride up the mountain to Oracle, where the starting line was. I was sitting next to a very nervous young Aerospace Engineering College student, who was doing his second marathon. We chatted desultorily, but mostly the bus was quiet, filled with half-asleep runners.

We were the first bus to arrive….and as it turned out later that was a good thing. Some people I talked with later in the day told me that one of the buses had taken a wrong turn and got lost in the dark, getting them there pretty late, and also one of other buses inadvertently drove OFF the road, getting stuck in the ditch, necessitating all of the runners to get out and PUSH. It was worth getting up early, that is for sure, Santa Claus and all.

By the time we arrived, there was still an hour and a half to go until Race Start. As it looked dark and cold outside, I elected to remain on the bus. As it turned out, it was quite amusing to do so. Santa-the-bus-driver decided to entertain us, and for the next half hour or so regaled us with tales from School bus land, personal anecdotes and riddles. I remember three of the riddles he had us, his rapt audience, trying to solve.

Here they are:

1) If everyone in the United States decided to paint their cars pink, what would you have?
2) If you had 100 rabbits all lined up next to each other, and walking backward, what would that be?
3) If you had a Bumblebee in your hand, what would you have in your eye? (he assured us that the bee would not be stinging anyone)

The answers follow this blog, and if you don’t want to read about the rest of the race, just scroll down to the bottom.

I remember thinking (and commenting to my seat-mates “Now there’s a man who loves his job”

After a while, I noticed that it was getting light outside and there was some glow coming over the mountains to the east of us. Santa had run out of riddles and anecdotes, so I decided to venture out of the warm bus to see what was going on.

It was f&*$#@ng cold out there…..The altitude was almost 5,000 feet - in December and in the desert, the temperature was probably 38 degrees. And, because of the rains of the past three days it was a humid (for the desert) 38 degrees. I made the obligatory Porto-pottie stop as they were wide open, and then leaned against the back of an Enterprise truck that was almost identical to the one I had just driven from Portland to Tucson. Seconds later, hundreds of runners came swarming up to use the porta potties. The other buses had indeed arrived.

By now, a DJ had started playing loud music, everything from disco to country, and they started counting down the time to race start. The group around me was high-energy, and I had several conversations from people from California, Australia, Massachusets, and of course Tucson. One engaging lady named Julie from Northern California informed me she had just taken four ibuprofen and was planning on at least another eight for the race. This reminded me to start doping as well, so I had some pre-race Aleve, knowing that I was going to need it.

“I’ve only done a seven mile training run in the last three months” This from a lean, grey haired guy who just walked up to me and started a conversation

“That’s cool” I replied.

His eyes get bigger. “But, I’ve done Boston three times and I do hundred mile bike rides”, he exclaims “I’ve done Tucson five times, I know this course like the back of my hand.”.

“Well, I broke my FOOT four weeks ago,” I reply, to do a one-up and get some skin into the conversation. (okay it was my toe, but foot sounded better)

This stops him. “Aww, dude, you shouldn’t be running on that! I know this, I’m a physical therapist”, he tells me, energetically.

Thus I met Mark, a local (from Tucson) crazy runner like myself. We spent the remaining time before the start comparing stories, or mostly I listened to his stories.

“If the Lord is with me – and my Ibuprofen holds up – I should be in around 3:35,” he tells me, right before the start.

By now the sun is fully up over the mountains, shining over the crowd of bundled up (and not so bundled up) runners. It’s still cold, steam is rising from everyone’s mouths as we all energetically talk, stretch, and move closer to the start line, which is a “balloon arch” a little way down the road.

The announcer tells us that there will be no gun, it will be a “Runners Set….Go!!!

Promptly at 7:30 am, it’s “Runners Set….Go!!” and we’re off

The first quarter mile is downhill, and directly into the rising sun. It’s VERY difficult to see, I had put my sunglasses on, but soon had to take them off as the glare and the fog from the cold and damp air made it impossible to see. I had to concentrate on the runners in front of me for about the first mile to make sure I knew where I was going – if I looked up, I was immediately Blinded By The Light.

I lost Mark right away, which figured, and I continued on in the crowd.

Here is where the fun set in – in the first mile, we began this undulating uphill trek, around some corners, and through some washes, and down these two lane roads. The roadways were littered with mud, gravel and rocks washed down from the heavy rains from the day before. We soon dropped below the mountainline, and lost the direct-in-the-eyes sun, but still……I know uphill when I feel it. The combination of almost 5,000 feet and some gradual grinding uphills were pretty challenging.

To make matters worse, my legs are hurting right from the minute I started. I was immediately reminded of all the boxes of books, furniture, and household items I’d moved out of Portland and into Tucson.

In other words, I’m thinking….”The forecast calls for pain……..”

I intentionally started somewhat slowly, in order to get my legs underneath me, and conscious also of the altitude and cold. I didn’t think I was THAT slow, however, in the first half mile, the Four Hour pace group literally blew past me like I was standing still. One minute they were on me, and the next they were taillights. I watched with some chagrin as the bobbing blue-colored sign disappeared in a sea of runners.

“Kiss this one goodbye,” I’m thinking. Now I’m focused on survival.

The course continued to undulate up and down for the first four miles. During one, long, at least half-mile endless uphill, I start passing runners. I comment to one “It’s all UP hill from here!” He laughed, breathlessly, then nervously calls after me “You’re kidding…right?”

By mile four, I’ve caught and passed the Four Hour pace group, who had apparently fired their leader and slowed the pack down to a normal pace. I had hit the two mile marker at about 17 minutes, so I knew that something was awry with that pace. And, I’m hoping for some downhill by then

We started getting some of the famous downhill aspects of Tucson before mile 5. The course dropped through a small town, and started to head downhill. You could tell by the sound of feet striking where and when the hills began; suddenly the pitter patter of running feet increased it’s tempo. It’s warmer now, the sun fully up. I shed the “Run Into the New Year” Ale House long sleeve T-shirt that I had put on at the start to keep warm, and donated it to the pile of discarded clothing at one of the water stops. I add my cotton gloves a few miles later, and now I’m displaying my Marathon Maniacs yellow singlet. In checking the website, I knew that several of my Maniac brethren had signed up for the race, but I haven’t seen any of them – or any in uniform, anyway. Where could they be?

We had a great downhill stretch from miles 5-9. At mile 6, I’m averaging an 8:29 pace even though my legs aren’t feeling to great, and at that point, the course hangs a left, and empty’s out onto Oracle Road. A sign in front of us says “Tucson – Left, Globe – Right.

We go left.

Lots of mountains on the horizon, cactus, sagebrush and desert terrain all along the road. A true run through the desert. It’s a great downhill stretch and the pace picks up. I comment to a grim-looking runner next to me – “straight shot from here!” He fires back “yeah – except for the Keyhole”.

I had noticed on the course map that they were taking us off of Oracle road for a few miles, seemingly adding an inner loop of two miles out, and two back, at mile 9. I assume that because they had changed the finish line to a different spot, that they needed to add some distance to the course which used to be all on Oracle Road from the Junction to the El Conquistador Resort.

I soon found out how fun this could be.

Hit the turn at mile 9 clipping along pretty good. Across the street from me is mile marker 14, and I’m thinking…..”big loop”. The road starts winding up….and out of sight around some corners.

This was a ball-busting detour. It was the road to the BioSphere, a local attraction and it was not, in any way, downhill. Indeed, there were many “rolling hills” at the shallow bottom of which were the mile markers, which accounted for the “net downhill” indicators of the course elevation chart. But, glory be to god, these were rough and grinding uphill stretches. To add insult to injury, now there is a 10 MPH headwind, and we are heading again into the low Winter sun.

It was very tempting to “jump the median” so to speak, but I’m a good sport, and I refrained. I slogged the miles out to the Bio-Dome, watching as streams of faster runners passed on the other side, on their way back. Because the road was rolling, it was clear that the hill climb went both ways – coming and going.

At the innermost turnaround, there was, of course, a chip timing mat to make sure that no one cheated. I passed over it as it beeped loudly, made the hairpin turn, and headed back the way I had come.

Grinding my way back to Oracle Road, my legs already complaining loudly, I start seeing my Marathon Maniac Brethren with their yellow and red shirts, most of which appeared to be behind me. We shouted encouraging “Go Maniacs!” to each other as we passed going the other way. None of them that I saw looked any happier than me.

I managed to make it back to the corner, after taking a walking break or two on some of the more steeper inclines. There was actually no half-way marker to let you know where you were, but I think that I was around 1:53 – a typical time for me. There was a chip mat at the 13.7 mile marker, because, I think, of the Marathon Relay splits, and I clocked in there at 1:59:46, or an 8:45 pace. Losing time, by now….

Back onto Oracle Road, it’s time to stretch out in the downhill. The miles grind by one after another, with water stops every two miles or so. There was a Cliff Shot stop as well, but only one. I’m downing everything I can, including Gel Packs, ibuprofen, another Aleve, and a few Young Living Ninxia Red Packs that I had also brought. The sport drink at the stops was “Comp-One” a pale-green, almost tasteless drink. Nonetheless, it seemed good for a lift, so I imbibed heavily at each stop. The course volunteers were all fabulous, upbeat and encouraging at each stop.

The desert sun was warming things up, but the breeze was cool, so I was alternately warm, then cold, depending on the surrounding terrain and how well it blocked the wind. I managed to slog my way to mile 20 at 2:57:59 on my watch, and then, I had to take a walking break, as my legs were screaming bloody murder.

In my mind, I’ve already kissed a sub-four hour finish goodbye, based on the way I’m feeling. Now, it’s just about getting across the finish line, like in Quebec.

….But something in me refused to just lay down and die, painful legs notwithstanding. I calculate that I need to keep each of the next miles under 10 minutes and maybe, maybe it will be close.

So, I run…and walk for a few steps….run, and walk for a few steps. I’m having the familiar experience of the “last 10-k Do-Si-Do” – that of passing other runners, and then having them pass me a few minutes later as I take my 10 second walking breaks…..then passing them again. Inexorably, the finish line starts drawing closer as my fevered mind is calculating splits, counting seconds, and making deals with myself mentally. By now, I’m not only energetically writing checks that I can’t cash - I’m throwing wallet, credit cards, jewelry, artwork, real estate equity and future earnings out the window to keep myself moving forward and upright.

This stretch of the course is along a busy segment of Oracle Road with gas stations, restaurants, retail stores and all kinds of traffic. Not terribly pleasant, but at this point I couldn’t care less. I pass a gas station and there is a litter of change on the ground in front of me – dimes, nickels and pennies. I wasn’t about to try and stop and pick them up. Possibly, it was change from all the wealth I'm flinging out, whilly-nilly to the universe?

At mile 24, the course hangs a left off of Oracle and……heads up hill. Not too terrible, but at this point I’m ready to scream. We go up and over a ridge, and then behind, of all things, a shopping center – bar, grocery store, and sandwich shop, where patrons from the bar have set up a “beer stop” I grimace at them and keep slogging.

At the top of the rise behind the shopping center and right before the 25 mile marker are stationed the Famous Tucson Taiko drummers (I’m probably not spelling it right) and they are hammering away. The heavy drumbeats sustain me to the top and round the corner to…another hill.

We continue about a third of a mile down a two lane road and hang another right. I know I’m in the final mile but it seems endless. There is actually a water stop at 25.5 and I grab a cup of Comp One.

“That stuff won’t absorb now – you’re wasting your time!” Mark, my friend from the start line suddenly materializes at my left elbow. Startled, I inhale a mouthful of the green stuff (I’d figured he’d been done for a long time and was far in front of me) and when I get done choking said “I need it anyway”

“This Course Sucked!” he shouts testily. “Wasn’t this a killer course??

“Ball Buster", I agreed, and I’m starting to run again. “Let’s get it done”

We start running. After a few steps he says “Forget it – you go finish!” “Okay, I will!” I call back to him.

“You’re making me look bad!” he shouts as I pull away, but by then I don’t care about anything anyone has to say

Having run multiple marathons, the resiliency of the human body still amazes me. Even though in excrutiating pain, we can perservere for far more and far longer than we think we can. I’ve heard that the experience of women’s childbirth is much like that, and that, when overcome by the actual delivery, Amnesia sets in, and we are then ready to start the cycle again. The last miles of some marathons are very much like that, again, underlying my personal hypothesis that in many ways the Marathon is a Metaphor for the Whole Life Experience

I never remember from race to race how I make it across the finish line. Sometimes, (like in Portland) there is this “Divine Wind” or, as my old running buddy Ralph from Illinois used to call it “A Big Hand comes out of no where and pushes you to the end!” Other times, the race is just suddenly over, as my mind may be elsewhere and not consciously registering the final miles and steps. And on many occasions, it’s nothing more than pushing past pain, heart rate redlining, second after agonizing second, to maintain forward momentum as the finish line grows slowly but inexorably closer.

Minutes after finishing some marathons, I’m downright crippled, lurching along Frankenstein-like on solid, unbending, 4X4 legs that, minutes before, were clipping along at 8-10 minute per mile pace. Interesting, that, no? A finish line is indeed…..a FINISHED line.

So, the course hung yet another right at about mile 25.7 onto yet another rolling two lane road, and there are a sea of runners and walkers shuffling to the next corner, where, I assume the finish line chute is. Again, I lurch along on stiff legs, up and around the corner. I’m making a conscious choice not to look at my watch because at this point, I just can’t do anymore than I’m doing.

Round the last corner, another 500 or so feet and I’m crossing the finish line. The finish line announcer says “And here’s Peter Klein from Oak-a…..OCK-a….How the heck to you say that?? “

“OCONOMOWOC,, “ I shout breathlessly as I hit my stop watch and, finally, grind to a shuffling halt in the chute

Overhead clock says 3:58:29, my watch is 3:57 :42, which is later scored as 3:57:39. Again, I’m struck by the possibility that, at some point in that desperate rolling desert Jerico slog, that the sun must have stood still…….

Not as fast as either Fox Cities or Portland, but far better than I expected….

And here was the kicker…..When I looked at online results the next day, there were 1,017 finishers and I was number 509 across the finish line – not “A” midpacker but “THE” Midpacker. A fine distinction and metaphor for Balance, is it not??

There was a non-descript finishers medal and the finish libations were not much either….Whole wheat tortillas, which people were slathering with peanut butter and wrapping around whole bananas….Yuck!

A lurching walk to the shuttle busses with my new Tucson running Colleague Mark (about 95 seconds behind me at the finish) who complained loudly the whole way to anyone who would listen, and then I drove across town in the Toyota to enjoy the rest of another beautiful Tucson day.

So, I made it down the mountain – and up a few more along the way, putting Marathon number Six for the year and my 39th over all into the books (and now the blog) However, the rest of Sunday, Monday, and into part of Tuesday, I was an absolute cripple, hardly able to walk, get up or down, navigate stairs, or even rest without stabbing leg pain. And, an unfortunate side aspect is that for the first time in recent memory, I’m not jonesing for the next race experience. As I complete my story right now from my home in Snowy Oak-Ock…Oconomowoc, I have to confess that this week I haven’t had much desire to run as I really taxed my legs and physical resources to the utmost on this one.

…..but give me some time and I know I’ll be back….As I re-read these words a week later, I can feel the amnesia setting in and I am remembering the beautiful course, sunrise, downhill stretches – and also my finish time.

And also....my broken toe didn't - and hasn't - given me a bit of trouble, pain, or otherwise!!

Thanks for reading all……looking forward to 2008 and all of the adventures it will bring for us all!!
_______________________________________________________________
OH Yeah - Answers to the Santa Riddles

1) A Pink Car-Nation
2) A Receding Hare (hair) line
3) Beauty. (Because Beauty is in the eye of the Be(e)holder)

Turkey Trotting in Tucson

Turkey Trotting in Tucson

So......

There was no freaking way I could let a race less than a mile a way, on a Major Holiday, in my new winter home town get by without me being there.

Hurt foot and all.

So, earlier in the week, I schlepped across town in FULL snowbird traffic at 1:30 in the afternoon (sidebar....the one seeming downside about being in Tucson for the winter, is Everyone, including their Uncles, Grandmothers, sisters, brothers, cats, dogs, Winnebago's and SUV's are ALSO in Tucson, driving around at all hours of the day. Constant trafffic gridlock, and many out of state license plates, the majority of which seem to be......from Illinois! - Kind of like Wisconsin in the summer!)

.....Back to the story

I went to the local Running Shop - creatively named "The Running Shop" where I got to sign up for membership in "SAR" which sounds vaguely military or disease-like - it stands for Southern Arizona Roadrunners, the Tucson version of Badgerland Striders. I also got to both sign up for and pick up T-shirt and bib for the Thanksgiving Cross Country Challenge race. $43 later, (including my $2 SAR member discount) I'm now a registered member of the running community, a cool red SAR shirt is on the way to me, and I'm signed up for my first official Hometown Tucson race.

My foot has been achy on and off, nothing terrible, but I'm aware of it.

So, I get out of bed - late on Thanksgiving. Dawdle around and head out of the house about 8:40 am. The festivities include a Family Fun Run/Walk, and a Women's 5k, and then the Men go last. The events are sequential, so the men are slated to start last at 9:15 am.

I get there five minutes later, even taking my time. The event is in Reid Park, a huge park north of me, complete with Zoo, ballfields, soccer fields, picnic areas....I see the crowd is also HUGE, probably about 3,000 people out on Thanksgiving morning. I also get there right in time to see the start of the Women's race, a huge crowd of mostly stunning women of all ages blasting across this open field. By the way, the weather? Bright Sunshine, dry, blue blue sky and about 80 degrees. It was like a summertime Wisconsin race without the humidity.

I decide to climb a nearby hill, close to, it seems, one of the loops and obstacles (more on that later) so I have a supreme vantage point to see the lead women (or girls) blasting up the hill. Now, I think my ignorance might be a result of my previous life in the northern climes, or something, but as it turns out it is fashionable (and, according to Cayelin this has been going on for awhile in Tucson, anyway) for the young track-star girls to wear their panties OVER their running shorts. All of the leaders (and these dozen-plus girls were really cruising) were thusly clad.

This was certainly new to me, and I felt pretty old. Maybe it's a Southwest thing, where it's warm enough to show your underwear, unlike the Midwest.

So, it took a LONG time for the womens race to be over, many of the laggards were waddling in well past 9:15 am when the men's race was supposed to start. By rough estimate, there were upwards of 500-plus women running the 5K. And, also two guys wearing wigs and jog bra's. Pretty amusing....

And, I have to hand it to the crowd. They kept "us men" waiting for about 20 minutes past the advertised start time but even then as they announced that the last women runner was coming in (the finish route cut right across the start route) the whole crowd of men took up a huge clapping cheer for her, and she actually broke into a trot to get out of our way, smiling like crazy.

She was, of course, wearing an Ipod like many of the runners out there that day.

There were more men than women, and I somehow got myself stuck up front with all of the young turk track stars.

Now, this was a "European Cross Country Race" which means, that we all lined up in a huge horizontal line. It was a two-loop course, all "off road" with hills, obstacles, water hurdles and pretty rough terrain, Also constant looping, hair pin turns, zig zagging and other ways to make you run a long distance in a small amount of space.

"Runner's Set! (BANG!) goes the gun and we're off.

The crowd seemed to flow away from me like the tide and I'm swept along the grass covered field and onto these dusty trails. Now...it's dry in Tucson and as a result, the crowd kicks up a ton of dust and it's hanging in the air like a cloud. Instantly we're inhaling it, it coats the back of my throat and my eyes are watering. No matter, gotta keep going. Maybe there is a water stop out there?

No, no water. It's the desert after all.

I pass the two mile marker at 3 minutes, 22 seconds. "Damn, we're hauling ASS" shouts some wag. "Home stretch!" shouts another, "Go! Go! Go!." Shouts a third.

It's a two loop course, so obviously that mile marker is for loop number two. Either that, or I and the crowd around me have set some serious land speed records. Doubtful though, with my foot.

Course ran across the park, looping in and out of parking areas, around Palm Trees and Pine Trees, into dry washes, up hills, over several "hay bale" obstacles, and then, up and over two pretty substantial hills, where at the bottom of the second was the "quadruple" - TWO hay bale obstacles and TWO water obstacles in quick succession. Foot placement was crucial, so you A) didn't trip and B) kept your feet dry.

It was there that I was most reminded of the fact that "Maybe my foot isn't totally healed" Ouchy, ouch ouch....ouch.

After that, we got to hang a right and start all over again. Same Road, Same Reason.

So, what with the dryness, the uneven course, the crowd...I took it pretty easy, nursing my foot for the most part. It was clear with that crowd and that course that I had absolutely no chance at any age group placement. I hit the first mile marker at 7:55, the (second!) second mile marker at 16:04, and the three mile marker at 24:13, finishing in a lame-time-for-a-5K 24:55...and happy to be done.

It took a few minutes for me to get my tongue unglued from the roof of my mouth (as mentioned it's DAMN dry here) and I fortified myself with several cups of water. Afterwards, I jog trotted back down Jones Boulevard and now we're hanging out for the rest of the day

It seems like a good running community and a fun Thanksgiving tradition. And, it's also been my experience that times are slower on off-road courses than on-road courses - must be the terrain or something. So, I'm really not all that disappointed with my finish time. I'm thankful to be running.

And the foot? Well.....it's achy. Probably not healed yet. And, Cayelin has started a "you-know-you-may-want-to-consider-either-not-doing-the-marathon-or-doing-the-half-instead" campaign on me, knowing that I haven't given up on the Tucson marathon a week from Sunday......

We'll see.

Won't we?

Yes.

We will see.....

Burning Race Entry Fees or “Feet Don’t Fail Me Now”

Burning Race Entry Fees or “Feet Don’t Fail Me Now”

For those of you long-term runners who aren’t procrastinators, you may have had the experience of registering and paying for a race that ultimately you don’t get to run.

Let’s face it. Life Happens. Shit happens. SHIFTS Happen. And, as the saying goes “the best laid plans….”

I’ve considered myself a runner now for over 20 years. My first race EVER that I signed up, paid for, and ran was the Old Style Chicago Marathon in October of 1988. Since then, I’ve run countless races of all distances, in many parts of the world at many times and had many amazing, and some not-so-amazing experiences.

And, it seems like I’ve had my share of race fees that were spent without me toeing the start, let alone crossing the finish line of said event.

Personally, there is nothing that burns my bacon more than that.

I love to run races. It’s what I do for fun, recreation and health. And those of you who have read my blogs know, it’s a Taurean experience for me, whereby I savor the distance, weather, sights along the way and have incredible experiences with the people that I meet at each event. I like to plan my races well in advance, picking events for the time of year, location, and many times simply because I’ve enjoyed them before. I like to consider the recommendations of others who have done races that I haven’t done. And again….I just enjoy going to running events.

So, usually I mark things on my calendar, look at sign up dates and send in my “early registration fees’ well in advance of a race. Then, I promptly forget about it until close to the event when I go onto my email, print the Active.com receipt and head off to have my fun.

On many occasions, and it seems like more in the last year, I’ve been sidelined by sudden changes of plans and in some cases not-so sudden changes (like INJURIES) that don’t allow me to go to the event. And, unfortunately, many times these are big dollar events, like Marathons.


The first time it happened to me was early in my running career in 1991. I was getting ready to run my fourth Marathon and decided that, instead of running the Chicago Marathon for the fourth time in a row, I would run my Second Home Town Milwaukee’s Lakefront Marathon. Some time in July or August, I sent away for an entry form (this was back in the days before the earth cooled – Dinosaurs were still walking around – the Internet might have been a vague rumor but I sure hadn’t heard of it) I paid for the early bird registration and sent my check and application fee in, signed on the line that stated “Strictly NO Refunds” and went merrily about my training for the October event. Late in August, a hard-core running friend of mine who had moved to Minneapolis earlier in the year popped in on me at my Wisconsin home. Several beers later, (yes I was a beer drinker back then!) he reminded me of yet another drunken promise I had made to him about running the Twin Cities Marathon with him that fall, and he had brought an application for me to make good on my promise. I noted that the date was the week before Milwaukee’s Lakefront and thought “Damn!” (Back then, it would have been unheard of for me to attempt doing more than one marathon in a year – Oh wasted Youth!)I protested to him about my already-paid-for entry fee to no avail. As my resolve weakened I found myself filling out the new entry form and sending in yet another check, consoling myself with the thought that “there was always next year”…

Little did I know that over a decade would pass before I actually got to run Milwaukee – and also that this was the start of a multiple spree of Registering-for-a-hometown-race-and-then-not-running-it.

As it turns out, I did run Twin Cities – stellarly, I may add, with my all-time personal best time of 3:20. As it turned out, this was the closest I came to a Boston Qualifier, but several factors worked against me including the weather that day (windy, low 30’s and snow) my health (I was suffering from Strep Throat as it turned out) the course (Twin Cities is “rolling” and the miles 20 to 26 are a grueling, never-ending-ever-increasing incline) and also I actually went out too slow, of all things, not getting to my pace until about mile 12. By then the damage was done, but still and all, I wish I could get that time back.

So life went on and that next summer I found myself burning a race fee for the Downers Grove 10 Miler. Downers Grove was my home town in the Western Suburbs of Chicago. This was a regular race for me, one I did every year, and I usually turned the application around the same day I got it in the mail. The night before the race, I suddenly found myself limping with some out-of-nowhere severe foot pain. I never did find out what it was (my erstwhile un-medical expert friends suggested everything from Plantar Facitous to GOUT of all things) but it was clear that there was no way I could WALK without pain, let alone blast the dual-loop never-ending hills of this my other hometown’s annual 10 mile race. Early the next morning, I limped to the race registration area, got the shirt anyway (which I never wore, of course but I had Paid for months previously) and got in the car and headed to the Lake to console myself with some waterfront time while the foot healed from whatever it was that caused me to not be able to go that day.

Time went on and there were some other not-so memorable race misses. I completed a total of 10 marathons, including another repeat at the Twin Cities, and then Chicago each year from 1993 to 1997. The big Kahuna for me came late in 1997, when I started receiving advertisements for the First Annual Rock and Roll Marathon in San Diego, California. There was a ton of hoopla around the race with a big write up in Runners World, headliner musical acts, lots of premiums, cool shirts and all kinds of swag. A Once In a Lifetime Opportunity! Also, a deeply discounted Early Entry Fee. So, six months prior to the event, I got online with my credit card and signed up for the May event.

In January 1998, five days after the New Year (and about five months before the Rock-n-Roll), I was standing in my kitchen late in the evening. I turned to the right to put something on the counter and seconds later found myself on the kitchen floor with severe back pain. You could almost hear the discs pop as I hit the floor. Immediately afterward, I couldn’t walk without severe pain and numbness in my left leg. It was tough to even get to across the room, let alone contemplate any running. Six weeks, several doctor and chiropractor visits plus and MRI later, I had lower back surgery to repair a severely burst disc. At the time, I heard the infamous words from my otherwise very excellent Neurosurgeon “You’ve probably run your last marathon…”


Post-Surgery, in keeping with my belief at the time that Doctors Are Always Right, I abandoned my San Diego Rock and Roll dreams and concentrated instead on learning to walk again, doing my prescribed PT to the letter and focusing on gratitude that once again, I could move pain-free. May came and went and I was enjoying some low-impact stairmaster workouts at my local YMCA, long distance walking as well as starting a little slow jogging, even though it was against Doctor recommendations.

Interestingly, a few weeks after I didn’t go to San Diego (again, for which I’d PAID for) I got a Finishers Photo in the mail from the Rock and Roll Marathon. Enclosed was a small proof of a blurry looking guy with a bib number apparently close to the one I would have had should I have gone finishing. The finish line clock showed him finishing in something like five and a half-plus hours. I felt somewhat irritated like this was adding insult to injury….literally!

As any of you who have read my blogs know, I got over the Doctor-induced paranoia of running again and have done hundreds more races, as well as an additional 28 marathons since then, including a streak in 2005 where I ran five in nine weeks. I managed to run the San Diego Rock and Roll Marathon in 2003 as well as Milwaukee’s Lakefront marathon in 2002, 2003 and 2005. In the case of 2003, I also ran Chicago one week later, and in the case of 2005, Milwaukee was the middle race of a three week Trifecta which included Toronto, Milwaukee and Chicago (for more on this read my blog entitled “78.6 Miles – a tale of Three Cities”)

Also during 2003, I had a total life shift – by the end of the year, I had left my career and job of almost 12 years, ended my 18 year marriage, moved all my remaining possessions to Wisconsin, and then packed some bare necessities into my Chevy Avalanche, and moved myself across the country to a small rental home in the mountains near Flagstaff, Arizona. Got away from it all for sure. That’s a story for another time, but that year, even though I managed to run and finish five marathons, one of the casualties wound up being the Country Music Marathon in Nashville, Tennessee, which, again, was an inaugural (I think?) that I signed up for well in advance and of course mailed my non-refundable early bird registration fee. As my life imploded inward it was all I could do to keep moving forward, and the trip down south just plain fell by the wayside due to timing and logistics. Another burned fee.

In 2004, my new-found life in Arizona seemed to run it’s course quickly (hah, great pun that!) and by mid-June, I began making plans to return to Wisconsin to start a new life there in my house on Lake Okauchee. As I was doing that, I thought it would be great to anchor my new home intention by running Milwaukee’s Lakefront Marathon again – but this time as a true “Home Town” race. So, once again, I sent my early bird registration fee in sometime in May before the fees went up for the October Race.

At the eleventh hour at the end of June, as I was attempting to make a grand and permanent exit from the Desert State, I “met this girl”, so to speak, and began a whirlwind and tumultuous six-month Midwest-Southwest long distance relationship. One of the major festivities we planned, was to combine her unused and about to expire TimeShare points, and my unused and about to expire Frequent Flyer miles into a trip to Kauai in early October, 2004. As the only Time Share and Frequent Flier mile dates available overlapped the time of the Lakefront Marathon – you guessed it. I burned ANOTHER Lakefront Marathon fee, opting instead for Sun and Fun.

(As it turns out, it would have been far more fun to stay in Milwaukee and run. But again, that’s another story!)

In 2006, two relationships, and several back and forth trips across the country later, I signed up yet again for the Milwaukee Lakefront Marathon, hoping to run it twice in two years. And, in fact, based upon my 2006 schedule where I managed to be absolutely in the wrong part of the world at the wrong time for ANY marathon, this was to be the one and only 26.2 mile experience I would have that year. Of course I paid the early bird registration fee, put it on the calendar, and growled like a Doberman at anyone who tried to insert an event or suggest that there was somewhere else I needed to be during that first weekend in October.


However, fate (read FOOT) interfered – and in September, I was in Sedona, Arizona facilitating a three-day organizational event for two dozen people to put plans, committees and action items together for a new School. The event was wild and wooly, but ultimately organizational talent (mine) prevailed and we wrapped it up with hugs, excitement and, most importantly to me – a plan.

RIGHT at the second the meeting was ending, I looked outside. We were meeting in an opulent and sprawling Sedona residence, with beautiful Red Rock Views. A typical Arizona day, there was bright sunshine and suddenly, at the same time, Rain started pouring on the roof of the house. “Crap!” I’m thinking. My brand new Toyota was sitting outside, and in deference to the desert temperatures, I had left the sunroof and windows wide open.

Thinking I didn’t want a drowned interior, I went zipping out of the house (in bare feet, by the way – casual meeting!) and hit rain-soaked ceramic (yes, ceramic!) steps leading down to the driveway at full tilt. It was like hitting glare ice at top speed. All I remember was that I had this epiphanic moment of thinking “Why, yes…..I’m totally screwed” and then I tumbled all the way down the stairs, actually blacking out for an instant and coming to a minute or so later fetched up against the bottom with limbs and arms twisted at weird angles.

The pain was unbelievable – mostly from my wrist, which I’d fallen with my full weight on. I was vaguely aware of some foot pain, but the wrist was the worst, not to mention a soup plate-sized bruise that developed later on my left hip.

Anyway, the wrist as it turns out wasn’t broken. It did give me about six weeks of pain until suddenly it was fine. My feet however were a different story. I had pretty severe pain on both of them for weeks after the fall, but I ignored it for the most part. Both turned black and blue, both were excrutiating each morning as I got up. No matter, the wrist was more distracting. Two days later, I hiked up a 3,000 foot peak in Southern New Mexico, over totally rough and rocky terrain, grimly ignoring the stabbing foot pains. A few days later, I was out running again in the desert near Sauharita, Arizona, clipping along, and again ignoring the pain from my feet. On the third day of this, I was cruising along a two-lane desert highway, feeling for the most part, pretty good and really zoning, not paying much attention to my surroundings. Suddenly I find myself within about six feet of a huge Rattlesnake coiled and sunning itself on the side of the road, on the white side-stripe. Reflexes being what they were, I made a spectacular five-foot sideways leap before I actually realized what I was doing landing neatly at an angle on my my right foot. A lightening bolt of pain shot all the way up my leg, and it was then I finally had to admit that there might be worse things than a broken wrist.

At this point, we are about 10 days before the Milwaukee race My new partner Cayelin and I are headed back to the Midwest, and I decided to rest, hoping that time would wound my Heel, I mean heal my wounds. We get back to Milwaukee, and on Wednesday before the race we have a maintenance appointment with our Chiropractor friend Dr. TJ.. I mention my tumble down the stairs to him with a vague indication that “something may not be right down there with the feet”. I also mention that I’m planning on running Milwaukee that Sunday. Without any further ado, TJ throws me on his X-ray machine and a few minutes later, slaps the films up. “Dude, “ he says. “You’re not running anything.” He points to the X-rays and explains that not only have I stress fractured my left foot, but my right foot is actually broken.

“And you’ve been running on this?” he said incredulously. I smiled sheepishly. “It only hurts when I go laterally”, was my weak reply.

A visit to a Sports Ortho (and after NOT Running Milwaukee AGAIN resulting in the THIRD time now I’ve contributed my money but not my presence to that race) I’m told to rest for six more weeks and then I’ll be fine.

After being a total bitch to everyone around me for the days leading up to Milwaukee and including the Sunday of the race (perfect conditions – Low 50’s and endless sun) I surrendered to my fate and spent the next six weeks performing extensive therapy on the couch. I enlisted two World-Class therapists for help – Ben and Jerry, with sessions of at least a Pint a day marking the progress of my recovery. (Favorite flavors included Strawberry Cheesecake and Vanilla Heath bar – I’m a non-traditionalist, no Chunky Monkey or Cherry Garcia for me!)

After recovering from the broken foot, I soon returned to running. I remember the first time I went out it was like starting all over again, where I struggled to cover a three mile loop, actually stopping and walking several times, winded and fatigued. However, it all came back quicker than I imagined, and I did several 5k’s between the end of November and January. The only problem was, kicking my Ben and Jerry’s Pint a day habit…..

2007 so far has been one of my best running years ever. I’ve done five marathons and each time improved my finish time. In many of the local races, 5k’s, 10’s and others, I’ve placed in the top three in my age group, taking home several medals or plaques. I’ve improved my half marathon time and most of all, I’ve just simply enjoyed running for running’s sake. Those of you who have read my Race Reports this year can attest to that.

And this is while my good running buddies, Scott and Gregg both have suffered from some debilitating foot and leg injuries respectively that have sidelined them from their running and in some cases caused them to burn race fees as well based upon the timing of their injuries

So at the end of October, Cayelin and I made the move from Wisconsin to Tucson for the winter, fetching up in a small townhouse on the south end of town. A short four blocks north of here is the Reid Park Zoo and Golf Course, with a great 3-4 mile paved biking and running loop around it. The weather has been spectacular the whole time, with cool nights in the 50’s, great mornings, and day time highs in the 80’s – sort of an endless summer. I was actually looking forward to improving my conditioning with regular running at the slight (2,500 feet) altitude where we are at and the stellar weather conditions.

And, of course, months ago, knowing that Tucson would be my winter home town, I signed up for the Tucson Marathon to be held on December 2nd, thinking that it would put the cherry on top of a great running year.

The first two days we were here, I ran Reid Park, feeling strong and noting how many other runners and bikers were out there. A great community, and so close to home as it were. And, I was composing a blog that I was going to write, something to the effect of “This has been one of the best running years ever…When I think back to the broken foot episode of last year, I’m grateful for…” and going on from there

Instead……


Three days after we got here, we are getting ready to leave for the SAME Organizational event that was held in Sedona the year before. Again, I am to facilitate, and there are high hopes that we are again, going to do some cool things with the group.

A day later, Here is what I wrote to Scott about what happened:

Getting ready to leave today for my Super Council event, I'm crossing the room in our new space and clipped my right foot on a wooden futon chair, that I SWEAR reached over about fourteen inches to nail me

Caught my little toe on the right foot.......and, not to mince words...it's broken. It has the same feeling that the broken foot had last year and, in fact, I had the same nausea when it happened (I caught it in bare feet at full tilt) WHACK!

It's swollen to twice normal size, and seems bent away at a right angle from the other toes. The entire foot is purple. Can't drive. Tough to walk. I can't believe how painful it is and how much I lead with my right foot AND the same little toe

This may sideline me, again, for a bit.

This after two back-to-back amazing runs around Reid Park, and I'm composing a chapter in my mind something to the effect of "My running's going really well this year. When I think of the broken foot episode of last year and the contrast of how well I've done and how much I've enjoyed running this year........" etc etc

Things were going so well, and then, in a New York SECOND things shift quantomly

And, at the time of this writing, Tucson is just a few weeks away….another hometown race I’ve signed up and paid for.

Well my friends, such is life. I am officially on the mend as we speak though I haven’t been able to run for two weeks. What is it with Feet and me?? It’s extremely disappointing and as I said before, it really PISSES me off to burn entry fees. It doesn’t seem right to go and get the T-shirt, I really feel you need to cross the finish line before you can actually wear those shirts you get. So, the money just gets wasted as it were, though I can take some small solace in knowing it does support good causes and a good event for others.

I’ve managed not to be too much of a bitch about this hiatus. Maybe not too much. Maybe a little? Well…maybe you should ask Cayelin. It’s all relative…..

The good news is, I know I will heal. The bad news is, I may have to be sitting on the sidelines the day of the Tucson race while others are out having fun in what will probably be some excellent weather. And, I might not meet my goal of six marathons this year.

Or maybe I will. Doc TJ is in Milwaukee and can’t tell me not to run………….

Thanks as always for reading! Would love to hear your stories and thoughts on losing entry fees and cancelled races.. and a reminder to us all –

THERE’S ALWAYS ANOTHER RUN!

Best to you all!

Portland, Oregon Marathon Report - Donuts and All! October 7, 2007

First, Many Thanks to all of you who called me to make sure I wasn’t one of the casualties of the Chicago Marathon. Many of you know that the chances could have been pretty good that I would have done my hometown’s race once again – but luckily I was a long way away this weekend doing another race. In reading the newspaper coverage, the various Race Board Postings and also from an eyewitness account from my ex-wife Jean (who was one of the amazing volunteers who braved the heat) it sounds like the Chicago event was a horrendous black eye for the Race Management, possibly the Second City itself, and an absolute fiasco for many (but not all) of the participants. Either way – again – thanks to all for your concern. And….I have to say – I’M GLAD I WAS IN PORTLAND!!!

It was interesting when I started sharing my plans to do the Portland Marathon with my friends and Colleagues. At least half of them asked me “What are you going to do about the altitude?” Now, I am as geographically impaired as the next person, and as a result was quite nonplussed by this question. Consider the name - “PORTLand” This name implies proximity to a large body of water. How can you have a “Port” that is at altitude – unless it is a landing spot for extra-terrestrials? (Well, hold that thought for later..) Having been to Portland on numerous other non-running occasions, I was fairly confident that it was close to sea level. I’m very altitude sensitive and hadn’t experienced any of the symptoms in my past.

So…while there are some really nice hills and mountains surrounding Portland, there is no altitude issue there. FYI…

Got up at 4:00 am on Saturday morning and made my way to MKE for a 6:30 am flight. Northwest Airlines, to Minneapolis and then on to Portland, arriving at 11:10 am local time. (love the extra two hours you get going west!)

Short wait for my traveling running colleague Scott (who is actually the Stellar TOUR Guide who planned every detail of the amazing trip we took to Toronto, Quebec and now Portland) who arrived from Chicago about an hour later, and then we made our way down to the Light Rail system to head downtown. After an interminable line at the automated kiosk, watching non-local people (like myself) fumble for change and figure out fares, we sprint out to the train, catching it just as it closes it’s doors behind us.

Portland is a great city. I’ve been there four or five times for various reasons over the last 15 years or so and had a great time each visit. I don’t know what the population is, but the people are pretty amazing. There are hills, the big Willamette River, and lots of bridges. Public transportation is great; we used both the bus lines and the light rail system while we were there and it was a really fast and easy way to get around.

We got downtown and had a very short walk to the hotel to check in. Then, it was off to the Expo to pick up bib and packet and all. Again, the expo was just a few short blocks away; thanks once again to Scott’s excellent logistics, there was minimal commuting to all of the areas.

The expo was at the obligatory downtown Hilton Host Hotel. The Hotel itself was surrounded by a sea of construction barricades and diversions – apparently they are adding another light rail line to the downtown area. We followed the queue of people into the hotel, and joined a lemming-like line to some non-operable escalators, that took us to the basement expo area.

Bib and chip pickup was typical, a cadre of senior citizen volunteers presided over the numbered envelopes. All I had to do was find my number and I soon had a blue colored bib with my name on it, as well as instructions to pick up my chip across the room. And, another interesting development…Pink colored fliers announcing that “Finishes Shirts must be picked up TODAY! NO Exceptions!!” The volunteer instructed me to make sure I went down to another lower level to pick up my “Finishers” shirt. “Today?” I asked. “Today!” she confirmed. I refrained from pointing out to her that I hadn’t finished the race yet, and, technically, was not eligible for a finisher’s shirt. Bad Karma, ya know. But, something told me that she had probably heard that line before. Probably several times that day.

So, after picking up an activated chip (mine was number 213 – which had no correlation to my bib number 3872) we proceeded down “The Ramp” which had several volunteers directing traffic, down to the expo proper. Of course we were immediately vectored past the Portland Marathon Merchandise Store (one of several they had set up) so we would be tempted by the fine logo’d apparel, mugs, and luggage displayed there. I managed yet again to refrain from buying anything there, though I was tempted by some cool gym bags they had. Probably though, it’s a $12 gym bag that was now $25 with the logo. I saved the dough.

Proceeded to T-shirt pickup where, it seemed there was only one place to go. I went and picked up a large shirt, and immediately upon the volunteer draping it over the table, I felt my gorge rise. The “Finishers’ Shirt” was a long-sleeve technical shirt in a gawd-awful not-teal, not-blue, not-green color. This is a color definitely not found in nature. Probably if Pepto Bismol came in blue that would be the closest I can come to describing the shirt.

Scott was actually not running Portland, due to a recent injury, but he did accompany me to the expo. He was standing across the room waiting patiently for me to pick up my shirt. I caught his eye as I raised the shirt up in front of me. He instantly burst out laughing, causing me to lose it as well. “That’s the worst shirt I’ve ever seen! We both agreed it was terrible. And indeed, as we went through the rest of the expo, we saw that someone had actually abandoned their blue shirt on top of a trash bin. So, our opinion was probably shared by others as well

(Here is one of those things that make you go Uh! The next day in the race, I started seeing WHITE versions of the finisher’s shirt on some of the runners. So, at mile 16, I caught up to a Philippine man who was wearing the White version and asked him, “How did you get a white one?” “Oh, sir, they let me choose!” he said between breaths. Crap! I should have paid attention……but ya know I’ve run so many marathons, it’s never about the shirt anymore…..)

So, stuffing the horrible shirt way down in the packet, we proceeded around the expo, picking up the obligatory sack full of coupons, and trial size things, and sampling the goodies. Portland is a very healthy town, and it was reflected in the fitness expo. There were two different kinds of Sports Replenishment drinks, neither of which had dyes, additives or anything else. There were vendors passing out amazing Granola, home-baked cookies, Almond Milk, Knudsens’ Natural Juice, and all kinds of healthy fare. I really have to hand it to the Pacific Northwest, they know how to support healthy eating choices and I don’t think there was one fast food or junk calorie vendor there supporting the race. How cool is that?

I won’t give you blow-by-blow on the carbo loading strategy for the evening, except to tell you that (Again, a Scott researched activity) we bused to Hawthorne where we ate at a Food Network-featured Pizzeria called A Pizza Scholls, an amazing hole-in-the wall place where the 90 minute wait was more than worth it for the Pizza. And, we sat next to two other guys at the bar, one of whom was wearing a Wisconsin Badgers Sweatshirt, being a native Wisconsin. Small World. Great Pizza.

Okay…Here is a Prime Peter Marathon Recommendation. When doing an out-of-town marathon, stay as close to the start line as you can. Believe it or not, I don’t think I’ve ever been able to do that in any of the races I’ve done. Generally, I have to get up at 3:30 am or so, rush around, take some interminable drive to either get to parking before streets get closed, or get on a start line shuttle bus. By the time the race starts, I’m 4-5 hours into the day and tired as hell. By contrast, in Portland, I got up at 5:45 am for a 7:00 am start after a very restful night…..and probably could have slept in for another 45 minutes. The start line was a brief four minute walk from the hotel, and really easy to find. I just followed the noise.

The weather that morning was overcast, humid and not too cold. At 6:30 am, it was still dark out. The Gear Drop area was difficult to find, and when I got there were dozens of runners stacked up trying to check their gear. As I felt overdressed I was obliged to return to the hotel to drop off my extra stuff. And – cool thing - as I walked through the crowd of thousands, I immediately ran headlong into a fellow runner and Shamanic Astrology colleague, Laurence Taoman. Laurence was up from Corvallis, Oregon to run the accompanying Five Mile race that morning. We passed the time to the start catching up and yucking it up with other runners.

I didn’t actually hear the starting gun go off. I was back in the crowd at the 4:00 finisher’s area, which was the best I could do. I had just met a three-time marathoner named Luke from San Francisco and a first-timer named Tim from Seattle, and we were trading race and training stories, and I think we even talked right through the Star Spangled Banner. I do remember that Tim was somewhat surprised to learn that the Wheelchair racers got to start in front of us. Apparently, it hadn’t clicked that it is good to have someone on wheels in FRONT of you, not behind you, running you down. Hah, youth and inexperience…

Anyway, the crowd surged forward….and stopped……surged….and then stopped. Finally, I crossed the mats about 3 ½ minutes after the official start time, and it was a few blocks before I actually got up to cruising speed. Narrow streets and lots of runners.

By then it is light out, and the first few miles are through downtown Portland. At the first mile marker, there was this absolutely incredible Drum Line just hammering away on different drums. They were rocking the whole area, and the reverberations were cannoning off the buildings – you could feel them through the soles of your feet, keeping a fast-paced beat. I literally wanted to stop and do some tribal dancing of some sort, they were exceptional and perfect for the first mile.

So, on to the course.

The course was a meandering loop out and back, with two or three sections where the race doubles back on itself. My overall impression, when looking at the course was that it would run the gamut of urban, suburban, and industrial. And, indeed it did.

The weather, by the way was letter-perfect – Mostly cloudy, and low 50’s. There was at times a stiff headwind, but it was only for a few miles and did not trim me down for long. I brought my sunglasses, but they rode the entire race perched on the top of my head.

I think that there were about 8,000 marathoners and I was never really out of a crowd of them. The course started out heading north, then a hairpin turn south, a right and up a mile and a half long hill, then another hairpin turn into a straightaway downhill mile, doubling back on the original out portion, and then off along the Willamette river for a piece.

Around Mile 6, we headed into an industrial area skirting the river…..and stayed there for a long time. On one side were endless industrial warehouse buildings, shipping companies, manufacturing companies, and who knows what else. On the OTHER side…were the Railroad yards, with slow-moving trains and rail cars being slowly connected and moving around. A sharp smell of Diesel Smoke and Burnt Plastic (and Burnt Toast, of all things) hung in the air.

We were in the Industrial Park for four miles, to the Nine mile mark, and then the course once again doubled back on itself, running back through the industrial park for another two miles. There was a constant stream of runners on both sides of the road, shouting encouragement to each other. And also, among the many bands that were along the course (more on this later) there was an enthusiastic-but-not-talented Christian Rock Band singing “Gospel Rock” in the middle of the Industrial Area. What they lacked in talent, they made up for in Volume. So, we got two doses of Brady Bunch-like “Praise Jesus” both going and coming…….

The Pacific Northwest is the stomping grounds and home turf of the Marathon Maniacs organization. (For those of you who haven’t done so, check out http://www.marathonmaniacs.com/ I’m number 486 in the “Insane Asylum”, having joined last February) The organization itself is rooted in Seattle, Washington where the original founders live.

Anyway, my Maniac Brethren were out in force at the Portland Marathon. There were 54 of them signed up per the Race Calendar and it seemed like during the stretch where we were passing each other, there was a constant stream of yellow Maniac Singlet’s both running with me and coming at me, going the other way. “Hello Maniac!” We shouted at each other. “Go Maniacs!!” I shouted at the groups of them as they passed me going the other way. They obviously had their own spectators throughout the crowd, because I lost count of how many people shouted “All Right Maniac Peter!” to me as I traversed the course. That Yellow Singlet is sooooo cool.

Indeed, after the infamous first encounter of the Brady Bunch Jesus Band, it was my privilege to have one of the founding members of the Maniac Organization – Chris Warren, Maniac Number 2, catch up with me and introduce himself. That was really great. We chatted for about a mile, and he shared that he had done a 50K the day before….that he actually got lost on, so he ran “more than 50K” He passed me up pretty quickly, and I’m thinking….this is a guy who ran 31-plus miles yesterday. Eventually I caught and passed him on a hill a few miles later, but it was a non-existent victory……I sure hadn’t run 31 miles yesterday – I took Trains and Busses for god’s sake. These guys are, well, MANIACS!!

After leaving the industrial area, we wound uphill for the next few miles through an older residential area that was reminiscent of Haight-Ashbury. Indeed, people had set up stereos on the wide front porches of the old homes lining the route. There was a lot of “ink” and “piercing” on the spectators. Remember, the Pacific Northwest is also the roots of “grunge” and I’m here to tell you that Kurt Cobain’s legacy is alive and well – remember the aliens that I talked about earlier? Here they were that day providing crowd support between miles 12 and 14. And also, incongruously situated at mile 12.5 was a full Swing Band just wailing away on 1940’s dance music. Great Big Fat Sound, it was like Glen Miller on Steroids. I totally dug that portion. Was proud to be sporting my pony tail in that crowd. Lots of cool cats.

The course meandered vaguely upward for awhile and after sweeping down a huge hill, we meandered again upward along a busy roadway and again through a “light industrial area” There were plenty of bands along this segment, some of which were competing with each other to be heard. It was a good distraction to the Truck Yards and abandoned Gas Stations. At some point, I started seeing signs referring to “Entrance to St. John’s Bridge” - They said something to the effect of “Entrance to St. John’s Bridge restricted to Runners Only! No Bib, NO Entrance!!” I’m wondering what the Gestapo tactics are all about. Then, past mile 16, we are diverted up a ramp, to “the Bridge”.

Okay, this was a B-F hill, kids. It went straight up and up, about a grade 8. I hit it pretty hard and felt myself starting to slow, and then as my heart started taching out, I figured, okay, time to walk. So, I dropped to a fast walk, which in fact kept me level with all of my fellow runners trying to keep running. Hah.

At the top of the hill, we hung a sharp right and headed out over the huge, bright teal-colored St. John’s Suspension bridge, spanning the Willamette River. The sun broke through the clouds almost the moment I hit the crest and started out over the water. An amazing view of the river, the hills and the surrounding countryside – and well worth the hard uphill slog to get there.

Across the bridge, there was a sharp turn that took us down to a suburban area and through the 18 mile marker. There was an aid station there – and actually there had been ample aid stations all the way. All of the aid stations served not one but TWO types of Sports drink – the same ones that were at the expo. I soon vied for the second one “Glucein” or something, it was good stuff. Two, no three other unique things in this race. One, there were regular “Gummi Bear” stops where workers passed out individual or cupfuls of Brightly-colored Gummi Bears. The only problem was tiptoeing through the discarded little sticky buggers on the ground. Mixed with water and Sports Drink, they were nasty little obstacles that you could either slip on, or have adhere to the soles of your shoes, causing an annoying sucking sound as you ran on.

The second thing was that instead of Gel Packs, they passed out ‘Honey Stinger” packs, which were basically…..Honey in a gel pack. I was hesitant to try this, but thought, what the heck….and it was liquid rocket fuel, when I downed one at mile 19. All natural too!

The last thing was that at mile 20, they had a “Red Bull” stop, where they handed out FULL CANS of Red Bull to the runners. Having never tried a Red Bull (I think they are basically Quintuple Caffeine, Sugar and Red Dye) I didn’t think that today was a day to experiment. I passed on through.

One quick comment on my fellow runners. While the spectators were incredibly upbeat and supportive, particularly in the later miles, many of the runners seemed to be taking this race way too seriously. Excepting my start line conversation with Tim and Luke, and my conversation with Maniac number 2 Chris, which was between miles 9 and 10, before and after the bridge at mile 17, I attempted on more than one occasion to share a comment, start a conversation, or share a witticism and each time was met by grim silence. Even from non I-pod sporting runners. Apparently, there was nothing funny about this race. Especially, not me…

It seemed to be a gradual uphill (with some steep blocks) up through mile 21. We were running through a residential River View Subdivision, complete with lawn chair spectators, and also several High School Bands tootling away on people’s driveways. By now, I’m starting to calculate my finish time. I had hit the halfway point in my usual 1:55, and once again, as in Quebec and Fox Cities, I was past the 20 mile marker at 2:58:29 or under 3 hours. So…..was this to be another sub-four hour finish? As I had made my point two weeks earlier at the Fox Cities, I had not thought about nor was I attached to any particular finishing time.

Maybe it was the Honey Gel. Maybe it was the weather. Maybe it was all the crowd support and excellent bands. (Possibly it was the three evenly-spaced Aleve Tablets I took?) Who knows what makes a good race? Either way, I kept waiting for my friend, The Wall to show up, but by Mile 21, in spite of the rolling course and the bridge crossing I’m still feeling pretty good. Actually….REALLY Good…

So the question became…am I in under four hours?

Then, the question became…Am I as fast as two weeks ago?

And then…Maybe faster?

And finally….How much faster??

The course seemed to be heading to a crest just short of mile 22. At the water stop just prior to 22, I downed half a banana, a few cups of sports drink, and then it was time to open up the taps and push it through the gate.

I hammered through the 22 mile mark and into a long steep downhill stretch, passing runner after runner. “Slacker!” one of them yelled at me as I blazed by. By this time, I’m feeling the finish line sucking me in. Blew through 23, then 24, and then Uh-oh, another bridge – this time the “Steel Bridge” taking us back over the Willamette. Luckily, the grade wasn’t terrible, but by this time, nothing’s stopping me. I zipped over the bridge, still passing runners, through the 25 mile marker, and hammered down the hill, to another hairpin turn. Then, the straightaway, (which was about the third time that day I’d been on that stretch of road) for the last mile to the finish. A right hand turn, up a hill past a sign that said “Non-Registered Runners Exit Here” and a quick left and then suddenly I was through the finish line. Clock read 3:55:56, but my watch read 3:52:36. Four minutes faster than Fox Cities, and my fastest time again, in the last 10 years. Hot Damn!! My instant conclusion is that, the best Marathon Training is ….to run another Marathon, two weeks before!

GREAT finishers area….a big block and a half loop, where, after we received the Finishers Medal (not the best – a little flimsy and chintzy compared to, say Quebec!) and the obligatory Mylar Blankets, we were treated to a raft of food, including all kinds of fruit, fruit juices, bagels, cookies, and even Nestle Quik bottles for the kid in us. There was space to get your picture taken, and here is a nice touch – everyone got a Rose, a Spruce Sapling to plant (Local tree, ya know!) and also a Finishers PIN as a souvenir.

I’m never hungry right after a marathon – all of that gel and sport drink and pounding usually kill my appetite until about four hours later, when I’ve been known to start ripping off refrigerator doors and sinking my teeth into raw steaks – so I got through all of the festivities pretty quick. A smart touch was that at the runners exit was a “chip sensor” to make sure you had turned your chip in. Indeed, there was a box full of chips by this sensor – I know the feeling, you can be pretty delirious when you hit the finish line and walk right past the 30 chip-cutting volunteers. I’ve done this, I know…..

Laurence had hung out to watch the race and snapped several pictures of me at the finish (included on the blog page here – Thanks Laurence!) so we retired to the local Chipotle grill to down a few gallons of soft drinks (I’m a closet Coca-Cola addict right after a race) and I chattered, I’m sure, non-stop with all those endorphins (and sugar and caffeine) coursing through my system.

A great race!

And, the coup-de-gras – Later that afternoon, after a shower and costume change, I ventured out again with Scott for some post-race libations. Our objective was another Food Channel recommended spot – Voodoo Donuts and Wedding Chapel, a Portland landmark. Their signature offering is a Bacon Maple Log, and also for $175 you can have a legal wedding ceremony in the upstairs chapel complete with coffee and donuts for you and 10 of your friends. (Seriously – check it out http://www.voodoodoughnut.com/index.html)

Oh, and NO I wasn’t looking to get Married! Just reporting in the interest of Journalistic completeness!

Unfortunately, they didn’t have any BACON Maple logs, but I managed, in the interest of Carbohydrate replenishment, to down, over the course of the evening THREE regular Maple Logs. Damn good donuts!

So in conclusion – I’d say. GO TO PORTLAND! Even though the Course, T-shirt, and Medal weren’t the best I’d ever experienced, there is just something about this city and the race in particular that really made me feel great. (The fact that I hammered out a great finishing time MAY have something to do with it!) And even if you aren’t going for a running event, the city itself is fantastic. Great transportation, great eats, lots to do and people to see.

And, it’s great to have a friend like Scott Jerard, Tour Director Extraordinaire. Thanks for an incredible Portland experience Scott!

And another recommendation to all of my other Marathoning brethren. Consider joining Marathon Maniacs. It’s a great community, and I would really enjoy having a bigger Wisconsin Chapter so we could proudly wear the Yellow in our big races. Again, check out the criteria at http://www.marathonmaniacs.com/

So, Marathon number 38 is in the bag, it was a good ‘un. I’m not signed up for another one until Tucson on December 2nd, but there are a few “lesser” races, like a 10K in Wales this weekend, and the Badgerland Striders 15K at the end of October. I’ll be traveling a lot in the next month so we’ll see what’s next.

….Though I noticed that the Glacial Trail 50K/50 Mile race in Greenbush, Wisconsin is Sunday the 16th, and as of this writing there are still openings.

A Trail 50K a week after Portland? Hmmmm………..

Stay tuned!

And also want to remind everyone to continue sending healing energy to my colleague Gregg Herman, who is still on the mend, starting PT for an injury this week. Not running is driving him nuts and you all know how that can be!

Thanks to all for your support and for reading my ramblings. Blessings to you all and hope to see you at a race (or anywhere else!) soon!


This Certifies That
PETER KLEIN
Has Successfully CompletedThe Portland Marathon on October 7th, 2007
in 3:52:33
Overall Place: 1447 / 7724
Division Place: 141 / 434
Gender Place: 1049 / 3529

Fox Cities Marathon Race Report - September 23, 2007

Fox Cities Marathon Race Report
September 23, 2007

It’s taken me a few days to getting around to writing this blog; there are a couple of reasons for this. One, I’m TIRED and ACHY. Two – I’ve been incredibly busy this week and basically sandwiched the Marathon in between other tasks and projects, including dispatching my partner Cayelin off to France on Monday - the day after the marathon - for a two-week sojourn, with a follow on two-week trip to North Carolina. (She’s basically gone for a month). And three, I had what can only be described as a “mixed” experience on this highly-touted Fall Wisconsin Marathon.

It is interesting to note that by my count, there are at least 10 marathons hosted annually in the state of Wisconsin. This makes the fourth Wisconsin Marathon I’ve run, adding to a list which includes the Milwaukee Lakefront Marathon, the ReMax Backbreaker, I mean, Trailbreaker Marathon, and the Medford Pine Line Marathon. I had heard a lot about Fox Cities and most everything was incredibly positive, including Course, Weather, people…….

Well here goes…

I drove up to Appleton on Friday to go to the Fitness Expo and pick up my packet. I had heard that you could wrangle race-day packet pickup, but I had some time on Friday, and Alice-the-Garmin-GPS put the trip at an hour and forty minutes. It was a nice day, so I headed out early afternoon to arrive for the 4:00 pm start of the Fitness Expo and Packet Pickup.

The event was held at the Fox Valley Technical College. Well, somewhere on campus, anyway. There was a huge parking lot on the side of a sprawling, multi-acre complex. The only clue was a banner and some not-yet-assembled finish chutes for the Saturday 5K that was scheduled.

So, I wandered in to this very quiet complex, past some classrooms with sparsely attended lectures going on (being as it was a Friday afternoon, I was not surprised to see some instructors lecturing in huge classrooms to only 4 or 5 sleepy-looking students) I bumped into another runner-looking person, who was just as lost as I was. Together we decided to head for the Common Areas (marked on a helpful wall-mounted map) to see if we could find someone. And luckily, this worked for we started seeing booths and banners marking the expo.

It was not as easy to find Packet Pickup as it was located in a classroom down a short hallway from the expo. When we finally found it, it was staffed by several very crabby volunteers, slamming packets around and looking very disgruntled and harassed.

Packet pickup was a reminder that the marathon wasn’t the only race going on that weekend. In addition to the Saturday 5K, there was also a “Kids Fun Run” (with 9 separate categories and start times) the Marathon, a Marathon RELAY, a Half Marathon, a Half Marathon Walk (or as they called it - a 13.1 Mile PowerWalk) which was both “Competitive and Non-Competitive” And by the way – all of these races boasted different Sponsorship. Imagine having all those different packets to sort and pass out to participants.

Also, though this didn’t register with me at the time (no pun intended), I should have been forewarned about all those “other races” and what that would mean on Sunday.

I finally ascertained which section was the Marathon Section, and approaching the grumpy Senior Citizen, I asked what she needed, which turned out to only be my Last Name. Easy. She handed me a bulging goody bag and also my Bib packet and chip. I rummaged through the bag and asked where the shirt was. She then informed me that I wasn’t getting a shirt until I actually finished the race. Eyeing mounds of different colored shirts, heaped up behind her, I was a little doubtful that she wasn’t just screwing with me because she could, but the last thing I really need is another T-shirt. No matter. She also recommended that I go get my chip checked in the Fitness Expo and make sure it was working.

I went to the Fitness Expo, and in 8 minutes had looked at everything there was to look at. A typical expo – Shoes, Clothing, running accessories – none of which were in my size. A great deal on Addidas shoes, but who needs a size 13 extra narrow? One interesting thing was that the local Hollywood Video was there selling thousands of used movies. Don’t know what that has to do with running, but hey, what do I know? And another thing was there was this huge table of free blue-painted Cowbells. You could ring them as a spectator, I guess. I refrained admirably, from adding one to my bag of swag.

So far, I had been unimpressed with the logistics of the Packet Pickup experience. This was further exacerbated when I tried to get my chip checked. The booth was staffed by the local running club, and was located dead center in the Expo (the strategy probably being that you would be tempted to buy all kinds of stuff that caught your eye as you wended your way through to get your chip checked) Anyway, apparently they hadn’t thought about what they really needed, and the story was that “someone forgot the extension cord” and as such they weren’t able to power up the computer to get chips verified. When asked when that would be available, the answer was a blithe “Oh, they’ll be here in an hour or so”

Forget that! I decided that I was going to trust the technology and not worry about getting the chip verified.

It gets worse, though. It suddenly occurred to me when perusing the Course Map that the Start and Finish line were in two separate parts of the Fox Cities. And there was a goodly distance between the Start and Finish areas. Like 4-5 miles or so. Where to park? What about shuttles? Will I have to WALK back to my car? So, I sought out an information booth to determine what the best course of action was.

Found two guys lounging at a table at the entrance who proved singularly unhelpful. Neither could answer simple questions like “Is there parking at the Start line?” “uhh, I think so! I’ve never actually been there…” How about Shuttles? “Yeah, there will be some shuttles to the Start line in the Morning.” How about back to the Start after the race? “uhhh I’m not sure, but I think so! It may be on the website, but here! Take this Map!” Not receiving what I would consider definitive information, I returned to the packet pickup area and was passed along three times until finally getting an again, very harassed and grumpy lady who informed me that yes, there were shuttles back to the Start line from the Finish – but I needed to check the website for the logistics. She then told me that all of this information should be at the information booth that I had started out at. Relishing the opportunity for a slight amount of revenge, I coolly informed her that I had tried to get it there, but that the two gentlemen there didn’t have a clue. “I’ll fix that!” she snapped, striding out the side door towards the unsuspecting slackers.
A minor victory for my frustration.

I headed back to Oconomowoc and spent time that evening on the website figuring it all out. The website wasn’t great but finally I found all the information I was looking for.

Sunday was early – as it was a long drive and by now I had some concerns about the race logistics, I decided to leave really early. And, as it turned out WAY to early. I can’t usually sleep the night before a Marathon anyway, so I was out the door, travel mug of tea and gym bag in hand, and in the Toyota at 4:20 am, for an 8:00 start time.

Time must have warped because the drive only took something like an hour and a half, because I found myself where I needed to be at 5:55 am – just in time, as it turned out, for the “early start” for the Marathon Walkers. I heard the announcement that said “And here is the start of the 2007 Fox Cities Marathon!!” A big cheer went up and about a hundred people took off. I’m thinking, “Crap! I did miss the start”. I thumbed through the race book to be safe and sure enough, there was an “early start” for those people taking longer than six hours.

The start line was held at the University of Wisconsin – Fox Valley Menasha campus and there was plenty of parking. I got a great spot, near, but upwind from the Portopotties, and settled in for a nap. Soon shuttle busses and other cars started flowing in, and by 6:45 the lot was jammed. So, I wasn’t that early...

I did the obligatory stand-in-line-at-the-portopotty, tossed my gear bag onto the truck and tried to head for the starting line. Tried, that is. By now it was 7:45 and the street where the race was to start was full to overflowing. It was near impossible to get actually in the street, but by falling in behind a crank-wheeled wheelchair participant, I managed to at least get in the street. Also, out of the whole crowd I found myself standing right next to a regular running colleague Carol, who was doing the Half Marathon that day.

I realized in looking around me that there were several colored racing bibs. As it turns out ALL of the races started at the same place and the same time. The Marathon, Marathon Relay, Half Marathon and Half Marathon Walk were all crammed in together. “This Sucks”, I thought to myself as, after some inaudible Starting comments, and, apparently, a “Runners take your mark….Go!” - The crowd started shuffling forward.

It was really hard to move in the first mile or two. All of the slower runners were pressed up front, and I was also regularly dodging twosomes and threesomes of Half Marathon Walkers who wanted, apparently, to get up front to get a good start. I weaved in and out, tried the curb, and even went on the grass but it was still really hard. The course headed directly east, for what seemed like the first hour, directly into the rising sun.

The weather at the start, by the way, was absolutely perfect. Cool, not a cloud in the sky, and, at least, at the start, no wind whatsoever.

In the first miles, one thing that stuck out for me was how many runners were wearing headphones, doing the Ipod thing. Indeed, there was a couple running together, Ipods at full blast with the noise leaking out of their ears so I could pick each of their differing selection. Whitesnake and Nora Dunn, I think. They were actually conversing with each other at the top of their lungs, oblivious to the fact that they sounded like total morons. “I don’t like to drink at the water stops!” He shouted. “Neither do I!” she brayed in return. And so on. Thankfully they weren’t in my pace group, so I soon was able to leave them behind.

Around Mile Three, after we ran up and over a big bridge, the Half Marathoners split off and the Real Runners (just kidding, Carol!) headed onto our own course.

Okay, parts of the course were okay. Mostly it was urban and suburban, everything from subdivision streets, to some highway stretches, and down some Main streets through the middle of town. Remember, this is called the Fox Cities – "Cities" being plural – Marathon, and as such the course wound through several small and large burgs, some of which I had never heard of.

A nice touch was that each time you entered a new municipality, there was a Distinct Marathon sign welcoming you to that particular town. The course was a meandering loop, which started in Appleton, proceeded to Kimberly, and onto my favorite, a town called “Little Chute” (wonder what that story is?) and onto Kaukauna, another cool one called “Combined Locks”, then Darboy, back to Appleton, and then into Menasha, before the final sprint through Neenah to the finish line. A fine cross-section of much of the Fox Cities. We crossed the Fox River at least twice, and there was one section that skirted Lake Winnebago for some waterfront exposure...

Unfortunately, the wind picked up and for several of the mid-miles, it was a pretty stiff (10-20 MPH) headwind that was a little irritating. The weather stayed cool and the sun stayed out, but the course also did roll a little. It seemed as in the mid miles, from about 9 to about 20 or so, it was a gradual rolling uphill which did take its toll. It was not like Quebec, but I did feel like it couldn’t be termed “fast and flat”

Okay….One thing I have to say about this race is that it was probably the best-supported course I’ve been on, even on par with Quebec. There were over 23 aid stations out there; it seemed at some times as if they came every .8 miles or so. And they were staffed with amazing enthusiastic people, who really seemed to enjoy being there. All of them had some kind of theme, from Halloween Costumes, to Christmas (Santa gave me Gatorade mommy!) Hawaiian, you name it. And, I forgot to mention that as in the Milwaukee Lakefront Marathon, they print your name on your runner’s number bib, so everyone can cheer for you by name. My favorite stop was one that was right before the 20 mile marker, which seemed to be staffed by several high school students – cheerleaders, and athletes mostly. As you approached, one of them would shout out the name on runner’s bibs, and the cheer would be taken up all the way down the line and through the water stop. “GO Peter!! GO PETER!!!!” they all chanted as I jogged through a seemingly endless line of happy teenagers. It was very cool. And in addition to all the water stops, they had four – count ‘em, FOUR Gel Stops, with all the flavors of Cliff Shots, my favorite gel of choice. That’s about three more gel stops than most races have, so again, that was really well done.

In spite of all of the support and the cool signs and municipalities, the course was not really memorable…..I could have been in any Midwest town anyplace, so I can’t say it was the most exciting course I have ever run.

It's time to mention one of the irritating things about the multiple race aspect. Having a marathon relay is a little distracting, because at certain points of the race, suddenly there is some young Turk that comes blowing past you like you aren’t moving (well, maybe at my pace it seems like I’m strolling) But anyway, it’s still a little distracting. And apparently, some of the Relay racers took a pretty cavalier approach to their portion. One I saw was cutting each and every corner, clipping ahead of other runners. And, in fact, I actually saw one of the relay runners disembark back onto the course from a Mini Van! The woman driving called to her as she got out “Well, there’s one of them down!” “Cheaters! I’m silently screaming at them. And, the other part is toward the end of the race, I start catching up to large gangs of the early morning crowd of walkers, walking 3 and 4 abreast as they pad their way to the finish line. Well, maybe they feel about me like I felt about the relay runners…

I did run into two of my Marathon Maniac Brethren – one of whom was in Quebec, a guy named Kevin. This marathon completed all 50 states for him (though why he'd leave Wisconsin for last is beyond me) and he was pretty happy to be there. Maybe someday for me……Anyway, we cruised for a mile or so together and agreed that Quebec had been a brutal event – for him he said it was his slowest time ever. We both did better today - read on....

…….at some point in the race, it became evident to me that I was doing pretty well, time-wise. In spite of the lost minutes in the first few miles, I again hit the halfway point at 1:55, and closed out mile 20 at 2:57, well on track for a sub-four hour finish if I could keep it up. I was hurting again by mile 20 (no, I didn’t do much training as usual!) but unlike Quebec a few weeks before, the course started to flatten out a little, and even roll downhill a bit. It was also at least 10 degrees cooler so…..I started to think, “Maybe today is the day…..”

Not good to count your finish time before it’s on the clock, so I tried not to check my watch too much as miles 21, 22, 23, and 24 flowed by. By the time I hit 25, I’m thinking, well, I’ve got 13 minutes to cover 1.2 miles, so I pushed myself out of the pain and down, around the corner.

I could hear the finish line long before I saw it. The last mile was like a big button hook; you rounded a corner, ran past the finish line on the left and through the trees, out another eight of a mile or so then took a long sweeping turn into the finish line. All this time, you are hearing the finish line announcer, calling names and working the crowd. I pushed as hard as I could without throwing up, and clipped across the finish line with a clock time of 3:58:19, and, as I later found out (my watch said 3:56:36) a chip time of 3:56:32. Yes, that’s breaking four hours….with a few minutes to spare! My fastest time since my Pre-back surgery days in 1997! Yay!

They cut off my chip, I collected my Finishers Medal (pretty nice – apparently it’s a collectors item) and, wonder of wonders, a REALLY awesome 1/3 zip Black Finishers Wind shirt! Okay, this one is a keeper; it’s one of the best I’ve gotten in recent years. It will be perfect for those cool mornings.

I followed the flow of the crowd directly to the food tent, and lo and behold the “multiple races” logistics bit me again. There were signs for Arby’s, some local Bread, and lots of other tasty-sounding sponsors, however, I noted that there didn’t seem to be much activity there. Even before I got there heard someone saying disgustedly, “There was lots of sandwiches and all kinds of things, but the Half-Marathoners took it all” Indeed, the only thing there was some really awful looking packaged cookies, some tired orange slices, and an assortment of canned soda. Later, my statistics from the finishers results showed that I was in the top 39% of finishers that day, so I feel sorry for the other 60% of runners (and a lot of walkers for that matter) behind me – I hope they weren’t too hungry…

Since there wasn’t any food, and I didn’t see anyone I knew, I decided to get back to my car and make some calls to celebrate my finish time. I found my way to the shuttle area, and after an interminable wait, got on a very small shuttle bus back to the Start. In fact, it was only after several people started getting “up” with the shuttle coordinator that he designated one of the busses for Start line people. It seemed he had sent several partially filled shuttles back to the hotels and downtown Neenah, while the rest of us cooled our heels. I do remember cramping up pretty heavily on the bus ride, while a nice young lady named Chris laughed and gave me more room.

So, I made it back to Oconomowoc, and went for a long walk with Cayelin to shake it out a little….even so, Monday and Tuesday especially were very stiff and sore days. A couple of spin classes and a lot of water, and I think today, Wednesday. I’m on the mend.

I think in rereading and writing this, maybe I had a better time than I thought, though there is definitely a lot of room for improvement in some key things for this race. On Tuesday at the YMCA , when another of my running colleagues, Leslie, asked me if the race were thumbs up, or thumbs down, I held my thumb straight and level….it’s a “’tweener”. Of the things that were good (course support, weather, finishers shirt, medal, gel stops, town signs) they were REALLY good. Of the things that were bad (packet pickup up, lack of information, crabby volunteers, no chip verification, mixing the races, NO FOOD, and shuttle performance) it was really bad….. So, again, I rate this race a tweener…..go for the good things I mentioned, but make sure you do your research.

So, even though this wasn’t my fastest marathon ever, I’m really pleased with my finish time and performance. Hopefully I’ll be recovered enough to have fun in Portland, Oregon on October 7 (my next race) The Fox Cities Marathon is number 37 and counting...

I also want to mention my friends Scott and Gregg, my longtime Illinois and Wisconsin running buddies, respectively. Both have been sidelined with injuries this fall, and if you could all send your energies to them for their speedy recovery that would be great.

One last comment - February 19, 2008 is an anniversary of sorts. Back on that same date in 1998, I had back surgery, a lumbar laminectomy for a herniated disc in my lower back. A few weeks prior to that, the Neurosurgeon, who was a stellar professional, had told me “You’ve probably run your last Marathon.” In spite of his words, which I refused to believe, since then, I’ve done 27 of them, using my “Zen Training” method. I was thinking it would be nice to have completed my 40th marathon by that anniversary date, making it an even 30 since that diagnosis. With Portland coming up on October 7th , and I’ve also signed up for Tucson on December 2nd, that would mean I just need to add another one sometime in November, December, or January. I think it’s possible – and with all of your energetic support, I’ll keep crossing those finish lines and collecting the medals. And sharing these experiences with you!
Thanks everyone for reading this far! Blessings to you all....