Bling

Bling

I turned 50 in June this year, and apparently, “50 being the new 30” is true. My running has improved greatly this summer, I’ve been racing like a maniac AND as an extra added bonus, collecting my share of Age Group awards in the local competitions as well. Depending, of course on the race, the day, the conditions and those days that thankfully the fast guys are somewhere else. Out of the 14 races I’ve run since turning 50, I’ve placed in at least 7 of them, and collected finishers medals in three others, so the percentage of award races is over 70% and rising.

While fun, this does in fact add an extra layer of “stuff” to my life. The recent haul consists of (as mentioned) several finisher and age group medals, a red ribbon, and not one but two trophies, one of which is actually in the shape of a golden Rooster (see my previous blog for THAT story. All of this presents an interesting conundrum. It’s fun to be fast enough to place in these races and collect a medal, trophy, plaque, or even a ribbon, however what do you ultimately do with these things? After admiring them for a day or so (sometimes I leave the trophies in the bathroom so anyone performing ablutions has to marvel at my running prowess) they get relegated to a shelf in my spare bedroom or a box shoved onto a bookshelf out of sight. Years can go by before I look at them again, and then it’s only to glance at them briefly before putting them back into the box and shoving the box out of sight, and therefore out of mind.

My erstwhile running colleague Gregg Herman is a prime example of a running swag hound. He’s been racing for years, is quite accomplished in his age group and as a result has amassed an impressive amount of running awards,

Occupying a large corner office in the Chase Bank building in downtown Milwaukee, all of the horizontal and vertical surfaces of his work space are crammed with the Bling of his running accomplishments. Trophies, medals, ribbons, plaques – you name it. It not only boggles the mind, it numbs the senses as it quickly flows together into a homogenous mass of shiny trinkets

Indeed on one of my last trips to the hallowed space, I was perusing the “Trophy Corner” as it were and while examining one of the larger units, found myself exclaiming “Gregg! Your trophy has BREASTS!” Indeed, he had actually received a women’s award - and hadn’t paid attention - and my theory is that, bling being bling, it had gone unnoticed in the sheer delight in adding to the collection.

(I still chortle merrily when I recount this story to anyone who will listen. It’s one of many great Gregg Herman stories – the trophy with Boobies.)

Later that same day, we completed the UNCF 5K race in downtown Milwaukee, both placing in the same age group (I was second, and he was third, I’m the younger and now faster runner..) Thus, we collected a pair of 16 inch high gold and black trophies heralding our accomplishment. Of course we checked them closely for cleavage before accepting them. After the race, we walked the mile from Veterans Park over downtown Milwaukee surface streets back to Gregg’s office in the Chase building carrying our treasures. This did not go unnoticed by the local inhabitants as the bright sun winked off the shiny gold. Cars honked, passerby’s cheered, entire busloads of people waved and after a few instances of this, we held the trophies overhead and pranced like Rocky Balboa as people applauded us during our “Walk of Fame”. Gregg was enjoying this so much, we even walked an extra block past his office to collect more Love.

As we were doing this, a thought struck me. “You know,” I commented to Gregg as we continued to lug our new bling through downtown Milwaukee. “After we die, one of the first things that will be heard is the grinding, clanking, crash of one of our relatives emptying boxes of our race awards into the nearest dumpster!”

He guffawed loudly and proceed to recount the story of his former law partner, who had seemingly thousands of plaques, Lucite cubes, and other form of bling from his several years of community service. And, indeed when he passed on to the great courtroom in the sky, most of his commemorative items did in fact find their way into a landfill somewhere.

This all got me to thinking about the whole Carbon Footprint of not only the Bling factor, but the whole running/racing experience. Seemingly, running should be one of the most green sports on the planet, consisting of several people putting one foot in front of the other, on god’s green earth and traversing some distance as fast or as diligently as possible, consuming oxygen, exhaling tree and plant nurturing carbon dioxide and not burning fossil fuel in internal combustion engines. Also, this being a healthy pursuit, the activity can have the benefit of extending one’s life expectancy as well as enhancing mental skills and productivity. What could be greener, or more beneficial than that?

Sadly, upon further introspection, this is not necessarily the case. And, the bling factor, much of which will ultimately find it’s way to some landfill (after said clanking, grinding dumpster crash) at some future date is only part of it. There is a lot of “stuff” that is generated by races that we may not be considering.

Anyone who has ever done a major – or even not so major - running event has gotten the obligatory “goodie bag” These bags are generally large handled plastic bags crammed full of paper, sample products, plastic items and lots of flotsam and jetsam. Coupons for local eateries, massage therapists, health clubs and chiropractors abound. The problem with most of these is that they are in fact local, and unless you are close to the community, the chances of actually using them are slim. And, I rarely if ever eat out, or pay for things like Chiropractic or Massage, preferring instead to cook at home, barter, or do without. Therefore, all of this paper finds itself instantly in the recycling bin – a shame as the ink, tree and energy it took to produce it goes largely wasted and then needs to be recycled again. At least I do that.

Further, the sample items are usually Bio-gel or some Moo Udder ointment in either encased in PVC or some non-environmentally friendly aluminum foil condiment container. Again, a waste as I don’t use these and ultimately dispose of them somewhere.

Then there are the plastic trinkets – key chains, flashlights, Tchotchke of many descriptions…..how much of this does one person need? Since most of my cars have remote entry fobs, I never use key chains any more. And, the flashlights generally don’t work when needed, which usually causes me to hurl them angrily into the nearest trash receptacle, thereby adding to the landfill once again. Too much junk!

Oh, and the refrigerator magnets Why would I plaster a four by six inch refrigerator magnet for some non-local Real Estate Agent or Chirorpactor on my kitchen Amana? Into the trash it goes… And, how many years does it take to break down a vinyl magnet??

Then, if you think about it, there is the whole T-shirt thing too. The latest trend is to provide Technical T-shirts to all participants, which, unlike Cotton shirts, you may actually wear to another event or workout with in the future. These shirts wick, and are lightweight and are therefore nice, however there are two personal issues. One, they are usually made out of some polyester derivative, meaning they are oil-based and two, having done upwards of 35 races last year, I amass SOOO many cool technical shirts, I generally wind up folding them neatly, and cramming them into a Rubbermaid storage tote (also made out of Oil-based plastic!) for later consideration. They then wind up on the same rotation schedule as the Medals, which mean I may look at them again once a year…….Although, or a regular basis I do in fact order them in medium to send to my ex-wife Jean as part of our alimony arrangement. I also bequeath at least a half dozen XL’s a year to my ex-father in law who continues to be thrilled wear T-shirts from such exotic locales as Hilbert, Wisconsin from races he hasn’t run. And, I’ve gotta say they do look better on him than they do on me, and I do appreciate the irony of providing that experience to him. Anyway, it’s still more stuff and more of the Racing Carbon Footprint that may not be considered.

The races themselves provide truckloads of litter, from the used cups that are trampled underfoot to the pouches of Gatorade that are slit and dumped into great big (plastic!!) containers, to the wrappers from snacks, plastic water bottles, soda cans, beer cups…..the list goes on and on and it’s quite a lot, with a large amount of petroleum based products, paper, and energy consumed to launch even a small event. And, don’t forget that mostly we DRIVE to and from Races – it would be terrible to actually get some exercise on our way to exert ourselves!!!

Then there is the whole Portopottie thing (okay, I'm not EVEN going to get started on that....)

So, having gone on this multi-page rant, what to do? (and, how do I conclude this blog – mainly I wanted to brag about my AG placements since turning 50, and now look what happened)

I wonder how we as runners can get more green? And, where to start. It seems the collective mindset and high expectations we’ve all formed around running events which cause us to expect, no, demand – proper libations, a cool tech shirt and more and more bling is causing us to be part of the problem and not the solution.

I know I’m guilty of all that. Look at my blogs where I natter on (or chortle) about the libations, t-shirt, bling et al. What else would I complain about?

Any thoughts gang? Talk amongst yourselves………

Note to my executor……please find a good way to donate my race bling - some local kids charity or something. I’ll be ashes once I’ve trotted off to the great beyond, so let’s not add any more to the landfill than we have too!

Tucson 10K (or "Why yes, I'm from OakAhNoeMoeWock!")

Ran an (almost!) 10K in Tucson This Morning.

Ya know, I think that the Half Marathon has been the New 10K for a few years now. (kinda like 50 is the new 30??) Back in my early days of running (from about 1988 - 1994) 10K's were as plentiful as fleas on a dog, you could run one, or even two! almost every weekend. Now, they seem scarcer than Hens Teeth, replaced, seemingly, by Half Marathons, which as you know you can actually cram four into fourteen days in some months in Southeastern Wisconsin. Those who are real runners can do it anyway.

But I digress. Anyway, 5K's are one thing, 10K's however I really don't have a "Pace" for as who does them very much?

And even though there is always seemingly a 5K option, who would run short when they could run long?

(oh yeah, Greg Hermann would. Again, I digress. Must be the altitude here, can't stay on topic for long)

This was the second year I've done this race and it's a strange 'un. It's put on by a local Bicycling Emporium (Perimeter Bicycling) and it's the El Tour Race - the El Tour de Tucson is a National Bike Race held in Tucson in November where thousands of world famous stretch-pant-bright-jersey-fancy-space-age-helmet-wearing intense monsters come to pedal their asses off. So, why is there a running race? Dunno...however there are not-so-subtle clues that tell you these people aren't necessarily runners. And, they may not be Bike-Race savvy either, based upon some of the logistics or lack thereof.

Still, I never ever turn down a race versus just doing a training run - in spite of the fact that I've got three 26.2 Mile Dragon-Slaying events breathing fire down my neck - literally. First one - Milwaukee - is two weeks from tomorrow and the MOUNT LEMMON uphill race is a mere month away. So, these lesser races are intended to make up for my usual lack of actual marathon training, hoping that if I continue to simulate combat conditions, at least piecemeal, I'll continue to make it across the finish lines of these "longer" efforts.

Again, digressing!

So, I picked up my packet Friday, they gave us a black reusable shopping bag - always good for the car trunk! lots of papers crammed into it and one cool thing was that the T-shirt was optional - you could pay extra and get one or just pay less and not. I went for Not and as it turned out it was a nice yellow shirt, cotton, however I've got so many damn race shirts the short pang of lust I felt for it disseminated quickly when I went home and opened my drawer and saw the Tucson collection - mostly unloved and unworn.

5K people had yellow bibs, 10K people had blue - my number? 12. And, I signed up not long ago, so I'm thinking...small race!

It wasn't though. It was as most Tucson races an early start - 6:30 am, so I was out the door at 5:35 sharp. This year it was held at St.Gregory's prep school instead of up in Marana as in years past. Last year it was almost an hour drive from the Tucson abode, this morning it was a mere 11 minutes - 22nd street to Craycroft, left, four miles and left into the parking lot. And, good thing I left kinda early, by the time I inched my way into the parking area it was quite crowded.

A mixed crowd - and since it wasn't a SAR-sponsored event, I didn't see many of the local running illuminati. However there were a few fast looking people there that I recognized, one, a local Jack Hoffman-type was there (whose name I don't know) and I was glad, meaning my chances of having to lead the pack had just diminished. Later they said there were 289 runners and walkers with a LOT of race day sign ups.

There was the same woman Emcee from last year, a pony-tailed cheerleader-type of indeterminate age who was in constant peppy voice over a monster PA system for the entire event. "We've got people here from all over Arizona" she was warbling as I walked up. "We even have people from Iowa, and look! Two people from Wisconsin (didn't hear name) from ManahTOEWHACK, and Peter Klein from Oak-Ah-Noe-Moe-Wock, Wisconsin. Welcome all you people!!" (She would go on, throughout the morning to continue to butcher my current home town, repeating this cant 3-4 times, once again before the race, once when I crossed the finish line and then later as she seemingly couldn't help herself) Guess I'm famous in Tucson from being from OakAhNoeMoeWock! And, seems Wisconsin people are smarter - THEY can pronounce "Tucson"

The same peppy voice started chivvying us to start lining up at about 6:10 am. Even while thinking (WTF??) I took my place close to the front seeing a plethora of strollers, small children, leashed dogs, and really slow looking people. Sometimes as you know, in these non-running savvy races, the walkers all cluster up front, the better to act as boulders in the stream blocking the movers like me, so I was intent on avoiding having to run everyone over (like Gregg Herman does) This had the unfortunate result of placing me smack in the front of the monster PA colums, thus treating me to a full blast treatment of the ensuing babble. Anyway, there was non-stop patter from the hostess, then some other old guy took the mike and gassed on and on about how much money they'd raised (the race is, in fact a benefit for "Bens Bells" (www.bensbells.org ) a GREAT local organization promoting "Kindness") He then put some other old codger on who after some other non-memorable yammering announced that since he ran this race last year, he'd had his prostate and a half a kidney removed so he wasn't sure he'd set a PR - or even finish the race - that day. (The crowd actually applauded for this - not sure if they were happy for his loss of major organs, or the fact that the competition was diminished?), and in the meantime, the sun was rising murderously in the east - and right in our faces. This is, in fact, the desert, so the heat was on the way, and I could feel and share the collective crowd impatience thinking "Get on with the race already!!" After an acapella Star Spangled Banner rendition from one of the actual runners, who handed the mike back and took her place in the crowd, we did a count down and promptly at 6:30 am we were off.

The first quarter mile was a loop around the St. Gregory sports field, a soaking wet (the sprinklers had maybe just been on?), and incredibly spongy surface. It was, literally, like running on a squishy saturated O-Cello sponge. "Boing! Boing!" I thought to myself as I bounded up and down feeling my shoes fill with water. There were some pre-ten year old boys who had bolted out with the lead crowd and then slammed to a complete stop in front of me, necessitating a spectactular hurdle on my part to avoid adding them to some unhappy youth statistic. In spite of all that, we soon emptied out onto the Rillito (pronounced ReYee toe) river pathway and headed west.

This was a big circular loop course out on the south side of the Rillito river bike trail (the Rillito River is actually a completely dry wash filed with sand, scrub, and abandoned shopping carts) a crossover on the Dodge Avenue road bridge and then back up the north side of the bike trail, with a loop around on the Craycroft road bridge then back to the finish. It was promised during the non-stop blather at the start line that there were plenty of aid stations and portopotties on the course, plus mile makers in both Miles and Kilometers.

Not so much on any of this as it turned out.

The first half of the course rolled up and down, and I did in fact see the first three Kilometer markers. Never did, in fact see many past that and never saw ANY mile markers. We were heading west, away from the rising sun and at the start I felt okay. GPS would later show I kept an absolutely consistent 7:32 pace for the first three miles. Again, what's a 10K Pace? Faster than a Half Marathon, not as fast as a 5K? It's hard to gauge, so I just kept it as steady as I could.

I did see the first "aid station" It was a picnic bench, complete with a single, smirking 10-year old boy sitting firmly on his ass presiding over the cups of water - about 30 feet off the bike path. Coupled with the start line, the spongy field crossing, and the lack of mile markers, already I'm aware that these people aren't really thinking of real runners - what real runner would divert WAY off the trail (and it wasn't an easy on and off, you'd have to back track the same said 30 feet once you grabbed your own cup due to a pedestrian railing). I blasted on through thinking...well, I can usually last six miles without a drink.

After the first mile and a half, the serious 5K runners peeled off and I'm all alone, mostly - one woman runner up in front (whom I reeled in by mile 2.5) and then a guy in a green shirt about 300 yards in front of me that I never did reel in. The path wound and jogged, and there were several pedestrian entry points with non-race walkers plodding in, so it was somewhat confusing. Minimal course marshalling and as mentioned - never saw any mile markers.

Was hoping not to Digress.

I passed the second aid station before Mile 3, right before the bridge crossing. It was apparently a self-serve one, "rustic" if you will - crates of gallon bottles of water stacked beside another picnic table (this one about 20 feet off the trail) and no cups, no staff, no nothing. Again, I blasted on through, thinking "Great!"

A quick left and a quick right and a tight hairpin turn and I'm on the Dodge Avenue bridge, over the top and down the other side where some course marshals direct me across a stretch of sandy ditch and back onto the bike trail. Now I'm running directly into the very intense rising sun, GPS reads mile 3.4 and I actually feel my energy start to drain away through the soles of my (now dry) Adidas Responses. The sun and lack of water was like a literal weight. Still, I persevere, and later GPS will show that I clocked a pair of 7.50's, and then a 7.41 so it wasn't too terribly bad. Still, the intense sun, the path, and now it's slightly uphill slowed me down.

Plus, soon I started catching up to the 5K walkers and "joggers" firmly clogging the river path like arterial placque. I weaved in and out of them, strollers, dogs, kids, oncoming bicycles and all following the guy in the green shirt who was doing the same thing.

There was actually a volunteer passing out cups of water around mile 4.5, so I could unglue my tongue from the roof of my mouth, and then continue the slog. It helped.

A monster switchback uphill to the Craycroft bridge, then a long narrow pedestrian walkway passing over the Rillito non-river, with waist high concrete on each side, another hairpin turn straight down, through a small gap in a high chain link fence, and back to the river path and now I can hear the finish line PA system clearly. A hairpin turn into St. Gregory's and then another bound across the spongy grass and suddenly there is the finish line and "Here's number 12, Peter Klein from OakAhNoeMoeWock, Wisconsin!!! Great job Peter!!! Thanks for coming all this way!!!" Finish clock says 46:29, so does my GPS and the course distance.....6.06 miles, of course. This means it was probably and actually a 6 mile 10K as my GPS usually measures "long" so............can't really say I ran a 10K today.

Average time worked out to a dismal-for-the-distance 7:39 minute miles, oh well. I think I actually did better in Cudahy for 10 and I was almost as fast at the Lake Country Half averaging a 7:45 for 13.1. Better water stops on both though, and Gatorade too......

I collected the "finishers medal" a leather thong with a ceramic ornament tied to it plus a sweet sounding brass bell. Already a few of the runners were wearing theirs and you could hear a chorus of "ting ting ting" for the rest of the morning. This was the Bens Bells Piece and it's an interesting piece of swag - makes a great outdoor windchime actually! Picture attached....

Again, in the theme of "Not a Runners Race" there were no age group awards. The top 3 Male and Females (for the 10K and 5K) got these funky-ass artistic made-out-of-metal-wire-stapled-to-a-wooden-plank stylized bicycle trophies. Quite the dust catcher! However, the only other awards were for "Most Funds Raised", "Last across the finish line", youngest and oldest runner. Since I qualified for none of this, I didn't get any further bling - just as well, what would I do with something like that?

I was, however 13th across the finish line in the 10K (there were 112 10K people), and, initially FIRST in my age group which showed me as age 98 in the M80-98 age group. Not bad for an old guy, huh? Again....not good information, not paying attention to the runners info. As it turns out, (after I got this corrected) I would have been third in the 50-54 - the 10K race was actually won by that previously mentioned Jack Hoffman-like guy who is age 52 and nailed it in 40:15 or so. So, I would have had yet another "show" regardless of my dismal pace. However today that didn't matter.

Not many finish line libations, cups of water, sliced oranges, melon, quarter bagels and little cups of peanut butter. NO BEER, dammit!!! I hung around for the awards ceremony anyay, thinking, pehaps that they'd have a special award for the most difficult to pronounce town (OakAhNoeMoeWock) however no joy. So, back to the Tucson abode, all before 9:00 am. Still waiting for the beer....

Miss you Wisconsin people! No mile markers, no water, no finish line beer, can't pronounce Oconomowoc, no AG awards, what's wrong with these Tucson Biker people??

See you all in a few weeks!

Run with the Roosters 5 Miler, Tucson AZ (or, your name must be STEVE!)

Note to reader – consider this version of the Bob Newhart Drinking Game – except this time, every time the name “Steve” comes up, you have to take a drink….

Here goes -

The alarm went off at 3:06 am today, and after reluctantly getting up 10 minutes later, stumbling around, collecting running apparel, GPS and water bottle, I'm in the car and gone at 3:40 am headed for Old Tucson Studios. Destination of the "Run with the Roosters 5-miler" put on by my new Tucson Colleague Steve Landau's "Everyone Runs" running event company

After meandering north on surface streets for a few miles, I hang a sharp left onto Speedway avenue and arrow west through the downtown area for several miles. Surprisingly, there is a lot of traffic for this time of the morning. My car thermometer reads 87 degrees - at 3:55 am - but it's a "dry" heat, so I have the windows open, and am scanning the radio for something interesting to listen to. Not much on at this time of the morning and I'm too sleepy to rummage for a CD.

I exit Speedway at Gates Pass road (an angle left) and blast up into the Tucson Mountains. Gates Pass is a winding, rolling two-lane mountain road that does, literally, provide a pass over the Tucson Mountains, and it's much like a Desert Alpen Highway. A Nissan Altima zooms past me, and I crank up the Toyota to stay in his wake. At this time of the day, there is only one destination he could be headed for so I'm guessing if I follow him, we'll arrive at the same objective. It's pitch black as we swoop up to the top of the pass, then drop almost straight down to the other side. I'm regularly on and off with the high beam switch as the road curves and I lose sight of my driving buddy. At times I imagine I'm James Bond and the evil Goldfinger's minions will be trying to overtake me and push my Toyota over the cliff into the void below so I keep a sharp eye on my rear view mirrors for approaching headlights that may spell trouble.

Arriving safely at the end of Gates Pass, we hang a left on Kinney Road and a short block later see a swinging flashlight directing us into a dark parking area.

"Aha!" I chortle to myself as I see the Nissan obediently make a left hand turn as directed by the dark figure with the flashlight. I follow suit and am soon parked in the Employee's Parking lot at Old Tucson. Time: 4:10 am. Race Start - 5:00 am. Still pitch black.

Withing seconds a wave of cars are streaming in off Kinney and the flash lights are describing a constant arc directing the flow, which is now also backed up all the way to Gates Pass. "Hah, once again, my timing is superb!" I think to myself. "Take That, Gregg Herman!"

Old Tucson, for those of you who don't know it, is a Western Movie Set turned Theme Park that provided the backdrop for many movies over the years starring John Wayne, and other cowboy heros. The Old Tucson part doesn't play much into this race as we just used the parking lot for the race start/finish and post-race festivities, so that's a story for another time. I will, however mention that Cayelin's middle son Ian did an extended time here as a Stunt Man before his current gig in China and he had a lot of fun getting shot, falling off buildings and doing many other cowboy skits.

Anyway, I now have to find packet pickup so I meander down a long side road from the parking lot towards some bright lights and noise, and soon find Packet pickup. A recent running acqaintence named Steve Huges is manning the table, so we have a brief discussion, He's apparently injured today - ankle - so is not running, however he's been training in earnest for the Mount Lemmon Marathon and may, in fact, be running UP Mount Lemmon next week. I'm instantly glum......these Tucson runners are dedicated to their craft and will no doubt conquer the mountain this fall in fine fettle, while I'll be piddling around in the Midwest in single digit altitude for the rest of the summer and early fall.

Shaking off these gloomy thoughts, I don my Bib (number 114) and head back to the car to drop off my keys. Having a few minutes, I flip open my cellphone and, mentally doing the calculation of Midwest time change, fire off a text to Rhonda "At the race. Dark and 88 Degrees at 4:20 am" I wait a few minutes, but no response, and getting bored, I disembark, lock up the Toyota, tie the key around my shoelace, and, after checking the obligatory three times to make sure I've done that, lock the remote in the trunk and turn to my left, where I immediately encounter another local Race Director Colleague, Steve Taggart - he of the Tagg Runs race events company. Steve's a great and enthusiastic guy, so we kibitz for a while and then head back to the start area. Promising I'll be back to do his fall races, I head out to warm up a little, but soon lose interest and circle back to the starting area. It's starting to get light, the DJ is cranking Prince's "Raspberry Beret" which, by the way, was in the top 10 in 1985 - 25 years ago this week!! and anyway, I figure "it's only a Five Miler".

It's also overcast so still dim as we draw closer to the 5:00 am start time, Steve Landau gets on the microphone and informs us that he'd like it to be a little lighter, so we'll start "Oh, about 5:08 or so" Okay, fine, no biggie. Soon, we're all lining up – 200 plus runners and walkers - and next to me I spy Polly Campbell, whom I had an intense team workout with in May at the Reid Park workout group weekly meeting before I left Tucson. She's the woman's winner of the Tucson Mararthon last year and a top ranked athlete. She spies me and lights up "Hey! You were on my Team!!!" she exclaims. I'm delighted to be remembered and greet her back, then it's time for an introduction to the Rooster who is standing close to the entrance to the parking lot where we are going to run out of (a job I wouldn’t want – a furry costume in Tucson Heat?) Then, a trumpet version of the star spangled banner (which was slightly off key and had some clinkers) and then Steve announces "I've got a gun and I'm not afraid to use it!" (Arizona Humor!) and after a 10 count, Bang! and we're off.

Since I wasn't running with Gregg Herman, I'm way up front with the Speedy People. Polly and her compadres are soon tail lights of course, however I did hold my own for the first mile or so. Since I don't run many 5 milers, I don't have a "5 mile pace" so I blast off at what I think is just under my 5K pace.

It’s rolling downhill for the first mile and a half or so then, we hang a right into a State Park Road and up and over several speed bumps, all of which I managed to hit right on the top. I’m passed at about the 1.5 mile marker by a blue shirt/blue short clad dude with long, black, flowing, Moses-like hair and full monster beard. I had spied him before and figured we were long-haired running brothers in arms, but had dismissed him as he hadn’t looked like he was too fast. I was wrong, this dude had set of wheels on him for sure. Instantly doing an assessment, I figured he was too young to be in my age group because at 50 plus (my new age group), there was no way that hair color would not be streaked with Grey. Anyway, I’m figuring my shot at the gold this morning is slim – it’s Tucson after all and I had spied at least a few of the local oldsters blazing away from me at the start.

So, we continued through a water stop (where I again saw Steve Hughes and he handed me a cup of water) to the end of the road, where we turned around and headed back passing the stream of runners and walkers heading out. Mile two blazed by, and I’m averaging about a 7:20 pace, however I’m realizing that we’d been slightly downhill and that now we were going back – uphill.

I huffed up the slight rise to the water stop again, got another cup of water from Steve Hughes and headed out onto Kinney again. I’m feeling the uphill drag and suddenly I’m out of energy, and the race isn’t half over yet. Low Blood sugar…. I’ve passed Long Hair Blue Shirt guy, however I feel a lethargy creeping over me as we head south on Kinney in what feels like an endless succession of rolling uphill curves.

I managed to keep on pace, well, some pace anyway as we keep going, through the three mile mark to a turnaround. Today, it seems like my GPS isn’t working, each time I look at it, it seems as if I’m only advancing micro distances at a time. Still, it’s firing dead on each mile marker, and knowing that Steve Landau runs a quality race in all ways, I’m confident that the course will be as accurate as possible.

I slog up to the top of a hill where there appears to be a turn around, at about mile 3.25 I think and there is a water stop. I hear the volunteers calling out “Water” and then I hear the blessed words “Xood” (pronounced “Excude”) Sports Drink! “Xood!” I gasp and am handed a cup of the viscous pink stuff, which, formally, I’ve disdained in other races. This morning, however, it’s Jet fuel, and I walk a few steps to imbibe it properly, getting passed once again by my new silent colleague “Bearded Man” Mentally shrugging, I toss my cup and, feeling the lift from the carbs charge after him.

It’s a duel to the death for the rest of the race as we stride along, side by side, trading the pole position, fighting the hills, and rolling pavement. Again, I’m thinking “Man! This is a long-ass 5 miles” however the views were spectacular of the mountains, it was a great road surface and a good morning. The overcast made it feel like a Midwest day, with a little humidity in the air, and, take away the sand and cactus, and it could have been a Wisconsin Summer road race, weather wise.

There was a medium rise back to the parking lot at Old Tucson and, with my GPS registering 4.68 miles, I find I can light a few jets and as we traverse the hill, I dig in and put Bearded Man firmly behind me, hang a right into the parking lot (past the Rooster, who is directing us in), sprint around a long, cone-lined curve and blast into the finish line. The announcer is in fine voice, except he’s like “Okay here’s number…….One……Seventy-Four!” apparently not being able to read my bib. Well, who cares, as long as the scoring is correct, I think. Besides, I’m still thinking awards aren’t mine today.

Clock time reads 37:32, GPS has me at 7:29 per mile, 5.02 miles and 37:34 so okay. I peel my tag, and collect a bottle of Canadian Water and a crop sleeved technical Shirt. Another classy piece about Steve Landau’s Everyone Runs events – you get your shirt, in your size, right at the finish line of the race, and the shirts are so bom-diggity good that they soon become training favorites.

Still breathing heavily, I walk back to the Toyota, dump my shirt and then head back to the finish line. Spotting the Sport Massage tent and realizing that the line can’t be long yet, I sign up for a free Sports Massage, and then get my Robek’s Smoothie and Mexican Breakfast – again, two other cool things about Steve Landau’s events – the libations are insanely good and it’s great to reload immediately after running with scrambled eggs, refried beans, fresh tortillas and salsa and chase it with frozen fruit smoothies. All you can eat also!

There was also a huge "Slip and Slide" that Steve had set up, however, I decided to forgo taking a plunge. Still, cool finish line, huh??

Pretty much right after I inhale the amazing food, it’s time for my massage, and, even though I’m still dripping sweat, they don’t care. An energetic therapist named, of all things, “Steve” pummels my quads, hamstrings and knees doing some amazing stretches and working the muscles like whoah….I’m pretty blissed out while he’s doing painful things, it was a great added bonus, and he works me for about 15 minutes before letting me up and giving me an exercise to do to “Open up my Thoracic Cavity” which he said would help my breathing and improve my running. Good advice!

So, replete with Food, Beverage, Post-Race Massage, Stretch, and Advice – and, by the way, it’s barely 6:30 am at this point - I amble over in a blissful haze to check the results, which, it had been announced, were posted on the pillar by the entrance to old Tucson. There, I quickly ascertain that my bib, name, finish time and contact info is correct, (I’m 31^st overall) however, there are no age group rankings. As there were only 30 people in front of me, I start counting the people in the 50’s before me and soon arrive at 5. Oh, well, out of the running, I think, and turn away. I went to get another smoothie where I bump into my Bearded, Blue oufit-clad Race Buddy. “Hey!” He exclaims “Hey! I say back, adding, “I was chasing you the whole way!” “hey, I was chasing YOU!” he exclaims, and we kibbitz about the race, Everyone Runs, blah blah blah. Turns out his name is Bob (in concert with the B's - bearded and blue!) and he’s a cool guy, so we vow to see each other at another race sometime, and head off in opposite directions to do our thing.

I’m stirring my second smoothie when a thought struck me. One of those ages I saw on the results was 57, and in 5 year age groups, that means I’m at least 4^th. Damn, that’s even worse! However, thinking perhaps I missed something else, I go back and now a little less loopy from the massage, laboriously count the names again. Still fourth, however, I suddenly spot that one 52-year old in front of me is named “Susan” Oops!! So, I’m actually Third in my Age group! Whoo-hoo!!!! Then, I also spot on the list, the second runner past me is named “Bob” .......age 52….so, in fact, it was a complete Duel in the Sun for Third Place that was happening that morning unbeknownst to me – and had I acquiesced and were it not for the Xood, I would have conceded my third to a new Age Group Nemisis!! Sweet!!!!!

Realizing that I had not tipped Steve the massage therapist (not required but good Karma) I amble back to the Toyota for some singles and get back in time to hear the start of the awards. Steve Landau starts with the Women, and in reverse age – Oldest to Youngest, so I clap for all the speedy women, and then he does the same for the men. Seconds behind me was a 73-year old guy who was top in his age group, and there were several others that were 60, 70 and 80 plus (!) that had some insane finish times.

Steve Landau announces 1^st, and 2^nd in my age group and then “and this is a guy who helps me out and runs a lot – Peter Klein!” Applause as I head up for my trophy and the photographer snaps our picture. “Thanks Steve” I say urbanely. “This guy came from Wisconsin to do this race, is that insane or what?” he outs me to the crowd, who guffaws at my seeming idiocy. “Can’t miss an Everyone Run’s Event!" I explain to no one in particular as I go back to my space in the crowd.

The trophies are all the same, marked for 1^st, 2^nd or Third as in my case – and here goes….. A golden rooster, set into a while Lucite base. Hah!! Gregg Herman, bet you don’t have one of those!!

I hung around till the end of the awards, to clap for the other speedsters, then, collecting a few more bottles of Canadian water, I trudged once again up the road to the Toyota. On the way, I once again encounter Steve Taggart who I waved my trophy at. He enthused – “You know! Can’t tell that’s a running trophy, people will ask you if you won that at the State Fair for Poultry!” Hah, good one Steve….and humorously true!!! (see picture at the top)

So, I fire up the Toyota, rolling down all windows and sunroof, and out onto Kinney, back up and over Gates Pass, dropping down into Tucson and veering south to the Tucson abode. Arrived promptly at 8:03 am, five hours and five miles after the alarm went off and my first thought was………is it too early for a beer????

In case you didn't count, there were at least four "Steve's" that I encountered today in Tucson. Trippy, huh?

Thanks to Steve Landau (and the other three Steve's) for a great Race! Heading back to Wisconsin this week to tackle the summer races there, looking forward to seeing you all in a race soon!