Peter's Race Reports

Bling

2010-09-18T15:33:00.001-07:00

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!")

2010-09-18T14:42:00.000-07:00

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!)

2010-07-11T19:17:00.000-07:00

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!

Uphill and into the Wind (or don’t believe anything you read on the internet) The 2009 Tucson Marathon Report

2009-12-17T16:59:00.001-08:00

From the Tucson Marathon Website:

Enjoy beautiful Tucson winter weather with temperatures at the start averaging in the high 30s and reaching 65-70 degrees Fahrenheit by 11 a.m. This is primarily a downhill marathon. with some hills around mile 2 and mile 10. Come run your FIRST MARATHON or your FASTEST MARATHON. You'll drop almost 2,200 feet in elevation as you run on the mostly downhill, point-to-point course along the beautiful Santa Catalina mountain range. (There are some rolling hills and inclines between miles 2-9 and at mile 25).

The Old West historical town of Oracle marks the starting line. The course winds through the desert on paved roads and finishes at the Coronado Middle School, just off of E. Wilds Road. Our runners continue to tell us it's one of the prettiest courses in the country and one of the easiest to run a personal best. Be sure to train your quadriceps as you'll be running downhill!

It’s the Monday after and my legs are totally trashed, my quads screaming every time I get up out of my chair, or sit down anywhere. I’m hobbling up and down stairs, groaning at each step, and my outlook on life in general is bleak. I’ve managed to snap at several people today, gone into at least one tirade at Cayelin and as of now, I’m on my third beer and still not feeling my normal level of optimism.

What happened you may ask?. Well, the answer is another harsh Desert mistress that I have an ongoing love/hate relationship with – the Tucson Marathon.

Sunday marked the fourth time I’ve launched the battle (and climbed the hill) to slay the 26.2 mile dragon called Tucson Marathon and the 48th time I’ve toed the line to traverse the same distance. If you read my blog back in 2007 about this race, you can get a flavor for what had happened then, a lot of which had to do with my poor habits, planning and lack of training leading up to the event, plus the “course” which was not, as advertised, a place for your FASTEST MARATHON. (see above)

This time, I can’t fully blame my personal habits for what turned out to be an exceptionally grueling event, that, I’m sorry – is not any where near what is advertised and also does not track some of the hallucinogenic postings and ravings of the fans of this event. I’m not sure what race these people have run, in my experience, in spite of some excellent logistical touches, the Tucson Marathon is one tough hombre of a race,.

From the Tucson Marathon Website:

If you are looking for a fast, gradually-downhill marathon with no big crowd hemming you in, the Tucson Marathon is your race. I have run many races that are said to be fast and downhill; however, none compare to the Tucson Holoalua Marathon. The race starts in the town of Oracle and ends in the Tucson area.

Kamran T. Professor, University of Arizona

Well, Professor, some of that is true. Let me tell my side of the story

When I ran the Tucson Marathon in 2002 and 2003, it was indeed a rolling, fairly straightforward point to point downhill course. It started in Oracle and ended at the Hilton on Oracle Road, and the only memorable uphill was the last .15 (point one five) mile into the finish at the Hilton.

Apparently in subsequent years, the Hilton wouldn’t host the finish anymore (I don’t really know) so they changed the course and the logistics to make it so it ended at the Coronado Middle School. And by doing so had to “tack on” some intermediate miles as an out and back, or “Keyhole” portion. Thus do the challenges ensue! While some things have remained almost 100% consistent about the race (the expo, the T-shirt, the Bus Ride to the Start, the Finishers Medal) other aspects of the actual race are fluid and as such don’t allow it to live up to the “Fast and Downhill” billing

Anyway, as always, I went to the expo at the Hilton El Conquistador on the north end of Tucson, and, as in years past, nothing much has changed, It’s small, low-key, it’s the exact same cotton T-shirt that I’ve gotten on almost every other occasion that I’ve run the race, and the obligatory shoe booth, sports gear and sunglass vendors are present. I was in and out in less than 15 minutes and only because I purposely dawdled to talk to the El Paso Marathon coordinators who were setting up their booth about their race.

(Not much has changed between 2002 and 2009 - except for a "Holualoa", it's almost the same shirt!)

It was an early day Race Day Sunday morning, the alarm went off at 3:30 am and I was up and out by 4:15 heading across town over the dark Tucson streets to the Ventana Medical Center to catch the Bus up the mountain to the Start in Oracle. Got a primo parking space close to the bus line, and, as usual tied the Toyota key on my shoelace and headed to the line of buses that were on the road outside the parking lot.

This year, I did a completely decadent thing- at the front of the line were two school buses, however interspersed among the lined up behemoths were some plush-looking cruise buses, with high backed seats, and luxurious appointments, so I joined a line of three other runners who were tapping on the door of the third bus in line - a large white “BeeLine” coach. The door hissed open and the runner in front said “We like your bus better!” and was allowed to climb in by the elderly driver. I followed the other two runners closely smirking as I passed the driver, and went back and soon found a comfortable seat on this really nice cruise bus. No slippery vinyl school bus seat for me this time!

Soon we departed, and on the very dark ride up the mountain, I chatted with two first timers sitting in front of me, and next to me, Art, a local long-time Tucsonian and Tovah, a beautiful young Yoga Instructor who had just moved to Tucson from Boston for, as she put it, “The weather”. We had, as is usual with people who are about to partake of the 26.2 mile distance, great conversations ranging in many directions. And, it seems like everytime I do Tucson, I’m surrounded by First Timers who, are attracted by the propaganda of this being a “Great First Time Race” Hah, if they only knew…. I wonder how many of these “First Timers” become “Last Timers” after this.

Arriving in the dark in Oracle, I stayed on the bus for a while (always a nice touch for this race – you can stay on the bus and stay warm until the start) until it was time to make the obligatory portopottie stop. I excited the big white beast and hiked up the hill past a long line of other idling buses, filled with nervous runners, inhaling diesel fumes that were hanging in the air, until I arrived at the row of portopotties lined up like soldiers along the roadway. It was still dark, it was cold but not windy and there was a crescent moon hanging over the Catalina Mountains as well as the glow of pre-dawn in the east. A typical Tucson morning and I had high hopes for some good weather for the race.

I talked with a gentleman who turned out to be the Vail School Superintendent while we awaited our turn to relieve ourselves (we discussed the upcoming budget shortfalls for the educational system and the ramifications for the State of Arizona) and then I headed back to my luxury bus for awhile. Soon getting bored with the warmth and sitting around, I hiked up the road again, shucked my sweats, passed my plastic gear bag through a gear check bus window to the eager high school volunteers within, and, after a communal final pee in the desert with several of my compadres, I was lining up for the start of the Marathon.

I had met an exuberant young man named Tim at the Veterans Marathon in Columbia City, Indiana the month before – he was from East Peoria, Illinois, and had told me he was also doing Tucson. As I was sporting the same Marathon Maniacs singlet, dew rag and pony tail, he easily picked me out of the crowd and together with a fellow Marathon Maniac from Texas named Art, we rattled away about running, racing, our expected finish times, and running, running and more about running and the last few minutes to the start passed quickly. The sun rose, the gun went off and so did we, downhill through the traditional Balloon arch starting our trek down the mountain, 26.2 miles to go.

“Down” of course, being the hope of us all.

The first mile, after traversing an initial short rolling hill was straight down. “Zoom” I thought to myself as runners hurtled past me in a constant stream. The ground was soon littered with discarded shirts, sweats and gloves. I had retained an old sweatshirt, however I shucked it quickly as I was soon overheated as the temperature wasn’t bad and I was moving pretty well. At least at first.

I blasted off at a good pace, clocking the first downhill mile at 8:15 with high hopes of a good finish time. Then, we emptied out onto Mount Lemmon highway, and the fun began.

The next three miles were a grinding, rolling, uphill stretch. “Where is the downhill?” several runners around me, no doubt first timers, were wondering. “Elevation charts lie ya know” I mercilessly chortled to anyone who would listen. I’m doing several do-si-dos with runners who, daunted by the hills would surge, then falter. I kept a steady pace.

Up and down - but mostly up, we traversed the first four miles, passing through the first water stop and then heading into the town of Oracle. After climbing yet another “rolling hill” (with (as the website put it) some hills around mile 2 and mile 10) I’m soon pretty warm. Close to mile 5, we are directed left and down a steep hill to another water stop. After the water, we roll up and down another hill, and begin to ascend a steeply hairpin-curved uphill stretch. This was the new “out and back’ that had replaced the biosphere loop of previous years.

“Downhill my ass” I’m thinking.

From the Tucson Marathon Website

the Marathon route will no longer utilize the out and back on Biosphere Road. Instead, there will be an out and back section earlier in the race in the Town of Oracle. The elevation loss for each race will remain almost exactly the same.

“Almost exactly the same” Hah!!

This turned out to be a brutal monster of an out and back detour, far worse than the Biosphere loop. After ascending steeply for about a half mile, the course swooped downward for what seemed to be about two miles, in an ever-descending sweeping curve. I stretched out into the downhill, feeling my quads start to get hammered, and, as the downhill went on....and on.....and on I thought “This can’t be a good thing” And indeed it wasn’t. Soon, I started seeing the lead pack of runners coming the other way, and grimly acknowledged that of course that all of the downhill would have to be returned going the other way, undoubtedly with interest. To add insult to injury, we’re still way up the Catalina’s at an altitude of about 4,400 feet and I’m wheezing slightly with an extremely elevated heart rate from the lighter oxygen – even going downhill.

The stream of runners going the other way did have a few amusing and notable participants. The two that stuck out were “Superman” and “Nerd Runner”. There was literally one guy running in a full Superman costume, complete with cape and red shorts. He was followed by “Nerd Runner” a gangly dude with whiffle cut hair, a white shirt, black short pants (not running shorts), suspenders, narrow black tie and Buddy Holly nerd glasses. I was pretty positive I wasn’t hallucinating, still this was interesting. I wondered idly why Superman wasn’t flying, however, he was, in fact, in front of me, and so also was The Nerd….

So, I made it down the hill, made a hairpin turn (of course passing over the obligatory chip mat to make sure no one jumped the median) and started the slog back up the damn hill on the opposite side of the road. It was slow going, trudging back upwards, and more than once, I broke into a walk as my legs were screaming and my heart rate was maxing out from the incline and altitude. As we are still between mile 7 and 9 of the race, I’m also conscious that all of this early effort may cost me substantially later.

Finally I crested the hill, swooped down the initial incline and back around the corner, and now I’m out again on Mt. Lemmon Highway, I think, where we first made our detour. I pass mile 9, and now, blessedly, we’re heading downhill, heading off the mountain and the fun can begin.

And, the fun, certainly did. As we started leaving the communities that dotted the highway, there is a crosswind I’m starting to notice, then, at mile 10, we come to the junction on State Highway 77 with the infamous sign “Tucson Left”, Globe Right” and head left, down the hill towards Tucson

And, right into the teeth of a VERY Big Headwind that started out stiff and picked up as the miles go by and the morning progressed. I’m estimating that it was 15-25 MPH easily and we are headed right into the face of it for The. Whole. Way. To. Tucson. Almost 16 miles of running into the wind.

Oh, but don’t forget, we’re running downhill so…..it’s not hard, its REALLY hard.

I find that while running into the wind I have to really focus hard not to clench my entire body as I’m moving forward. It’s a subtle thing however as my mind wanders I can suddenly tune into the fact that my fists are clenched, my arms are tight to my chest, I’m bent over with my face scrunched up and my shoulders and neck are aching from the full upper body tension. Trying, obviously to present as little surface area to the gale as possible. Add to that, this Sunday I’m running downhill on some already pretty trashed quads, and you’ve got a recipe for a “Forecast of Pain” as I termed my last tilt at the Tucson Marathon (thank you Robert Cray!)

Anyway, the miles did roll by, albeit painfully. I had a few good ones, and also some desultory and brief conversations with a few runners that ambled by. One memorable one was a guy that materialized at my elbow and said “Hey Maniac! How many does this make for you, about two hundred and fifty?”” We chatted for a mile or so, I didn’t get his name but he was a gym teacher from New Mexico doing his 108th marathon, and thus had me beat by 60 or so. He was bundled up in tights, jacket, hat and full gear and I wondered how he didn’t sweat himself to death.

The wind kept blowing, and it did keep the temperature cool as well as dry the sweat and keep things interesting. One of the instructions on the runner handout in the goody bag was “Please crush your cups at the water stops before discarding them so they don’t blow all over the highway” and indeed this was good advice. Things were blowing about everywhere.

The water stops were meager in the first 10 miles and then fairly plentiful in the latter parts of the races. There was only one gel stop at mile 13.1 and I was glad I was packing my own. However, the “sports drink” choice had changed yet again, from “Comp One” to ”Xood” (pronounced “Exude”) which was a viscous, pink colored, puke-tasting concoction that I honestly can say didn’t have any sort of energetic lift properties to it. Still, I imbibed at each stop in the hopes of keeping the carbs and electrolytes up and staving off an ultimate crash in the latter stages of the race. I also violated my new rule (set in my last Marathon in Columbia City, Indiana) of No Pain Relief on the course. As my legs were wailing by mile 10, I started popping some fresh Ibuprofen in hopes of again, staving off a complete lock up before the end of the race.

So, let me tell you. There isn’t really much sexy about the Tucson Marathon course. At least 2/3rds of the course is run along State Road 77 which then empties into Oracle Road and basically, they cone off the shoulder of a divided four lane highway, which later becomes a joined four lane and traffic is screaming by your elbow almost the whole way. Diesel and car exhaust, plus second hand cigarette smoke from drivers with their windows open is constantly assailing your nostrils. There are nice vistas of mountains in the distance and desert scrubland, however, it’s really just a barren desert highway – (and in this case today a f*&king windy desert highway!!) and I’ve really run more scenic and pastoral courses. Spectators are minimal for the first 18 miles or so, with the exception of cars barreling by and leaning on their horns – which is more startling than encouraging, actually - and as you get towards civilization there are policeman directing traffic and allowing cars that have been waiting to dart in front of you at intersections, or out of the strip malls and gas stations. It’s not wonderful.

Among other experiences, I remember as always at some point the tide turned and I started passing stalled out runners. One memorable one was “Nerd Runner” whom I blew past at mile 16, he was completely stalled out and literally appeared to be walking his way to the finish with a long way to go. Guess he was indeed a Nerd and didn’t use his brain – obviously went out too quickly.

So, I slogged down the hills and into the wind until Mile 20 and then some more of the fun began. In spite of the gale, I’m on schedule, (consistency thy name in the marathon is Peter) and I’ve passed the halfway point at a Gregg Herman-like time of 1:54, hit the 20 mile point at about 2:56, and I’m figuring that unless I fall completely apart in the last 10K I’m good for another sub four hour finish – typical!

Then, the same thing happens to me that happened the last time in Tucson and also in Columbia City. I have a close and continuing encounter with “Galloway Method” runners – those runners who annoyingly sprint past you…..and then slam on the brakes and walk, allowing you to trudge by………then sprint past you again………..and then walk, allowing you to trudge by. It’s the last 10K do si do, and both in Columbia City, and here in Tucson I’m with a crew of two or three runners employing this infamous, but incredibly annoying methodology to get to the finish line. Today, I’m forced on several occasions to traverse around these two guys running side by side in concert as they slam to a halt in front of me on the narrow shoulder, and then, a short time later, hear the annoying dry Tyvek flapping of one of the guy’s race bib - which was only held down by two safety pins - in the wind as he comes cruising past again.

And, it’s very subtle, however from mile 20 on, I swear it’s a very very gradual uphill stretch from there until we leave Oracle Road. Neither the elevation map or my GPS support me on this, however comparing notes later at the finish line with other runners confirmed it – we all know uphill when we feel it!

So, on goes me, the Galloway Runners and the time. According to my GPS, my pace per mile has eroded now, I’m creeping very gradually into the 8:50’s now, my legs are hurting, the ibuprofen doesn’t seem to be touching anything, I’m feeling more and more pessimistic and making the very familiar mental deals with myself about “how bad would it be to bail?” and yet I keep chugging on. However, this race isn’t done throwing some fun at me yet. Not by a long stretch.

Two years ago when I ran Tucson there were some mild but nonetheless unwelcome “rises” from mile 24.5 to the finish. This year, it was different.

At a little past mile 24 we hang a left off Oracle Road, and for a few moments are blessedly out of the wind. “Yeah!” I shout to myself, and start to pick up the pace, wanting to be done. We traverse past a strip mall, through a water stop and then, ahead of us, the course continues……Straight uphill. A sheer uphill stretch, heading around a curve.

Once again, the air would have been filled with profanities, birds sitting on telephone wires miles away would have burst squawking into flight (thank you Scott Jerard) had I been able to give voice to the invective that raced through my brain when confronted by this late-in-the-course hill.

“Damn!” one of the Galloway Method runners opined, jogging up next to me, bib still flapping in the crosswind. “Screw it, I’m walking that hill, we’re still in under four hours” he added, breaking into yet another walk.

“Go for it”, I suggested to him, and leaned into the hill, deciding to go for broke. I didn’t see him again after that.

I managed to run up that hill, passing other stalled out runners, and, as the road curved to the right, was confronted with, yes…another hill. And guess what? Now, we’re heading back into the wind as well.

The last one point two miles was a nightmare of pain, hard surfaces and rolling hills. I managed to keep it together, knowing the end was near. The course undulated up and down through a posh neighborhood, over some rutted, then smoothly paved streets, and then over a drainage grate that someone had thoughtfully placed a sheet of plywood over. We then hung a right onto East Wilds Road, and I’m finally and thankfully passing the 26 mile marker.

However, like a nasty yapping little purse dog, who attacks you immediately upon entry, savages your ankle, sinks it’s teeth into your calf, then pees on your rug as it’s cooing owner hauls it away, the Tucson Marathon had one last trick to throw our way.

I blow past the 26 mile marker, increase the pace (later my GPS will show that I managed to clock a 7:56 pace for the last .point 3 miles anyway) and then I hang a right towards the finish line at the Coronado Middle School….and am forced to traverse about 80 yards of SAND!. The finish line appeared to be at the head of a beach-like expanse of sand pit, stretching for what seemed like a long way.

However with the end in sight, I’m enraged (who in HELL would make people run 26.18 miles and then run across SAND???), but undaunted. I slog through the final sandy insult of the Tucson Marathon, my feet sliding out from underneath me, taking care not to fall face first into the dune and manage to literally hop across the finish line, finally. The overhead clock says 3:54:33, my GPS clocks it as 3:53:48, however my chip later brings this to 3:53:45, or a minute faster than Columbia City last month. This is also, for me a PR for the course, though I’m not too proud of it. It wasn’t pretty, that’s for sure.

The finish line volunteers were holding medals out at arms length for us take as we passed through, clearly not interested in draping them over the heads of sweaty runners. I take mine, it’s a typical Tucson Marathon in the shape of a Saguaro Cactus, just like three other ones I have, so again, nothing has changed here. After I collect my medal and a bottle of water, I’m immediately seized by a shorter, dark skinned fellow Marathon Maniac who pumps my hand enthusiastically, then embraces me in a huge bear hug. He produces a digital camera from somewhere, insists on a picture and we find a volunteer, drape our arms around each other and grin beatifically for the camera. He then grabs a young lady who came in right behind me, who apparently was also a fellow Maniac, though out of uniform. We have another group hug while she squeals joyfully, and then enlist another volunteer for two more group pictures and then we disperse, after high fiveing and mouthing congratulations at each other as we exit the finish area.

I have no idea who these people were, no introductions were made or names given, however we were all Maniacs and somewhere there is a great finish line picture of me with my brethren!!

The Saguaro Cactus Medal, now I have Four!

I continued on to the post finish area, retrieved my drop bag almost instantly, and hobbled over to check out the finish line libations. A typical Tucson experience once again - while there was plentiful food, it was uninspiring – dry orange slices, sliced green bananas, stale Fig Newtons, cookies and pretzels and the ever-so-Tucson specialty of rolled up whole wheat tortillas, slathered with your choice of Peanut butter or “Nutello”. People seemed to be milling around, regarding the food balefully however it seemed like no one was really noshing. Neither did I.

I nibbled a few orange slices, however knowing that there was a Nico’s Chorizo and Egg Burrito in my very near future, I wasn’t too chagrined. I’ve had much better post-race fare, Pizza, Sandwiches, however, Tucson has not been known for inspiring post race treats.

I cruised past the merchandise table, same stuff, same prices, so I hobbled my way down the hill to the front of the school found a waiting bus and painfully clambered aboard. There I met Joel, who blurted “A real Marathon Maniac in the Flesh!” and also had similar opinions as me, and we complained companionably to each other about the downhills, the uphills (which we both agreed were overdone) the wind, and the overall Tucson experience.

We had to wait a little while for the bus to fill, and I saw “Superman”, still wearing his cape and costume, and looking extremely grim, mount the steps, blankly regard the seated runners, and trudge to the back of the bus. I snicker to myself, thinking “Well, at least I beat the Man of Steel to the bus!”

Soon, the bus ground up the hill and disgorged us back at the parking lot at Ventana Medical Center, I hobble the short distance to the Toyota, after bumping knuckles with Joel and am soon heading back down to Tucson proper. After going through the drive through at Nico’s I’m set with a monster burrito for reloading, and the rest of the pain-filled day is before me.

My legs are trashed, my quads continue to kill me, yet I’m happy that Marathon 48 is in the bag. Two more to go to reach 50!

So, I go onto the Tucson Marathon website later in the day to check results and I see this –

SPECIAL DISCOUNT OFFER FOR THE 2010 TUCSON MARATHON!
The first 150 individuals who register on-line via Active.com for the 2010 Holualoa Tucson Marathon using the coupon code (TMFIRST150) will receive $30 off the early registration fee. That makes the entry fee $55! Please click here to register now for 2010. (Offer good for marathon participants only.)
DATE: SUNDAY, DECEMEBER 12, 2010

And I’m thinking………yes, I’ll probably be back next year………………

Next stop is either Sedona Marathon on February 7th, and failing that, The Lost Dutchman the weekend after, and then, for number 50, provided the knees and all hold up, I’m set up, registered and have my plane trop to New Orleans for the Rock & Roll Mardi Gras Marathon on February 28th where I’ll be joined by step daughter Jenna, brother Mark Gershman from Phoenix, my older sister Ellen and Friend Tammi who’s daughter Sheila is doing her first 26.2. Quite the party for number 50!!!

Hope to see you all at a race soon!

Overall:
441 out of 1246
Men:
319 out of 726
M 45-49:
66 out of 144
Age/Grade:
59.13% Place: 484
Finish:
3:53:45 Pace: 8:55
Tag Time:
3:53:45
Gun Time:
3:54:33
Split Times
6.6 M:
57:07 Pace: 8:40
10.8:
1:34:12 Pace: 8:44
19.2:
2:50:50 Pace: 8:54

Going Nuts at the Pecan Classic

2009-12-10T15:36:00.000-08:00

Having returned to Tucson from Wisconsin on Thanksgiving day, thus neatly avoiding any cooking responsibilities or overeating opportunities, it was time to gear up for the Tucson Winter Running Season. I did miss the annual Turkey Trot up the street in Reid Park, but oh well. I had closed down my Midwest running season with a Quad Series consisting of a back to back weekend of the Tyrenea Beer Run Half Marathon in Lake Mills, followed the next day by the Badgerland Striders 15K Turkey Trot predictor in Greenfield, where once again, I managed to avoid winning a turkey, or, for that matter being one. The next weekend with my constant Wisconsin Race companion’s Greg (Texas Greg) and Gregg (Attorney Gregg), joined by Carol and her husband John, we made a trek down to Columbia City, Indiana where we partook of the Inaugural Veterans Run. Greg and Gregg completed the half marathon in admirable shape, while Carol and I slogged out the full 26.2 on the sunny rural (and hilly and windy) Indiana roads. Or, as I chortled several times to anyone who would listen, it took two Gregs to run as far as one of me!

Veterans Run Finish Line - Photo thanks to John Kuhn

Maybe I’ll blog on that race later, however, the next weekend brought the same cast of characters as well as my running partner Rhonda, Mary Lynne and Mary Elizabeth to the “Run around the World 5K” at Wisconsin State Fair Park, where again, all performed admirably, and thankfully Gregg Herman won in his age group, adding a coffee mug to his already immense pile of Swag and Trinkets.

The Around the World Gang - Photo thanks to Scott Weiland

Having thus fortified myself with four excellent Midwest race experiences, I was ready to tackle the Tucson trails upon my return.

First one that came on the radar, was the “Pecan Classic 8-miler” an inaugural event to be held at the Green Valley Pecan Farm in Sahuarita, a community about a half hour south of the Tucson Command Center. The event is run by Tagg Racing events, I had met Steve Taggart the race director at two other events he had run and I enjoyed his setup, old school scoring and small unique fields.

I had procrastinated on deciding to do this race, so I mailed in my registration (there was a $3 coupon for mail-in registration) past the cutoff day for the guaranteed Technical T-shirt. I was somewhat less than chagrined about this at the time, thinking to myself that I have plenty of T-shirts – technical as well as others.

So, comes the day – Saturday, and I’m up late the night before talking with Step-son Jeremy. Alarm goes off a few hours later at 5:52 am, and I grudgingly roll out of bed, and eventually find my way out the door to head to the race. And, just as quickly head back inside, because it’s COLD outside!!! Thermometer reads 39 degrees – in Tucson – so I go back upstairs and add a long sleeve technical shirt, gloves and my sweats to the gym bag

And, a darn good thing I did, too…..

I roll the Toyota out onto Barrazza Aviation Parkway, exit on Kino, pick up I-10 and swoop out onto I-19 south, and in less than 30 minutes, I’m hanging a right off of Sahuarita road into a brightly paved reddish brown parking lot across the street from the Green Valley Pecan Farm. I park, and head over to the registration table to pick up my bib. A blast of cold wind howls around me as I trudge across the crunchy surface, and looking down, I suddenly realize, that I’m actually walking on crushed pecan shells. Nutty!

The volunteers are handing out cool looking technical shirts with the bibs, except when it comes to me, I’m handed a bib and no shirt. Checking my name and age to be sure it’s me, also printed in capital letters are NO SHIRT on the information tag. In spite of my earlier resolve, I’m instantly glum, it’s bad enough not getting a cool shirt, but also to have it emblazoned on my bib for all to see feels shameful.

I crunch my way back to the car and hop back in shivering. I had worn shorts and a short sleeve shirt, thinking “it’s Arizona!” and that it would warm up by the 8:00 am start time but now I’m rethinking my attire. As I'm now at a little more altitude than Tucson proper, the outside thermometer now reads 36 degrees, the sun had risen and then promptly sank into a bed of clouds and the wind is picking up, whipping the tree branches of the acres of pecan trees that we are parked on the edge of. It’s cold! And, one thing I’ve learned about Arizona cold is that what temperature-wise is not a bad day in Wisconsin, is frigid in AZ – because it’s a “dry” cold. Cuts like a knife!

I dawdle in the warmth of the Toyota until the last possible minute, watching groups of runners clad in tights, sweats, and winter gear trudge back and forth. There are few, if any people in shorts, and those that are generally are wearing hoodies or other arctic-type gear including wool hats and gloves. Mentally shrugging, I do a quick costume change in the car, pull on my Carlsbad Marathon long-sleeve technical shirt and my nylon sweats, dig out the cotton gloves and join the stream of runners heading across the windy field (and, actually, a deep drainage ditch) to the start of the race. Even with the extra layers, I’m freezing.

I try to blend subtly into the crowd of about 200 runners, attempting to stay close to other runners to block the wind, still it’s a few minutes of hopping, shivering and looking miserable before Steve the race director fires up the bullhorn, chivvies us up, twirls the LED Clock around to face us and then finally, we’re off, and heading down the rutted dirt orchard roads on an 8 mile trek.

Or, at least, that’s what I thought………….

I blast off with the crowd, feeling challenged and stiff because of the cold, , altitude, and uneven surface, and follow the leaders for awhile. The first mile is a square loop, which actually takes us back to the start line before heading out on a longer trek and I complete it close to the front of the pack. I shout at Steve as I go by – he knew me also on sight from previous racers, he’s an exuberant man who has a lot of fun running his events. Then, I’m off into the distance, following the orchard roads through what seems like thousands of pecan trees that stretch out as far as the eye can see.

We head out for a long time, taking an occasional right or left and the roads go on and on. There is a stiff cold headwind and as I assess my legs and the grade, I’m instantly convinced that it is ever so subtly, but gradually, uphill (and into the wind) as we head out. Later my GPS printout will confirm this. Shortly (or so it seems) after I leave the start/finish area for the second time I pass what looks like a large chalk marked “Infinity Symbol” on the left hand side of the trail as I thunder outwards. It didn’t register at the time, however, later the ramifications of this sacred geometry symbol would become clear.

I continue outwards as the pack spreads out. I began to be passed by some faster runners, including some members of the Border Patrol (I can tell because they’re wearing jackets that say “Border Patrol”) and a pair of pony tailed young girls who thunder by me about mile three, chattering away. The smell of bubblegum hangs in the air behind them.

I’m as usual not feeling great, so I settle into about a 7:55 per mile groove. The cold, the altitude (touching 3,000 feet) the extra clothes, the gradual uphill, the stiff headwind all takes it’s toll – and an eight mile trail race? How do you gauge and pace that? It’s not a 5 or 10K, it’s not a half Marathon – I can’t find a pace for this, so I resolve to just gut it out as a tempo training run. I’m a slow bastard anyway, and anyway, not only is my running partner Rhonda 2,000 miles away, there is no Greg or Gregg to compete with.

There is a water stop around 3.5 miles and then a deeply scooped out boot camp- like drainage ditch to traverse. I grab some water (it may be cold, but it’s also dry!) and hurtle down into the ditch feeling the impact on my knees and quads, and clamber up the other side. The road continues to stretch outwards and uphill as I forge ahead.

Eventually, after endless rows of trees, I come to a fork in the road and see runners coming from the left, heading back, obviously the leaders of the pack coming in. I’m directed right and it’s another long square loop that takes us west, around the far end of the Pecan Ranch, then south, then east and then west again, back to the fork, where once I complete the big square, I’m now headed back to the start line.

After not feeling great most of the way, I’ve now got a tail wind and am getting back the uphill as a downhill. Up ahead of me are three male competitors who could in fact be in my age group, though being heavily clad against the elements it's too hard to tell, and they have eased past me in the first five miles and we’re now heading for mile 6. I again traverse the deep drainage ditch, pass the six mile marker and as if from a long way off, I feel my kick coming on. I start to accelerate, easing the pace up as the road stretches down towards where we had come from. I soon pick off my competitors, one, two…….three as I’m stretching out. I blow past the seven mile mark, (and a fading female track star as well) and actually have more gas in the tank than I thought, and thinking “last mile to go!” I start to pour it on.

The pace per mile on my GPS which had crept over 8 minutes per mile starts winding down, as my mileage starts to wind up. In spite of my pace, the last mile seems to take forever, I'm watching my GPS avidly - 7.3, 7.5, 7.7 – off in the distance I see some orange cones, and I sneak a peek back and see that I’ve vanquished my close competitors by a long stretch so I hold pace…..and turn a corner by the cones, which turn oug NOT to be the finish line – and, actually there is no finish line in sight either. “WTF?” I’m thinking. By now I’m all out and in the final stretch – I think.

Then, I pass the Eight Mile Marker.

Which, it instantly dawns on me was actually the “Infinity Symbol” I’d seen on the way out before……………..

Suffice it to say that the obscenities and Invective that coursed through my mind at that point would have turned the air blue, and probably caused a blight on the pecan trees for years to come had I had any breath to give voice to them. And now, since every part of the orchard looks the same and STILL no finish line in sight, I’m wondering “How far is this race anyway?”

(This is NUTS! Hah-hah!! I am too breathless to cackle out loud)

Not TOO Far as it turns out, but far enough that even though I keep pace and actually manage to eke out a little more leg, I’m starting a major fade as the finish line finally hove into sight a half mile later. I blast across the line, punch my GPS and glare at it. 8.50 miles on the nose – time of 67:56 or 7:59 per mile.

I've done better. Still, Eight-point-Five Miles???

As is the usual case with Tagg Running events, I’m handed a card upon finishing to attach a sticker from my bib on to. According to my card, I’m number 35 across the finish line, apparently, but I don’t know what this means as of yet. I turn in my card and sticker and walk around in circles for a bit, looking for someone to complain to, however Race Director Steve has wisely disappeared and the finish line volunteers are busy with the stream of runners that are slogging their way in from the Nut Grove.

I amble over to the parking lot and over at the registration area, there are crates of bananas, what seems like thousands of Clementine Oranges and an enthusiastic grandmother type passing out great big handfuls of of small bags of pecans. I stuff my pockets, peel a few clementines, suddenly realize that I’m freezing YET again (it hasn’t warmed up at all!) and jog over to the Toyota to add some layers to my damp gear.

I dump out the pecans (I’d wind up having several handfuls pressed on me in the next hour or so – later I counted about 40 bags that I got away with) and don a hoodie, a fleece, a dry pair of gloves plus a hat. It’s a long wait for the finish results, but now I gotta know, so I stand around, talk on my cell phone with running partner Rhonda back in Wisconsin, chat with some of the local runners including a few of my vanquished foes, and eat about 18 Clementines while I wait for the results. Steve doesn’t post results so there is no checking out in advance to see if you have to wait around

The Awards finally get underway. Steve sheepishly starts off by saying “okay, next time the race WILL be advertised as an eight and a half mile course!” We all guffaw appreciatively, by now having forgiven him even though the T-shirts (which I don’t have) the entry form, and the Awards all still say “Eight Miles”, and after watching the fast guys get their gift certificates and big-ass plaques, the age group awards begin. Being in the old guy age group (though not as old as Attorney Gregg) I have to wait for awhile, but as usual in a Tagg Event, I’m second in my Age group, and go up in front of the now drastically reduced crowd to accept a magnetic Lucite plaque with my finish place on it. Steve shouts as he always does “Tell them where you’re from!”
“Oconomowoc, Wisconsin!” I declare proudly. “I Love it!” he shouts, then mutters to me “Hey! Can you hang around for a minute afterwards?”

“Sure” I respond, wondering what that’s all about.

My "Fridge Award" Photo thanks to ME

After the final old people awards are given, the crowd disperses and I again approach Steve. Once again, I learn what a class act he is and how he takes care of his “customers” He looks left and right and says “Can you wear a large shirt? I saved you one in my car because I knew you didn’t get one” Instantly, I’m exhalted, I now get a shirt!!!!!! He accosts a volunteer who retrieves it for me and after thanking him a few more times, I trudge back to the Toyota, pockets stuffed with Nuts and Oranges, my new shirt in hand (which, by the way still says 8 Miles!), and my Lucite Plaque in an inside pocket. It’s still not warm, but it’s been a great day………….

So, I went nuts at the Pecan Classic - all 8.5 miles of it - did well in my Age Group, got the shirt anyway, and now it’s time to do the Tucson Marathon (which will be Marathon 48) this weekend. We’ll see how this crack at the 26.2 goes, early indicators are that they have changed the course – again – and it looks mucho downhill for sure. If it’s inspiring, I’ll pop a few paragraphs on the blog to bring you all up to date. Looks like I’m on track to complete 50 by the time I turn 50, next stop is the Lost Dutchman in February, followed closely by the Mardi Gras Marathon at the end of that month with Step-Daughter Jenna. Stay tuned

Hope to see you all at a race soon!

The Desert is a Harsh Mistress

2009-06-12T15:56:00.000-07:00

The Desert is a Harsh Mistress

I recently felt the compunction to catch everyone up on my running fun for the last several months in my second hometown Tucson, Arizona (not by the sea).

And, while all of you Midwestern brethren were freezing in the dark, I was shuffling along in the sun in shorts an a T-shirt for most of the cold dark winter months.

Nonetheless, I still want to set the record straight about life in the Desert. Running here is not as easy as you might think.

First, Tucson - Tucson is after all, In The Desert. So, a lot of the races I did this winter are run - IN THE DESERT. The desert, as it's name implies, is hot, dry, sandy, rocky, hilly, and there are sharp-edged plants that you can either cut yourself on, or receive a skinful of stickers if you're not careful.

And those two words buried in the above sentence, a terrible twosome that no one wants to be a part of, yet are a constant simultaneous experience in Tucson running - my good friends "Sandy" and "Hilly"

And, who can forget “Rocky?” Put all three together and you’ve got experience (s) that are unforgettable.

(You’ll see some of this most excellent prose repeated in the ensuing blog – I extracted it for the preamble as I had used it and some other verbiage for some individual race reports. Trust me, it’s fun to read it twice!)

So, after my warm experience at the Rock and Roll Marathon in January, I focused on the Local running Scene and managed to turn off a few memorable performances and have some interesting experiences. Race schedule included the following:

Sun Run 10K
Arizona Distance classic Half Marathon
Sabino Canyon Sunset Run (a 7.6 mile out-and-back)
The Catalina State Park 10.75 mile training run
The “Run for Fun” Half Marathon (a DNS/DNF)
The Spring Cross Country Challenge 5K
The Cinco De Mayo 10K

I wound up sending emails to my friends back in Wisconsin summarizing, complaining and in some cases sarcastically describing the races of the Desert Season. I’ll include these as I’m pretty happy with the prose I created around describing the races, and hey, it’s easier to cut and paste than “rewrite the wheel”!

The Sun Run 10K

“Got to pay your dues if you want to sing the blues, and you know it don’t come easy!” Ringo Starr “It Don’t Come Easy”

So, the Sun Run 10K was held a week after the Rock N Roll Marathon, and even though I was still feeling the effects of the 26.2, I signed up, picked up my packet at “The Running Shop” the day before, and, on the day of the race, jogged up the street to Reid Park to the Colorado Rockies Stadium where the Race was being held that morning. It was exactly a mile to the starting line from our Co-op, a nice warm up run.

So, later here is what I wrote to Gregg in Wisconsin

I really don't get away with this freebooting training lifestyle you know. You play, you pay and I am definitely not 29 any more.

Even though it's a scant week since the Rock and Roll, I did the local Sun Run 10K up the street in Reid Park this morning and booooo, I sure can feel the residual dead legs and energy dearth from last week - still. I took Five, count 'em, Five days totally off, ran an easy four yesterday and still was total toast last night. Almost didn't want to get out of bed to toe the line this morning, even though it was only a mile jog up the street to the start line. I did it anyway, as I had paid, picked up my packet from the day before, kind of liked the shirt and may want to wear it sometime. I could have just done the 5K, however, what Marathoner worth his salt would go short when they could go long??

I do pay for my training regime in recovery time, yes I do. Still, I managed to shuffle off a 50:25, about 4 minutes slower than usual. It was a great morning, perfect weather, cool and endlessly sunny, a fun large loop course that meandered in and around Reid Park, 22nd Street, up Country Club and back around the horn to the finish line(much of which I run on daily) A BIG crowd, though I'm not yet connected into the Tucson Running community, so there was no one to banter with.

It was small consolation that, not only was I back at altitude at 2,500 feet, also, the age groups were ten deep. These damn Tucsonians are faster than hell - to get close to the top five in my age group, I would have had to average a 6:05 pace or better. As it was, I came in a distant 21st.

Still, I'm never too unhappy. It was a fun race, and it’s always great to have done one This time of year in Tucson, everyone dresses like it's July in Wisconsin, hah, my life is good.

The Arizona Desert Classic Half Marathon

After slogging around Reid Park for the next several weeks, doing a stint in Los Angeles in February, and an 18 day return to the Midwest, the next race that came up was the Arizona Distance Classic Half Marathon all the way at the end of March. By then, I think I was fully recovered

Here’s what I sent Gregg and Scott and Greg:

Well here are the results for the Arizona Distance classic Half Marathon in Tucson this morning and I'm really not disappointed -

16 404 Peter Klein 48 Oconomowoc WI 1:45:44 8:05

That's a pretty good time for me, it was 42 seconds faster than last year. AND, within 10 seconds of my Finish time in Sheboygan last August, which is the fastest half to date (or in this decade anyway).

Had to fight the pace a little, I felt every ounce of the almost 10 pounds more than last year I'm lugging around and also the altitude and hills - the course meanders around from 2900 - 3100 feet above sea level.. Still, I'm happy, it's a nasty rolling hills out and back course, though the last 2.1 miles of downhill makes up for it. I had a finish line sprint and averaged a 7:33 and a 7:32 for the last two miles, this after 11 miles of rolling hills. I was chasing the 1:45 pace group from the five mile mark on (that's where they passed me as I walk the water stops) but they were far in front of me at the end. I think they came in more like 1:44 or less, actually.

Weather was perfect - 48 at the start with a light breeze, high clouds, never really got too warm. When I left the course after the finish it was up to 67 degrees. I left at 5:15 am and was home by 10:30 am. (and by the way, it was 3-5 inches of Snow and Ice in Wisconsin this weekend.....)

Good finishers medal and Mizuno short sleeved technical shirt. Typical Finish area, though this year it was much more sparse.

Note how I claim my Wisconsin hometown here in AZ. Perhaps this summer I'll mess with Wisconsin, and claim I'm from Tucson. What do you think?

And, I have a "Peter the Running Dork" moment to share that might make you laugh. So, here goes

The Timing Chips were those new disposable adhesive ones that they attach to your bib at packet pickup. You're supposed to peel them off, detach some adhesive corners, and wrap them around your shoelaces so they look like this orange loop. I know this, I've used them before - in the Rock and Roll Marathon, so I'm an expert - right?

Well, wrong. It actually didn't click as I'm getting ready for the race - until...........

It's 90 seconds to the start of the race and I'm looking at peoples shoes around me for some reason and noticing the Orange Loops on everyone's laces. Except for mine.

(Shit!)

I scramble to peel it off my bib, peel off the adhesive backing, and thread it through my laces, stuffing the residue and the instruction part into my shorts pocket, finishing seconds before the gun went off. And, I'm all the way up front. Literally ALL THE WAY up front.

Either there was a lot of pre race focusing going on, or I'm invisible. No one seemed to noticed. No one commented, even though for the last 15 minutes, I'm walking around sporting this great big orange sticker on my bib, with - get this - My name on it as well. Can you say "Moron?" Named Peter??

I'm glad I'm not well known in the AZ running community - yet. Or maybe now I will be, time will tell.

How’s that for a pre-race adrenaline rush?

I have a race here every weekend now until the end of April - first a 7.4 mile up and back at Sabino Canyon (extreme!) a 10.75 double Trail run at Catalina State Park (lots of sand trails and hills) Another Half Marathon on the Far East Side of Tucson and then a Cross Country 5K (think Lapham Peak) after that. It's good to be in AZ!

The Sabino Canyon Sunset Run

"Gotta get up to get down….!” George Michael “Fast Love – (Thunderpuss Mix)

After the fun at the Arizona Distance Classic, I’m all set to do one the week later – The Sabino Canyon Sunset Run. This race was held in Sabino Canyon, a local State Park Recreation area. I’ve been to Sabino Canyon before, what I remember was taking a long tram ride that meandered up this mountain road, the tram gradually straining up long hills to disgorge you at the top, where you were free to meander down, dipping into the streams that came through the canyon, hiking the side trails and enjoying the mountainous desert beauty, Cactus, river crossings, boulders, and glorious natural formations.

It hadn’t really occurred to me what it would be like to RUN in Sabino Canyon. At sunset, no less……..

Later I wrote:

Okay, this one was a ball buster

Half of it anyway....

About 400 plus runners and walkers, it was a crowd and they capped it off, registration sold out days ago

After warming up doing some laps up and down the initial staging area of the canyon road, we all lined up facing up the canyon, Promptly at 6:00 pm, with the sun setting behind us, the gun goes off – and here we go, 3.7 miles up to the top of Sabino Canyon, turn around, come back for a total of 7.4 miles or about a "12K"

The Elevation rise was 2.700 to 3,400 feet, my Garmin showed it as a rolling straight uphill and then a rolling straight downhill.

I took off, kept up with the crowd, had a nice quick downhill at the start and thought “Okay, not bad so far.

Then came the hills. The never ending hills. They went up, and up……and up……..

The last 1.8 miles going up were STRAIGHT up. It was a killer slog, a winding mountain road that wouldn't end. This after 1.9 of rolling uphill. I never though it would end. And, as I’m still apparently a mile from the top, other runners are already flying past me headed back down the mountain. I struggled to the top, breaking into a WALK for a few paces as my heart rate was redlining trying to keep moving. Even so, no one passed me as I could walk as fast as I was capable of running.

And, okay, to give you an idea of the difference, the first 3.7 half to get to the top cost me 33 minutes and change, I was clocking out at about 190% of Max Heart rate and pushed it absolutely as hard as I could to the top of the Mountain without puking, still at times I was barely below a 9 minute pace.

Made the turnaround - the view was awesome - then it was time to fly. Got all of the 1.8 back and then some.

Turned around, and blasted down the mountain, covering 3.7 miles in about 26 minutes or less. A big negative split, though part of the problem was, I really had to put SOME brakes on, so I didn't catapult myself ass over teakettle - it was that extreme. And the quads and knees take a complete beating on the downhill’s for sure. I remember thinking that if I had enough surface on my arms that if I kept up my speed and spread them wide I would have taken off into the air, I felt like I was moving that fast.

Flew down the last hills, and even flew up the hill at the start (which was now close to the end) and blasted to the finish, the gravity pulling me in like a tractor beam. Finish time was 59:56, averaging an 8:07, which I'm completely satisfied with. It was fun watching the mile average on my Garmin wind down like crazy as I flew down the hill.

It was dusk when I crossed the finish line, sunset apparently over, and as is common in the desert full dark followed pretty quick and it was FREEZING in minutes. Didn't even check if I placed. Some of these guys were clocking 5:20's overall. Woulda had to average about a 6:28 according to last year's results to be anywhere near the money in my age group. These damn Tusconians kick big butt on the running field.

Hung around a bit at the end, however again knowing that in that crowd there was no way I was a “contenda” I got back in the Toyota, actually switched the air conditioning over to Heat, drove across town and was home by 8:00 pm.

The race shirt was a 100% Cotton Short sleeve T-shirt nothing special.

However, I would completely do this one again. The scenery and location were sensational.

And, the best part was - once you get up, you get DOWN!

The Catalina State Park 10.75 mile Trail Run

“…then you go back, Jack, Do it Again. We’ll turn it round and round…..” Steely Dan “Do it Again” (Becker and Fagen)

Interesting thing about these Tucson Races, many of them are double loopers, meaning that you do one loop, and then you go back, Jack, and do it again.
And sometimes knowing what is coming from the first time really makes you dread the second go round……….

First of this was the Catalina State Park 10.75 mile trail run, yet another odd distance and brutal, out in nature type course. This was the second year I had actually done this one, so I knew what to expect, anyway. The interesting thing about the race, was it was actually downgraded in distance from the previous year. Last year it had been billed as a 5.5 or 11 mile race, this year it was a 5.5 OR a 10.75 mile race, probably because many of the alert GPS-wearing fanatics such as myself had complained bitterly about the short markings according to our GPS.

Knowing that it was only 10.75 miles didn’t make it any easier though……

Check out the picture above, that's an actual photo from the race that day.

So, here is what I wrote:

Catalina State Park Trail Race Report

Cold and Windy, with on and off Rain (49 degrees and a cold wind - Snow on the Catalina's)

Huh? YES – SNOW in APRIL in Tucson on the upper stretches of the Catalina mountains, the glorious range for which the state park was named.

Being the second year I had run this race it was the same two loop brutal trail course with three half mile straight up stretches, one of which is a switchback set of railroad tie stairs that goes up....and up.......and UP!.

Two washes to cross – twice! Running water in the washes this year. Wet feet, plus sand in the shoes ensued and because they are in the first mile and also the sixth mile, you get to slosh and squelch for most of the race.

Still, I managed to persevere. Interestingly it was good to keep moving as the chill wind would hit you at odd times and the up, down, around, tiptoeing through the boulders and slogging through about six miles of sand was actually a little easier as the moisture kept the sand down, the cold temperatures made you not as overheated and the scenery was intriguing with a haze of winter humidity in the air.

I made it around once, then twice and hide it into the finish line with immense relief.

Clock said 1:35:13 at finish, an 8:49 pace, and over eight minutes faster than last year, which moved me from FIFTH to FOURTH in my age group. (nuff said about that - I was doing my best!)

Exceptionally outstanding Technical Finishers shirt - even better than the one Gregg Hermann (who wanted to be mentioned in my blog) didn't get in Lake Monona in 2007 (which they hand you, at the Catalina race, in your size when you cross the finish line),

After crossing the finish line and jogging to the Toyota for some dry duds, awaiting close to the finish area is an OUTSTANDING post race breakfast - scrambled eggs, refried beans, fresh salsa and tortillas, PLUS Robek's (a local vendor) Orange Smoothies (which made me even colder than I was) all served up by enthusiastic and friendly volunteers.. I actually went back for seconds, they were encouraging us to do so, and a Mexican breakfast never tasted better. I gorged myself shamelessly.

They actually had a pre-race raffle, which I managed not to win and One of the pre-race raffle prizes was - get this - a LIMO ride to and from the race in a long Lincoln stretch limo, which was parked, complete with uniformed driver, by the breakfast tent..

I chatted desultorily with some interesting and freezing people over our eggs and beans, however, knowing that the awards ceremony would be screwed up (it was the previous year and in fact also was this year and, having my fill of free food, )I decided it was time to go. It got rainier and windier and colder after breakfast (was this Tucson???) so I split, again blasting the heat in the Toyota to take the post race chill off of me.

In spite of the weird distance, rugged terrain and screwed up finish results, I would do this race again – the state park is awesome and the breakfast is incredible at the finish. Good shirt too!

My First DNF (actually a DNS!) for the Year - the "Run for Fun Half Marathon"

I was signed up the next weekend for the “Run for Fun” a local well-touted “fast and flat” half marathon. However, nature had it’s way with me, perhaps it was the Catalina’s revenge because…..here is what I wrote that Saturday:

Well, for the first time in four years, I was felled by a severe sinus infection/head cold thingy this week. Started getting inklings of it on Tuesday, by Thursday it was full blown, yesterday was pure hell, and finally I started draining about 1:30 am today, and am still down for the count.

Had to bail on the Half Marathon scheduled for today, When the alarm went off this morning, I couldn't stand up straight, let alone tackle the 13.1 Another burned race fee, and since I haven't been sick in YEARS, I forgot how much it SUCKS to experience this.....Damn!

I did go pick up Bib and Technical shirt, and because I would never wear a shirt from a race I hadn’t run, I got it a size Medium and donated it to Cayelin, when I got home, and she immediately lateralled it to Jeremy minutes later. It changed owners three times in about five minutes that shirt. Looks good on the boy though.

Well…..there is always another one!

The Spring XC Challenge 5K

I fought the virus for a week, and then, yes, there was another race! And, this one was a normal distance too! Here is what I wrote:

Did the Spring Cross Country Classic 5K in Tucson this Am, and I officially sucked.

Lots of excuses. First, Tucson - Tucson is after all, In The Desert. So, a lot of these races (and the last three I've done) are run - IN THE DESERT. The desert, as it's name implies, is hot, dry, sandy, rocky, hilly, and there are sharp-edged plants that you can either cut yourself on, or receive a skinful of stickers if you're not careful.

And those two words buried in the above sentence, a terrible twosome that no one wants to be a part of, my good friends "Sandy" and "Hilly"

I knew I was off to a rocky start this morning (hah, make it a Threesome!) I was tired when the alarm went off having not completely shaken this stoooopid sinus virus. I got LOST on the way to the Park, finally having to stop and ask directions from some guy who was zipping along at a sub-six minute mile pace doing warm-up miles and wearing his bib. And, so I arrived there discombobulated, and out of sorts. There was a tiny 18-inch square sign for the race, posted at ground level guiding you into the park entrance.

This, by the way was a $7 entry fee, so I wasn't expecting much. It's the spring cleaning race for SAR (Southern Arizona Roadrunners) and they handed out a motley assortment of leftover bib numbers from other races (mine read "Saguaro National Park Labor Day Run") and then it's a T-shirt Grab Bag, where you can choose from a heaped up assortment of T-shirts from past races, many of which I already had, and had given away because they were so ugly. Unexpectedly, though, I burrowed into the pile and found a nice technical shirt - in my size - from a race I did last fall, that didn't have the Year on it, (I think you had to pay extra to get this shirt) so I wouldn't feel bad actually wearing it. Or, chucking it as a warm-up in some race down the road…...

Adding insult to injury, I fire up my GPS only to hear that dreaded flat electronic squawk, indicating "Low Battery" You who are Garmin aficionado’s probably know that sound - it means, Mister Garmin will work for about 90 seconds and then go blank. I'm instantly enraged, and just barely restrained myself from slamming the damn electronic nuisance into the asphalt of the parking lot.

Oh well, now I'm resigned to the fact that at best this will be a $7 training run.
Interestingly in the SAR CC races, SAR separates the Girls from the Boys race-wise - and the Women went first this time. Next year, apparently, it will be reversed. Anyway, I got to watch all of the women come ambling by, most looking like they were just jogging normally, even the fast ones. That should have been my clue.

So, about 10 minutes after the promised start time after we waited for some female stragglers to amble in from the desert (chivalry has it’s price!), me and the rest of the boyz line up en masse. It's 8:30 am, the sun is already high and beating down and my tongue is glued to the roof of my mouth it's so damn dry here. One, Two, Three Go! And, we go, thundering off into the desert, raising a haze of dust

It's a double loop course, the "loop" consisting of a meandering, rocky, rutted trail, three extreme uphill’s (think Lapham you Wisconsinites without the shade) with little accompanying downhill and a lot of sand to slog through. One water stop about halfway through, thank the Lord, which temporarily unstuck the tongue. Then, you go, Back, Jack, and Do it Again, hang a right instead of a left at the nexus point, and the last 1k is an uphill asphalt bicycle path to the finish line. It wasn't an easy, flat, fast 5k by any means.

Didn't have anything to give, couldn't gauge my pace anyway, and so was passed by a plethora of my fellow idiots for the first half mile, and then as time went by, I picked a few off one at a time as the Darwinian aspects of Desert Trail running (and the heat) kicked in. The second loop, after I took water, I felt myself fading away by inches over the next few hills, and struggled through, hating every minute of it.

Interestingly on the second loop (and I didn't report this on the other two races) there was a runner hard down on the course, way out and unable to walk, and ultimately the paramedics had to retrieve him. I offered to stop and help, however by the time my mid-pack slow ass had arrived on the scene, he had half a dozen volunteers around him and a terse Nazi-lady (who I see all the time, she's a tough chick my age who is at all the races,) told me to "Keep Moving"

This also happened in Sabino and Catalina - runners hard down - as well - the Desert is a harsh mistress for sure!!

Finish line time was 24:20-something, and I didn't even bother to check placement. One cool thing about SAR is, even though they are ultra competitive and cliquish, if you win, you can pick up your award anytime in the next month from any race, they hang on to it for you at the main sponsor - The Running Shop. Not that I think I got anything, either way it didn't matter. I wanted to go home and forget about it. It sucks not having a watch to run with, I'm going to put a cheap digital in the car for just in case for in the future if Mr. Garmin takes a powder again..

I did go by the finish line "Potluck" nosh - and saw one apparently local dish that almost made me hurl - get this, Celery Sticks with Peanut Butter, Chocolate Chips, Raisins, and Colored Candy Sprinkles. OOF, and I thought Wisconsin tastes were bad.

Interestingly, they also had a keg of beer. At 9:00 am. No interest on my part, though about an hour later, as I’m working up a thirst, I’m thinking hmmmmmmmmmm..

I hope I feel better soon!

The Cinco de Mayo 10K

I struggled again for another week with this lingering Sinus monster that won’t go away. April became May, Step-daughter Jenna blew into town, and come Sunday, May 3rd, it was time to toe the line with Jenna for the “Cinco De Mayo 10K” out west of us at Cholla High School.

We arrived early, me thinking correctly that there will be a crowd. And, there was! We snagged one of the last parking places in the school lot, and ambled over to the starting line festivities.

This was a really big race, about 800 people, a dj at the start, Starbucks Coffee for all, and a big expo inside for afterwards. Promptly at 7:00 am we line up, the gun goes off and off we go towards again, you guessed it, the mountains!

It’s again, a “meandering uphill out and back course underneath the "foothills” that never seemed to not be uphill. I’m slogging the whole way, unable to find my pace or be happy about being there. 10K’s are tough, they are two times a 5K, however, if you wanna go, you “got’s to wail!”

I’m joined at about mile 1.5 by Jeff, a friendly gentleman in my age group that I met in Sabino briefly. We wind up running up and around to the halfway point, however not before I apparently pass some tense runner too closely who gives me a shove as I pass him by, “you’re pretty close” he rasps nastily at me, “Sorry!” I chirp in return, thinking “Asshole!” Either way, I leave him floundering in my dust.

Jeff and I make it to the turnaround and start heading back. At about mile four, I tell him to go, I’m at this point starting to fade. He lopes off into the distance, I think he was sandbagging to hold the conversation with me which was really kind of him. In any event, I’m just happy to be going and want to be done.

I roll down out of the foothills, and even though it’s supposed to be downhill, it still seems uphill to me, as my leaden legs just don’t want to hold race pace. I have no idea where Jenna got to, either she’s way in front or way behind. Not too far behind as it turns out, actually…..

Managed to grind out the last mile, then have a little bit to push in the last .2 as well. Finish time is 49:04 and I’m happy that it isn’t worse, actually. A 7:54 pace, I’m actually surprised at that. Not my best and as usual, I’m not in the finish money.

Immediately, Jenna turns up at my elbow, her finish time 49:08, a record for her and she’s right on my heels, the next runner behind me. A great race for her and she chortles merrily about her time and performance as I moan and groan about mine.
At the finish line, her “real Dad” Tom awaits, startling us both, and after they trade hugs, she mutters to me “oh great, now everyone probably thinks I’m dating one of you old guys!”

We acquire some Starbucks, and move into the expo area where a Mexican feast awaits, several different types of Breakfast burritos, juice and all kinds of things. We nosh heavily, washing it down with Power Water and watching a militantly organized water balloon toss. Jeff joins us and we all munch companionably as we watch several people break water balloons over each other and the festivities around us start to spool up.

Neither Jenna nor I were interested in playing picnic games, and having had our fill of the free food, we depart, heading back to the Co-op for pictures and more breakfast I think – at this point, I can’t recall what happened for the rest of the day.

That pretty much wrapped up the spring running season in Tucson. I actually took a dip back into Wisconsin the next week, running the Lake Geneva Half Marathon with Gregg Herman who wants everyone to know that he placed third in his age group and won a HAT – and I was FOURTH in my age group and went home with a bare head. However, that’s got nothing to do with the desert, so I hope you’re happy Gregg!

Looking forward to coming back for the Wisconsin Racing Season…… Hope to see you all at a Race soon!

Rockin' at the Rock and Roll - the PF Chang's Rock and Roll Arizona Race Report

2009-01-21T20:21:00.001-08:00

Rockin’ at the Rock and Roll – The PF Chang Rock and Roll Phoenix Marathon Report

all that noise, all that sound

all those places I got found

and birds go flying at the speed of sound

to show how it all began

birds came flying from the underground

if you could see it then you'd understand - ColdPlay - Speed of Sound

Well, the Marathon just turned 45 for me. On Sunday, January 18th, I toed the line in Phoenix with several thousand other hardy souls to traverse the 26.2 mile, music-studded urban-Phoenician course. Fulsome thanks to brother Mark Gershman, who provided opulently decadent housing for the night before the race, incredible libations before and after, and outstanding tour guide and logistical services for my stay as well as non-stop scintillating conversation.

So, I headed out from Tucson at 0900 on Saturday morning for what was supposed to be the hour and forty minute or so drive to Phoenix. I was making great time until I hit the south end of Phoenix and the urban density reared it’s ugly head with a multi car back up on “the Ten” which I spent about a half hour creeping through. I exited on “The Sixty” and headed to “The One-oh-One” North and lo-and behold the entrance ramp was closed for weekend construction. After traversing some never-ending exit ramps and heading back the other way, I eventually wound up on surface streets, in yet more gridlock, headed in vaguely the right direction to get to Mark’s house. And, by now I’m about a half hour behind schedule.

Got to Mark’s most excellent abode and after a tour of his amazing space, we head down to the Expo for packet pickup.

The Expo was held in downtown Phoenix (I almost typed Tucson for some reason!) in the sprawling, and partially newly remodeled convention center. After circling the block a few times, we squeezed into a broken parking meter space and soon joined the large stream of humanity flowing into the Convention Center doorways. True to form of this being a “Rock and Roll” event, outside was a full PA system with a rapid-fire Announcer pumping up the crowd as we walked by, and blasting indecipherable music.

Packet pickup was quick – indeed, the Marathon was the lesser of the two races, with the Half Marathon being the most largely attended. There were about 9500 marathoners registered for the race (about 2/3’s of that number were finishers the next day), however there were probably more than 25,000 registered for the Half – quite a big difference. More on that later.

Due to the lesser quantities of Marathoners, I was able to stroll right up and pick up my bib and envelope (#3719), encountering an ebulliently smart-assed volunteer, who asked for my Photo ID, and then asked if I also had a non-photo id. Sensing correctly that he was screwing with me, I retorted with some smart-ass comment regarding the non-efficacy of that. He complimented me on being awake and seeing through his ruse. He then explained the new “D-Chip” a vinyl throw away RF ID Tag that was pasted to the bib, and showed me the instructions for peeling it off and attaching it to my shoe. New technology – throw away chips!!! I like the idea about not sweating a $40 lost chip and also not having a walnut-sized hunk of plastic precariously zip tied to my shoe, however, my hope was that the technology was stable enough to record my time. I thought later too how this is also not doing much for decreasing the non-biodegradable vinyl laminate material that is going to clog our overtaxed landfills as well. I guess we’ll soon have one implanted in ourselves that will solve all of these issues!

Bib and chip picked up, it was time to go get my T-Shirt. Typical of the previous Rock and Roll experiences, the T-shirt was a disappointment – a non-descript, non-technical white 100% cotton, with some multi-hued logos front and back. Later it was explained to me that they make most of their money on Merchandising and their hope was that I would gravitate directly to the Merchandise Area and purchase a $10 logo’d Technical Shirt or Sweatshirt for $50 or $60 to commemorate my exciting event. Being a veteran of these Marketing tactics, I refrained admirably from adding to my debt load or Running Apparel collection and would have gotten out of the expo with wallet and credit card further unscathed had it not been for a responsibility I had to fulfill.

So, the entire reason the Rock and Roll was my January destination marathon was due to a Midwestern brainstorm that took place sometime back in September of 2008. My adopted little sister in Wisconsin, Rhonda (also known as “The Duchess”) decreed, shortly after the Lake Country Half Marathon at the beginning of September that our next endeavor would be to gather a herd of our fellow Wisconsinites and hie them off to the Warmth of Phoenix in January to run the Rock and Roll Half Marathon. Furthermore, she exhorted us, she had already signed up and booked her flight!

Since my dear little sister Rhonda is she-who-WILL-be-obeyed, I dutifully signed up – my rebelliousness extending only to signing up for the FULL instead of the Half, and marked the calendar accordingly. Thus It Shall Be Written!

The group momentum fizzled quickly, as most of those things do as the afterglow of achievement fades and life intrudes. Rhonda, with her typical mercurial change of mind bailed on the race, leaving me to either contemplate burning another race fee and ranting about it in a later blog, or to go do the darn race anyway.

Which, of course was my intention anyway. Besides, I knew I could connect with brother Mark.

Rhonda did, however, extract a promise from me that I would “buy her something at the expo” (See the “she-who-WILL-be-obeyed part above)

So, back to the expo – Mark and I strode purposefully and inexorably towards the acre or so of Rock and Roll Merchandise to fulfill my sacred duty. After careful consideration, (about 32 seconds) I settled on an appropriate object and, was funneled towards the “checkout area” where a long line snaked through barriers set up that led to a large room, containing a sea of cash registers, all with large numbered placards on poles about 8 feet off the ground. Indeed, there was a “Wrangler” sitting atop a step ladder and as you arrived at the head of the line, after drawling “Hah y’all dewin’ today?”, he would direct you to the nearest open cash register where you paid for your stuff. Great organization!

My wallet considerably lighter, we headed out to the expo.

I’m not into expos – especially the large ones and this one was no exception. It was crowded and consisted of the typical expo stuff. Shoes, clothes, juices, bars, gels, healthy things, Bart Yasso, Paraphenalia..……I stood it for about a half a pass through and then asked Mark if he’d had enough. Being a veteran of 52 marathons, he had, and we dodged strollers, stalled people and all kinds of stuff to weave our way out of the Expo center and back to the car.

After attempting to Carbo load at Oregano’s, an amazing Phoenix chain that EVERYONE in Phoenix appeared to be at on Saturday night (two-plus hour wait and it didn’t’ get any shorter, even though we waited over an hour), we wound up doing Pizza and Salad at Sauce, another chain. It was fine and after a good snooze, we were up and out the door at 04:50 am.

It gets cold in the desert at night, and the 80 degree temperature from the day before had given way to about 49 chilly degrees. I had layered up and brought my oh-so-cool drop bag to shuck my sweatshirt once it was time to get moving. And, I was glad I did.

We were early to Finish Line and got a Primo parking space, close to the finish line which would prove fortuitous later in the day. After hanging around for awhile, we followed a stream of early morning attendees towards the bus pickup area, where a long line of school buses stretched off into the distance.

We were wrangled onto the first bus in line, exhorted by a loud voiced volunteer to “Take Every Seat! Use Every Seat! Fill up the Seats FROM THE BACK!” and shortly the bus was filled and underway.

It would not be typical of a Rock and Roll race if the transportation logistics weren’t fucked up in some way. Mark being a five-time veteran of the event soon noticed that the bus had gone astray, and wound up disgorging us some several blocks from the Marathon start area. We trudged the half or ¾ mile towards the brightly lit start area in the dark, and I was thankful for my sweatshirt as it was still darn cold.

We passed the Starting Chutes, the gear drop off and headed down past a brightly lit park towards a runner hospitality area, where they were serving Hot Coffee, bananas, sports drink, some gooey libations called “Lara Bars” and where the first of many of the bands we would see and hear that day was belting out some almost accurate, but exuberant cover tunes.

So, we hung out and I downed a cup or two of the free coffee (rare for me) which not only tasted like heaven, but woke me up with a blast of caffeine. We hung out, met a few of Mark’s many colleagues, including Jad, (who would later that day turn out an almost sub-three hour finish time), and enjoyed the music. What the band missed in accuracy, they made up for in loudness, however it was fun to Rock and Roll at 6:00 in the morning with a bunch of nervous runners milling around.

The coffee had a secondary effect and I had to deploy some emergency exit procedures and find my way to one of the several Portolet Villages that were set up around the streets around the finish line. (Not one, but THREE trips were necessitated by my Coffee intake). Thus “enlightened”, we finally headed for the gear check, which turned out to be several Brown UPS Trucks. Mine was number 16, and after making me tie and retie my bag, they took it from me (assuring me that UPS ALWAYS delivers) and we headed to the starting corrals.

As I had of course lied about my projected finish time, I was in Corral number 3. Mark was in Corral Two, also having known the system, so we got into number 3 together, and headed up towards the front, pushing our way with quiet, purposeful authority till we fetched up against the rope that divided the two corrals.

The sun had been rising and it was full daylight now. Darude’s “Sandstorm” (a personal favorite) was blasting over the PA, followed by the obligatory U2’s “It’s a Beautiful Day”. The announcer was counting down the time to the race, as two helicopters hovered overhead. Due to the lingering morning chill, I had on a throwaway T-shirt with my yellow Marathon Maniac’s Singlet underneath. Next to me was a runner “dressed for Bear” in a padded black and white checked Flannel shirt and hat. I was impressed at his lack of fortitude. Around me I hear the squeal of GPS units being fired up and synching with the overhead satellites.

After the usual blah blah blah, the newly appointed Republican Governor took the stand (to a chorus of muted Boo’s) and fired the starting gun. We were off!

The course was a series of several miles long traverses over mostly flat streets with rights and lefts, that meandered all over Phoenix, Scottsdale, and, I think the Tempe area. It was mostly Urban/Suburban, with strip malls, restaurants, gas stations with a park or two as well as some Urban six lane thrown in. There were bands, it seemed every couple of miles though for me the whole Rock and Roll thing is kind of overhyped. The idea is to keep moving, so you can hear part of a tune as you approach and then pass the various talent out on the course, however, I wasn’t interested in stopping and listening to any of the bands do a set or two. I was, after all, fighting the clock! And, indeed I saw the usual large percentage of people plugged into their IPODS, seemingly oblivious to the Rock and Roll part of the experience

The elevation wasn't bad at all - and I was pleased to note that I was some 1,500 feet below the Tucson Altitude of 2.500 feet that I had "trained" at for the last few months

So, off we went up a street, hung a left and began our long trek back to the finish line.

So let me take a few sentences to describe what has emerged as my typical, off-season training program for winter marathons. Basically, I come off the Fall racing season having used a training regime consisting solely of racing each weekend throughout the summer. I work my way from 5k’s to 10k’s to Half Marathons, and then pop off a few fall marathons which in the last few years have gone well, and then I’m fairly done for November and December, with the odd Turkey Trot of 10 miler in there. I set my sights on a January or February Marathon, and then vow to get out and do some long training runs. Time goes by, and I slog out a four miler 3-4 times a week, maybe a 7 if I’m motivated. Guilt sets in and I try to schedule a long run and then something happens, an activity, event, or weather and it doesn’t come off. Maybe I get a ten miler in, maybe not.

Race day approaches and I step up the four milers to maybe five times a week, and then finally it gets close to the marathon. I figure I can’t do long runs that close to race day, so instead, I just go into taper mode instead, trickling to a halt usually the Wednesday before the race, taking Thursday through Saturday off to be “fresh” for the race.

Textbook Runners World, that! NOT!

Races are all different, and always a struggle in some ways, yet for some weird reason, I still manage to complete them and sometimes in pretty good time – in spite of my lack of training.. This one had a distinct flavor to the effort, the two “halves” of the race had separate and distinct characteristics.

I didn’t feel great the whole first half of the race. My legs were sluggish and while Mark and I had vowed to go out slowly to “save” it for the last 10K, we were averaging about a 9:15 pace and I felt like I was going flat out. Not a good thing.

We passed the first few miles, my GPS firing accurately on the mile markers. And actually, the annoying factor of the day was that in the first 10 miles or so there was someone around me who I couldn’t shake, whose GPS, or running watch would let out a shrill squeal at regular 30 second intervals. It was more than slightly irritating and I could neither identify the culprit, nor get away from them no matter what I did.

We cranked off a 9:15, a 8:54 another 9:00 or so and then Mark and I agreed on a simultaneous Pit stop, adding an additional 1:35 to our time, so by mile four so we are already under water for a sub four hour finish

So, we cruise along, miles 5, 6, 7. At some point I shuck my shirt and add it to a donate pile at a water stop. There were plenty of alternating water stops, some with Cytomax, then Water only stops., The Volunteers at all the stops were fantastic, high energy, very supportive. Now that I'm a seasoned Desert Running Veteran I knew that the cool of the morning would give way very suddenly to the heat of a typical desert day, so I drank heavily at each water stop.

Splits were all over the map for the first half as both Mark and I struggled. 9:10, 8:51, 9:22, 9:15, 8:59, 9:38 – I’m finding it impossible to find my stride. Mark had a left leg acting up, so I shared one of my Aleve with him. We traversed the Arizona streets, making our rights and lefts, and heard the music, talked to the volunteers and made desultory conversation. The rising sun was a constant presence, mostly in our eyes as we made our way through the first half.

I started getting some inklings of the way it needed to go around mile 12 or so. Up until then, I hadn’t found my comfort zone and I was achingly reminded of my lack of training as well as all of the Miller Lites I had consumed over the last several months. We passed the Half Way point in a dismal 2:02:32 – very slow for me and I’m resigned to thinking that this was going to be a really long day.

Shortly after that and interestingly, I found that picking up my pace “felt” better. Unconsciously, I started lengthening my stride and increasing the distance between Mark and myself and by mile 14 or so I had widened the gap such that I didn’t know where he had gone. Cavalierly abandoning my brother Host, I started digging in and finally found my pace.

The second half of the Rock and Roll ROCKED! My stride started increasing and the average pace time readout on my Garmin started declining, going from 9:15, to 9:13, to 9:11 where it seemed to hang for a long time, and then down into the Nine-and-change-range. It was too late to set any records or pull off a time like the Lakefront, however suddenly it seemed like another sub-four was in sight. I started pushing the miles, gliding through 15, 16, 17, 18. I caught up to and passed the four hour pace group around mile 15 and spent the next six miles doing a “Do-si-do” with them, as they ran the water stops and I walked through. The Pace Leader called out at each mile marker "You're on schedule for four hours if you started with me!" I managed to stay ahead of them for the most part and, after mile 21, put them firmly behind me..

There really weren’t a lot of spectators on the course throughout, however at exactly mile 19.38 by my GPS, I came upon a huge crowd of people lining both sides of the street. I was actually running alone in a “lull” in the crowd as I approached them and they fell silent as I made my way towards them.

Not wanting to be unacknowledged, I pumped both fists over my head and shouted “YEAH! YEAH!” and the entire crowd, showing typical crowd stimulus response erupted with me “YEAH, YEAH!!!’ in a huge wave as I sprinted down the block between them. I heard shrieks and screams and “GO MANIAC!” as I went through the sea of my new friends and supporters.

Speaking of the Maniacs, my yellow and black shirted brethren were out in force that day. I traded nods and “Go Maniac’s!” with several of them and had a great conversation with “Silver” a well spoken gentleman from California, who was completing his 77th race. Interestingly he spent much of the time in the early miles yakking on his Cellphone as he ran, bent to one side. I also ran into #466, Cathryn, who was helping her husband qualify for Maniac Status that day. We had a great 45 second conversation as I was making my final sprint. Thanks to all my Maniac Brethren as always!

I recognized shortly after my Crowd Wave that the typical desert transition from morning cool, to Heat as the switch flipped and suddenly it was pretty darn warm. It was time to get this done.
So anyway, after my Crowd Wave at mile 19, I blasted the last 10k as if it were a….10K! I felt great and had a lot of energy. Perhaps the Carbo loading had finally hit the bloodstream? Perhaps the 1,500 foot altitude difference between Tucson and Phoenix had provided a cumulative advantage? Perhaps the Cytomax, Aleve and Ninxia Red kicked in? Who knows? Either way, once again, the Marathon Gods and Goddesses parted the seas for yours truly once again and I sprinted my way to the finish, passing streams of other runners, clocking diminishing splits of 8:54, 8:47, 8:25, a blistering 8:08 and a pretty amazing 7:39 for the final quarter mile.

The course went up and over a freeway interchange (the brief shade of the overpass a welcome respite), hung a right and made it’s way down a long road to the entrance to the parking area, then a right and a dogleg to the left, another sharp left to the finish area. I’m trying not to calculate my finish time, as I knew it was going to be close. And, the sun is beating down and heat is starting to rise from the pavement. I’m feeling some sunburn kicking in and my arms are chafed, having sweated off all my body glide. I’m thankful for my sunglasses and my dew rag.

I don’t remember much about the finish other than suddenly I was there. I pumped my hands overhead for the finish line photo and then punched my GPS. 3:58:03 on the overhead clock, 3:57:20 on the GPS (which would later be adjusted somehow by my chip to a 3:57:11) Under four hours after all, meaning that I had knocked a rousing 8 ½ minutes off my second half, coming alive in a really big way. Yeah man!

Went down the long finish chute, collecting a bottle of water and at the corner were the finishers medals, which some very young and cute volunteers were handing to the runners. I asked my volunteer to “install” mine for me and she giggled and complied, hanging it around my neck and congratulating me. I almost overbalanced at the weight of it – the medal was a thick multi colored disc, weighing about a pound an a half. Nice finishers medal!

Staggering under the weight of my finishers swag, I wandered back to the finish line to see if Mark was somewhere behind me and had a mini Marathon Maniacs reunion with Silver and another Maniac. We compared notes, congratulated each other and finally meandered through to the rest of the finish chutes.

Not seeing Mark, I decided to go to Plan B and rendezvous later with him at the Reunion area. I passed the Medal girls again, collected a mylar blanket (what the heck?) and fetched up against a long line of people around the corner. Realizing that this was the Finishers Photo line, I bypassed it entirely (who needs another $50 sweaty finishers photo?) and headed around a hairpin turn to the Food area. As I passed though into the area, some volunteers were filling a garbage can with Ice. I grabbed a big chunk and began icing down my arms and legs. While I was doing that, I fell into conversation with a cute young girl named Anne from Washington DC who had just turned out her second marathon in a stellar 3:42 or so. We compared notes on the course and she too had recognized the exact moment when the days heat had started kicking in. She was worried about her mother and sister who were over an hour behind. We both agreed that the heat would be a factor

I headed into the food area and was soon laden with everything from heart healthy potato chips a banana, raisins, Larabars, and the best treat of all, a rainbow popsicle. Not being hungry as usual after the race, I wound everything up into my mylar blanket except for the popsicle which I started gnawing on immediately.

Signs were overhead with arrows directing everyone to the Merchandise, the Merchandise, the Merchandise, and Gear check and Family Reunion area. Bypassing the Merchandise, I walked a long way past The Merchandise to the line of UPS trucks way far away. I fell into a conversation with Chris from California, a young surfer dude who was both a Team In Training Coach and worked in a Children’s Oncology center as well. Another 20-something who is changing the world – a great conversation. Collected my gear and made my way through the crowd as I finished my popsicle.

Inside the reunion area was a massive sea of people. The sun was beating down on everyone and the heat was rising. There was a huge Michelob Ultra tent and concession stands with immense lines everywhere, as well as a stellar and tight six member band, belting out some amazing cover tunes – full brass, guitar and bass and possibly the best act I heard all day.

Ascertaining that Mark hadn’t arrived at our Rendevous point (the letter “W”) I checked out the beer lines as we were supposed to be getting a free beer. Realizing that the lines were easily a 45 minute wait, I returned to the “W” and there was Mark, who had finished a little while after me. We made our way back to his SUV and after a typical long half hour Rock and Roll Traffic Tie up, we made our way back to his excellent abode to shower and think about lunch.

Later, we were able to return to Oregano’s North, sit right down, have an EXCELLENT post-race meal and watch the Arizona Cardinals kick butt in a great playoff game upset. Shortly after the win, I got in the Toyota and an hour and forty minutes later was back in Tucson for the next phase of life.

So, I have a HUGE forehead tan line, some sore legs (though not that bad today – Wednesday) a monster finishers medal and Marathon 45 is in the bag. I’ve already signed up for two half marathons and a 10K in the next few months and I’m trying to figure out which ones will get me to 50 by the time I turn 50 in June of 2010. It may have to be some repeats, due to the economic as well as the time considerations, however, as you know – they are all good

So to sum up – the Rock and Roll is a great destination race if you like the big city, Big Merchandise races. I would probably do it again, solely because Brother Mark was such an excellent host and made my stay really Fun and easy. The the course, support, volunteers and timing were all done extremely well. For a January race, there’s no better place to be than the Desert, that’s for sure, and I’m sorry my Midwest Friends (Yes, that’s YOU sister Rhonda – love ya! Also Gregg – sure woulda beat the Freezing Samson Stomp!!!) couldn’t have come to enjoy this sunny warm day.

And, maybe next time I’ll train some.

Or, maybe not…..

Either way, hope to see you all at a race soon!

Thanks again Mark!

Happy 2009 and Happy Inauguration!!!

Back to the Lakefront - Or, The Fourth Time is the Charm

2008-10-25T21:23:00.000-07:00

Back to the Lakefront, or “The Fourth Time is the Charm”

Well, on October 5, I returned once again, to the Milwaukee Lakefront Marathon, for the fourth time. For you alert readers, this means that I have improved the statistics of the times I’ve signed up and paid for this marathon versus the times I’ve actually run it, making it four out of six times now. (For more information, see my previous blog “Burning Race Fees, or Feet Don’t Fail Me Now”).

Let me say right off the bat, the Milwaukee Lakefront Marathon is hands down, one of the best-run, best supported, great-from-start-to- finish races in the Midwest. Race Director Kris Hinrichs, who is very visible throughout the whole weekend event manages a team of hundreds of amazing people – all of whom are volunteers - to turn out a stellar race experience for everyone – runners and spectators alike.

I had previously run the Lakefront Marathon in 2002, 2003 and 2005 and each time it was a really great experience.

This time was no exception.

Went down to packet pickup on a beautiful Saturday morning with my friend Lisa, who had signed up however elected, intelligently not to run as there was a lot going on for her at the time. We picked up our long sleeve technical shirts, chips and the duffle bag-sized plastic draw-string gear bag for our gear drop – one of the many cool touches this race has for the runners. The volunteers even apply a tag to the bag with your bib number on it so on race day, you are ready to drop and go at the start.

So, Lisa and I toured the expo which, while small, has grown over the years and boasts everything from sports apparel from different places, to Select Comfort beds, Chiropractors and Massage, and other Races from around the Wisconsin. Indeed we had a great talk with one of the Green Bay Marathon people and picked up some great ideas for other races to do.

The Lakefront Marathon also sells some great apparel for a reasonable amount of money, however, since I’m always swamped in T-shirts and Sweatshirts, I managed to refrain, however, I couldn’t resist some of the cool Lakefront Marathon neon luggage tags for $1. It’s been my experience that you can see these tags coming up the conveyor belts at the airport from a long way away, and they seem to hang on forever, so it was a good investment.

Lisa purchased a great pink headband from the “I Run Like a Girl” display, where we talked to one of the main employees who was from Iowa. I was unable to talk Lisa into buying some matching apparel, so it was time to leave, as neither of us were in the market for a new mattress or a Chiropractor.

After carbo loading on Sushi, and Multi-grain bread smeared with gobs of my fresh-from the garden Homemade Pesto, I had a pretty good night’s sleep. The next day, as usual, I had to get up and leave at something like 4:45 am for an early bus departure from the Lakefront. It was dark and cold, however I quickly zipped into downtown Milwaukee in the Toyota on I-94, exiting towards the lakefront in time to follow a stream of school busses that were clogging the exit onto Lincoln Memorial Drive. Correctly concluding that the only place these busses were going at that early hour on a Sunday were the Lakefront Pickup area, I followed them into the parking area, where I was directed by a series of flashlight waving volunteers to a very well-positioned front row parking space near the entrance to the shuttle busses. Later, this would prove a really smart move as it was also a short walk from the finish area.

Taking a bearing on some landmarks to find the Toyota in the daylight later in the day, (once again, experiencing 40-plus marathons has taught me a few tricks) I walked over to the lead bus, got on, and in short order was heading up the freeway to Grafton. The Lakefront Marathon is a point-to-point course, and Grafton is a suburb north of Milwaukee where the starting line is.
I talked a little bit with the runner next to me in the seat who was doing his third marathon, and was dressed as if he was going to the North Pole, in several layers, topped off with a hooded sweatshirt. To each his own. After trading a few anecdotes we both fell silent as was most of the bus that early in the morning and completed the half hour ride to Grafton High School, where the bus disgorged us into the parking lot

Another great thing about the Lakefront Marathon is that you get to wait in the warm comfort of the High School for the race to start. There is a cafeteria with tables to sit at, or a gymnasium to stretch out in. I commandeered a table in the cafeteria, and watched the door as I knew there were a few people I might know running the race, and I wanted to be able to see them arrive.

Soon, however the place filled up as other busses arrived, and I was joined at my table by two very energetic and beautiful young ladies from Forest Park Illinois – Denise and Sue, who sat down and hauled out a large bag of Rice Krispy treats, which was their pre-race libation. I offered to share my BumbleBar and we chewed companionably and talked about races, the weather, Illinois, and other typical pre-race chatter. They were experienced runners and we had quite a bit in common – except for the Rice Krispy treats which, while they looked good, it was too early in the morning for me to try something new. Maybe next race.

After awhile, I decided to go out and check the weather, and also decided to use the out door porto potties as the indoor restrooms had filled up. It was probably in the mid 40’s outside, the sun was starting to make an appearance and the outdoor PA system was tuning up. I had some great talks with some first time and long-time runners, including a guy who purposely came up from Chicago every year to run Lakefront as “it’s so much easier and better than doing Chicago!” I agreed.

As race time grew near, I searched in vain for anyone I knew, however it was to no avail. Although there were only 2,750 available slots for this race ( up from 2,500 in previous years) the crowd seemed to be twice that, with many spectators and support crew there, so I was all by myself as it became time to lose the extra clothes and drop my bag off in the very-close-to-the-start line Post Office Truck that would take the gear to the finish line.

I hung around for awhile, enjoying the energy of the crowd and then about 7:45 started shucking off my sweats, stuffing them in my bag. I had been undecided as to what to wear, as it called for cool temperatures in the morning, warming up to about 60 later in the day, with a possibility of rain. I finally decided to wear a short sleeved technical shirt, and of course, my Marathon Maniacs Singlet. I had neglected to check the website to see how many other of my Maniac brethren would be there, however, I was proud to be flying my colors for my hometown race.

As race time approached, I was joined by another Lisa – Lisa Turner, a trainer from my YMCA, who was running her first marathon. Knowing she was quite fast and competitive, it was great to talk with her at the start and to hang with a friendly face.

Kris Hinrichs took the microphone, pumped us all up and then we were off, blasting out of the parking lot, hanging a right, and heading south on the now 26.15 mile trek to the finish line.

It was sunny and cool, with no breeze – probably still in the 40’s. And actually with no breeze, and as the first part of the course was somewhat sheltered, I actually warmed up pretty quickly. Also, it was slightly humid, so my sunglasses were fogging over, which made it difficult to navigate through the crowd. Some wardrobe malfunctions suck!

The course is pretty rural for the first while, taking some rights and lefts along country roads, farm fields and rolling Southeastern Wisconsin terrain. As always, one of my favorite touches is just before the two mile mark, as the course turns right on to some Alphabet-lettered road, there is an Accordian player, with a full PA system cranking out polka tunes for all of us runners as we go cruising by. He’s been there every time I’m run this race. Only in Wisconsin!

So as I had been contemplating the effort that morning awhile before, standing at the start line with Lisa Turner, I had gauged my energy level and concluded that I had absolutely no feel for how my performance would be that day. I’ll blog about this at some other date, however, my training had been as usual totally lacking in Marathon-based efforts, with the sole exception of three Half Marathons I’d run on August 16, August 30th, and September 23rd, two weeks before this race. All had gone pretty incredibly well, however, that’s only “half way”. So, and, as I did feel pretty unenergetic at the start, I had no idea how I would fare.

For lack of a better word, I blasted off from the start, clipping along right from the start at Half Marathon pace. My GPS showed that I was maintaining an average 8:14 or so mile for the first nine or ten miles, not necessarily my typical Mid-pack pace. “This can’t last” I’m thinking to myself as the miles rolled along. While trying not to energize the thought, I was wondering if at some point the wheels were going to fall off and I’d experience a spectacular dismount, having to hobble in for some distance. Nonetheless, since I felt good, I kept going.

We started reaching more civilization as the miles rolled by. There were very regular water stops every two miles or so, water, Gatorade, enthusiastic volunteers and music. I clipped along, keeping the pace alive mile after mile.

The course is not actually all along, or in sight of, Lake Michigan, however it does cover many of the Lakefront Communities in Southeastern Wisconsin, including Grafton, Mequon, Bayside, Fox Point, Whitefish Bay, and finally, Milwaukee. Of course, this is also some of the highest priced Real Estate in this area of the country so the roads are pretty good for the most part. Each town has a sign or something at some point so you know what progress you are making. And I, for one, love point-to-point courses such as this – it feels like you’ve really “covered some ground” rather than running in a big loop.

The miles were very well marked, and my GPS was pretty well synched with the markers which, due to my pace, seem to come pretty quickly. And indeed, the elevation is good – while the course does roll and there are definitely some uphill stretches, it is a net downhill course and the downhills come at great times later in the race and in very stellar scenic places.

And, the Milwaukee Marathon is quite spectator friendly. It also has a marathon relay which is quite popular and the spectator guide which is also a nice touch tells the spectators where they can go along the course to cheer for their runners. And, one other nice touch – your name is on your bib as well, so people can cheer for you by name.

So, I blasted along, enjoying the scenery, water stops and pace. I didn’t really get a chance to talk to anyone much, however, after working the spectators for awhile, I soon acquired a following. “Go Maniac!” A few of them shouted, however, there wasn’t much recognition of the Yellow Flag I was flying.

Turned off the half at around 1:49 on the GPS, on good schedule, and rounded a bend around mile 13.5 – and ran through a sea of spectators. In short order I saw

1) Mary Olson, my good spin friend from the YMCA, who was waiting for her daughter Megan, who was running her first marathon. I stopped to high-five her. “Go! Run!!! She shouted at me. Thanks Mary!!!
2) Patty Lohr, wife of my long-time Chicago running colleague Ralph, who shouted at me from the crowd, giving me a lift. Ralph, apparently was some where behind me. Great to see you Patti!!
3) Joel, A running colleague I had met in Nashotah park the week before who was helping direct traffic and shouted at me “Have a great time in Arizona, Peter!” Thanks Joel – see you in the spring!

Quite the spectator treat, and it gave me a very needed lift to charge into the second half of the race. Another thing I love about this race – its small enough and spectator friendly enough that you can get some great interaction.

So, charge into the second half I did, running down the Wisconsin roads, through the Lakefront towns, and heading, inexorably, towards the lakefront, time ticking by. Around mile 15, the clouds started rolling in and a wind started picking up, however, it had the effect of cooling things off perfectly and didn’t become a stiff headwind to battle or anything – basically, it kept the heat of the day at bay, and provided ideal running conditions.

I kept hearing snatches of conversations, runners discussing pace, nutrition, cramping, blisters. At one point I got in a pack of runners and we were in lockstep for about a mile and a half. I would pass some of them, only to get passed by them again, and on and on. It was like a last 10K do-si-do, however, this was between mile 16 and 20 and too soon to pour it on – also too soon to take anything seriously. However, I ultimately prevailed as they started to fade as the miles continued to roll by.

I began getting views of the lake somewhere in there, and began also doing some zig-zagging through some suburban streets, through parks, along parkways, and down some steep hills. Around mile 19, an athletic black girl cruised effortlessly past me. “Go Maniac!” She shouted as she eased by. “I’m number (something) she shouted over her shoulder. “Go Maniac Yourself!” I called, watching her draw quickly away and admiring her late race kick.

The first of the “twenties” rolled by quickly, 21, 22 and 23, where I again got to see Ralph’s family as Patti jumped out and took my picture. Soon after that, at some point (can’t remember exactly) , standing by a mile marker and a City Sign, a tall, middle age man, called out “Welcome to Milwaukee – you’re almost home!” and indeed we were.

By now, I’m sweeping down the last hill and along the lakefront. The headwind has picked up a little (in Milwaukee, there is ALWAYS a headwind for the last few miles) and I’m getting ready to be done. The lake off to my left looks choppy and the clouds were thickening overhead. My pace per mile has faded slightly by now, however, I decided to quit looking at my watch and focus my energy on the getting to the finish.

I run through along the lakefront sidewalk, through the two final water stops, and onto the grass by the lagoon. The final mile or so winds through veterans park and you can hear the finish line, but not see it. I wove in and out of the boat lagoons, along the bike paths, over the sidewalks, making right and left hand turns. Close to the finish line, I spot Rocky from the YMCA, who is on a bicycle apparently being a spectator. “Still running!” he shouts. “Almost there!” I grunt as I cruise by. I turn into the final, long stretch and see the finish line in front of me and manage to put on a burst of speed, passing a few people in the final stretch. The spectators are loudly enthusiastic and I pump my hands into the air, hearing cheers and shrieks as I get closer. I cross the finish line right after the clock ticks over 3:45, raising my hands above my head in victory as the finish line photo is snapped. I then punch my GPS, breathlessly say hi to Kris Hinrichs, the race director who is standing right at the finish and continue on to the chutes. My GPS registers a 3:44:50, later my chip time will come in as 3:44:47 (an 8:35 per mile pace), placing me 491 out of 1945 finishers, 67 out of 160 in my age group and 387 out of 1,187 male finishers. Upper third, I’m thinking.

This, however, as alert readers might notice, rates as my fastest Marathon time this Century – by a long stretch. The last time I ran a marathon this fast, was back in 1996, when I was, of course, much younger and in fact actually trained for the distance. And also, compared to my other finish times at the Lakefront, again, this set a course record, smashing my previous finish times, by 23 plus minutes.

So what’s up with that? Well, I actually don’t know. Perhaps it was the Half Marathon training I did this summer (blog to follow). Perhaps the sushi/pesto combination helped. Perhaps a judicious dose or two of Miller Lite over the past few months has rewired the neural net. Maybe it’s because it was four months since my last marathon and I was “rested’?

Or, perhaps it was just my day. Either way, I’m more than pleased with the whole experience. Great course, great support, great weather, great time!!! We’ll see what the next one brings

Anyway, I continued through the chutes, picking up a really nice looking finishers medal, a mylar blanket (which I needed – the cool breeze was chilling me off rather quickly) and a bottle or two of water. I hung a right out of the finishers chute, and there was the gear check where an alert volunteer saw my bib, and had my bag waiting for me.

I love this race!
LFM Finishers Medal

The runners exit into an area which includes a massage tent (which, once I decided to notice it, the line was too long) a changing area, and the food tent, which is for runners only, and had plenty of fruit, cookies, soda and other great libations. I ran into Michelle, the other Maniac there who had turned off an amazing time that day as well, and we had a great talk about the race, the Maniacs and all things running, while we stretched and she picked up her gear bag.

I changed in the Men’s changing tent, shucking off my wet clothes and putting on my sweats, which was GREAT, and went back outside where I went over to the finish line in time to see Jim Nowakowski finish, as well as my colleague Ralph, who cruised across the finish line around the same time. Chatted with Ralph a little as he came through the chutes, and then went and said hi to his family, where I received a big hug from Patti, who said she was “so proud of me!” Thanks Patti!

Leaving Ralph and his family, I again bump into Denise and Sue from Forest Park, who had a great race and finished somewhere under four hours. They both seemed happy, and we got to talk for awhile as we toured the merchandise tents, where there were some unbelievable deals, including shirts for a dollar and half price apparel. Once again, I refrained from purchasing – I have soooo many t-shirts and sweatshirts, I just can’t justify buying more – regardless of the deal.

It was there, while having a great conversation with Denise and Sue that I saw one of my ex-girl friends, Sally, who was apparently working the Merchandise tent of the LFM. While I was raptly listening to a story from Denise, whoah, there goes Sally cruising by a few feet in front of my nose, apparently checking the tables. Sally, who is remarried now, used to be the Packet Pickup Captain, and it was a short three years previously in 2005 that, while we were “dating” I had Co-Captained with her for packet pickup, and then ran the race as well, marking the last time I had done LFM previously. Sally looked tired, and we didn’t speak, however, I mentally wished her well in her new life and marriage. Life does move on, and, as I have learned, it continues to be an an amazing experience!

Denise and Sue were having their finishers medals engraved with their finish time (another new and cool feature of this race) and so I gave them my card to reference the blog – if you’re tuning in, girls – great to run with you! Hope to see you in another race soon! Next time, I'll try the Rice Krispy Treats...... Then, I headed back to the Toyota, a short walk across the field. Off in the distance, there were still people finishing the race, however, I had had enough fun for the day. Got back to the Toyota, eased across the grass and onto the street, and soon I’m accelerating up the ramp onto I-94 heading west, and firing up the Cellphone to call Cayelin and report on my progress. As I get a few miles West of the finish area, the first raindrops start hitting my windshield, and by the time I’m clear of Milwaukee, it has turned into a full downpour. Perfect timing!! I head home, shower, fire up the woodstove, and watch the cold rain fall for the rest of the day, enjoying some leftover pesto, a few cold ones, some football, and the thrill of a race well run.

As a post-script, I learned later that Lisa Turner had turned out an incredible 3:33 for this, her first marathon, neatly qualifying her for Boston. Congratulations, Lisa!!

So, I’m blogging in reverse right now, so you know what my next big race was – the 10 miler in Tucson, however the next weekend before that and before leaving Wisconsin, I also ran a very hilly 10K in Wales Wisconsin, with Greg Searcy, Lisa, Liza, Jack and Julie and Liza played paparazzi, providing these very cool photos. (see below) Thanks Liza!! Next up on the blog– Half Marathon Maniac?

Thanks for reading everyone – hope to see you all at a race soon!

Wales 10K - Photo by Liza

Me and Greg Searcy at the Wales 10K - photo by Liza

Back to the Desert - The Carondelet 10-Mile Race Report

2008-10-20T16:02:00.000-07:00

Back to the Desert – the Carondelet “Get Moving Tucson” 10-Mile Race Report

The sky is still as a spinning top,
shooting stars drop like burning words from above
If I could just connect all these dots,
the truth would tumble like a Cynic vexed by love
And yet the people keep sayingI'm miles from my home,
miles from my home…..

Cowboy Junkies “Miles from Our Home”

Speaking of Marathons……..

After a pretty outstanding summer tearing up the Southeastern Wisconsin Race Circuit, I left my home in Oconomowoc in the Toyota on Monday Morning, October 13 at 7:53 am SHARP and headed back to Tucson to our Winter Digs.

It was indeed time to put down the Miller Lite, extinguish the cigar, and get back to my partner Cayelin Castell and our life in the Desert. She'd been out there since early August, while I'd been having my fun on Lake Okauchee.

And, also, apparently to return to my blog, which, alert readers will notice, I haven’t posted to since my self-congratulatory story regarding the Valley of Gold Half Marathon in Tucson last March.

It hasn’t been that I haven’t been running – quite the contrary – it’s just that the Muse, and maybe also the time to write has been non-existent since I left Tucson on the first of May.

Either way, lots to catch up on. And, I’ll probably do it in reverse order, or LIFO – meaning, writing about my most recent running experiences and then backing up to some of the other spring and summer experiences

So, off I went on Monday, headed west to Johnson Creek on I-94, south on 26 to I-39, and then down through Illinois, picking up I-55 in Bloomington. Crossed the Mississippi at St. Louis, picking up I-44, and angled down through Missouri to Oklahoma. Emptied out onto I-40 and then fetched up west of Oklahoma City around 10:00 pm for the first night. 890 miles for the day.

On the road at 7:30 am Tuesday after the Best Western Complimentary Breakfast, which, gave me some not-so-complimentary Heartburn for most of the day. Continued west on I-40 through a driving rain storm, walls of water sheeting off the 18-wheelers and SUV’s in my path. Crossed the rest of Oklahoma, and the top of Texas, blasting through Amarillo in the early afternoon. Exited Texas, cranked it up to 85 MPH and made it to Albuquerque by late afternoon, though with the two hour time difference, I’m now ahead of the game. Hung a sharp left in the middle of Albuquerque, where now I’m finally and thankfully out of the rain, and arrowed south, down through the center of New Mexico on I-25, with stunning desert vistas, mountains, clouds, and rolling countryside. Exiting at the Hatch/Deming crossover, I headed straight west into the setting sun for what seemed like forever on some rough New Mexico two-lane, before picking up I-10 west for the home stretch into Tucson. By now, I’m at hour 25 of this marathon drive, the sun has set and I’m getting a little punchy, so I broke out the emergency M&M’s and Pepsi, and made the final push. Picked up a GREAT classic Rock Station, complete with Pink Floyd and vintage Yes tunes, that brought me home in fine style. I arrived at 8:00 pm local time on the dot, 1.890 miles and 27 hours in my Toyota.

And, what better way to celebrate my southwest homecoming, but to run a race the first weekend?

So, Saturday morning at 7:30 am found me toeing the line in downtown Tucson at the Carondelet “Get Moving Tucson” Ten Miler.

Lotta “T’s” in that sentence, si?

Anyway, this race was a very largely attended, very well hyped event that began and ended at the Tucson Convention center, a nine minute ride down the Aviation Freeway from our South Tucson Home.

I arrived about 6:40 am parked in the front row of one of several huge parking lots and , picked up my bib and a Barney-Purple T-shirt in about two minutes. Having some time to kill, I wandered around a little. They had a few booths and a huge tent set up in one of the parking areas fronting the convention center, where they were serving fruit and bagels to all of the runners and walkers, giving away hundreds of spring-loaded bracelet whistles and bells, apparently to blow or ring as you ran or walked, and handing out healthy lifestyle literature. Carondelet is the local Hospital Corporate entity (Think “Aurora Health Care” you Wisconsonites, or “Advocate Health Care” you Illinois people) This was one of their annual outreaches to the community to promote a healthy lifestyle. The event was put on in partnership with “SAR” or Southern Arizona Roadrunners, the local running club of which I’m a snowbird member. SAR had their own tent there, and were handing out brochures for the upcoming races as well as promoting new members. I stopped by to get my fill of race applications and struck up a conversation with Sherilen, Blonde-Ponytailed SAR Office Manager, who was very peppy and waxed enthusiastically about being from Salt Lake City, where there has already been four inches of snow. I countered with my “just-drove-here-from-Wisconsin” rap, and we chortled over all of you people out there who will be freezing come a few weeks from now, while we, the smart Snowbirds will be running in shorts OUTSIDE!

Anyway, apparently being charmed by my chatter, she gifted me with a copy of this years version of the SAR member T-shirt (why yes, another T-shirt, which gawd-knows I need one!) It’s a cool tan version this year, instead of the fire engine red one I received upon signing up last year. So, now I have two, and also possibly some volunteer opportunities. Welcome to Tucson!

Later, I’m at the start line, as mentioned and after an agonizing version of the Star Spangled Banner, the announcer gamely tried to draw out the suspense with a long count down, and Bang! We’re off, through a balloon arch onto the course.

There was a 5k attached to the race as well as the 10-miler, runners, walkers, etc all started at the same time. No chip timing, and consequently, of course all the slower walkers and shorter distance runners were clustered up front. I weaved and dodged and juked around them, and got up to cruising speed after the first two blocks or so but not before a sprinter in front of me, after apparently blasting off, gasped to their friend “That’s it for me” and stopped dead in front of me, necessitating deployment of the Bat Chute as I tried not to run them completely over. Still, it was close.

So, after that near miss, I’m up to speed fairly quickly, though feeling several things. One, it’s dry in Tucson.

Really REALLY dry. In the first few blocks, my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, making me regret not hydrating more before we started

Secondly, I’m feeling pretty draggy. Not only am I slightly jet lagged from the two hour time change, I’m also feeling my 1,890 mile drive from a few days before, as well as the lack of running since a 10k the weekend before, AND some very slight residue from a Marathon two weeks before that. (more on that later!)

And thirdly, I’m feeling the heavier gravity of 2,600 feet above sea level – though it’s only an additional 1,800 feet above what we are used to in Wisconsin, hey, I feel it each time I come here – and it takes a week or two for me to get used to

So, I’m thinking this won’t be one of my faster days.

The course was pretty cool, though eclectic. There was a lot of weird out and back segments, and we ran on everything from suburban streets, to industrial areas, then onto the Aviation Bike way – and back, then out onto the Barraza-Aviation Highway, of all things, and then back onto another bike path, where we went out…and then back, and into downtown Tucson – first up Fourth Avenue (where the 1960’s are alive and well – there is everything from Tie-Dye stores, to Tattoo Parlors, Hookah Bars, and all kinds of 1960’s psychedelic artwork, as well as the Casbah Tea House, a local vegan destination spot)…and then after going around a corner on University (Where the U of A is) and down University for a block, we made a U-turn, doubling back again, on University, ran back to the corner, hung a left and ran back DOWN Fourth Avenue.

Much of the course featured that out and back and it seemed like for half the race I was passing streams of other runners going the other way – first the faster ones on my right and then the slower ones as I came back the same way.

I have to say that not only is there a large Tucson Running Community, but also these suckers are FAST! Both the men and the women. They are all lean, fit and desert hardened, and I have no idea how they train all summer in the blistering heat in Tucson. As I was coming past the second mile mark, I came to the first of the out and back segments and caught sight of the lead runners as they were coming “back” on that segment. Checking my watch, I noted that it was around 16 minutes, which later showed that these leaders had already passed by a large distance the THREE mile marker at that point. The looked like Cars, cruising at about 30 MPH as they blew past me going the other directions. Woosh!

So, as mentioned, a lot of the course was a two-way street, literally. The course was both very well marked and supported. There were large white arrows, plastered on the ground every 20-30 feet with Field Marking Chalk so you were never in doubt as to where the course was going. And, there were a goodly amount of enthusiastically staffed water stops, though some doubled as both an out and back one, which meant that at some points there were two miles between stops, which for me, the non-desert acclimated boy, made things pretty dry. As a result, I had to stop and make like a camel at each stop, inhaling several cups of water each time.

And, there was only water at each stop – no Gatorade, sports drink or sports gel. Again, these rugged Desert types…they are minimalists!

During the race, at mile three or so, I came upon a guy about my age, who was sporting on of those Camelbak water back packs. It seemed he was toting about a gallon and half of water on his back, and was clipping (or more correctly, Sloshing) along at my pace. In my mind, I instantly dubbed him “CamelBack Man” and figured he was my competition for the day. We ran side by side for a few feet and then he accelerated, apparently being better hydrated than me, as he didn’t have to stop at the water stops. We traded the lead a few times in the first half of the race, and then, after I took a longer water stop as I got more desiccated, he managed to get ahead of me quite a bit.

No matter – I’m already resigned to the fact that this isn’t one of my better days. Have I mentioned that?

Still, I managed to slog along at an okay pace, by my GPS, I was averaging a solid 8:00 to 8:01 pace for the first five miles, and then, apparently, altitude, dryness and over tiredness set in, and I started dropping towards the dreaded 8:15 pace per mile, in the latter miles. Oh well.

I ran over a set of bridges spanning the freeways and Railroad yards, then up, then down Fourth avenue, which took me through miles 7,8 and 9, and then dug in for the final mile, which was first through an industrial area, underneath the deepest bypass in Tucson, and then emptied into the Downtown Tucson Mall, where we weaved, U-turned, and traversed over several walkways, bridges, plazas, and past fountains, finally spitting out into the last quarter mile stretch of road, and a quick U-turn back to the finish line under the same Balloon arch.

As I was emerging from the bypass in the last mile, I once again came upon “CamelBak man”, who was flagging by then. I thought “you’re mine, Sucker” and dug in hard and passed him up. He attempted to catch up to me, however, lugging all that water must have taken it’s toll, because he didn’t have anything to catch me with. After traversing the mall, weaving in and out of the fountains and up and down the walkways, I traversed the final street, hung the final left and thundered into the finish line. The clock read 1:21:50 – a not-so-stellar ten mile time for me, however, it’s consistent with my recent performance on the distance, so I wasn’t too chagrined.

Later I learned that while I was in the upper third of the finishers that day (160 out of 460), my age group placement was a dismal 17. Indeed, these Tuscsonians – the top 15 finishers were well under an hour, the top finisher was around 51 minutes for the distance AND for me to get close to an age group placement, I would have had to break a 6:25 minute pace for the course, instead of my shuffling 8:11.

And also, an Arizona thing – the Age groups were 10-years wide, making the competition that much stiffer.

Still, it’s okay to be a mid packer. I got to see all the sights, and again, am not unhappy with my finish time. Perhaps with my return to Reid Park and doing laps there again, I too, will be come Lean, Fit, and Desert-Hardened after a time.

Who knows?

Post race, there were large quantities of fruit and cookies (including some VERY green Bananas) an abundance of Gatorade and bottled water, and a really good cover band up on a stage turning out some classic rock and roll. There was also a raffle, however, not needing any more stuff, plus, as the announcer intoned to the crowd “It’s starting to get pretty warm out here!” I elected not to stay.

I downed some water and Gatorade, retrieved my new SAR shirt from Sherilen, and headed back home.

I think they did a good job on this race, the course, support, timing and logistics were great. Coulda used a little Gatorade on the course, and of course the five year age groups are better (not that it would have made a difference in My case), however I know I’d do this one again. It’s a great distance and a good training run, and I have an opportunity to beat my time next year. The entry fee was a little stiff at $40 though, I’m not sure that it wasn’t because I was a late sign up, however, that was still pretty high.

Either way, it’s good to be back in Tucson!

So, what’s next? Well, the race circuit does heat up here (hah!) in the fall and winter. I have, potentially on the docket before Thanksgiving, a 10K, a Half Marathon, a couple of 5k’s, perhaps another 10K and who knows what all? This is indeed their racing season here, when the weather breaks and the heat is less intense. I’m planning on a quick return to the Midwest in December to catch up with my community there, and my next scheduled stab at the 26.2 is at the PF Chang Rock And Roll Arizona in January, where my Midwest buddies Rhonda and others will hopefully be joining, and I can run once again with my good friend Mark from Phoenix, who has had a great racing season also.

I am also intending on catching you up with the summer race circuit experiences, including Three Marathons (Eugene, Madison and my Return to the Milwaukee Lakefront a few weeks back), Three stellar Half Marathons, as well as a plethora of 5K’s, 10K’s, four milers, two milers and a ten miler or two. Lots to catch up on and some surprising experiences as well

So, stay tuned, and I hope to see you all at a race soon!

Local Class and Rocking Portopotties - The Arizona Distance Classic Report

2008-03-19T11:26:00.000-07:00

The Arizona Distance Classic Report

It doesn’t hurt me
Do you want to feel how it feels?
Do you want to know that it doesn’t hurt me?
Do you want to hear about the deal that I’m making?
You, it's you and me.

And if I only could,
I'd make a deal with god,
And I'd get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
With no problems.

Kate Bush, Running up that Hill

I did the Arizona Distance Classic Valley of Gold Half Marathon (A John Bingham Race) in Oro Valley on Sunday March 16

It almost seems like it takes longer to recite and type the title than it does to run the race

At least for me – (and I’ll cut to the chase right away on this one) On a very hilly and windy course at altitudes between 2800 and 3200 feet, I turned off a very cool 1:46:26 placing me 11th in my age group, 121 overall out of 755, and the 93rd out of 294 males that finished today. (Pay attention to these stats, there is something that you alert readers should notice. I’ll comment later)

Either way, this was my fastest half marathon time since 1992 (and in 1992, I was almost 16 years younger). This is also anywhere from 8-10 minutes faster than the half marathon times I was posting at this time last year as well.

For this race, I went out with a good edge from the starting gun and also had a lot to pour on in the last 5K. And, I kept thinking how cool it was that there was "only" 13.1 miles to run.

Only a “Half”.

All this clean living is really paying off.

I'm finally getting what an incredible blessing being a snowbird is - I've gotten stronger and faster being able to train outside all winter And, also at some minor altitude as well. Thank you Reid Park!

The race was held at the Ventana Medical Center in Oro Valley which is just north of Tucson on Oracle Road. In fact, my constant readers may recognize that this race was held at the EXACT spot at which I parked at to catch the bus to the starting line of the ill-fated Tucson Marathon last December. I parked in the exact same parking lot, but this time, I only had to walk across the street to get to the race festivities.

I drove the half hour up to pick up my packet on Saturday as I had some errands to run. In fact, it was just that – Packet Pickup. Get your shirt, get your chip, get out. There was no expo attached to this very largely-hyped event, but from my standpoint, who needed it? The good stuff came on Race Day. I did meet Carrie, one of the lead sponsors from the about-to-be-opened-in-Oro Valley 123 Fitness. She chatted with me about the race, while deftly stuffing packets with propaganda, and fielding volunteer issues.

(The T-shirt was a white Long-sleeve cotton, typical, with the Logo on the front and sponsors on the back. I’ve already found an excellent recipient for this one. Jean, it’s in the mail!)

The weather in Tucson had turned worse on Saturday night. We had been in the 80’s with Sunny Skies all week, very summery, but that night the wind picked up and the temperature dropped. After listening to the wind howl all night, I got up early and headed back across town.

In short order I was parked and using the very sparsely attended Porto potties. And here was something comedic. Somehow, the Porto potties were resting on some sort of tilted skids, and not properly tied down. As people got in to use them, they would buck violently back and forth, like one of those quarter-driven storefront Bucking Bronco rides of my youth. As a result, I darn near spattered my shoes. And from outside, it looked absolutely hysterical. From inside there was nothing you could do, even if you stood rock still, the entire structure wobbled and rocked like some crazed and intoxicated Weebil.

As I exited, I flashed a grin at the chuckling spectators who had lined up as I was within. “Yee-hah!” I said, and they all burst out laughing.

John “The Penguin” Bingham, he of Runners World fame was the sponsor for this event, and indeed, he is really good at throwing a huge party as it were, pumping up the crowd and really sending out high energy. It was soon time to line up for the start, and over the PA System, he made several Penguin-like comments, such as “You’ve paid to have this course open for four hours! Take your time and enjoy! Pretend it’s Disney Land! And “Make sure you start off slow and then just taper off!” A countdown clock hung over the start line counting down the minutes to 7:00 am. A minute before the start, John climbed into a Mustang convertible to lead the race, the Mayor of Oro Valley took over the Microphone, and at exactly the stroke of 7:00 am we were off.

It was cool, with some clouds over the Catalina’s and the sun was not over the mountains yet. Rain was threatened, but the wind was not AS fierce as it had been all night, though it was constant throughout the course. Temperature was in the high 40’s and I was a little cool in a short sleeve technical shirt and shorts.

As mentioned, I took off pretty quick downhill, around a corner, and then started heading uphill for what seemed like the first half of the race. I was dogged for most of the first three miles by the 1:50 pace group, which consisted of one guy, decked out in Gloves and Hat and carrying a bobbing blue sign. I tried to engage him in conversation, but he was totally uninterested, and stiffly repelled my conversational forays. Fine. I dug in a little more and after the third mile, left him behind.

I did run the first mile or so with Barb from Louisiana, who shared in that short time we ran together that she had only found out about the race last night, had done a 12 mile training run the day before and had no idea what she was going to do. And, after telling me this, she put her head down, picked up the pace and was soon far off in the distance ahead of me.

The course was an out and back, a zigzagging loop on four lane road, going out on one side and back on the other, far side. It was entirely through the Dell Webb-built Golf Communities of Oro Valley, those never-ending subdivisions of ubiquitous ranch-style adobe homes that all look alike, where Senior citizens tool around all day in Golf Carts and eat at 4:00 pm every day to get the early bird specials. Not much scenery, though the mountains always made a great back drop. And, not much crowd support either – spectators, though enthusiastic, were few and far between.

And, as mentioned, the hills. I couldn’t find an elevation map on the website, but my GPS later showed a meandering, mostly uphill (both ways) course.

Plenty of water stops, about every 2 miles. As it wasn’t hot, I mostly partook of the Gatorade they offered.

I really hadn’t taken this race seriously. I had no meds, no gel packs, did minimal chafe protection and only took the day before off from running (Saturday - and mostly because I was pretty tired from the busy week I had) Anyway, I treated it much like a 10K in that I took off pretty quick, kept a stiff pace for most of the miles, and, in the last four miles or so, turned it on.

After mile 3, I was pretty much running alone the whole race, though I saw as the race turned around and runners started coming back, a stream of runners ahead of me. I thought to myself, “You know, I’m just not fast” and, I really am not, though today I did pretty well. The best part I remember is that I held a pretty steady 8:15 pace for the first five miles or so, and then started shaving that down in each mile after that. After turning around at the 6.55 mile mark, and returning the way I had come, I began picking runners off one at a time.

I kept sneaking glances at my GPS to track the miles. Each time, and without fail, I hit it on the Sixes – 3.6, 4.6, 5.6, etc

Speaking of GPS, this course was obviously measured using a Garmin Forerunner 205. Specifically, MY Garmin Forerunner 205. Each mile marker was within .01 miles of what my GPS said (5.01 for 5, 7.99 for 8 for example). And at the finish line, my readout was EXACTLY 13.1 miles. Go figure! Is there that much course skew on the other races? Or in Oro Valley, are the Satellites better?

Or, because I was running faster, does the GPS keep up more accurately?

Who knows. Today, my erratic GPS was dead bang on!

Starting at Mile 11, there was a big downhill stretch (that I had remembered as a big UPHILL stretch from the “out” portion) and I was all alone at the time. I poured it on, hammering down the hill and really feeling fast. At one point I looked at my GPS and it had me clocking at a 6:55 mile. Very cool.

So, after hammering down the hill for almost two miles, we crossed a long dry wash, and hung a right and the Finish line was about a block and a half away. I kept up the pace, in fact increasing it for the last 200 yard and crossed the mats holding my hands up high. Clock time of 1:46:32, later my chip time knocked off six seconds off that.

John Bingham called my name as I crossed, and ad-libbed something about my looking great.

I went down the L-shaped finishers chute, collecting a bottle of water, a bottle of Gatorade, and a bottle of “Snapple Anti-oxidant Water”

I drank the plain water, anyway.

Staggering under the load of these new possessions, I had my chip cut off, received my medal – a cool Black Ribboned gold one, with the Bingham Penguin Logo on the back (they were handing them out, not draping them on you though) and met Barb-from-Louisiana in the Chutes. She had been two minutes in front of me and had a blast. We had a finishers photo done together for the heck of it as neither of us would buy one anyway. Here is the link, I am bib number 772 http://www.runphotos.com/browse.cfm

The finish line was pretty cool. There were several laptop computers set up so you could actually check your results immediately. I instantly signed up for a “massage stretch” and there were other vendors, including Chiropractors and Nutritional people. However, there wasn’t much food – Bagels and very Green Bananas was it. And, they were really pushing the Anti-Oxidant water, I saw several people carrying entire cases to their cars.

I refrained. It didn’t look too good.

I had to get some warm clothes right away. The wind picked up and rain started spattering and if anything, the temperature started dropping. I was freezing, so went off to the car to get some dry clothes.

Finish Line Photos, more story below:

I returned for my massage stretch, an outstanding thing to do, with a very adept therapist named Bryan. After wandering around for a bit, shooting a few photos (see them below) it was time to go home. Oh, and to stop on the way at Nico’s Taco Shop and get a Chorizo-and-Egg Burrito, my new Tucson Post-Race Libation.

I half to say (ha!) that the Half Marathon is really a perfect race. Not a full Marathon, which I love, but a different experience. It’s not the 20-something minute 5K sprint, but kind of a nice medium-length conversation, with some opportunity to push. Usually less than two hours, but with a finishers medal. And, not much training necessary, most anyone could walk it should they choose. And, you could do back to back halves on a weekend if you really wanted to.

And, the Half Marathon is getting really popular! You may remember that in Carlsbad in January, the people running the Half, outnumbered the full marathon people 7 to 1 – 6,300 Half Marathoners, 900 full marathoners. And indeed – and here is the thing to notice from the Stats above - more and more Women are doing the Half marathon distance – today they outnumbered the men 462 to 293 = 40% more women went the distance today. That is so cool!!

I haven’t counted how many Half’s I’ve done but maybe I will. And, once again, I’m guessing that this is some great training for the next time I tackle the 26.2

Which is hopefully soon. I’m having trouble pinning down either a March or April Marathon due to logistics the ever-increasing cost of Travel and also our very full lives here in Tucson. And, yesterday I signed up for the Eugene Oregon on May 4th, thanks to a kind invite from Laurence Taoman, who is returning to the distance after a hiatus of a few years. As that course is billed as Flat and Fast (a definite departure from my last six or so) who knows what could happen?.

And one other interesting thing. One of the Statistics that showed up in my Finishers info was something called “Age Grade” Mine said “Age Grade – 61.3%

Wondering what that meant, I clicked on the ? that was next to it and here is what popped up

Age-Graded Results

"AGE-GRADED" results are calculated using tables developed by the World Association of Veteran Athletes (the world governing body for masters track and field, long distance running and race walking). These tables were first published in 1989 and are frequently updated. The tables can be used in two ways: first, by comparing your time to a standard for your sex and age, you can determine your Performance Level Percent. These percentages can be interpreted as follows:
· 100% = Approximate World-Record Level
· Over 90% = World Class
· Over 80% = National Class
· Over 70% = Regional Class
· Over 60% = Local Class

So, that is cool – I’m “Local Class” in my age group. Maybe I’m not that slow after all!

However, and some of you may be thinking it would be really simple to do the math, and say, “Okay, your half time is 1:46, doesn’t that mean that you should be able to run about a 3:30 Full Marathon?

I wish. Hey, it’s twice the distance. And, I have run that fast, but it was about 16-18 years ago. But if I keep training and staying healthy, (and maybe with a friendly course) maybe I’ll continue to narrow the time down.

Thanks for reading everyone! Hope we can either go Half or All the Way together soon!

Running 5K's versus Marathons

2008-03-03T08:01:00.000-08:00

5K’s versus Marathons

“Hurts my ears to listen, Shannon, burns my eyes to see. Cut down a man in cold blood, Shannon, Might as well be me…” (more) Jack Straw – Robert Hunter/Bob Weir, the Grateful Dead

I did the "Daves Run for ALS" 5K on Sunday in my NEW Winter Hometown Tucson

It's a pretty small race - maybe 150 people? And maybe not, I'm not a good counter

It's held at the Foothills Mall on the Northwest side of town. It took me longer to drive there than it did to run the race, about a half hour drive across town. And, in fact it is Three Circles around the outside parking lot of the Mall, and a turn in towards the inner stores after the third loop, to get you to 5K. The terrain rolls mildly, and is only broken by parking lot speed bumps and right hand turning.

I haven't done a 5K since Thanksgiving (See my blog from 2007 – “Turkey Trotting in Tucson) and that one really doesn't count being two weeks after the Broken Toe escapade and a cross country one at that. Hence, I didn't know what to expect. As I will elaborate on later, it's like fast food - in and out - versus a leisurely Thanksgiving Dinner spanning several hours. I've had three Thanksgiving dinners (Marathons) since my last 5K, and have been far more acclimated to the pace versus the full-throttle aspects of a 5K. And, it is important to note, that I am the absolute poster child for “slow twitch” versus “fast twitch” muscle groups. Not a sprinter. And, while it takes me a while to get going, once started, I can keep going…..and going…..and going…..

I've actually done this race before - last year, with surrogate stepdaughter Jenna. And, after last year’s race, we left soon after crossing the finish line, forgoing her second place in her age group finish award, as we hadn't even bothered to check the results. We didn’t even know she had placed. She's fast that girl - and getting faster. Youth. More on that some other time.

With that lesson in mind and also a fresh memory from last spring when I did a 10K called the Deer Run in Wisconsin, and walked away from an age group piece of tin by not checking posted results, I've learned not to “assume”. So, even though my time was virtually identical to last years (22:40 versus 22:39 - another year older and another second slower - Damn!) which didn't put me in the money the prior year, I waited for results.

(By the way, my GPS scored the course as a 3.18. I must be pretty erratic or my GPS is just continuing to screw with me.)

So, to my surprise, I placed third in my age group. By One single second. I didn't realize that some guy was trying to take me out at the finish, but he was. Didn't though. The reason I probably didn't notice was that immediately after crossing the finish line, I had to instantly and rapidly lateral sideways to avoid a teenage female track star who was violently puking her breakfast Cheerios all over the finish chutes.

And, the Third Place award (s) were an Iridescent (read Puke - apropos!) Yellow "Nike Store" tote bag AND a silver-colored plastic Nike Water Bottle. Had I been Second, I would have got a pair of athletic socks, in addition to the Nike Swag, and had I been First, a "Runners Shop" Gift Certificate would have been mine AS WELL AS the Nike Swag.

Too much Nike Swag. In retrospect, I'm actually sorry I waited. More plastic to litter the Landfill after I give it away.

As a result of that experience, and because I’m always looking to write about my running, I was inspired to do an as comprehensive as possible discussion of 5k’s versus Marathons. The differences are legion, not the least of which was the surly nature of this particular Tucsonian Sunday morning crowd. A mixed crowd, largely younger, cliquish, and unfriendly to outsiders (myself). It felt like a club that I didn’t belong to and wasn’t invited to. Before and after the race, I couldn't scare up a conversation to save my life. I think 5k's can be like that, crowd-wise. But, more on that later.

So, let’s start out with the obvious. 5k’s are shorter than Marathons. 23.1 miles to be exact. However, this is both a good thing, and a bad thing for many reasons.

5k’s are flat out, pedal to the metal, 110% of Max Heart rate anerobic sprints from the minute the gun goes off. Unlike the Marathon where you can actually use the FIRST 5k to hit your pace, you don’t have that luxury here.. You gotta get off the mark fast – and continue to run faster – to be a Player.

And indeed, they are over quickly. For me, in 22 minutes and 40 seconds today. (And, I’ve been faster, but I’ve never broken 20 minutes yet. Close, but not for 20 years.) Anyway, because you are so flat out the whole way, the course is meaningless. Scenery, crowd support, a fellow runners opinion – who cares? I am trying to keep the body moving just below the puke stage, so I honestly don’t give a rats ass what is going on around me. I just don’t want to trip or bump into someone, that’s my minimum considerations.

And also water stops. In 5k’s, every second counts. Stopping to take water eats into that severely – suppose you lose 10-15 seconds on a water stop? As a percentage of the total elapsed time, it is pretty substantial. And, with my personal physiology, snatching a cup and gulping it down doesn’t work. I wind up choking, coughing and wearing most of the liquid as a result. AND losing precious seconds. So, I usually forgo the water unless the heat is relentless that day. I figure that I can stand anything for 20-something minutes, so I usually just blast on through. And actually on many 5k’s I've run, they don’t even bother with water stops!

And, 5k’s really bring out the competitive animal in me, hence the lyrical excerpt at the top of this narrative. (sooner or later, I’m gonna get that entire song quoted, it’s one of my favorites and also one of my favorite running tunes) Many times I’ve found myself in the last half mile of a 5k running down someone who looks remotely my age in hopes of placing myself even further into the winners circle. Having Been That Guy, the one like today who missed the guy one second in front of him (Me) and was then 4th in his age bracket and out of the placement, I don’t like to give up when possible victory is in sight.

I don’t get that urge in Marathons, in fact, I’ve been known to purposely lag behind someone in a finishers stretch as they have been in front of me the whole race and I don’t feel it’s fair to run them down at the end of four hours. There ain’t a snowballs chance in hell that I would place in my age group at most marathons, so I can be more courtly and sportsmanlike, not being attached as it were. And hey, everyone goes home with the same finishers medal anyway, right?

And distance. I’ve driven for hours, and flown for thousands of miles to run a Marathon. Today, driving an hour round trip to do a 22 minute 5K really struck me as not the best use of my time. And, it added to the cost of the race – I’ll talk about that more later. I did it mostly because I wanted to do a race – any race- and this one was on the calendar and in the same town as me. (I do forget sometimes what a sprawling metropolis Tucson really is, not a sleepy little desert town) Anyway, once again, traveling to enjoy an extended, hours long experience, with a guaranteed finishers medal makes much more sense than doing the same for a 5k

And now for the crusher. Marathons, by the way, are more financially economical to run than 5k’s!. Yup, you got that right! Marathons are a much better deal. Simple math will tell you that.

For instance – This race, which I signed up for by check was discounted because of my membership in SAR, which cost $40 or so. Forgetting that (and I am because I can make an excellent case without it) the discounted entry fee was $16, payable by Check. I mailed in my entry form, so with stamp and all (and forget the envelope and pen ink, as well as printer cartridges and paper to print the online entry form) I’m out $16.41 for this race. For this, I got to run 3.1 miles. receive a pretty simple short-sleeved white T-shirt and partake of the simple finish line libations (which today were muffins and banana’s both which were cut in half, bagels which were cut in thirds and Water) Anyway, the cost per mile run works out to $5.29.

And okay, I know what you are thinking, you math wizards out there who want to suggest I use my GPS measurement for this calculation. I won’t do it!! Let’s keep it apples to apples here. Damn GPS. Another cost-per-mile.

So, here we go – compare this to my last Marathon, the Lost Dutchman. Even signing up late as I did, the entry fee, including the Usurious and Unconscionable Highway Robbery Active.com processing fees was $84.07. For that I received a long-sleeve T-shirt in a small bag of Swag, got bussed to the start line in fine style, where partook of some good start line libations, campfires, and clean Porto potties. Following this, I ran the 26.2 Very Well Supported Miles, where they fed, watered and gel packed me at very consistent intervals. I finished the race where I received a very high class multi-colored finishers medal, and partook of the finish line libations, which included all the bottled water I could want, a hot breakfast burrito WITH salsa, all of the above mentioned 5K snacks and then some. I could have also had a post-race massage had I chosen. My gear was transported to the finish for me and I picked it up easily. And then, I got a bus ride right back to my car as well.

Forgetting also that at this Marathon, I not only made a new friend, but also had several great conversations and connection with participants I had never met before, the economics are even better. The cost works out to $3.21 per mile. And, had I not missed the early discounted entry fee cutoff, it could have been an even more amazing $2.48 per mile, or less than HALF the per-mile cost of the 5K. For all this amazing stuff and hours of fun!!!!

(Imagine me chortling to myself as I make this case. Imagine the Judge, trying not to laugh as the Jury intones “Your honor, we find for the Plaintiff. Also, for the Bailiff. Case dismissed!” Except for the fact, of course, that if I am paying for plane tickets and hotel rooms, the per mile cost of the race shoots through the roof. However, you can write about that in your blog – and argue your case before the Jury. I like my argument better)

Taking this a step further, I think that Marathon crowds in general are more friendly and fun than 5K people. Again, here is that fast food versus Long, Leisurely dining comparison. Fast food is not a commitment, it is a convenience – in and out, get back on the road with your tank filled. There is little if any savoring of the experience, in many cases you want to get it over with as soon as you can. I think that is why, at 5K’s, there is typically a huge turn out of the younger teen-and-twenty-something runners here (especially the one hurling in the finish chutes) With the resident NPD and ADD of today’s youth, the time of a 5K it is all they can sustain an interest in time-wise, and then, after 20 minutes or a half hour, they need different stimulation.

(Okay that was a little harsh. But, I couldn’t resist. And, there has got to be at least a small nugget of truth there)

Ah, but the Marathon is an extended experience. For some (though not me) there are the months of training and anticipation. The Pre-race Expo, where you can, at some of the larger races obtain large bags of free Swag. Pre- and post race festivities. Many miles to run. Many hours to enjoy. Scenery that unfolds and changes. The whims of the weather, which can in fact shift during the time you are out on the course. The possibility of meeting a new friend or friends. The 50-state Club and Marathon Maniacs where you can be an instant member of a very large community. Being able to talk, enjoy, share (as you aren’t breathless the whole way). A thing to Savor and appreciate, as you would a fine multi-course meal, or again, Thanksgiving Dinner.

People are drawn to that which they resonate with, and while I have met some actual marathoners and made some great acquaintances at 5K events (including my good Friend Gregg Herman, who if he is still reading right now might be howling – sorry Gregg, but you are right – I like to run more than you do!! And, you have diplomatic immunity, this isn’t about you), I have made more and better friends during Marathons. Except of course, for Gregg, who is a great friend even if he won’t run a marathon with me. And Scott, who I met at a 5 mile race, became a Marathoner and has been a tour guide extraordinaire, taking me to Toronto, Quebec and Portland for some of the most amazing Marathon experiences of the collection.

(warning - Woo-woo time – if you don’t want a quick side trip to the New Age, scroll down about 4 paragraphs)

In Shamanic Astrology, we describe all of the 12 Astrological houses as having Archetypal qualities , meaning, that there might be certain tendencies embodied by individuals, based upon the major aspects and placements of the planets of their natal or birth chart.

Shamanic Astrology defines the Archetypal qualities of Taurus, as that of embodying Beauty, Pleasure, Intimacy, and Receivership – in essence, appreciating and savoring the “Garden of Earthly delights” Or, in blunt layman’s terms, really personally appreciating everything and every experience to the last drop. And, the more drops there are, well, that is even better.

In my Natal Astrological chart, I have both my Moon and Mars position in Taurus. Moon being Lineage, and Mars position being the Masculine identity - that’s a long way of saying that I have an inherent, inborn tendency to really savor my experiences. And to resonate with long-lasting experiences. As running races for me is really a total joy, that is why I like the long races – simply, it is just more to enjoy! I’m not a fast food guy if I can help it, so I more appreciate the long races and use my “Taurean Tendencies” to notice, enjoy and appreciate each aspect of the entire course. And, of course to write about them for you!

So, having said all this, made both the economic and personal case for the Marathon versus the 5K, you may be asking yourself, so, Peter – why the heck are you wasting your time with 5K’s?

Well, the answer is simple. To run better marathons. Embodying some of these other Taurean qualities as I do, I am also a totally lazy bastard when it comes to training as many of you have surmised from my blogs. I like to run races, but I don’t like to spend a lot of time training for them. 5K’s are designed to force me to do some speed work, to get me out of my normal every day shuffling 8:30 to 9:00 per mile pace. (in today’s 5K I averaged a 7:17 mile – THAT is a good pace out of the comfort zone for me!) And indeed, much of my success in getting my marathon times down back down below four hours in the last year had to do with doing several 5 and 10K races last summer, sometimes two in a weekend. (and indeed, I also collected my share of age group awards, by the way!) Without 5K races, honestly my reading friends, I would never EVER go out and do that kind of speed work and compete at that level. No way. It hurts too much. And no incentive - there isn’t any possibility of winning a medal (or some useless plastic) on a speed work session. Or, to cut another man down in cold blood……

There really aren’t any bad races, short or long. All of them are good in some way, just some are better than others. As for me, given the choice, I’ll go long every time. Not only is it a better deal, it is usually just a better experience. More bang for your Buck!

Either way, I hope to see you all at a race soon!

The Lost Dutchman Marathon Report - February 17, 2008

2008-02-21T11:18:00.001-08:00

Lost Dutchman Marathon Report

There ain't a place a man can hide, Shannon, will keep him from the sun.

Ain't a bed can give us rest now, you keep us on the run

Keep on movin’, just a mile to go…..Keep on movin, my old buddy you’re moving much to slow….

Half a mile from Tucson, by the morning light. One man down and another to go, my old buddy you’re moving much too slow….

Jack Straw, Robert Hunter/Bob Weir – The Grateful Dead

It occurred to me over the last months or so that all of my race report blogs follow a very specific template.

I was reminded of this while reading two “trash” novels during my travels this month.

I’m a big fan of Clive Cussler books; he of the nautical thrillers, starring Dirk Pitt and the quasi-real resources of NUMA. Having read all 30 or so of Clive’s offerings, I noticed that he too, follows a specific template in all of his books.

The books begin with a flashback to a prior time – anytime from BCE, up to World War II.

There is some sort of Maritime Disaster. Or other disaster. A bad guy gets away. A treasure, or piece of information is lost, or hidden somewhere.

Enter current day. Somewhere, some intelligent, but beautiful woman is performing some research/exploration/excavation – who knows? Some disaster occurs. Dirk Pitt, who happened to be in the area, equipped with some amazing piece of technology, manages to save the babe, as well as her colleagues, in the nick of time against insurmountable odds. Dirk, of course, as he rescues the damsel, secures a dinner date with her.

Romance ensues. Intrigue follows. A bad guy, of some foreign extraction appears with desires of world domination or destruction. The lost treasure is pursued. At some point there is a trip to NUMA Headquarters to consult with some futuristic computer equipment with the resident Computer Genius Hiram Jaeger. There is always a big violent car chase, with Dirk Pitt driving one his many classic cars. The cars are always riddled with bullets or fly through the air, but Dirk always manages to get away while thwarting, or taking out some bad guys. Dirk and his ever-present buddy sidekick Al Giordano get captured, by the evil Villain who, confident that Dirk is helpless and doomed, monologues the whole world-domination/destruction scheme while placing Dirk and buddy Al, and sometimes the beautiful babe, in a slow lingering death situation.

They always manage to escape and, using the monologue information save the world in the nick of time, as bomb timers count down to next to zero, or some sort of thing. And, they retrieve some long lost treasure, like the Titanic, or the corpse of Genghis Khan.. The end of the book has them driving away in the now restored classic car while the public flocks to the new museum showcasing the lost but now found treasure.

And, as a Hitchcockian touch, Cussler started inserting himself into the novels a few years back. He usually shows up in the middle of nowhere, when hope appears lost to help Dirk and Al out of some jam. He always tells them his name, and they feign confusion to each other “He seems familiar, doesn’t he?”

They are all pretty good reading, those Clive Cussler books. Familiarity and consistency is sometimes nice to count on, when you want to be entertained or just zone with a novel.

Maybe not so much with my blogs, though.

So, my template seems to go something like this:

I make some pithy comments, or Rock and Roll Reference to the narrative I am about to write.
I travel to the race
I go to the expo and comment thereon
I get up the next day and head out
I get to the start line and comment about that
I make some observations about the weather
I run the race.
Narrate things that happened, like meeting someone fun, or not so fun.
Complain about the Elevation Map versus reality
Comment about Marathon Maniacs
The support is either good, okay, or something else.
The miles roll by
The last 10K is usually tough. Sometimes I come up with some Zen-like comments or insightful observations during that time
I cross the finish line, and, lately, I am miraculously under four hours despite my best efforts
I make observations about the finish line festivities, food, people, etc.
It either hurts, or doesn’t
I either like it or I don’t
And, I always comment on Medal and T-shirt

That’s my template, seemingly!

And you, my good friends and faithful readers tune in and share these things with me which I totally appreciate.

Now, I am not suggesting that I am on par, or even in the same writing Universe as Clive Cussler. As I am a Marathon runner, who, in my races at least am not “plugged in” to an I-pod to take me away from my mental processes (specific blog on this to follow), this whole template thing was something that percolated out of the grey matter during my Carlsbad experience.

Especially after I wrote that blog about Carlsbad.

That being said….and said for a few pages….

……I had an Awesome time at the Lost Dutchman Marathon on Sunday. My 41st marathon.

Now, I have done “the Dutchman” twice before. Once in January of 2004, shortly after my exodus from the Midwest and my previous life. The second time was last February (2007), kicking off my return to Marathoning after a 15 month Hiatus. I did not do a blog at the time, because……well, I don’t know why! I just started later that year, so there!

Anyway, I had a great familiarity with all of the aspects of this race, and indeed I felt very willing to come and experience the fun again. Even though this is by no means a “Flat and Fast Boston Qualifier” (it is, in fact a Boston Qualifier anyway) there are many great aspects to the whole “Dutchman Experience” that keeps me coming back.

The Lost Dutchman Marathon is held in Apache Junction, Arizona, which is a short drive east of Phoenix. The town is under the shadow of the Superstition Mountain Range, known as “The Superstitions” (oo-oo, LOVE that name – Superstitions! It brings chills to the spine and also starts Stevie Wonder singing in my head “Very Superstitious! Writing on the wall……..”)

Apache Junction is a small town, but has a great hometown atmosphere. The population seems to be largely retired people and they turn out in droves to volunteer for all aspects of this annual event. And, they bring a joy, enthusiasm and tremendous energy to making this a really great event for all concerned.

Arrived late afternoon on Saturday for Packet Pickup, which was held in the Apache Junction Community Center. Now, the Lost Dutchman Marathon is not the only race that day. In addition to the Marathon, there is a Half Marathon, a 10K, and 8K AND a 2 mile walk. Something for everyone! Packet pickup for all the races was at the same place, but again, the cadre of volunteers made it a seamless event. I knew that they were capping off the Marathon at 600 runners, and I don’t think it filled, anyway.

The Expo was really really small, befitting the understated nature of the races. I had not expected much, and wasn’t disappointed, Honestly though for me, the expo is not what it is all about. As I am a Race Veteran, it’s not about buying souvenirs, apparel and running gear – I do all that online, anyway. And, since I generally give away the shirt, it’s not about that either. And, the Lost Dutchman shirt was okay, a long sleeve cotton shirt with a Logo and lots of advertisers on the back. The real premium money for the event came later – more on that at the finish line.

Spent the night at Cayelin’s friend Pam’s house, east of Phoenix, watching great videos and eating about a quart and a half of Chicken Fried Rice and half a dozen pot stickers. Thanks again Pam! Hit the highway at 0400 to get to the bus stop for the start line as early as possible.

The Bus to the start departs from the Apache Junction Rodeo grounds, starting around 5:00 am for a 7:00 am start. Again, as I had run this race twice before, I knew it was a good idea to get there early, get some good parking and make sure you got on an early bus to get a good “campfire position” More on that in a minute.

Got there about 4:50 am, parked the Toyota in the dark, along with several other cars already there, and after some last minute gear shuffling, I dropped my remote in the trunk, tied the ignition key to my shoe and headed towards a line of bright Klieg lights marking the bus stop

I remembered this year, to take careful note of the position of my car, where I had parked. In years past, I had neglected this, parking in the dark and heading to the busses right away. This resulted in some extensive searching for my vehicle upon returning – in full daylight by then - at the exact time you don’t want (post race, with Frankenstein-legs) to be wandering around looking for your car in a large rodeo parking lot.

Got on the bus and grabbed a seat near the front. Noticed a guy sitting there wearing a Chicago Marathon Hat and Pullover.

“When did you run Chicago?” I inquired, settling into my seat.

“Nine Times” he replied.

Thus I met a new running colleague – Mark, from Phoenix. Having a mutual “Chicago Marathon” addiction (I’ve done it 13 times as faithful readers will remember) we had much to talk about. We passed the time on the drive to the starting line hollering over the roar of the bus engine at each other across the aisle, comparing Marathon stories and sharing other observations. As it turned out, we also ran almost the whole race together – and again, more on that later.

The starting line is a long bus ride on a dark desert highway, to the Peralta trailhead out in “The Superstitions” The bus took off from the rodeo grounds, and after a significant distance on Highway 60, took a left and started heading up hill. We soon left the pavement and were truly heading out into the sticks on an unpaved, muddy and rolling road.

Now, I had checked the Lost Dutchman Website home page prior to leaving on Saturday. A chill swept though me as I read the following:

Attention Full Marathoners: Due to the heavy rains we have had this winter, four of our normally dry ravines are still running across the first two miles of the marathon route. Right now the forecast is for rain today and clear sunny weather Saturday and Sunday. Currently the ravines are passable, however you will get your feet wet unless you are a really good long jumper. It is not a serious hazard, just a trickle of water, but up to 6 inches deep. Please use caution. IF we get a lot more rain today, we may have to change the course in which case the mileage will be correct, and your result, if you qualify for Boston, will be accepted by the BAA. Changing the start is very unlikely, but I want you to know in advance that it is a slight possibility. You will still be starting the alternate marathon course on Peralta Trail, but at a different point. We will do our very best to get you from start to finish safely. Thanks for your understanding. Based on the changing forecast, or the weather, I will update this message. –

Grady McEachern, Race Director.

Nice to know, I was thinking as I read this. The first six miles of the course are all on the rolling, dirt roads leading out of the Superstition trail areas and in years past, it had been mostly dry and dusty – and actually optimal running conditions, considering. The concern I had was getting wet feet in the first two miles, and then squishing and squelching my way for the next 24.2. I considered various scenarios, like wrapping my feet in plastic bags, carrying dry socks…. Not optimal, but hey, I’ve run in worse conditions. Finally though, I decided to just commit myself to Allah, and hope for the best.

Back to the bus ride. (Jeez, I’m on page 5 in this story, and I am still on the bus!) Anyway, the bus fell silent as we headed off road. All of the runners were peering intently ahead as we rolled up and down the hills headed to the encampment for the starting line. We were waiting to see the shine of deep puddles and water hazards as we descended into each wash.

Our bus driver, a very friendly lady, told us that there were a few wet places early on and they weren’t too bad. And indeed, as we got closer we did splash through some puddles at the bottom of some washes, none of which looked too terribly deep or bad. I resolved to traverse laterally, or do whatever I needed to do to stay dry.

We saw the starting line off in the distance – a ring of about 30 small blazing campfires Arriving at the trail head, our bus stopped and an exuberant lady entered. “Welcome to the Lost Dutchman Marathon! Your bus is going to turn around and you can get off, and join us around the campfires. There is snacks, water, coffee and Gatorade, the gear check bus is there (pointing) the Porto potties are there, and we will also have a warming bus if you get too cold. The race will start in about an hour at 7:00 am!” We all clapped, and she exited. After the bus went further up the trail and turned around, we all got off and headed to the campfires.

A really nice touch is that the race staff puts carpeting squares circling all of the campfires, which, by the way, were Dura flame logs, set alight and other sticks put on top. Mark and I picked a fire, claimed a carpet square apiece, and sat down to warm up, inhale some camp fire smoke and continue our conversation. The campfires with the dark Superstition mountains at our back lent a tribal air to the whole proceedings, making the actual upcoming race seem a bit surreal. Felt like Summer Camp.

Busses kept arriving, and soon the place was full, with about 350 runners wandering around, doing their pre-race routines. I was noshing on my new, and highly recommended pre-race bar – Bumblebar – an organic, honey and sesame seed-based energy system. Good stuff – and I am thinking about asking them to sponsor me - see more at http://www.bumblebar.com/

The sun began lightening the mountains to our back, and soon it was time to check gear, and head for the starting line. It was COLD, about 41 degrees (okay you Midwest people, I know that ain't nothing for what the winter has been like for you!) damp and humid, which was different for central Arizona in February, and I kept a long-sleeve t-shirt and throwaway gloves to keep me warm as we headed down to the start line.

At the starting line, I once again booted up my GPS, waited a seemingly long time for it to sync with the satellites, and when the display turned digital, I was ready to run. Still chatting away, I never heard the pre-race announcements, (maybe there weren’t any?) but suddenly a gun went off and we were off, down the dirt road.

The first mile was straight downhill, a fast clip. I blasted off and headed down the hill with the rest of the thundering herd. I knew that the latter miles of the course were grueling, so I thought that the best strategy today would be to put as much “in the bank” as I could in the early part of the race for my eventual collapse in the latter half.

The course rolled up and down, mostly down. We splashed through the first shallow wash, tiptoeing over boulders and shallow water. So far so good. Through the next few miles, there were two wash crossings – neither of which did more than muddy the bottom and sides of my feet.

The uncertain part of the course over, it was time to settle in.

Elevation map - as usual, it doesn't really do justice.....

The sun was rising now, to our backs and all of the runners cast long shadows ahead on the desert terrain. There was a lot of chattering going on, splits, pace, hydration, gels – typical running stuff.

At the six mile aid station, having warmed up enough to get sweaty, I decided to chuck my long sleeve shirt and gloves. I offered it to a volunteer. “Put it anywhere, we’ll bring it back for you!” she said. Cool! I thought, It would be good to have a chance to throw this shirt away again.

I caught up with Mark again, and we resumed our conversation, running our way up and down the undulating hills, heading back to the pavement and civilization.

We exited the dirt road into a subdivision. The pavement seemed much harder in comparison to the dirt road’s we had been on for the first hour or so.

By the way – since the Lost Dutchman is a really small race, they have yet to do Chip Timing. Everything is “by the bib” and you go by clock time, or gun time at the start. The Mile markers are understated, but easy to see (especially if you have a GPS and know they are coming) There are, however, no clocks on the course so it is good to bring your own watch so you know where you are at time-wise

In case that matters to you, that is….

We headed out on to Route 60 for a mile or so, still heading west with the sun at our backs. The temperature was moderate, 50’s warming to 60’s and for the whole race was absolutely perfect. To our right, the Superstitions were a great view the entire way, shrouded in shadows from the rising sun – and also hazy with the humidity in the air. Any time you looked up in this race, there were great views of the desert mountains.

We clocked mile seven at a little over an hour, pacing about an 8:40 pace.

The course left route 60 and turned inland towards the mountains again. An enthusiastic cadre of Senior Citizens manned an aid station in the parking lot of a Walgreens at around Mile nine. I took a gel, and some banana and Gatorade and continued on.

The course described a big loop for about seven miles, passing through some cool subdivisions as well as past the Gold Coast Resort. We also passed through Apache Land, and Quail Creek on our loop, apparently, though I couldn’t tell the difference – some of it was all roads and elevation to me. Aid stations were every two miles and each group of volunteers went out of their way to cheer all of us on.

I was actually feeling pretty good and paced ahead of Mark at some point as the mid-course hills started to rise up and up and up.

Passed through the Half Marathon point at a 1:58 on the watch hung a left and eased down some long hills.

Well, as usual since my last Marathon, training has not been on the front burner. I got really busy at the end of January, returning to Wisconsin for 11 days to do some consulting work, and do my penance for having a great winter escape strategy. Not being used to the FREAKING COLD AND SNOWY Midwest weather, I didn’t do a whole lot of running while I was there. And, since my YMCA membership is on Snowbird status, I only managed to cadge two guest passes from my fellow members, so spin and indoor running wasn’t much of an option while I was there either. After my trip to Wisconsin, I immediately embarked – the next day – from Tucson to Los Angeles to help my friend Jack Allis in his booth at the Conscious Life Expo. We worked 12 hour days, on our feet for much of the time, and while I did squeeze a short run in while there, most of my energy went towards the expo work.

Returning to Tucson, just six days before Apache Junction, I tried to do some cramming, like you would for an exam – ran four miles Monday, seven miles Tuesday, ran four miles and WALKED four miles Wednesday, and hiked on Thursday. All it did was give me achy legs for Friday and Saturday. Thus, I thought for sure my goose was cooked what with the brutal nature of the latter hills in this race. And, I had concluded that I would probably break my sub-four hour streak on this one. Remember – I had been there before!

Issues did arise, but not because of training. Long about mile 16, I had to, for the first time in many races, make an emergency Porto let stop (sorry all!) which cost me two minutes, and 11 seconds according to my GPS. Exiting the pit stop, I had lost a lot of my pacing, and struggled to regain my stride for the next several miles. Obviously, the Pot Stickers Revenge!

Mark had caught up and passed me, and I could see him off in the distance. I spent the next three miles or so trying to catch up. He was doing some Jeff Galloway work, running and taking short walking breaks. Countless times I would be ready to catch him, and he would end his walking break and be off again, drawing inexorably away.

The course had looped back onto route 60 for a few miles and then back inland. Between Miles 18 and 20 came one of the most memorable parts of the courses. By now, we had caught up with the half marathon course and I started seeing Mile markers for miles 5, 6, 7…and we headed up a long, seemingly never ending subdivision hill. Across the street on the other side, other runners were descending – this was a “keyhole loop” like the Biosphere loop in the Tucson race, complete with a never-ending hill.

There seemed to be several aid stations along the way, but it was really only one, covering both sides of the road. It was a young cadre of volunteers and they all chorused “Turnaround’s just ahead!”

Well no, it really wasn’t

The turnaround for the HALF Marathon came pretty quickly. The full marathoners had to run another half mile partially down hill to our turnaround. Did so and headed back uphill to the crest and aid station again. I caught up to and smacked Mark on the arm, startling him out of an I-pod reverie (I think) “I thought you were miles in front of me!” he exclaimed. “I was, but had to make a pit stop” I explained as we huffed our way back up the hill.

Cresting the hill, we began a long fast downhill stride sweeping past the 20 mile marker. By now I’m hurting and would like to be done, but I knew there was still some fun to be had. GPS clocked me at about a 2:58:59, so I needed some serious pacing to bring it home under 4:00.

Swept down the hill, hung a right – and started heading uphill. Off in the distance, the course rolled, inexorably upwards into the distance.

“Undulating” I said to Mark. “The word is Undulating”

“Undulating” he agreed.

There was nothing to do but slog it out. So we did, running, walking pushing, and watching the mile markers come. Soon, I saw matching mile markers as we caught up to the 10K course as well. Once again, we went off road, onto a dirt covered road and down a huge hill. I used the downhill’s to hammer as fast as I could and eased the uphill’s, walking when I started taching out heart-rate wise.

“There’s something for everyone in this race,” said Mark. “It’s like Trains, Planes and Automobiles – Trails, pavement, trails again”

And indeed, this was true.

Do you remember those old Popeye cartoons? Popeye would be getting his ass kicked by Brutus, and then he would somehow magically ingest his can of spinach, and not only recover fully, but turn into a great big ball of whup-ass on Brutus, knocking him into next year.

That kind of happened for me here. I had saved a few Ninxia Red Juice packs for the final push, and at mile 22, I downed one, and it gave me a good surge. And I needed it. Right before mile 23, there is a world-class aid station, staffed by the “Purple Ladies” an exuberant bunch of Senior citizens who are like a group of geriatric cheer leaders, complete with several cute Burma-shave-like signs. They exhort you down the hill and around the corner to……the Dutchman’s Revenge, a Sheer Uphill stretch of about a tenth of a mile.

I walked up it, of course. At the top there is a huge Arch, a sign that says “It’s all Downhill from here” and “You can see the Finish Line from here” and....a Photographer. Once I caught my breath I sprinted through the Arch holding my hands high. He snapped my picture. “Couldn’t tell I was walking two seconds ago, could ya?” I shouted as I streaked by.

The course rolled off into the distance for the last three miles. More undulating hills, but the net effect looked very uphill. I remember that last year I had probably walked more than ran, my hip flexors screaming at me the entire way as I lurched my way finally to the finish line. The temperature last year by this time was in the high ‘70’s or low ‘80’s so I remember feeling pretty overheated at the same time.

This year, however was different. It really looked like a sub-four was yet again possible if I could keep it together. And as usual, with this goal in sight, it suddenly became important to make it so. I pushed back the pain and pushed on towards the horizon.

I had left Mark after the “Dutchman’s Revenge” Feeling the surge from my Ninxia Red I managed to keep a steady pace over the next miles. I treated myself to yet another Juice pack at mile 24 and, feeling the surge, was ready to get this race done.

The course undulates (yes, that is the word of the day) for the last three miles up Lost Dutchman Boulevard to a peak at the intersection of Idaho Road. You then go right, swoop down a steep hill for about a quarter mile, round a hairpin curve to the right and the finish line is less than 2/10ths of a mile in front of you in the middle of Prospector Park. I pass stalled runners and half marathon walkers as I slog my way up the hill, turn the corner and stretch out into the downhill. The hairpin turn is challenging on the legs, but I head into the finish line as quickly as I can, even putting on a final burst in the last tenth of a mile. This race, by the way, was the first time I claimed my Arizona residence as I signed up, so I was “Peter Klein from Tucson!” as I crossed the finish line. Clock time 3:57:43, which almost exactly synced with my GPS. Hallelujah, the streak is intact!

At the finish line, they handed me a bottle of water and then the finishers medal. The Marathon Finishers medal is outstanding a third-inch thick hunk of metal, in the shape of the state of Arizona. An enameled front with at least eight colors – Blue, green, gold, black, yellow…”7th Annual Lost Dutchman Marathon run for the gold….

Check it out:

That’s where the real money went for the race. And, interestingly, as I was reading feedback on the website yesterday, one of the runners wrote in and admitted that she signed up for the race SOLELY because she was enamored with the picture of the finishers medal – and that she wasn’t disappointed!

Continued through the chutes into Prospectors Park. I waited for Mark, who was about three minutes behind me and as I did that fell into a conversation with this guy who had finished just in front of me. It turned out he was from West Bend Wisconsin, had came out here solely for the race and we had finished at almost the same time. Two Wisconsinites, within seconds of each other in a field, which turned out to be 320 finishers. What are the odds?

That is another thing about the Dutchman While there are many local Arizonans, there was a national flavor to the race as many of the 50-stater people make this a destination run to add Arizona to their roster. During and after the race I met people from California, Colorado, Chicago, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan and Texas. Very cool to have such a cross section of the country on such a small race

Mark and I proceeded into the park where the finish festivities were already underway. Awards were being given for the 8K and 10K and later the half marathon. The finish line festivities are great. There was a food line (strictly for Runners only!), where again, a cadre of amazing and friendly volunteers dished up pretzels, fruit, yogurt, (with and without Granola) bagels (with and without cream cheese) and the famous Dutchman Breakfast Burritos with some spicy salsa. I wasn’t hungry, but I did partake of the famous burritos – and it was worth it!

Hung around and visited with other runners. Met Sue from Chicago, who was on State 37 I her 50 state journey. She said she didn’t run Chicago because she considered the Chicago Marathon to be a “National Holiday”, and she always hung out at mile 21 with Champagne, tambourine and a boom box to cheer the runners on. I Love the Windy City!

OH Yeah, forgetting my template – I did meet many of my Marathon Maniac brethren before, during and after the race, including Troy from LA, and Art from Minneapolis to mention a few. Troy had done something like 9 marathons SO FAR THIS YEAR and I shamefacedly told him that for me “This was only my second”. As always, it’s great to be a Maniac.

It wasn’t yet Noon, which again, is so weird – I had already put in an eight hour day between travel, race and finishing – and it wasn’t lunchtime yet. Mark and I hung out for a while longer and then picked up our gear. I asked one of the volunteers if anyone had brought in some stuff from the water stops and she told me to stand right there, while she hastened over to a pickup truck and gathered an armful of clothing that was in the back. My old white shirt wasn’t there, but it really didn’t matter. Still, was worth a shot!

Traded contact info with Mark who I am sure I’ll run again with (this was his 47th marathon in something like 9 years – he’s going for “50 by the time he’s 50” a goal which I totally understand.

Got on the bus back to the rodeo grounds, found the Toyota where I’d left it and did a quick change into civilian clothes. I was driving right back to Tucson (yes, without a shower, it was gross!) but I took the time to stretch out on the back of the car, trying in vain to shake some of the stiffness out of my legs.

While I was doing that, I noticed a middle-aged couple, each wearing finishers medals wandering around, peering around the parking lot, obviously looking for a lost vehicle. As this looked familiar, I called out to them “It was DARK when we got here!” They laughed, and we struck up a conversation. Ernie and Tammy from Texas; they were “Retired RV’ers” camping in the Superstitions with their travel trailer. They apparently used their retirement to drive around to do half marathons and other races wherever they could – Tammy had placed first in her age group and was sporting a huge plaque.

We had a great talk – and somehow the topic got to four letter words versus three letter words – We agreed that words like “Work” and “Snow” were definitely four letter words, on the order of obscene, while Three Letter words like “Run” “Sex” and “Eat” were far superior.

You can have some pretty funky post-race discussions as the endorphins jangle your nervous system……..still, I think we made a good point. It’s three letter words for me!

Stopped at the Circle K for a Coke (my post-race treat) and made the two hour and nine minute drive back to Tucson with my cramping legs. The weather, as usual has been stunning and I am grateful for my Winter Desert home

The next day I wrote a complimentary email to the Race Director and lo and behold the day after it was posted on the website! You can read more comments (mine is about a page down) at the following link:

http://www.lostdutchmanmarathon.org/2008feedback.htm

And, as I said in my note to the Race Director, I can’t say enough nice things about the Lost Dutchman Marathon (and, I’ve said about 12 pages worth here) It’s a great destination race, there is a race distance for everyone, and I will probably be doing this race every year I am here in the winter.

I also checked results the next day, confirming my finish time. Another cool addition is that next to my finish time were the words "Course PR!" indicating that this had been my best finish time to date. Nice touch.

And another part where life is stranger than fiction. My finish time differed from my Carlsbad finish time by exactly two minutes 11 seconds - the exact time, per my GPS of my unscheduled pit stop. AND, it was exactly 4 seconds different from my finish time in Tucson. Apparently I'm consistent, if otherwise "irregular"

And again - my GPS clocked the course EXACTLY the same distance as Carlsbad - 26.44 miles. The only consistent aspect between these races is....me! So if you do the math, I get credit for an additional 10 miles over 41 marathons, if the GPS is to be believed.

I’ve already recovered – walking three miles on my return Sunday with Cayelin and hiking three miles in Saguaro East on Monday. I ran three miles yesterday, and four today and while I still have a bit of stiffness, I’m ready to go again – Clean living catches up!

And, on a side note, I accomplished my goal – and then some – of 30 marathons before the 10-year anniversary of my Back Surgery on February 19. I actually ran 31, proving wrong my Neurosurgeon who gravely told me 10 years ago that I had “run my last Marathon” Another example of the Law of Attraction and Mind over Matter.

I don’t know what the next race is – there are some “lesser” races, including a local 5k, an 11 mile Trail Run in the Catalina’s and also the Valley of Gold Half Marathon, but I am really putting together my strategy to somehow gain Iridium Level in Marathon Maniacs this year – which would necessitate either a Four In Four streak (four marathons, four weeks) or Nine Marathons in Nine States for the year. Two down….and counting. Stay tuned

Thanks for reading everyone! And, special thanks to Mark from Phoenix for the excellent conversation, company and pacing. And to all my friends in the Midwest…..Stay Warm! The Snowbirds will be back in April or so!

The Carlsbad Marathon Report

2008-01-24T10:19:00.000-08:00

The Carlsbad Marathon Report

Well, the first marathon for 2008 is in the bag – I did the Carlsbad Marathon in Carlsbad California on Sunday, January 21.

I was trying to think of some Rock and Roll Metaphors to use to describe this race – There were many options, including:

- the “Ca-Ca-Ca Carlsbad”, based upon how cold it was at the start (and also, if I would have had a “crappy” finish time)

- “Suddenly, I Sea”, a play on the title of the K.T. Tunstall tune, making reference to the stretches of this race that ran along the Pacific ocean

- “Running up that Hill”, a nod to Kate Bush and a commentary on the several rolling uphill stretches on this course

“It’s (Carls) Bad, you know” – quoting R.L. Burnside, he of the Soprano’s soundtrack fame.

And, of course there’s the ever popular Mama’s and Papa’s “California Dreaming” (on such a winters day!) to rub it in for my Midwestern Brethren, back there in the cold and snow.

But, what it really came down to was…I really had a great time!

(I don’t know what part of the course this was – I sure didn’t run on this!)

Cayelin and I left Tucson Saturday morning early, and made the drive across to San Diego. It’s about a six hour ride, I-10 up from Tucson to I-8 West, through southwest Arizona, and up over the mountains through Yuma, and down into the San Diego area. It was a really great ride, sunny and dry, and the desert and mountain views were stunning all the way.

Arriving in the San Diego area, I am reminded of why I don’t want to live in California. Back when I was a Sales Road Warrior, I used to spend a lot of time running up and down the West Coast, from San Diego to Seattle. Basically, California consists of massive freeway systems, with some scenery and suburbs thrown in. (Oh, and a beach or two) Indeed, the California lifestyle has a lot to do with driving – fast and furious. The terminology out there is ubiquitous, they refer to the Freeways as unique “entities”, as in “Take THE Five, or get on THE One-Sixty-Three” . It seems as if when they say “THE” there are parentheses around the term, as if you are preparing for a mystical experience. Soaring, arched bridges span huge amounts of the skyline, and there seem to be about 16 lanes at times all running parallel to one another, yet leading in different directions. After the pastoral scenery of the desert and mountain crossings, I immediately felt vulnerable in my small Toyota as we entered San Diego City Limits at 85 MPH, being swept along with the traffic flow that was oblivious to the posted 55 MPH speed limit..

Cayelin’s 22-year old daughter Jenna lives in Pacific Beach (a part of San Diego), and it was at her behest that we were there in the first place. She was running her second Half Marathon in Carlsbad, and of course I couldn’t just go half way, so I had signed up for the full Marathon. I’ve mentioned Jenna in previous blogs; she and I have done several training runs in her last few trips to Tucson, and keeping up with her while we circle Reid Park causes me to have to keep the metaphorical personal accelerator firmly against the floor. She pushes me, in other words, making me feel every minute of the 25-year difference in our ages.

So, we get to Pacific Beach, admire Jenna’s amazing close-to-the beach digs, and, after a side trip to downtown San Diego to pick up friend Paul’s car, we head up to Carlsbad to the Marathon Expo.

Carlsbad was an easy 25 minute ride up THE Five (Interstate 5 for the rest of you non-Californians) and we arrived there in good time. Thankfully, we were going north instead of south, we got to admire the 30 miles of backed up traffic heading into San Diego from points north. The San Diego Chargers were in the playoffs on Sunday, of course and it seemed like most of California was headed down to watch the game in the home town.

Those that weren’t running the marathon, anyway…

The expo was held, in all places, in the parking lot of a huge shopping mall. After circling the entire mile wide mall, we spotted some tents way down in a corner and decided that must be where it was.

The expo was really well done. Chip pickup was a breeze, packet pickup the same, and they also passed out the shirts as well. The shirt is a navy long-sleeve technical shirt (yeah, I need another one) with NO advertising on it, but on the back it said “Carlsbad Marathon 2008 Finisher” This was the only drawback to me. Once again, having not finished the race, I was slightly nonplussed to see this. Seems like bad karma to claim “Finisher” before you’ve gone the distance. More on this later

There were several tents linked together and there was everything from the usual apparel and shoe vendors, to some amazing energy bar stands, to a Juice stand, offering tremendous and generous samples, …….and also the San Diego Police Department. As you may imagine, the other booths were fairly well mobbed, but the Police were just standing there, looking menacing, and everyone seemed to avert their eyes as they went past. They had a huge sign – “San Diego Police are now Hiring” but no one seemed interested. I did think to myself, that there were probably no better places to recruit potential Law Enforcement people than a marathon expo. Where else would you find people who could probably run down criminals if necessary and would be healthy enough in a non-donut shop way to actually be an asset to the force?

We managed to not get arrested or recruited, noshed our way around, bought a few things and then headed over to Souplantation across the mall to do some pre-race carbo-loading. Souplantation is one of those all you can eat soup, salad, bread and desert places and proved to be an excellent choice for the night before meal.

Noticeable while we were eating was a table behind us filled with what looked to be several Kenyan runners, resplendent in logo’d sweats and eating some very healthy looking food. Indeed, the next day in the race, I saw at least two of these guys way out in the front of the crowd leading the pack, so…..I can say I “loaded with the leaders” in Carlsbad.

An early night, and then it was back to the Mall in the morning, as the starting line was right outside the Expo tents from the day before.

Before the Race

Pre-dawn in Carlsbad was freezing – a damp 30 degrees or so, and though we got there at 6:20, with the race starting at 7:30, the parking lot was filling fast. They said that over eight thousand people were in the race that day, and of course all of them were there trying to park close to the starting line.

We all trekked over to the line of porto potties, and there were as usual, tremendous lines, but mostly because an entire block-long wall of the provided pooping centers were LOCKED tightly. Almost everyone, myself included had to go over and check, just to make sure that the other 8,000 people had somehow just not seen this entire lineup of non-attended comfort stations. Perhaps someone had forgotten the keys? I still don’t know the answer, but we joined a long line and in due time, found relief.

By now it was past 7:00 am, and we met daughter Jenna and friend Paul. A few snapshots later, Jenna and I headed to the start line as the half and full marathon were starting together.

Pre-Race – Jenna and Me

There was a the usual pre-race hoopla, and some “pump up the crowd” commentary about the San Diego Charger game later that day. The announcer, in fine voice told us all that we had representatives from all 50 states and umpteen countries. Blah Blah Blah. I’m in my shorts and a throwaway longsleeve shirt, and I’m freezing along with the rest of the crowd. Promptly at 7:32 or so, we are off. I didn’t hear a gun, but suddenly the crowd is moving around me.

This race, by the way, was my maiden voyage with new technology. At the holidays this year, I succumbed to a long-standing resistance to adding more technology to my life and bought myself a Garmin Forerunner 205 GPS unit. One of the attractive aspects to it was not only the instant distance and time readout, but that the technology had advanced enough that it didn’t look like you were wearing a submarine sandwich (or Voodoo Donut Maple Log) on your wrist – merely a pretty large digital watch.

Anyway, I powered up my new toy a few minutes before the start, waited impatiently for it to handshake with the satellites and, as I crossed the timing mat under the banner, I hit the start button. We were off!

Since I am a seasoned marathon runner, and had been bit severely by not paying attention to things like this, I had studied the elevation map (see below) for the Carlsbad route very closely – and more than once. I also went and read the race commentary on Marathon Guide as well. In all cases, it was clear that this was quite the rolling course, with some pretty severe uphill stretches interspersed all through the course. Thus, I was psyched (and resigned) that it might be a bit of a slog to get across the finish line.

The course headed out and down an urban street, with a canyon wall stretching up and to the right. It was a huge crowd of runners, most of whom it seemed were running the Half Marathon. There were several pace groups as well, but they were haphazardly scattered throughout the throng – I think I saw a 2:50 group right alongside the 4:00 group. Since staying ahead of the 4:00 group is always my objective, I tried to stay up with them but due to the slower runners and narrow streets, they were soon way in front of me.

After the first half mile, the course took off up a long, long, meandering hill. “Crap!” I’m thinking. Having been warned about this, I was already feeling the oncoming pain.

We rolled up and over THE Five Freeway, and flattened out. The first mile passed and then we went downhill, around a hairpin turn, out about 100 yards and another hairpin back up the same hill. The two mile marker was there.

I checked my GPS and it read “2.07”. Hmmmmmm.

Continued on for a few miles, past the second and third water stop. At each mile marker, the GPS Readout said 3:07, 4:07…then 5:08. Again, Hmmmmmm.

Around mile four or so, we are in view of the Pacific Ocean. I am totally warmed up by now and donated my shirt at the mile four water station, and a few miles later, my gloves.

As we get closer to the Pacific, I’m wishing I had them back. The breeze is off the ocean, and very cool, and we are heading directly into the low rising winter sun as well, causing a lot of glare as we make our way along the coast.

Around mile five or so, the course split. Half Marathoners to the right, Full Marathoners to the left. The full marathoners were far fewer than the halvsies, so there was soon plenty of room to run. We went up and over a road bridge and turned inland for a long way.

I was hoping for a lot of Oceanside views, but I don’t think that even half of the race was in sight of the ocean. We stretched inland from mile six or so, through and along an industrial area, some mixed residential/industrial/retail areas and along the sides of some seaward hills. The course meandered up and down, and then around a huge corner and up a San-Francisco like hill. I was close to mile 8, running up this hill when I ran into the following, in this order:

- a group of “Hecklers” who chorused “It’s another Marathon Maniac” “And It’s Not Monday Yet” “How many is this today?”…and so on

Followed by:

- The Christian Brigade – a group of what looked like Nuns and Priests in Civilian clothing. They offered me a “Runners Prayer” a necklace of string, with a 3 X 5 Card, with a crucifix and some printing attached. They offered to put it on around my neck

“No thanks!” I said breathlessly. (not only did I not need the message, I also instantly imagined what toting that bouncing piece of cardboard and string around my neck for another 18 miles would do to my finishing time. Talk about chafing! And also, I didn’t want to risk getting struck down by lightening or anything for discarding or losing it along the way”)

“Gods Blessing on you!” said one of the Nuns as I hurtled past.

And then

- THE BLUES BROTHERS! Jake and Elwood, in full Blues Brothers regalia, lip syncing to “Cheaper to Keep Her”, which I recognized from the movie “Blues Brothers 2000”. I high-fived Jake, and then passed on to:

- a fully stocked Aid station, complete with Oranges, Bananas and other libations. I grabbed some orange slices and drinks and then, picked orange shards out of my teeth for the next three miles.

It soon became evident why there was so much “support” in this half mile stretch. The course hung a right and headed even further straight uphill. The road arched off into the distance…….going up, up and up. The promised Mid-course Mountain....

I slogged uphill past the eight mile mark. On the other side of the street, I see the 10 mile marker and runners returning, so I know this is a long loop. We go up and finally reach the top, and then shoot straight down a sheer incline for another third of a mile or so. There is an immediate turnaround, complete with Chip mat, and then the 9 mile marker. Then, it’s back up hill to the top of the LONG hill, up up up and over, and then a careening downhill stretch for about a mile and a half.

Just close to the top of the hill, I come across another runner wearing the blue Carlsbad Finishers shirt, and also a “Runners Prayer” card bouncing on his back. Chuck, from Omaha Nebraska, I later learned. We had a great three or four mile conversation and sprint together, hurtling down the long hill and out onto the rest of the course. We got to trade Marathon stories and I gotta say, I’m grateful to Chuck for a great mid-race pacing effort. We hit the 12 mile mark at 1:45, and the halfway point at a typical-for-me 1:53-and-change, though my GPS said it was about 13.3 miles by now. Hmmmmmmm.

Chuck wished me luck after the half-way point, and soon was off in the distance. We had returned from the industrial loop, and hung another right into…the “Lupus Loop” – a four-mile sojourn through another mixed residential/industrial/retail area. Every 10 feet or so, there were cardboard signs, extolling a burma-shave-like litany of the Dangers of Lupus.

Whatever Lupus is…..

Rounded the end of the “Lupus Loop” at almost mile 15, crossed another chip timing mat and headed back out. Crossed the same road bridge from before, and then a long sweeping curve that emptied out onto the place where the Half Marathoners and Full Marathoners had separated in the first place. Déjà vu, all over again. Beneath me on the roadway, I see a long march of walkers, joggers and plodders heading for home.

The Carlsbad Marathon had some strict criteria for Finishers. They had two early start waves, a 5:30 start for anyone who needed 6 ½ hours to finish either the half or the full Marathon. A 6:30 start was also available, and then there was my wave – the 7:30 wave, which meant that you had to complete the course in 10 minute miles or so to be across the finish line by the 12:00 pm cutoff. Dire warnings were posted on both the website and in the race instructions about strict enforcement of the cutoff and the course being closed.

I wasn’t worried – too much anyway.

The only problem with this set up is that by now, I’ve caught up with many of these early birds. Scores of walkers, some three and four abreast are clogging up the course and doing their death march to the finish. I weave in and out of them for basically the rest of the race.

We are completing a stretch along the beach and we are obviously on the Half Marathon course now. I come across the 18 mile marker, and then the Six Mile marker for the half. The course rolls along the ocean front, up and down, some pretty extreme grades to yet another turnaround, around mile 19 or so.

The Aid stations were numerous and frequent both early on and late in the race. About every mile or mile and a quarter there was water, Sport Drink, and also several Gel Stops. The Gel was “Accel Gel” a HUGE pouch of semi-liquid goo, which packed an energy punch that quickened my pace each time I imbibed. Chocolate seemed to be the only flavor available, but it was darn good stuff

One other side note – there was a ton of entertainment. In addition to the Blues Brothers mentioned, there were several other bands, from single guitar players to Bluegrass, to Drum Lines – something for everyone. One of my favorites was around mile 12 – a cowboy band, complete in Stetsons, pegged jeans and boots, singing a langorous version of “Ghost Riders in the Sky” with improvised lyrics, including “As the runners ran on by him, he heard one call his name…….”

By now the sun is up and it’s getting warm – even through my short-sleeved technical shirt and Marathon Maniacs singlet I’m feeling pretty overdressed.

It was again, worth it to be sporting my yellow Marathon Maniacs shirt. The Maniacs were out in force that day (though mostly in front of me!) And also their support crew. I got several special “Go Maniac!” shouts from fellow brethren, and also water stop crew and spectators. One pretty young women came out on the course to high-five me and tell me HER maniac number – Two hundred-something (I lost it in the crowd noise). As there were several loops in the course where you could see oncoming runners there was a lot of chance to offer and receive the Love from the other Maniacs. It’s a great community! www.marathonmaniacs.com - I'm number 486

By now I’m through Mile 20 and headed for home. Right about then, I come upon a familiar site – a blue shirt with a bobbing “Runners Prayer” card – “Brother Chuck!” I shout as I cruise by. “I thought I’d see you again! He shouts – “I’m hurting – Good luck!” “You’ll see me again,” I add as I pass him, but I wasn’t sure that would be true.

By the way – many people were wearing their “Finishers Shirts” for the race – the Half marathon version was white, and I saw, literally hundreds of them out there.

………….So, what has been happening for me in the seven weeks since my Painful Tucson Marathon experience? To tell you the truth in the weeks following Tucson, I wasn’t sure when or if I was really interested in tackling the 26.2 anytime soon. That. Marathon. Hurt. I had Frankenstein legs for days afterwards, and really felt the aches even when I started running a week or two later.

However, there have been some pretty cool things that have happened. First, as mentioned, were some excellent training runs over the Holidays with Jenna, who literally dragged me out most days to do our loop or two. Second, Cayelin and I have been doing some incredible hikes in Saguaro East, hiking up some pretty steep and rugged trails. Third, Cayelin found the Arizona School of Acupuncture where you can go and be a Guinea Pig for Acupuncture Students, receiving some amazing care and therapy for an incredibly reasonable rate. I had two sessions with Diane, an amazing healer who stuck my legs and feet full of needles, and also gave me some Cranial Sacral Therapy all of which has seemingly done me well. I’ve also worked a bit on my diet and attitude with the vision that maybe I didn’t need as much pain in the next marathon.

And also – my new GPS has shown me that I am regularly training here in Tucson at altitudes between 2,500 and 3,000 feet Going to sea level in Carlsbad actually gave me a pretty good “altitude edge” with additional aerobic capacity.

……..At mile 20, I’m at 2:57:59 on the clock (GPS says it’s 20.2, but I have to go with the posted marker) Once again, I’m in the enviable position of needing to average 10 minute miles or less to get home in under four hours.

The course is rolling hills from there, and I pick off the miles one at a time. It’s warm now, and I take a few walking breaks, slowing down some, but mostly I’m feeling pretty good, so hills or not, I clip along pretty well. It’s pretty clear that I’m under four hours, but by how much?

There is quite a steep hill up to mille 24 and 25, and then, at mile 25.5, we are on the inbound stretch of the first hill we encountered from the start, and it’s time to get it done. I fly down the hill and around the corner, weave in and out of the walkers, limpers, and strollers, and around the last corner into the mall. Right at the corner I have to dodge around a fat, waddling elderly lady with a DOG on a long leash for crying out loud and her entourage blocking half a lane of traffic, but I make it past and pour it on to the finish.

“And here comes number 560, Peter Klein, from Oconomowoc, Wisconsin” the announcer shouts as I blast across the finish line. I’m stunned that he actually pronounced my home town correctly. He goes on “My Wife’s from Hartland, right by there – you can be that we’ll be flying in a lot of Cheese for the Packers game today!!”

Nice finish line announcement

Finish clock reads 3:57 – GPS reads 3:55:27…..and 26.44 miles. What the heck?

Chip removal, and then I get my finishers medal – a HUGE square block of metal, about four inches square. The young sweetheart hangs it on me, and I almost tip over from the sheer weight of the thing.

Staggering through the finishers chute, I encounter the next nice touch. All runners get a pre-stuffed snack pack, which is doled out one at a time by a cadre of volunteers. Some great libations, including some Tigers Milk bars, Rice Krispy treats and other pretty tasty fare. A good way to do it - this way, everyone gets fed.

Coming out of the Chute – do I look happy?

I rendezvous almost immediately with Cayelin, Jenna and Paul. Jenna popped off a stellar 1:53 finish for this, her second Half Marathon - and they’ve already been to breakfast and back, (yeah, I'm slow!) and they are fed, rested and ready to roll.

A few finish line photos, and then we join the long line of cars slowly making their way out of the mall to the next chapter.

After the Race – good to be done

I’m not sure what to say about the whole GPS thing. Either the course was mis-marked in some way, or I’m a weaver – big time. I do suspect the latter. It’s a small percentage of the total, but wow, a whole extra quarter mile…..if you do the math, my finish time might have been a full 2 and a quarter minutes less, considering an average nine minute mile. So, how far am I really running on all my training runs? How accurate are these races?

And the big question – does it really matter?

Any GPS experts out there have any input for me??

And wow – the Marathon was NOT the event that day. Finishing stats showed that I was number 230 out of only 916 Finishers. The Half marathon, however, had 6,344 total finishers, or almost Seven Times as many Half marathoners.

That’s a big difference!

Carlsbad was an excellent Marathon. Great support, Okay Course, stellar logistics, finishers medal and organization. I would definitely recommend it for a January California Destination Marathon. The only negative for me was a sad experience we had as we were leaving that really of hit me in a troubling way. As we left the Mall, because of the heavy traffic, we decided to take a side street back to THE Five to get back to our Hotel. We soon encountered, on the sidewalks, a steady stream of runners and walkers grimly jogging, walking, waddling, and limping back to the Mall. This was not a road that had been on the original course, either. I checked my watch and it was 12:05 pm. Apparently the course had closed right on schedule as promised, routing the stragglers back by the most direct route. I saw many of the people I had passed at some time during the race who had obviously failed to make it home in the allotted time. Many, by the way, were wearing their “Finishers” shirts.. I have to say that my heart really went out to these people – to be so close, and not be able to complete the course. That’s gotta be tough

So, if anyone is counting, the marathon just turned 40 for me – 20 years, 40 Marathons – and counting. A milestone of sorts, but in no way the end. What began on a cold October day in Chicago in 1988 is still going in 2008 - 40 marathons and 1,048 timed miles later far away on the West Coast on a sunny California day. Thanks to my old boss Sam for getting me going two decades ago.

I’m writing this two days and an acupuncture appointment after crossing the Finish line (thank you Diane!) and I gotta tell you – I feel GREAT! And ready to do the next 40 or so.

Hope you enjoy the pictures – Thanks Again Jenna! Thanks for the mid-race sprint, Chuck-from-Omaha. And thanks to Cayelin and Paul for hanging out for the event

Up the road!

Bib: 560
Name: Peter Klein
Gender: M
Age: 47
Hometown: Oconomowoc WI
Place Overall: 230 out of 916
Men: 182 out of 550
M 45-49: 22 out of 70
AgeGrade: 58.01% Place: 252
FINISH: 3:55:27 pace: 8:59
15k: 1:24:03 pace: 9:01
22K: 2:01:23 pace: 8:52
20 Mile: 2:55:59 pace: 8:48
Chip Time: 3:55:27
Gun Time: 3:57:32

Bib: 9635
Name: Jenna Van Cleve
Gender: F
Age: 22
Hometown: San Diego CA
Place Overall: 1449 out of 6334
Women: 458 out of 3702
F 18-24: 38 out of 259
AgeGrade: 58.62% Place: 1315
FINISH: 1:53:09 pace: 8:38
6.6 Mile: 59:59 pace: 9:06
Chip Time: 1:53:09
Gun Time: 1:55:14

Another Vintage Blog from 2005 - The Tecumsah Trail Marathon Report

2008-01-14T19:39:00.000-08:00

Note – these two blogs –“The Tecumsah Trail Marathon Report” and “ 78.6 Miles – a Tale of Three Cities, were actually some of my early writings about “going the distance” from 2005. I had originally just sent them out as a long email, but to keep everything together, I thought I would repost them here for anyone who can’t get enough. Happy 2008 Everyone!

The Tecumsah Trail Marathon
Report - Nashville, IN – December, 2005

(quotes that came to mind during the race.......)

.....The Woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost

and....

"Is there No end to this accursed Forest?"
Thorin Oakenshield, to the rest of the dwarves in Mirkwood Forest - J.R.R Tolkiens - "The Hobbit"

Well, my friends, this race rounded out my year for sure. This weekend, I did the Tecumsah Trail Marathon outside of Nashville, Indiana (East of Bloomington, where Indiana University is)

Three words. "Oh. My. Gawd......."

I should have been warned by the FAQ section on the event's website which read:

How difficult is it really?

Answer - Hmm... Pretty difficult. Try it and find out!

Anyway, sign up I did. Here's the story.......

Packet pickup was Friday night as it was a Saturday race. Forgetting that Southern Indiana is actually on Eastern Time (my first clue was when the clock on my cellphone suddenly jumped a whole hour) I managed to leave Wisconsin too late on the six-plus hour drive down there to reach the Headquarters for the cutoff time for packet pickup of 8:00 pm. No, matter, I used to live in Chicago. I showed up anyway - about 8:45 pm local time. WAY after dark.

You had to drive through miles of country roads, then onto a rough pot-holed gravel road to get to the State Campground lodge where the packet pickup was.

I pulled up to the parking area next to another car, cut off my lights and......it was pitch black. So dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face.

I peered through the darkness, and saw a flashlight bobbing at the end of a path. I also smelled woodsmoke, so I stumbled down, what daylight the next day revealed to be the actual Finish line Chute towards the light. Tiptoeing around the corner I called "hellooooo - anyone here for the race?"

"Yeah, c'mon in" a voice replied.

Inside a converted log pavillion (with plastic sheeting over all the openings and Two Fireplaces both blazing merrily), was a guy wearing a Miners Headlamp, which was the only light in the place, and the "flashlight" I had spotted from the parking area. He cheerfully had me sign a waiver form, fished in a stack for my racing bib, pulled out an-even-in-the-dark Funky looking sweatshirt, and also gave me some runners "swag" including Tylenol, deoderant and some energy bars. To all of this, he added a cool plastic bag to put it all in. I noted also, ominously, that, printed upside down on the Bib (so you could read it as you looked down at your shirt front) were the words "I think I can......"

We chatted about the race, and upon further investigation, it turned out that he was not actually part of the race staff - he was a veteran trail runner from Rockford, Illinois who just hung around after the rest of the volunteers had apparentely left for the night, and decided to help latecomers.....like myself. He had never actually RUN this race, either.........

Great security. Actually, that was pretty weird.....But, I got my stuff!

Later, after finally finding the motel about nine miles east of there, which was supposed to be a Best Western, but had "changed it's name" I got a pretty good nights sleep, and then, fortified with the free continental breakfast, I headed back to the State Forest.

It was a 10:00 am start time, kinda late, but it was light out anyway. As this was a Point-to-Point race, you had to board one of several busses at the Finish line by 8:45 am, which I did, which all then left in convoy and drove what seemed to be all the way back to Chicago - about a 50 minute ride, to wherever the start line was. I still have no idea where it was, it seemed we circled and drove forever. Either way, it was nice and warm on the bus, and the pre-race chatter of all the runners was fun, lotta energy and people fretting over weather, water, chafing,....all of the runner type issues.

At some point in the bus ride, it actually occurred to me that...oh yeah. I actually got 26.2 miles to run today. And, it is supposed to be "rough"

And, oh yeah, it was...

The race was delayed about 15 minutes as the race director was closely monitoring the Porto-lets, and actually waited till everyone was "done".

Ready, Set, GO! And off we went.

The first 100 yards was a piece of cake. A nice winding paved road, the crowd starting to stretch out. Then, we hung a sharp left, went down a hill, and we were "off Road"

I won't give you blow by blow of the race (well, maybe I’ll give you some!) but let me tell you. If anyone has ever run Cross Country, they might have a bit of an inkling about what this was like. For those of you who have ever run the Trailbreaker Marathon in Waukesha, Wisconsin - it's kinda like that. For my team members from the Cross Country Challenge in Gilberts, IL - YEAH, it's a lot like that......except after you do the Cross Country Challenge distance, in this race, ya got 21.23 miles left to go - of the same stuff.

I gave up trying to qualify for Boston after the first mile..

The course is mostly "single Track" which means you can only run single-file safely. Mud all the way. Leaf-covered mud. Huge HUGE switchback uphill stretches. Sheer downhill stretches. Slanted, angled paths that roll along ridge lines, so you run with one foot higher than the other. At least a dozen River crossings. Muck. Fallen leaves covering tree roots to trip over. Boulders protruding. Branches over the path to duck under. At least 200 fallen trees (and I am really, really not exaggerating that number) - to hurdle.

Cold weather - about 36 degrees, and cloudy, with a headwind at times that was pretty chilly. The wet feet after the first few river crossings didn't help either.

No mile markers. Only about six water stops, with vague indications from the volunteers there where you were at mile-wise in the race. No clocks.

Again, about all of the above - NO, I'm not kidding. Really, I'm not.....

And all of that being said - wow did I have fun.......

I have to say that Southern Indiana is beautiful. You may think of Indiana as Flat, but it is anything but. The mountains (so to speak) the ravines, the trail itself, the trees, the rock outcroppings - all stunningly beautiful. I wish I had brought a camera - one scene that comes to mind, which I will never do justice describing- is this mile-long, quintuple switchback descent down this huge ridge. Again, the path is single track, and you can see all of the runners stretched out from top to bottom, wearing running garb all of the colors of the rainbow, running down the switchbacks in a continuous curving line - like Ants! An unbelievable scene.

There were huge stands of 100 foot pine trees you suddenly ran into and out of, with a carpet of needles underfoot.

Sudden drop offs where you would find yourself in mid air.

Tree roots that appeared out of nowhere under your feet - you felt them hit your foot, at the same time you impacted the ground in front of you with your hands or elbows.

And so on.....

One other thing - it was actually a "blue Ribbon" course. To follow the trail, you had to watch for six inch segments of bright "blue ribbon" tied to branches about every ten yards or so. If you missed one, you may have still been out there when night fell. The best strategy was to keep runners in front of you and hope they were paying attention.

Of course at some point I was running alone, and had to follow the ribbons. It was really interesting and there were a few scary moments before I found the next one. This was really out in the middle of no where. And also, while you are looking for ribbons, you're not watching your footing, so there was ample opportunity to have more close encounters of the ground-type.

The race was incredibly Zen. It was so "technical" that time really was not a factor. You really had to stay present in the moment, and pay attention to each stretch of course, each step, each movement - and it really flowed from there. Big blocks of time eased by as a result, and while sometimes it seemed like it took a half hour to go a mile, other times you clipped five miles off in no time at all The no mile marker and no clock part was part of that. It was hard to talk to people as they were either in front of, or in back of you, and if you turned around, you'd likely trip and tumble. Most of them didn't appreciate my smart-ass comments (see below)

Also, there were no spectators to cheer you on......too rugged out there and NO access.

I quickly learned, along with the other runners, to walk up the steep hills. There were SO many of them, that if you tried to tackle all of them at race pace, you would have been done long before the half way point. Even walking up the hills was hard enough, seriously, San Francisco has NOTHING to compare some of the major stretches of this trail run.

The water stops, though minimal were great. They served food and gatorade, and you would not believe how great Fig Newtons, and Bananas stuffed at the same time into your mouth and washed down with Gatorade tastes after running the trails for a few hours. That kind of stuff beats Gel for sure, it was like Jet Fuel. And most people stopped and munched and joked for a few minutes, which was fun.

There were HUGE opportunities for shouting Puns for me, among those being:

"time to LOG IN" (as we jumped over any one of the hundreds of fallen trees)

"Joining a SPLINTER Group" (as I tripped over and broke a branch)

"I'm getting BOULDER (bolder!) - as we ran over the rocks)

"you're FIRED" I told one of the Water stop volunteers, as he was poking a campfire to life along the trail

Okay, that's enough.....Most of those were funny just to me. Ya had to be there!

Luckily, I had a kick that wouldn't quit that hit me, as usual, at the "20 mile" (yeah right!) water stop, and I blasted to the finish, actually charging most of the last hills. The kick carried me in strongly - even though The finish line, however Just Didn't Want To Show Up - I'm convinced that like the Lakeshore Marathon in May, this was about a 28.5 mile 26.2 Mile marathon.

Okay, though, the stat. Since there were no mile markers and I really couldn’t gauge much from my watch, the only thing that mattered was the finish time ....which was 4:53, which goes on record as My Slowest Marathon Ever. However, as it is my first Trail Marathon, and (read above) a little "extreme" I"LL TAKE IT!!!! I was told to expect about an hour more than your normal marathon time, so I think I was a little ahead of the game.

There was Really good Hot Vegetable Soup, sandwiches, Hot Chocolate and big cookies at the finish line - it was a really great finish line nosh.

The Shirt.....is a Bright Red Sweatshirt, with, of all things, Palm Trees, like a Jimmy Buffet Album, with what looks like a Black Panther sprinting among them. A quote from Dr Seuss (seriously!) is on the back - "Today is your Day! Your mountain is waiting, so get on your way!"

I think I'll keep this one (?)

Legs are sore in places I've never felt before, this one really hurt once I stopped moving. The six hour drive home really didn't help, either.

So, Final count for 2006 - Six Marathons - five of them between September 25 and December 3rd. 33 Marathons for the lifetime total. 12 or so states and one Canadian Province. And counting.

One big toe black toenail that won't go away, and a recurring blister right next to it. Lots of memories. And, too many words in this story, you're all sleeping now,,,,

See y'all up the road!

A Vintage Blog from 2005 - 78.6 Miles - a Tale of Three Cities

2008-01-14T19:22:00.000-08:00

Note – this blogs – “ 78.6 Miles – a Tale of Three Cities, and the one following called “The Tecumsah Trail Marathon Report” were actually some of my early writings about “going the distance” from 2005. I had originally just sent them out as a long email, but to keep everything together, I thought I would repost them here for anyone who can’t get enough. Happy 2008 Everyone!

Hi Friends and Family –

I've had a great few weeks - the adventure continues....

Just got done with Three, yes Three Marathons in 14 days

Three Marathons, Three Sundays.

Toronto, Milwaukee, Chicago. Working my way South.

Three Finishers Medals.

Three T-shirts.

And yes, these were all 26.2 miles. And at some points, all of them seemed longer than that.

All I had to do was keep putting one foot in front of the other until I was done.......

Since I really had energized this months before, it was only a matter of showing up and doing my best in all three cases.

Interestingly, ALL of these cities sport a Lakefront and, in fact, were mostly run in close proximity thereto. They were unique, each one, but the distance was the same.

So, the first one - Toronto......

Flew up to Toronto with my friend Scott on Saturday, September 24th.. Midwest Airlines, the Best Care in the Air. Upon arrival, we saw a few sights, and went to a very lame pasta dinner, but the main thing was the race on Sunday.

The race was about 2,500 runners. Not a lot of US people, but many from other parts of the world, including several of the Kenyan crowd. A small expo, and a so-so pasta dinner, but it was great to be out of the Country as it were.

The main thing I noted about the race was that Canadians - runners and spectators - were really, really nice people. It was a cloudy, warm and Very Humid day. As this was, of course, a Non-US marathon, the course was marked in Kilometers - not miles. (Scott by the way dropped this bomb on me on the flight up, watching with an evil grin as I turned several shades whiter while trying to integrate the mathmatical complexities that this presented)

The nice thing I learned about Kilometers is that, unlike mile markers, they come at you pretty rapidly. Unfortunately (again unlike Mile Markers) there are Far More of them. 42 plus KM versus 26.2 Miles. I kept checking my watch and trying to calculate my pace...."uh point six-two miles to the Kilometer? Or is it 2.2 pounds to the Kilo" but I gave up quickly. As Homer Simpson says about the Metric System "OH! It's just So Stupid!!"

The course was mainly urban through and around Toronto, but with a nice lakefront stretch. A really nice thing was different flavored Gatorade at all the different Water Stops. All the colors of the rainbow.

It rained a little on the course, but, but I managed to turn it off well. Finish time in Toronto was 4:04. As during my efforts here, I felt the weight of the races to follow the whole time, I couldn't make up my mind to speed, or shuffle - and thus dithered until it was too late to break four hours. Came as close as I could though.

Toronto had the best Race Shirt - a Red Asic Technical with the race logo and no advertising.

The Monday after the race was pretty bad, a little stiff and sore, (and the flight home only a few hours after crossing the finish line didn't help) but I got to the YMCA as soon as I could and turned off a spin class or two to shake out the lactic acid. Thus I survived the next few days leading up to the next one.

Next stop - Milwaukee - back home in Wisconsin. October 2nd

Milwaukee was about 2,000 runners. A stunning fall day, with bright sunshine. A point-to-point course, starting in Grafton, a suburb 26 miles north of Milwaukee, and following the lake all the way down to the North Milwaukee Lakefront park. The course is rolling downhill, and you have everything from Farm Fields, to parks, to Lakefront Mansions, and lakefront bike paths. There was a very nice breeze the whole way, that was cooling, not one to fight. Milwaukee is really homey - they put your name on your race bib so people cheer for you by name - and all the spectators do!

I had actually volunteered to be a Race Co-Captain for the Packet Pickup this year and as such was on my feet non-stop for the two days before the race, shuffling boxes, dealing with nervous runners and helping manage several volunteers. No sleep Saturday night as we had to be in Grafton for Race Day Packet pickup at the crack of dawn.

That being said, I still had the funnest (and almost the fastest) race of the three - turned off a 4:06 (it would have been faster in KM - ha!) but felt really great the whole way. Had a lot of fun working the crowd of spectators and runners, most of which I had given their packet to the day before. And, had a great downhill kick at the end with a stunning lakefront finish. Milwaukee is definitely my home town now!

Oh, and Milwaukee had the second-best shirt - a GREY technical with the race logo. Not as cool as Toronto! HOWEVER, I also got a very cool Black Volunteer Sweatshirt....AND an REI "Race Staff" Polar fleece for my Captain's duties. I'm Sporting Milwaukee gear three days a week now.....

I did the same thing as after Toronto, off to the YMCA for some spin classes immediately the morning following the Marathon. Also threw in a few hot tub sessions and did some shorter runs of the 3-4 mile variety during the week. Was ready to line up again for….

Chicago.....my old hometown. October 9

I gotta say, for those who don't know it - Chicago is a Really Big Race.

Really REALLY Big.

The runner expo in Chicago occupies about a city block in McCormick Place, a huge convention hall. It is like a major concert event. A cacophony of noise, people, activity, big companies - the City of Big Shoulders. You walk for about a mile just to get your packet and runner bib.

Over 40,000 runners signed up for the race. It is estimated that over a Million people spectate.

A million people.......

I've done Chicago 12 times now. Each time I ask myself "Why do I always do Chicago?"

Answer - 'cause it's there.... Or someone talks me into it. Or something. And, each year I forget what a crowd it is.... Can someone remind me next year, please?

Anyway come race day, it was a perfect day, weatherwise. Cool with a breeze, about 60 degrees. After all the speechifying and noise, and starting line hoopla, it took me only 6 minutes to get past the starting line after the gun went off. Which, for Chicago is not bad at all. The course covers all the great neighborhoods - Lincoln Park, the Loop, Wacker Drive, Little Poland, Greek Town, Little Mexico, China town...ending in Grant park by Buckingham fountain. Non-stop crowd support, bands, cheerleaders, screaming people, sirens - again, a CACOPHONY of noise. Lots of water stops, with blocks of spilled Gatorade, which, by the way resulted in treacherous footing from empty cups, gel packs, water......

It is a pretty flat course, except for one pretty good hill, which, for comedic purposes I'm sure, they put in the last .3 miles of the course.

I had a LITTLE foot pain, but managed to ignore it with the help of my friend I.B. Prufen - finishing in 4:11, which I put down to the crowd, and all the lateral movement, dodging walkers, empty cups, tiptoeing through the water stops.....etc. Oh, and probably doing two other ones the weeks before may have had an effect..... I was really glad to see the finish line, and kept cutting deals with myself to keep moving.........

Interesting that the winner of the Chicago finished the course in 2:07 (and I think he get's $50,000 for that) . At 2:07 on the clock, I was at about mile 13.6, or a little over half way. I suppose that the nice thing about running fast, is you can get off our feet quicker, but I bet if HE had to run for four hours......Oh, never mind.....:-)

Unfortunately for my Hometown the Chicago Marathon shirt, in fact, SUCKED.

As usual, by the way.

Too bad that one of the biggest races in the country has the worst shirt.

Prior to Chicago, I had considered adding Indianapolis to the list this upcoming weekend, making it "four in four" but right now, I'm looking forward to a weekend WITHOUT a Marathon. But, give me a day or so to recover..............

So, that is how I've spent the first few weeks of the fall of 2005. I guess there are worse ways to spend Eternity. And, you should see all my cool finisher medals!

Oh, and anybody want an XL Chicago Marathon Long Sleeve T-shirt? never worn! would be a great thing to wrap a Cold Dog or Cat in........
.
Blessings to you all, and thanks for reading my ramblings....

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

2007-12-09T11:17:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-22T17:34:00.000-08:00

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”

2007-11-16T17:55:00.000-08:00

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

2007-10-10T20:37:00.001-07:00

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

2007-09-26T15:05:00.000-07:00

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....

Quebec Deux Rivers Marathon Report - August 26, 2007

2007-08-29T10:18:00.000-07:00

Bonjour Everyone!

Well, I flew up to Quebec this weekend to run the 10th anniversary Deux Rivers (two rivers?) Marathon.

...and I gotta say, those French Canadians know how to put on a RACE!

First thing I noticed about the French, and Quebec in general, is (a nod to Steve Martin) - They've got a Different Word For Everything!!! :-)

Cab from the airport to the Hilton - Driver had no English, but drove like a Formula One Racer, making a 10-year old Plymouth execute amazing moves at break-neck speed. I was told that it was a half-hour ride from the airport, but elapsed time from pickup to drop off was about 17 minutes. Tres Bon!!!

Made it to the Expo, lots of stuff to look at and a bit of a language barrier as I tried to figure out how to pick up number and packets. Colleague Scott's flight had been rescheduled earlier in the day from Chicago, putting him in late evening, so I had to pick up both our packets.

Not a problem, though, my Honest American face won the day.

An okay technical shirt, and, as an extra added bonus, a technical CAP to boot!

Pasta dinner was fairly typical fare- and I sat down at a table with a lot of chattering French people, who instantly switched to English on my behalf - and then pumped me for Stateside race recommendations as most of them were newbies who had caught the marathon fever.

UP early the next morning. Course logistics necessitated taking a "Shuttle to the Shuttle" - a bus from the Hotel, to the Finish line, where we walked across the street to another set of busses that took us to the START line after that. It was almost exactly like Milwaukee's Lakefront Marathon - a half-hour bus ride to a High School, where we got to hang out in the Cafeteria and locker rooms until the start. They served Gatorade, coffee, and other snacks.

The pre-race logistics were flawless, from the shuttles, to the High School to hang out in, great music outside, plenty of Porto-potties AND indoor restrooms - and a very upbeat crowd!

Earlier this spring, I joined the Marathon Maniacs organization (check it out at www.marathonmaniacs.com - I'm number 486 in the "Insane Asylum") Anyway, this was the first race I was sporting my bright yellow Marathon Maniacs Singlet, which I soon learned creates an instant community at any distance event. The minute I walked out of the school , I heard calls of "Hello maniac!" as other Yellow-singlet clad people surrounded me. Also, people who want to be Maniacs. I had an instant community of half a dozen other runners, from places like Ontario, Texas, Florida, and New York, all proudly sharing numbers, and how many races we'd run.....a very cool club to be a member of!

The sun rose, the heat rose, the humidty went up......and we filed out to start the race. Something like 1,200 runners toed the starting line. A double cannon boom AND a loud horn sounded the start, and off we went.

Okay....once again, the metric system is alive and well in all other parts of the world except for the US. (but we're Americans, Dammit!!) The race was marked in Kilometers, of course. But, an interesting twist was, the didn't count UP, they counted DOWN - so, we started at 42.3 KM and the first marker we saw was 42, then 41,, then 40...... It made it darn near impossible for a Pace-Per Mile-centric guy like myself to figure out how he's doing......until mile 5. They very kindly posted actual MILE markers at 5, 10, 15, 20 and 25 milesfor us Metrically impaired people.

I gotta tell you a few things....as usual, I wasn't trained for this race. My one and only long run since the last Marathon I did (which was in April) was about 11 miles. I've done a lot of short and fast distances (read, 5k's!) but no long training. So, I knew from the outset that this was gonna be an interesting one.

.....and it was WARM, and MUGGY! In the first half mile, I'm drenched. Hoping to head it off, I started drinking early and often.

The course....was really beautiful. We ran through everything from modern suburbia, to Urban strip mall, to Old World European (complete with Sidewalk Cafe's and people cheering from Balcony's overhanging the street) "Bravo! Bravo!" they cheered. "Merci!" I called to everyone, knowing in my heart that they had me pegged as an American anyway.. We also ran on Bike Paths, Highways, across HUGE suspension bridges, and along thoroughfares by the St. Laurence Seaway. All in all the course was fantastic all the way, scenery-wise and people-wise.

The beauty of the course, however was slightly diminished by the BRUTALITY of it at the same time......Endless rolling hills, in fact, as Scott later put it "I think I was running up hill the whole time!!" at least 2-3 San Francisco-Style sheer uphill stretches that disappeared up a hill and around the corner. Slogging to the top, you discover that around the next bend is....another hill!! One highway stretch leading up to a bridge that ascended for about four miles......yeah, this course can't be called "Fast and Flat" by any means!

Great support, though. Plenty of water stops, all with incredibly enthusasiastic volunteers. Wet sponges to take a mini-shower. Several Carb-Boom Gel Stops, Bananas and Oranges. OH, and this must be a Canadian thing - as the same thing happened in Toronto - Different colored/flavoured Gatorade at each water stop! And the volunteers were hurling some amazing vowels my way - "Voluez, vous, non, zhu day shu swa, et tu se".....or something like that.. "Merci", I said to all of them

I pretty much blasted off from the start at a good pace........I was probably at half marathon pace, and really on track for what WOULD have been my first sub-four hour marathon in years. I crossed the mat at the halfway point at 1:53 and change (typical HALF Marathon time for me)...and also hit the 20 mile marker at 2:58....and that's when the fun began. Lack of training, the brutal hills and heat set in......and I had a visit from a friend I hadn't seen in years....the infamous WALL came up out of the pavement and WHACKED me hard......

The last 10 Kilometers were a slog......I wound up running, walking, running, walking as cramps hit my legs like gunshots. At one point, I though my legs would lock up, and I would topple over, Frankenstein-like to the pavement. And, I wasn't alone by any means.....there was a group of about 15 people that I kept trading the lead position with. We'd run by each other, stop, and let the other one run by, then catch up later........no one actually passed me for long. It was a silent "death march" to the finish, all of us in our own personal survival Hell....

The cool thing was, in the last 10K, there were many distractions, They had three bands out playing American Rock and Roll along the course. They also had open Fire Hydrants with Sprinkler attachements so we could cool off. Lots of water stops, more food.... a lot of support for the most brutal part of the race. And actually the psychological benefits of the "Countdown Kilometer" signs were great.....Kilometers come quickly, even if there are a lot of them, but it seemed like I was still moving pretty good.

Hobbled across the finish line as the clock clicked over to 4:06, but my chip and watch time was actually 4:05:38. And, the announcer said " ...and Here is Pay-ter CLEAN from Oh-coh-no-mo-woc!" Yeah, I felt CLEAN and DAMN glad to be done with the course!! (and actually pretty delighted with my time....based upon my training base and the course conditions.....it was far better than I had a right to expect!)

a HUGE finishers medal - complete with Blue and Red Blinking LED"S on the front....wow! Good nosh, lots of food. A fountain to cool your feet in, and a beautiful park to hang out in.

And wow, the French Canadians....literally, 10 different people approached me after the finish line to say they saw me on the course and were following me, or saw me pass them, or something. And, they all had pegged me as an American (the ponytail and horrendous french pronounciations) and wanted to know how I liked the experience in Quebec? And also, all of my fellow Maniacs converged one by one to trade stories....we all had a slower-than normal time due to the heat and "rolling" course.

As mentioned above....a stellar effort by the Quebecians. Great logistics, great course, great support, great medal, enthusiastic people.......brutal elevation and weather, though, but hey....it's a marathon and if it were that easy, everyone would do it, no????

Oh....and last comment on the race...there weren't shuttles back to the Hotel, so Scott and I had to walk.........UPHILL for about 3/4 of a mile. Wow, how about that??

Still got some Aching legs, but I can't say enough good things about the race.....36 Marathons and counting for me and next stop.....Fox Cities?? Maybe! Portland for sure! and who knows after that!

Stay tuned!!

Au Revoir, yall!!