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

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

Here goes -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!