The Carlsbad Marathon Report

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

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

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

Toeing the Line in Tucson – the 2007 Tucson Marathon Report


Coffee for my breakfast

Shot of whiskey on the side

It's a dark and dreary morning

With the clouds covering up the sky

[Chorus:]The forecast calls for pain

The forecast calls for pain

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

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

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

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

Here goes:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like Marathons.

So, Thanks Brother Will!

I think…

Read on……

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

More on that later.

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

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

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

“Merry Christmas” he boomed.

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

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

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

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

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

Here they are:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s cool” I replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We go left.

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

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

I soon found out how fun this could be.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Turkey Trotting in Tucson

Turkey Trotting in Tucson

So......

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

Hurt foot and all.

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

.....Back to the story

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We'll see.

Won't we?

Yes.

We will see.....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Instead……


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

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

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

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

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

This may sideline me, again, for a bit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

THERE’S ALWAYS ANOTHER RUN!

Best to you all!