Happy July 4th...and possibly the most insane race I've ever done...

The other day, I saw a story describing how Allie Ostrander, fresh off her NCAA championship in the steeplechase, went back home to Alaska and destroyed the field in a local race.

And the memories came flooding back....

July 4th in Seward means the annual Mt Marathon race. It's not a marathon, more like a 5k, and a tradition spanning 90 years. It's been called the 'oldest, fastest, hardest, toughest...shortest' race in world.

Shortest? So what's the big deal?

Here's what: the course is just nuts. No other description makes sense.  3 miles on an out and back course, with three THOUSAND feet of elevation change. Meaning half the race is straight up.

The numbers are actually worse; the prime elevation gain happens over the course of a mile. Vertical rise of 2,675' in 0.9 miles. For comparison's sake, the final nasty push of the South Sister climb is 2.3 miles and 3000' of climbing. So, Mt Marathon is over twice as steep.

And it's a race, so you're less inclined to stop and enjoy the view while the masses leave you behind.

So why do I know this much?

Because I'm a proud alum!  Let me take you back to 1989...

I was a young, impressionable, bullet-proof Navy officer onboard the USS CALIFORNIA (CGN-36). Having reported a few months prior, I was designated the Reactor Electrical Division Officer (RE Div), responsible for leading the electricians who helped keep our two nuclear reactors humming (and intact).

Underway on nuclear power: I'm in this picture somewhere

In July of that fateful year, my ship made port in Seward for a few days of R&R. While walking downtown on the 4th, I heard about some crazy race that was happening that day, so I wandered to the starting line for the scoop. In talking with the race organizer, I found out he was offering free entry to any Navy personnel.

Hmmmmm.....

I've been underway for two months. Meaning, I'm not exactly in race shape. Far from it.  (Later that year, I was actually running laps on the main deck when the captain lit up the PA system with word that the SF earthquake just hit our home port. I remember stopping on the bow of the ship while he told us the news).

But back to Alaska, and an offer to enter this crazy race: Did I mention I'm bulletproof?

I'm in. Except one little problem...I'm nearly two miles from my running shoes; they are in the Junior Officer bunkhouse back on the ship. And I have an hour. And Uber doesn't exist yet.

Yep. Jog the two miles to the ship, get my shoes, jog the two miles back. About 15 minutes to spare.

 And how steep can the hill be, anyway?

Real steep. Insanely steep.  My ship was moored to the large pier on the left, above the small boat basin. The race started somewhere on the right side of the picture. Nice warmup, eh?

Then the race began. About a mile was through the city, then it headed up into the woods.

My goal quickly transitioned from "run hard" to "steady" to "I hope like hell I'm not on a gurney tonite." I believe I coughed up a burger and fries from a decade prior.

This race was not for the faint of heart or self-aware...fortunately, I was neither of these. Uphill was brutal, downhill was terrifying. I don't remember snow in 1989, just a lot of loose rock on the upper reaches. The fastest racers seemed to be taking a step every 15' on the way down.

From Lew Freedman's column in the Anchorage Daily News the next day: "This mountain has a personality disorder. It has a mean streak. It enjoys making people suffer...the wrong grip will slice open your hand as efficiently as a Veg-O-Matic."

No, I did not tell my mother of my holiday plans ahead of time.

Your not-so-atypical finisher who had some issues on the descent...

 As my fitness level quickly convinced me that I wouldn't be on the podium that day, I concentrated HARD on keeping my feet underneath me for that nasty descent. A few close calls and very wobbly legs, but no disasters like this guy...

Photo by Bill Roth/Anchorage Daily News

After what seemed like (and actually was) hours, I was back on flat ground. Shirt shredded, feet shredded, just a hot mess. The next two pictures are actual pictures, as in 'film.' 

Shirt in tatters, shoes destroyed. Just me, my shorts, and socks....

But all limbs still connected and intact. Call it a win. 

Great footage of this year's race. 

10 min documentary

Scratch one big one off the bucket list!

2015-16 Winter Training

ok, it's been awhile...time to get back on the horse, as it were.

My last race was the 2015 Eugene Marathon. I targeted that event with high hopes of finally getting my Boston Qualifying time, and my training was going well.

Until...

About a month out, I did a road trip to Seattle that forced me to sit in the car for awhile. On the ride back, my back stiffened up pretty well. 'Well' as in harsh. Lots of squirming...remnants from two back surgeries. An emergency massage helped a bit.

What didn't help was a workout of 16 x 400 a few days later. During warmups, I gave myself permission to bail out after a couple of reps if needed. But i loosened up nicely, took the first reps slow, and felt better quickly.

A couple of days later? Something deep in the top of my right quad was angry and strained. It got to the point where i couldn't put any running stress on it without pain. Some frantic physical therapy and lots of time in the Alter-G Anti-Gravity treadmill didn't do much except separate me from $500 in co-pays.

Lesson learned: when any kind of trauma appears, DO NOT schedule any hard core workouts until the problem has been gone for 3-4 days. It's obvious that my tight back caused the connective tissue strain, and I didn't give enough time to recuperate from 'A' before 'B' happened.

I went to the race hopeful that things would hold together. The leg felt ok by that point. The problem was that at about 3 miles, i already knew i was working way too hard to maintain pace. By 7 miles, I knew it wasn't going to happen. So i had a choice: struggle through another 19 miles and risk substantial damage, or take the bypass, finish the half marathon, and chalk it up to experience.

Fairly easy decision.

Afterward, i put away my running shoes for the summer. Got back into cycling, a little swimming, and tried to clear my head. I'd been targeting a BQ for what? 3-4 years now? I'm tired of falling short. So it's time to get away and reboot.

Come September, I'm feeling good again. So i start with 2-3 runs per week, a couple miles. Everything checks out.

Gradually increasing the distance, things are still good. But after a long run, i have some pain in my left shoulder. As in left ventricle. And my cholesterol is high. And a basic EKG shows a funny blip.

uh oh.

This is potentially bad. The left ventricle is basically the section of the heart that pumps the blood out. Discomfort on the left side could mean a pumping problem or a bad artery. The Left Anterior Descending artery is commonly known as 'the Widow Maker,' and it seems to be one of the most critical blood vessels.

The doctor schedules a treadmill EKG with an echocardiogram. Again, a blip on the EKG....sidebar: you get the echo pictures at rest, then you run on the treadmill, then IMMEDIATELY jump (literally) back on the table within 30 seconds to get another set of echo shots.

The toughest part is trying to hold your breath for 10-15 seconds to get a clear picture right after maxing your heart rate. Ugh.

The techs call for the on-call cardiologist, citing the EKG blip. Breathe, Campbell.

The doc comes in, a slight little guy who looks about as bored as my daughter when i tell her to clean her room. Pretty sure the doc was still chewing his lunch, and he clearly didn't want to be there. He looks at the echo shots for about 5-10 seconds, and says...

'Normal.'

Huh? What about the EKG?

He says that the echo takes precedence over the EKG. No issues.

uh, thanks, Doc.

BIG load off my mind. Back to training, and I sign up for the May 1st Eugene Marathon in hopes of finally getting it right.

With that, I schedule my first-ever VO2 Max/threshold test at the college. This test will give me the exertion zones i should target for my training. The idea is that there are several physiological effort ranges, all of which need to be utilized in order to maximize fitness.

The only downside about training for a spring marathon in Oregon is that the winter weather doesn't really permit solid workouts outside. I don't mind the cold, but i won't risk running on black ice and potentially injuring myself. So i buy a membership to a small gym where i can run on high-end treadmills for as long as i need.

If i have to run inside, it's kinda nice running next to:
Max King, Olympic Trials Finalist and World Ultra Road/Trail Champion
Stephanie Howe, Western States 100 Champion
Jesse Thomas, Ironman Wales and 5x Wildflower Triathlon Champion
Lauren Fleshman, gazillion-time NCAA Champion and multiple Olympic Trials finalist
Renee Baillie, 2:27 marathoner in her first attempt

Even so...ever run 2 hours inside? it gets OLD. Thank goodness for The Nerdist podcasts; interviews with actors spanning all generations. Chris Hardwick, you're a genius...

My workouts tend to be in the range of 'mildly to moderately annoying.' Not hard enough to destroy me, not easy enough to be completely pleasant. It's not really fun, but it's what i need. My effort level stays steady while my paces continue to get faster. Good trends.

Now i'm at the point where i have the pace locked in: i simply need to extend the duration. A faster cadence helps a TON...while my engineering mind says there's nothing magical about 180 steps per minute (other than it's a nice round 3 steps per second), the faster cadence allows me to shorten my stride and expend less energy per step. It helps a lot; my form improves and becomes more economical, while my foot contact time decreases dramatically.

Today was very solid: 18 miles, 65 seconds per mile slower than race pace, and all in Zone 1 (my easiest zone). 15 seconds per mile faster than the 16 miler from two weeks ago, and roughly the same heart rate. Nice to know that i had more in the tank today. And it was at the end of my biggest mileage week of this training cycle. Things are coming around.

Other important factors:

I decided to use swimming as cross-training, with one big change from years past. Instead of swimming the entire 75 minute workout with the masters swim team, i would simply do 30 minutes of easy lap swimming before getting out. In previous years, I'd be so tired that I'd start to miss running workouts, and that told me that my 'off' days just needed to be easier. Now, an easy 30 minutes feels refreshing...I also added 1-2 days per week of yoga; the stretching and strengthening seems perfect for what i need.

While this training plan is definitely intense, it's working. The only downside is that my legs typically don't feel as fresh as I'd like, but that's to be expected during a build phase. About 7-8 more hard weeks until i taper...

Good to know that I'm training smarter.

Junior World Track and Field Championships - Day 6 (and Eugene Half Marathon)

It's been a bad week for sleep, but I was hoping to run thru it.

Turns out, one night can be overcome. Three or four in a row; not so much.

I woke at 0300 after fitful sleep and two bathroom breaks; I'm tired but plenty hydrated. The sleep situation wasn't helped by the race expo and loud bands playing until at least 9:30pm. I will suggest to the race director that if he needs to start the race at the ungodly hour of 0600, he needs to shut things down EARLY the night before.

Halfway thru the warm up, I realized I left my water bottle back at the dorm. I begged a shot from a woman on a bike and thanked her profusely.

The goal was 1:35, about 7:15 mile pace. That puts me on track for a 3:19 marathon in 10 weeks.

My best runs to date have been 4 miles at that pace, or 8 miles at about 7:40. And at 3400' of altitude. Today, I'm at sea level, so it'll be interesting.

World's slowest national anthem singer!! OMG, you're killing me. And she muffed a bunch of the lyrics. Jeez, if you don't know the song, at least get thru it quickly.

Then Mary Wittenburg, chief of the NY Marathon and today's honorary starter, gives us a lengthy dissertation. I'm tired, anxious, and in no mood. Twice I say (and progressively louder), 'Fire the gun, please!"

We're off.

After a mile, I see the woman on the bike who gave me water, and I point at her. She responds in kind. Thumbs up!

A guy keeps passing me, falling back, passing me. I finally put him away on an incline...He's in a wheelchair.

I'm on pace until just past the hill at 8 miles, then the wheels come off. Cardio becomes an issue, and my hamstrings begin their usual complaints. I struggle to the 10 mile point, then decide it's not worth killing myself in a training race. Besides, I have three more hours of umpiring on the track today, followed by a 130 mile drive home. Time to throttle back.

I finish in 1:38 and change, and I'm ok with that. Better to save something now and get back into training with a shorter recovery. I figure the lack of sleep all week was worth at least two minutes, so I'm in the ballpark.

Crossing the line, I'm wiped out and grateful. As I'm bending over to catch my breath, I'm handed this:

???

No, it's not what you think (or what I thought). Yes, it's an unfortunately-shaped barf bag. I gotta keep that!

After breakfast, I'm in the lobby when Team Jamaican girls came past, so I asked about a swag trade. They said they had an extra backpack they'd like to sell.

 

(After the week began, I realized this was the perfect venue to swap track shirts for cool international ones. A friend was coming to town, so he brought some swag for me. Thanks much, Dan!)

 

I hoped to get some Jamaican gear for my daughter; after she saw Cool Runnings (the bobsled team movie), all she says now is "ya, mon."

 

The backpack was a nice one. I asked how much; I'd pay $30 max. The girl wanted $250. Uh, no thanks.

 

But I traded an ill-fitting Pre Classic shirt for a yellow t-shirt with the national logo; it'll fit Zoe just fine.

I didn't pursue the one athlete from Mozambique for a trade: his flag has an AK-47 on it.

Not interested.

Speaking of flags...

 

 

and medals...

 

The meet is anti-climactic: USA gets a 1-2 sweep in the 100m High Hurdles, and wins both 4 x 400 relays. Third place in the men's 4 x 4 goes to Jamaica, who lost out once more to Japan for second place.

Even more impressive: Japan took the baton in 3rd place and ran Jamaica down! Asia again...I would bet good money that these guys will do well in Rio 2016 and Tokyo 2020.

 

A Czech girl is battling for the high jump win. Her coaching entourage is standing right behind me, and these folks are committed. There is spittle all over my head.

American 1500m runner Alexa Efraimson has 'Fearless' written on her calf; I'm not sure if it's a tattoo or Sharpie. She was in good position with a lap to go; then she and an Ethiopian grappled in front of me right before the bell, and Alexa finished with a bloody shin. I noted the contact and told the referee that no advantage was gained; therefore, no foul. Sorry, Alexa.

Before the meet ends, I see the coach from the Bahamas; we spoke briefly a few days ago, and I told him I had some shirts he might like. Today, he brought back one of his own for me:

Very cool, mon.

I told him I'll mail him some others that I have. Looks like I have a new friend in the Caribbean.

Back to the room for a quick shower and gathering my things, then into the car headed for points east. Started drooping after an hour; it's been a long couple of weeks.

On the way, I was stopped along the Mackenzie River by a beaver dragging a huge limb across the highway. That's an omen...

Of what? I have no idea...

I love track.

 

 

2013 Portland Marathon

When Frank Shorter won the 1972 Olympic Marathon, he said that the highest gratification was that "I finally got one right."

Well, I finally got one right.

But when people ask if I qualified for Boston (sub-3:25), I can truthfully say...

 

I'm not sure.

 

• The clock at the finish was reading 3:24 and change.
• My watch read 3:24:53: I started the watch 10 sec before the start to ensure proper operation (if the watch malfunctions, I don't cross the starting mat until I have it working). Therefore, my watch's clock time should have been conservative
• The unofficial race timing had me at 3:25:23, 24 seconds slower than my Boston standard.

I've asked the timing company to revisit.

 

The other strange thing: the 5k timing mat had me at 7:27 pace. My Garmin splits below have me at 7:45. No way should there be that big a discrepancy! Almost 200 yards??? Regardless, my biggest issue is the elapsed time.

 

However, even a 3:24 doesn't get me to Boston because this year's cutoff was about 90 seconds faster due to the number of entries. No big deal; I'm very happy with my race.

 

 

Split	Time	Distance	Avg Pace
Summary	3:24:54.0	26.22	7:48
1	7:55.5	1.00	7:56
2	7:43.1	1.00	7:43
3	7:49.0	1.00	7:49
4	7:41.0	1.00	7:41
5	7:48.3	1.00	7:48
6	7:59.2	1.00	7:59
7	7:37.6	1.00	7:38
8	7:47.8	1.00	7:48
9	7:47.4	1.00	7:47
10	7:37.5	1.00	7:38
11	7:55.8	1.00	7:56
12	7:48.0	1.00	7:48
13	7:47.1	1.00	7:47
14	7:46.2	1.00	7:46
15	7:57.4	1.00	7:57
16	7:42.9	1.00	7:43
17	8:12.5	1.00	8:13
18	8:05.1	1.00	8:05
19	7:35.7	1.00	7:36
20	7:54.5	1.00	7:55
21	8:07.0	1.00	8:07
22	7:28.2	1.00	7:28
23	8:14.9	1.00	8:15
24	7:46.1	1.00	7:46
25	8:04.3	1.00	8:04
26	7:10.4	1.00	7:11
27	1:31.4	0.22	6:47

 

Mile 17 was the bastard uphill to the St. John's Bridge; I pulled back on pace and kept effort level. That's the first time I've been able to climb that hill without walking.

 

Finally, a solid finish!!! Check out my last 1.2 miles. I was running scared, trying to catch the pace group. My hamstrings were sending warnings for the last 8 miles, so I stopped a bunch of times to stretch them. At about 39k, I went all in and decided it was time to gamble. Up until then, several times I was only steps away from complete hamstring seizure. Lots of pace jockeying to keep legs in check; aerobically I had plenty of capacity.

 

My last 10k was right at 7:49 goal pace. Thrilled with that! After I stopped to stretch each time, my pace was very snappy as I caught back up. Felt smooth. All I need to do is get more core strength so I don't need those pauses, and that's an immediate 2 minute aggregate gain.

Takeaways:

• The Tuesday night speed workouts are huge. Keep doing them, and develop a better high end
• Core and posterior chain work helped a ton. Hamstrings were threatening but never seized. And my last 10k was solid.
• I had a larger breakfast earlier in the morning, and stomach was really full. Back off a bit.

Plan:

• Recover
• Continue with Tuesday night group speed work (invaluable)
• 20 miles a week or so thru winter
• More intensive Plyo/Core work
• Get back in the pool
• next year, run a fall marathon (PDX or Marine Corps) and get 3:19:59. That will get me into 2016 Boston; that year, I'll be 50, so my qual time will be 3:30. The 3:19 will get me into the Sub-10 minute group that can sign up before the masses who sneak just under the radar.

 

couple other things:

• I ate a little more breakfast than usual, 3.5 hrs prior. Stomach was uncomfortably full the entire race. Only took 2 of my planned 6 gels, and 4 of six salt caps. Didn't want to upset stomach further
• Crimson urine afterward. Kidneys? Nah, just beet juice powder at breakfast
• drove home 3 hrs solo afterward, then ran a mile to flush the legs. Today, I'm feeling the least damage I've ever experienced after a marathon.

discovered that Emergency has a lot more electrolyte than salt caps. Been drinking that every morning.

 

Glad that one's in the books! Come a long way from my debut 4:35 of 3 years ago.

 

And my resting pulse is 48!

2013 Eugene Marathon

Hmmmmm...

Getting closer to Boston, but more issues to resolve.

Good warmup, good breakfast, all gauges in the green. I'm ready for this sucker.

Last race was Portland and a 3:37; lots of the usual hamstring cramps in the final 8 miles coming off the bridge. This training cycle went better, and I was hopeful that I've figured it out.

Back in February, I suffered a mild calf strain. Seems like my calves are the biggest issue during hard training; definitely my Achilles heel. So to speak....

Because of the calf thing, I backed off on long tempo runs in the last couple of month and was hoping it wouldn't be a problem.

Started the race slow. My standard plan is to let the pace group go for about the first 5 miles, then slowly reel them in. Done.

Approaching 8 miles, I steel myself for the 19th Street Hill. I've taken a beating on this slope before, really going anaerobic way too soon, then suffering the rest of the way.

This time, I rocked it.

I crested the hill with the pace group, then freewheeled on the way down. And smiled.

Near 10 miles, some idiot woman in front of me sees a spectator friend with a camera. The runner slows and poses, right in the middle of the road.

And right in front of me.

I'm locked and loaded, just focused on the task at hand. No bozo is going to distract me. Nor will she slow me down; I put a forearm in between her shoulder blades and keep rolling. She apologizes; I don't acknowledge.

But the running gods took notice.

I realize that I'm working fairly hard  to maintain this pace, and I'm not halfway yet. This could be trouble.

13.1 miles in low 1:42. Right where I need to be; the problem is that I don't know how long I can hang on.

Did I mention the hamstring tightness that began at 8 miles?

Couldn't believe it. 8 lousy miles???? That's definitely going to be trouble.

and it was.

At 16 miles, I begin to drop back a bit, trying to baby the leg. Once the legs seize, there's no unlocking them. That's experience talking.

I was carrying a larger than normal load of salt caps, so I start pounding them. And my stomach felt fine, so I jammed all the calories I could down my gullet.

Didn't matter; the legs locked at 21 miles. But at least I wasn't hungry!

The last 10k wasn't horrible like in years past, but it wasn't much fun, either. I couldn't open up my stride for very long, and I was also getting winded. But I still kept hoping my quads would relax, and I kept an eye on the clock.

With 2 miles to go, passing Skinner's Butte, I need to run better than 5:30 miles to the line. Not going to happen.

I run a respectable last mile, and the last 400m was at 7:26 pace. Decent finish, just under 3:32. Will have to re-evaluate my training.

Once I got out of the car after driving 130 miles home, my hammy locked big-time. Had to stand in the garage for 5 minutes immobile before it loosened.

 

Remind me again why exactly we do this?

a

With a somewhat disappointing day behind me, I needed some way to regain my self-respect.

 

Light bulb goes off. I grin.

 

After 3 glasses of wine and a huge dinner of lasagna, know what I did?

 

Yup. Ran a mile.

 

Wow. It really hurt. The first 300 meters, I had a complete loss of motor control. Literally staggering. Once my legs loosened a bit, all that food and wine in my stomach became a larger issue. Ugh.

 

The good news is that my recovery the next couple of days was much better than ever before. That one lousy mile made a big difference.

 

But I know what I need to do: spend Tuesday nights with the Footzone running group. It's a series of speed workouts that will really help me develop some more gears.

Gonna get me some new wheels and bust this sucker.

Portland Marathon

NOW we’re getting somewhere.

Two years ago, this was my first 26.2, and it was a disaster. Bad food the day before made me sick, so I was bigtime dehydrated on race day, struggling to finish in 4:35.

Eugene 2012 was a little better; 3:59, including a 1:42 half. And with only 35 miles in the last seven weeks due to a calf injury.

This time, I altered my training plan. Friends Jeanne/Dave and Bretagne/Corey said more long chill runs, more long tempo stuff, and less track work.

They were right.

Portland 2012: 3:37 with a 1:41 first half. Much better.

Last big meal the day before: corned beef hash at Brother Jon's. Lots of sodium. And so good.

Zoe's egg sandwich; equally as incredible...
 

Stayed at a relative’s house in Vancouver. Got dressed in the basement at 0330 before I realized I forgot the Body Glide. I was too lazy to completely undress again, so I put on the BG while half-dressed. This is not the best way; I painfully discovered later that I missed a few spots.

Fighting a cold all week, and felt compromised on the trip into the city. Was considering a dialed-down effort or even a DNS, but felt ok by the start. So I decided to go for it.

I inadvertantly bumped the start button on my watch during the warmup, and didn’t notice until I crossed the start line. So my Garmin Virtual partner showed me a half mile behind pace before I even started to run! No problem, that’s what the pace group is for.

Except my 7:50 pace group brought us through 5k at 7:22 pace! No wonder I couldn’t get comfortable.

Thanks a lot, Red Lizards. Grumble, grumble.

Then some guy steps on my heel and my shoe comes off. No problem for a triathlete with elastic laces: I lost maybe 5 seconds.

At 4 miles, I see a co-worker who's coaching a bunch of runners through the race. His lightning reflexes permit him to snap this shot:

Thanks, Geof. But where are the other 11,999 runners?

Got settled in and made good progress thru 13.1 and beyond. More PR’s, and I hit the top of the St John’s Bridge at 17 miles just behind pace before the wheels came off. Made it to 19 miles before losing the pace; that's 6 miles farther than ever before.

I can only thank Freddie Mercury and Roger Taylor for my awesome HM split. Somewhere around 8 miles, my iPod landed on 'Fat Bottomed Girls,' just a perfect pounding beat in sync with my feet. And Roger has a drum cascade toward the end that always gives me goosebumps.

Must have repeated that song about a dozen times. It kept me going. And my pace stepped up, too.

For the most part, the legs felt like they were lacking snap, even though I was holding pace. See notes below about tapering.

The final 10k was better than last time, at least I could keep a decent clip. But I was getting mild hamstring cramps along with anaerobic distress, so it was tough. I had taken off my shirt at one point because chafing was becoming a problem. The shirt probably weighed four pounds at that point. Then I saw a race photographer in the distance, so I had to put it back on so he could see the race number. Can't miss a photo op!

For whatever reason, I chafe badly on my left side where my arm rubs against my back. This was stinging bad, not to mention my adductors. Jeez, I need to do better next time. At least I remembered Vaseline for the nipples.

Afterward, I was tired but not exhausted. Felt much better than after any other marathon. We had to walk about a half mile to get our gear; that was probably a good thing to get some blood back into the legs. Gave me time to gag down a container of coconut water; I know it's good for you, but it really tastes like dirt.

And Portland, while expensive at $135, gives not one but two shirts. One at packet pickup, and a LS finisher shirt at the end. Along with the foil cape, some roses (PDX is the Rose City), an evergreen sapling, a finisher's medal, two other medals, food, etc....When I finally retrive my gear bag, I'm carrying so much stuff that it feels like Black Friday at the mall.

The finisher shirt has the street-by-street chronology; wouldn't this be helpful for the directionally challenged if we got it BEFORE the race?

Takeaways

Pacing: next time, if the watch does something funny, just go on basic mile pace and forget the bells and whistles. Or stop, take 30 seconds to reset the watch before crossing the start line, then go. Don't depend on the pace group! Would have saved me some aggravation and made the last 10k a little more enjoyable. Besides, I really don't need to set HM PR's on the way to the full distance.

Carbo loading: I had never really done this. Found some articles that blew my mind. 2000 calories a day just from carbs? That's a ton; I tried it, and it worked. No bonk. Thank you, Snyder's Dutch Pretzels.

Illness: such a slippery slope. I was feeling the tiniest bit fatigued the day before and just prior to the start. Decided to at least do 4 miles until the first logical bailout point, but I rocked the race. So, a minor cold and tiny throat irritation is not enough to derail a good performance.

Taper: 2 weeks ago, I did the 5k swim and 13.6 mile run of the Leadman 250k. I thought this would be an interesting race simulation if I could run at marathon pace after swimming 3 miles. A friend thought it was a little much, so close to the big race. I'm thinking that's right: next time, do this kind of simulation 3 weeks out, or a lesser workout 2 weeks out.
 

This long season is finally over. Time to eat!

Eugene Marathon

Goal was to qualify for Boston. Even had "Boston" printed on my race number instead of my name; I figured it would help when spectators read it and hollered, "GO BOSTON!"

That would require a sub-3:25, or about 7:50 pace. Ouch: I'm old and feeble. But I've been working since October toward this. And my daughter was crazy about the idea of going to Boston.

Training was going great, lots of tempo runs and track work to get the legs used to rapid turnover. That is, until March 8th when I pulled a calf muscle. Overwork; more mileage than I've ever done, fast stuff, and not enough days off. So nothing for 3 wks except ice, yet the calf wasn't improving by early April.

The race was 29 April. Time was a wastin'.

Finally went to physical therapy in early April and told my story of woe. Basically, I needed to know if I should even run the race. Mandon, the PT extraordinaire, said, "No problem, we'll get you there. Just don't count on a personal best."

Ultrasound, electrical stimulation, targeted exercises. But little running. Since the injury, I did maybe 25 miles in 7 weeks leading up to the marathon. Not good. And I caught a cold this week.

The night before the race, could not nod off. Stomach fine, no nerves, just no sleep. At least I got a good rest the night before.

Plan was (what the heck), go out slow, then catch up to intended pace of 7:50, hang on for dear life, and try to at least get a half marathon best before throttling back. When I drop off the pace, STOP. Walk, stretch, then resume at 9 minute pace or so.

At six miles, I see the worst thing I've ever seen in a race. Dad and his son (9 or 10 yrs old), running together in Vibrams, the son's feet slapping the asphalt hard while they run at 8 min pace, and the son is wheezing, groaning, near tears, and literally staggering. I hear Dad yell, "DON'T MAKE ME SLOW DOWN."

Vile. Just vile. There's a kid who's quitting the sport tomorrow, although any activity with dear old Dad is bound to be horrible.

Across the 13.1 mile line in 1:42 and change. An 11 minute improvement, and on track for Boston. Smoking!

Problem is, I have another 13 to go, but I've recalibrated the goal, remember? Even though I take an extended walk break and pound some calories, my hamstrings have quit on me. Or, rather, they've become very vocal. And as we cross I-5, my left shoulder begins to ache like I've been punched several times. What??? A sore shoulder?? I'm not doing pushups out here.

The race organizers have a cruel sense of humor. The 16 mile point passes about a mile from the finish. There is a serious debate going on between my ears: I don't want to re-aggravate my calf, I already ran 5 miles farther than I've ever run that pace, and I want to be in one piece for the upcoming summer. I have no problem with a DNF (did not finish).

Actually, I do.

But I'm wearing my secret weapon; those less than stylish compression sleeves. The physical therapist harped on me until I bought some, and by God they work. No problems in the calf.

I sally forth and decide to finish. Hamstrings need regular attention (a well-placed knuckle), and I'm able to keep going, sort of. But there goes the 3:35 pace group, and the 3:45. It sure would be nice to break 4 hrs.

Friend Jeanne comes past at about 22 miles, looking steady while I'm falling apart. I tell her to go for it while I keep looking over my shoulder for the 4 hr pace balloons. 2 miles later, I see her coming back, so I yell her name. She needs at least 10 seconds to turn around; uh oh, she's hurting. We run side by side and try to maintain.

My Lake Stevens Ironman host, Kim, is now alongside. She wanted to run but also had health problems so she's a reluctant spectator; I told her we should write a book about how not to prepare for a race. She's urging us on, and I keep asking her where the pacers are. Hint: they are coming, those relentless enemies of the faltering.

I feel like a pirate with a sword, fighting off the insurgents. But I know something they don't know: I am not left-handed (which movie?).


Finally onto Agate, and we have enough cushion. Jeanne moves out, and I'm like De Niro in The Untouchables (I GOT NUTHIN'!). But we hit the track and I see the clock reading 3:59:20 or something. One last push and across the line. Since it took about a minute for us to reach the starting line at the beginning of the race, we're actually better off.

Jeanne's husband Dave broke 3 hrs for the first time, he's just a machine. Needless to say, the only time I saw him was before the start. Fellow triathletes Tim, Shellie, and Kim all did great, with Kim finishing her first full marathon. Her husband Frank was all over the course shouting encouragement.

While I didn't hit all my goals, I was very happy to finish in one piece with a huge half marathon PR, especially with my last 7 weeks on the disabled list. Big Kudos to Mandon at Rebound Physical Therapy for stitching me back together again.

Oh yeah, I also cut 36 minutes off my full marathon time. And while I didn't make it all the way to Boston, I was halfway, so my daughter can now enjoy a trip to Lincoln, Nebraska. Go Huskers!

After driving  myself 130 miles to get home, my wife rewards me by making fresh mango smoothies.

With vodka. :)

Hood to Coast Relay

Starts at Timberline Lodge on Mt Hood. Ends at Seaside, 197 miles away. 12 runners and two vans per team, 1250 total teams, a separate walking event, 20,000+ competitors, and lots of Port-a-Johns.

Jeez, I really need a new hobby.

The Sandy (Oregon) Safeway, site of the first van exchange, is an absolute mob scene. I look for (and find) Kim, the woman who hosted me at the Lake Stevens Ironman. I promise her more beer after this disaster is finished.

Runners began from the mountain in waves at 3:30am amid a nice hail/lightning storm. And the road downhill was recently paved. So by 5pm, the new asphalt was smokin' hot.

Fun, fun, fun...

We rented a monster van for the trip. 4 bench seats plus bucket seats for driver and passenger. Lots of room to lie down. We also had two drivers. Some teams had an SUV and no dedicated driver. Must be hard to concentrate on the wheel when you've got 15 miles in your legs and no sleep.

Or maybe I just need to be pampered.

The first 3 legs are side roads, very little shade, with the mercury pushing 90. Lots of rolling hills, too. I see Kim and get my whole van to cheer for her; she looks perplexed until she recognizes the culprit. Yes, I'm a sneaky SOB.

Now we hit the Springwater Trail, a paved path thru southeast Portland. As the sun drops, the humidity rises. I need to revisit the psychometric charts, the ones that plot temperature vs relative humidity. It feels like we're wearing a wet fur coat out here.

I get warmed up by trotting around the exchange parking lot. "Uh oh," I mutter. "What's wrong?" our driver asks. I grin and say, "I feel fast."

The handoff at 9:30, now it's really dark. The Trail has no lights, just the bobbing ones that each runner wears. I start way faster than I wanted to, but we ain't playin' here. After a few miles, we're on the trail that parallels the Willamette River into downtown Portland. Again, no lights. And really humid, but at least it's hot.

That's called 'irony,' people.

Booking along on the ragged edge, and that Marquam Bridge sure isn't getting closer. Near the end, there are 4 people running together. Since I don't know our next runner by sight, it'll be worse than a Nascar pit stop jam if I don't break free. So I hit the gas and pass them, arriving in the exchange zone solo. I see Van 1's leader jumping up and down in the dark and pointing to the next runner. Done.

15 roadkills. That's the # of runners I passed, though each one cost me portions of important internal organs. Good news: I was no one else's kill. See if I can keep that up. But that leg, about 6.4 miles, was basically a personal best for 10k. Great. And stupid: I have 2 more legs to go, and on no sleep.

Idiot.

Our first legs are done. Come to find out that the other van, instead of sitting and waiting for us, passed the time by enjoying dinner and aperitifs at the Deschutes Brewpub in the Pearl District. Nice touch!

Drive up to St. Helens and the fairgrounds. Nice mile-long procession of vans trying to get into the parking area. Oy vey. And we're directed to park adjacent to the runner's exchange, complete with its prerequisite hooting and hollering. We net about 90 minutes of sleep, all fitful. Up at 0230, collect the teammates who vanished into the mist with their sleeping bags, and get ready to roll.

Our first van arrives. They're looking a bit peaked, having now been up for almost 24 hours. It takes them another hour to drive to the next sleep area, so they get maybe 60 minutes of down time.

Repeat: new hobby needed.

At the next exchange; COFFEE!!   Bless you, my son.

Two sections of gravel road at 4am, out in Nowheresville. One of our women gets harrassed by a couple of locals in a pickup, but she flexes her muscles and scares them off.

My second leg approaches; I'm stiff and feeling clunky. Warm-up jog helps. I start slower, then pick it up after 10 minutes. I kill 4 more people, but can't get to the fifth. Legs won't maintain a faster pace. So I surge for 200 yards, then recover, then repeat several times. Now I'm on him, but he takes off with the exchange in sight. I let him go; a sprint now means more lactic means crying on the last leg.

No one passed by. That's 19 kills for me, none for them. Even though I had to have been slower this time, I wasn't. About 7:50 pace, following the first leg's 8:00.

Only two weeks since my half ironman, when I cut 78 minutes from last year's time. And last year, it took me 6 weeks for my body and head to recover. This time around, I know I'm not quite in sync, but I can't tell by the times I'm putting down. I'll say it again, diet is huge. The right fuel let me work harder and recover faster.

Traffic becomes horrendous in northwestern Oregon. Narrow roads and lots of vehicles. Our other van's last runner goes chugging past. This is a problem; he is going to hand off the baton to someone who is currently sitting in our van. So Superwoman jumps out, runs the last mile to the exchange, forcibly pushes people out of the PortaJohn line (well, gently), and then begins her journey.

Final leg. I'm ready for this to be done. Really, really stiff now. Legs want no part of another 5 miles.

Tough beans, pal. You signed up for this. You even paid good money!

Here comes Jen, sprinting home after 8 miles uphill. Nice job. I start with a mile on dirt, slightly up, then it's a two mile plunge into town. The van passes and asks how I'm doing. Good, I say, see you at the finish. They take off, and I devour a half dozen more folks.

Then it happens.

Clomp, clomp, clomp. It gets louder and louder. Some guy comes flying past. Absolutely flying. There's no way in hell I can match him.

First roadkill. I hang my head in shame. Then I realize my vanquir has no 5 o'clock shadow after 30 hours out here. He probably can't even vote.

I deservedly give myself a mulligan.

2 flat miles in town, and now I'm on fumes. But there's more kills to do. Try the surge again and it works. Get another couple before making the turn onto the Promenade. And the finish line should be right there.

Except it isn't. No, the tents are about a half mile down the beach. You cannot be serious! (thank you, John McEnroe).

A quick look behind: the lady I followed for a mile and then passed is not hanging close. I should send her a nice fruit basket. A couple more people ahead; what the hell, it's time to finish. But now a calf muscle is suddenly making noise, more with each step. Since I don't have anymore races this year, I don't care.

19 more kills, so my record is 38-1. Not shabby. Disclaimer; if I had been one of the first six runners, I'd have been dead meat for many.

Stumble across the timing mat and stop my watch: 7:50 minute pace once more. The reason for these nice times on a set of 46-year-old legs is due to an extraordinarily vicious massage therapist who makes endurance races seem like a picnic compared to 60 minutes on her table. How she inflicts such pain while smiling seems unlawful, but she keeps the wheels rolling. Many thanks, JJB.

Unbelievable: people were actually complaining about the weather and the lack of water along the course. Uh, you sign up for a Northern Hemisphere race in August and the heat is a surprise? Have some foresight, people!

Or study Darwin.

One woman complained that "for $110, I expect to be taken care of."  Fine, go to a spa. But don't enter an all-night relay and expect it to be no more strenuous than a trip to Whole Foods.

I remember a guy on the radio, circa 2002, complaining about high gas prices after he bought a Suburban. He was asked, "didn't you plan for this?" His retort: "This is America! We don't have to plan!!" 

This is why I drink.

Next morning at the Lazy Susan in Cannon Beach for breakfast. A woman dining upstairs is nearly crying as she descends to the ground floor. "You did the first leg, didn't you?" we ask. She nods, "way too fast leaving Timberline." Murder on the quads.

Hood to Coast is addicting. Next fix in 12 months.