Mohican

I now believe it was the plantar fasciitis that got me. It didn't necessarily appear that way during the run. Sure, my heel hurt, but everything - every bone, muscle, tendon and brain cell - hurt as well. Every stride, every footfall, was painful. I'd felt this way before, but never with 87 miles yet to run. And that's the part that was hurting those brain cells. I think that by favoring my left heel, combined with the twisting, turning, uneven surface of rocks, mud and roots, I caused additional bio-mechanical problems that brought the house down.

Everything about this run was truly a love-hate thing for me. I loved driving down to Mohican the night before with friends Ladd, Frank and Marsha. We three guys had planned to stay together as much as possible for the first half. I loved seeing old and new friends at the check in, dinner and meeting Friday night. I've said it before and I'll say it again: ultrarunners are some of the best people I know. I hated not being able to sleep more than two hours in our tiny cabin due to the campfire smoke that was like being two feet away from a chain-smoker.

The start was okay. It was not too hot, but extremely humid due to the rains the night before and earlier in the morning. After a half-mile or so, we reached the single-track trail. I'd anticipated that there may be a slow-down as we 300 or so runners (about half were 50-milers; the rest of us were centurions) entered the trail. What occurred, however, was a total traffic jam. Who wants to totally stop running, when there are 99+ miles to go? Eventually, we started walking, single file, up the switchbacks. Since the race had started at 5am, it was still dark, so the line of flashlights traversing the winding trails was surreal.

After about 10 minutes of walking we began shuffling on some of the straightaways. There were some extremely muddy areas, and without trail shoes, I began having some difficulties already. As unique an experience that this single-file trekking in the dark was, I hated it. I had absolutely no control over whether I could run or walk; I absolutely had to do what the group was doing. Worst of all, when I could run, I didn't really want to - it was that tough out there already.

Even several miles into the run, I was still with groups of runners going single file. The larger group had broken into smaller ones, but it was still impossible to get around them. And I was still at their mercy in regards to walking or running. Naturally the steep sections were for the walking, but there seemed to be way too few flatter areas. I even asked Ladd at one point: "Do you think there will be any areas where we can run for more than just a couple minutes?"

Ladd, Frank and I were never far from each other. After a couple hours, we could finally stay together for a while and avoid those groups a bit more. It was probably about 7 or 8am when I started to notice the scenery. The woods were truly beautiful, and, now away from the crowds, I thought about how much I loved this.

But not for long. Things were already starting to hurt. Ladd said we were 13 miles in at about the three hour mark. This was actually a good, smart pace, but it was beginning to get tough for me to keep up. Not to mention painful. How would I be able to do it for 87 more torturous miles?

I forgot about all this for a while as we crossed a stream several times and then climbed up and over a small, muddy cliff. This half-mile or so section may have taken a half-hour or more. It was fun, but also frustrating. The rest of the terrain was also terrible, but that part was the worst. Yes, it's the old love-hate thing on steroids. There was actually a very nice running section between the dam and the covered bridge aid station, but it's too bad that this was only about a half mile long.

After that aid station I found that I couldn't stay with Ladd anymore at all. He wasn't moving that fast, but I just wasn't able to hold even that pace. My overall pain was increasing, and the humidity made it difficult to catch my breath. This was shaping up to be an anaerobic ultra run for me. I made a couple remarks about all this to Frank, but I think he was having at least some difficulty as well.

By the time we got to the final aid station before the completion of the first 27-mile loop (mile 22 or so), I was totally spent. I did get a word in to Ladd and Frank that I didn't know if I'd be able to complete the loop, much less start the next one. I don't think Ladd believed me.

At this point things got worse and worse. I had been thinking that perhaps I'd recover and at least go on to some extent. Before the start, I'd had no contingency plans at all; I was going to finish no matter what. Now that ever step hurt, I was nearly in a panic - wondering whether I could make it back for even that first loop. My movements were slower and slower and more and more runners began passing me. I knew several of them, and they tried to encourage me. It didn't work. There was just too much pain and suffering. I was hating every minute. It didn't help that when I did try to run I tripped and fell. This was on top of a few other minor falls earlier in the run.

Eventually I saw it: a way to get back quicker: a short-cut! This would eliminate the extremely vertical final two-mile section of the course. Since I was going to be dropping, I had no qualms whatsoever about taking this route back in.

The 25 or so miles had taken me six torturous hours. It was such a relief to get off those terrible trails. For all I know, I may have been the first to drop. But I didn't care one bit.

Now I've been in a lot of pain (still) and am unable to run. Regarding trail hundred-mile races, I'd say they're out of my system for good.

Couple additional thoughts:

$200 for this race was way too much. I'd even be saying that if I'd managed to finish. The aid stations and support were okay, but not to the extent that they justified this cost.

And 300 runners (plus marathoners later on) is way too many for these trails. 40 to 50 should be the maximum.

I was amazed at how much my well-meaning friends were disappointed for me (for, not in). They wanted to do anything and everything to help. But nothing would do. I only needed to get off my feet. And to never think about anything like this ever again.

I should also mention that Patrick Fisher was to pace me for the final 23 miles. I'd been thinking that there's be none better. He felt bad for me, but there was nothing he could do at that point, either.

It was great to see Debbie and Kathy there at the start/finish area. I was sorry to disappoint them most of all, but they gave me encouragement anyway. And a nice ride home.

I am amazed that anyone can complete a race like this. It's not just 100 miles. It's 100 miles over the roughest terrain imaginable. Yet, Ladd and several others did make it. I'm in awe.

Out of My System

Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), that's the way I'm looking at this upcoming Mohican run. Maybe it's good to be apprehensive and anxious. I am, in spades. The thing about getting it out of my system is that the voices had been working on me for some time now. "You MUST do a 100-miler," they tell me. "The sooner the better," they go on. Assuming I can complete Mohican, I'll be able to silence those voices and move back to the normal ones. You know, the ones that tell me to run 3 shorter races over a weekend and such.

And this brings me to my goals:

1) Finish the race
2) Don't drop out
3) Run 100 miles and get to the finish

If I do accomplish all that, it would be nice to finish in a half-way decent amount of time - mostly because I get kind've tired at night.

One other thing: I hate trail shoes and carrying or wearing anything (that I don't have to for modesty). This means that I'm having trouble with water and that I'll probably run the race in road shoes. I'm just not a trail dog. Arf.

... and Run Like a Turtle

So the whole thing goes,

Eat like a horse,
Drink like a fish... and
Run like a Turtle

This is one of Roy Heger's favorite mantras. One can do far worse than trying to emulate Roy, although I've joked with him that my goal is to be the exact opposite of him in every way possible. Just call me the anti-Roy. This is all the more interesting because many have compared Roy's appearance (beard, long hair, hippie clothes, etc.) to that of Jesus Christ. I suppose this would make me the anti-Christ, although I'm not really all that devilish. Okay, maybe a little.

This year, though, against all my most basic instincts, I've somehow managed to become more like Roy. Not in looks, mind you. But I've been running more and more miles, doing them slower and slower, doing them more and more on trails, and now I'm going to (be trying to) run a 100-miler. It's almost impossible to get more like Roy than that. Unless, of course, I was going to be doing multiple 100-milers. Or running them over impossible terrain. This one (which is tough enough) will most likely be plenty for me, thank you.

Back to turtles. I love running fast. Check that. I love being able to run fast. Of course in order to be able to run fast, one must run fast, at least at times. And this is something that simply hasn't been happening along with all those miles. I did manage 6:50 for two consecutive miles at the MCRR 'Quickie' a couple weeks back. And I also got down to sub-seven pace with the gang on the Lester Rail Trail the other night. I can't even call them tempo runs until I can do three consecutive miles at this pace, but these two efforts almost killed me. Today at the Trumbull HS track, I couldn't even come close. Heaven help me at Twin Sizzler and other upcoming shorter races.

So now I'm scared to death about next week's race, and I'm also afraid that I'll never get my mojo/speed back, afterwards. I supposed I should only worry about one thing at a time. Just call me Touche' Turtle. But ya doesn't have to call me Roy.

I Lied

In an earlier post I said that I'd decided against Mohican. I'm sorry to say that I lied. I know this hurts my constituents and especially my family, so I'd like to apologize to all of them, and sincerely ask for their forgiveness. I also hope this doesn't spoil my chances for re-election.

After a better-than-expected run at Another Dam 50k, my excuses (not in shape, can't handle trails, heat, etc., etc.) dried up. So rather than continue to be called a chicken by Ladd and Frank, I went ahead and registered for Mohican. Lord help me..

Another Dam 50k (Millenium) Run

You can just call me Millennium Man. That's because I wound up with number 1000 at this year's Another Dam 50k Run in Englewood, which is near Dayton, Ohio. I suppose calling myself Runner of the Millennium may be taking things a bit too far over the top.

"Just run real fast so that you're done before it gets too hot." This was my advice to anyone concerned about the anticipated heat for the day. We'd been hearing that the high would reach 94F. But they could be wrong, and even if they're right, 94's not really so bad, is it?

"Dan, do you remember the trails being this tough?" asked Ladd between huffs and puffs. My answer was, "Now I do!" It was just beginning to get hot. The first (of four) laps went fine, although the trails were indeed tougher than I remembered. One good thing: they were much less muddy than last year.

Ladd stayed with Jeannine as I ventured on ahead; Janet, Marsha and Charles were out there as well. I saw some of them coming and going from time to time. That's what makes AD50k so much fun. Not to mention the road trip aspect of it.

Yes, the trails were less muddy. Except for the second lap, that is. A brief heavy downpour occurred as I started that second circuit. The cool rain felt wonderful, and I was enjoying every minute of it. Then three things happened in succession: 1) the rain stopped; 2) the trails became muddy - really muddy; 3) the heat returned, this time accompanied by gobs of humidity. The mud was especially thick and heavy. All this made the second loop, which had started out so nice and cool, a tough (and slow) one.

The third loop, on the other hand, went extremely well. The mud had dried up as fast as it had appeared. The heat was still increasing, but for some reason that didn't bother me at this time. Roughly two miles of the 7.9 mile course are exposed to the sun. This includes the dam itself. The rest of the trails are nicely shaded; very nicely shaded. The one turned out to be my fastest, and it's where I felt the best.

So now, 3 hours, 30 minutes into the run, I had another hour and 10 minutes to finish in 4:40. Why is that important, you ask? Because 4:40 is the course record for men's grand masters division. Beating this time would put me in the record book and also net me a $75 gift certificate to a local running store. That's $25 for winning the division and a $50 bonus for breaking the record.

One hour, ten minutes is what I'd been averaging, so it wasn't an unreasonable expectation. Except, that is, for the heat. It was 11:30am, and the temperatures were really getting up there. It was taking it's toll, but I was going for it anyway. Gauging my pace on the times I hit the aid station, I had a chance as of the first stop, but almost not at all for the second. I never gave up the effort, but I just couldn't make it in the time I wanted.

The result was a 4:43. This was still good enough to place me 8th and 1st among the grand masters. It took almost forever to cool down and clean up. I learned later on that Dayton's high for the day was 98F! But running fast did get me out of the heat that much faster! My advice proved correct for a change.

And Now for Something Really Different

That would be, of course, a hundred-miler. Really different for me, anyway. And I don't take this stuff lightly.

It was ten years ago that I did Mohican. I've told everyone a bazillion times, but I may have never mentioned it here in the 'ole blog: Debbie, who was my support crew, made me promise to never do another one of these things ever again. In a moment of weakness, I agreed. The funny thing was that I wasn't that bad during or after the run; she was just worried about me.

Now, a decade later, Debbie is letting me out of my solemn promise. But I've decided not to do Mohican. It's Burning River or Bust. More on all this later - just wanted to get this out there.

The Fun Run that Wasn't

In the days leading up to the second annual Emerald Necklace 100k, it became clear that we wouldn't have too many runners actually running 100k. In fact, it was beginning to look like there would be only one or two of us out there. After double checking with all the potential runners, I decided to make it only 50k.

In the mean time, I learned about a Burning River Training Run, which was to cover the first 18.6 miles of the course, and ALSO a 33 to 40 mile run with Lloyd, which would also cover the beginning part of BR100, but then keep going up to Station Road and then some. This latter run was to celebrate Lloyd's birthday, thus "40 on my 40th".

Since I'd only be doing 31 on Sunday, 33 to 40 on Saturday sounded pretty good. In fact, this would give me even more that the planned 62 for the weekend. I'm just so brilliant.

It was already getting warm when a bunch of us met at Station Road and carpooled up to Squire's Castle in North Chagrin Reservation. There we met up with a much bigger bunch (the ones doing 18.6), and headed south. There was such a big group that the start actually looked like the start of Burning River itself. Everything seemed fun and exciting at this point.

The first 10 or so miles of BR100 are on the road, so of course I very unwisely stayed with the lead group of Brad, Steve and Rachel. Along the way we did encounter a few others, including Tim. When we hit the trails after the polo grounds I mentioned that I needed to slow down a bit and I expected the group to just go on. But we all slowed just a bit and stayed together. This (still going at a pretty good clip on the trails) turned out to be mistake number two for me. I should say, however, that at this point I was still very much enjoying myself. The trails were not too rough, but they were more than a little muddy, and we ran through several ankle-deep streams. Our legs were pretty well caked with the mud.

When we reached the 18.6 mile point at Shadow Lake, Tim, Steve and Rachel were done, and Brad and I went on. The problem was that I was done too, and yet I was only about half-way home. I stayed with Brad for a few more miles and then told him to go on; I needed to slow down. Way down.

Now as it became warmer, I entered Bedford Reservation and things became tougher and tougher. I stayed on the trails at times, but opted for the all-purpose trail more and more as I went on. The two main reasons were that I thought it would be fewer miles, and that I wouldn't have to pick up my feet as much. I did take one tumble on the trails along the way. I was suddenly very much not enjoying myself.

After a little bit of confusion, I found my way to Alexander Road, where I got some water and encouragement, knowing that I was almost there. I had thought that this was about mile 30, and therefore must have had only about 3 to get back to the car. The options for 36 and 40 miles were to include extra running in Brecksville Reservation; 33 would be fine for me today, thank you.

It turned out that the Buckeye Trail was early on in the section after Alexander Road - not long after the Bike & Hike Trail started. I didn't see it. I went on, and on and on. And let me tell you, that Bike & Hike Trail should be renamed the Bake & Hike Trail. That's certainly what I did (bake, not hike) for those four or so miles. The worst part about being lost is the thought that you're going all those extra miles for nothing. And suffering mightily for it.

Of course I did eventually get back, covering the last part of the run on route 82. I figure that I probably ran an extra 3 or so miles, so I'm calling it 36. I've had some really bad runs, but this has to rank up near the top (or should I say bottom) of that list. All I could think about is how much I hate this running stuff. This was the first fun run that wasn't for the weekend.

So what was I going to do about Sunday? I was so beat up that I could hardly move, much less run. At the same time, I began hearing from folks saying they also wouldn't make it to the Emerald Necklace. The two people that I thought would show up, John B. and Joe J., showed up. I was there to send them off, but told them that I couldn't run a step if my life depended on it. Joe did manage to finish. For me however, this was fun run that wasn't number two.

I suppose most of the problem is that I hadn't fully recovered from Cleveland. None of my runs in the past week were very good. But this was as bad as it gets. I now need to reconsider which, if any, 100-miler to do. And I need a long rest.

Today's Speed, by Dan Horvath

Today I felt an almost religious need
For some honest-to-goodness speed
When the body arrived at the track
The brain said 'hey, gimme some slack'
And the legs weren't having any part of this creed

2011 Rite Aid Cleveland Marathon

Before I get to the race itself, a note about chemicals. Ad for a chemical company: 'without chemicals, life itself would be impossible.' My chemical of choice when it comes to running is called caffeine. It generally takes a cup or two of coffee, sometimes just tea, to get me out the door for a morning run. I'll also ingest something of the sort for races. I believe that aside from the obvious effect of waking me up, it benefits running in other ways as well: enhanced awareness, lower perception of pain, etc. Before a big race such as Cleveland, I'll often go a few days without caffeine so that the effect will be greater on race day.

That said, I'm usually pretty careful about not taking too much. I don't want to be too dependent on this, or any other chemical. But for the 2011 Cleveland Marathon, I think I took more than I ever have in one day:

-two cups of green tea early in the morning before I left (I had to wake up before driving to Connie's.)
-a no-doz type pill (200 mg) a bit before the start since I wouldn't be able to get coffee.
-3/4 of a bottle of 5-Hour Energy that they handed out before the start.
-another bottle of 5-Hour Energy that I had stashed in my shorts pocket after about an hour of running.
-4 energy gels that were laced with caffeine, taken during the race.
-a cup of coffee after the race (in the Key Marriott Fitness Center where we got to change and take showers).

The effect on the race? I'll get to that. But the effect on me? I was shaking like crazy well into the night, and almost didn't sleep at all. This must be what speed is like. (I had previously thought that caffeine's effects last 4-6 hours regardless of how much one ingested. I no longer believe this.)

The day was foggy, misty and cool. In other words, perfect. My plan was to begin with the 3:20 pace group and to try to pick it up in the end. I'd be happy with anything under 3:20 on this day, since I haven't been putting in the speedwork or shorter races like I did last year when I did 3:13. I'm also a few pounds north of last year's weight. I would've liked to run with Ladd and Connie, but I felt they would be just a bit faster, and I wanted to be more conservative.

Naturally all those plans went out the window as soon as the gun went off. After lining up by Browns Stadium with Ladd, Connie and Bob, I saw only Bob after the start, and I stuck with him for the first 5-6 miles. This was not smart on my part. Bob was running conservatively and wisely; I was not. You'd think after 90-some marathons and gobs of ultras and other stuff, that I'd know better.

I ran alone when I finally wised up enough to just let Bob go. After only a couple more miles, who should catch up with me, but Ladd, of all people. I had assumed right along that he was way up there, and that perhaps Bob would catch him. But no, Ladd was running smart. I decided, still fairly unwisely, to now stay with Ladd as the course took us from the very nice west side neighborhoods back into downtown. We said a fond farewell to the half-marathoners, and began heading east, past Playhouse Square, and eventually out towards University Circle.

The Cleveland Marathon course seems to change almost every year, and 2011 was no exception. Whereas we still go west for the first half, and east for the second half, those loops themselves were almost backwards from last year. I don't have a complaint about this, but it would be nice if they could settle on one course or another.

It was at University Circle, mile 17 or 18, where I lost Ladd. I was slowing just a bit, and he was still very steady. I could only hope that he'd be able to maintain his pace for a personal best. My favorite part of the course, MLK Blvd., through Rockefeller Park, came next. I was doing everything I could to try to maintain my pace, but I think I was slowing still a little more. Jim caught me and we chatted a bit before he went on after a personal best. With all these potential personal bests around me, you'd think... Oh never mind.

We hit mile 20 just as we got up to the lake at Gordon Park. I decided, after all that caffeine, that it was now or never. I'd run a pretty decent 20 miles (in 2:29, give or take), and a 45-minute final 10k would bring me in at a time similar to last year's.

I was surprised that we only stayed near the lake for a mile or so before making several turns. Mile 20 wasn't bad, but I slowed some more for the next few. With a mile and a half to go, I pushed as hard as I could to try to stay under 3:17. I don't know why that number is significant, but it seemed like it was at the time. The finish in front of Browns Stadium (the start had been in back) was pretty cool. I was going full tilt, and probably making all kinds of strange faces from the effort.

I made it in 3:16:xx - just barely under my 3:17 goal, and well under the original 3:20 goal. I could finally relax my face!

After I got my medal, I said hello and congrats to Bob, Ladd, Jim, and some other folks. It was a good day for a lot of us. Within a minute or so, we heard the announcer say, "Here comes Connie Gardner from Medina, Ohio. Congratulations, Connie, you are a *Marathoner*!" I don't think he knew who she was, but we sure gave her some $h!t about being a *Marathoner*!

I didn't know how I did in my age group. I was encouraged to not see too many geezers who looked to be my age, anywhere nearby at the finish. I later learned that I was first in that geezer division. That's a first for me at Cleveland (or any other medium/large marathon for that matter).

I suppose I'd have to say that chemicals do mostly work. And I can't wait till my next chance to abuse them.

AOS

The morning run wasn't going well at all. I was tired and slowing already, and I'd only just made it through the three miles over to the Brunswick track. Perhaps if I'd had a plan that was more clear...

The Hinckley Hills that I ran with the gang on Saturday were challenging as always, but the distance (14 miles) was lower than usual for a variety of reasons. Having just returned from some decent running in Omaha, and with Cleveland looming a week away, I didn't need a ton of miles on Sunday either. But I did want to do something, anything, of substance. I'd read that the Hanson Brothers call some of their workouts SOS, or "Something of Substance" runs. I presume this means that there's some kind of quality speed involved. In my case, needed intervals, hills or a tempo run. This was, then, my own goal for Sunday: Anything of Substance.

Too bad I didn't know what. The excuse here is that I never know if the Brunswick HS Track will be open or not. Many days I run the three miles over there, counting on doing a specific speedwork session, only to find it locked up tighter than a drum. Today was not that day... Many days I have a really bad first couple miles, decide that this wasn't my day, and bag the whole run. Today was not that day, either.

The workout du jour turned out to be 5 x 1200 at about a 4:58 average. Not great, but it *was* substantive. I'll have to take it.

Nowhere to Run

Almost invariably, wherever I travel, I can find a decent area in which to run. I'll often scout something out on Google Maps ahead of time, then head that direction from the hotel. Other times I just let serendipity lead the way for me. It helps that most of the hotels I stay in are located in decent areas. Not so much for the Courtyard in La Vista, Nebraska.


Same Treadmill, Same Workout, Same Result

I was here in La Vista in January, when the weather was incredibly cold - below zero and lots of snow. I spent the entire week (the running part of it anyway) on the hotel treadmill. One of those runs, a speed workout consisting of 8 x 1-Mile, resulted in my first bout with Plantar Fasciitis in quite a while. Since then, I've had the PF more or less constantly, although it hasn't slowed my running down too much. Actually it has, speed-wise, bit not mileage-wise.

So since there was a cold rain on Tuesday morning, I decided to hit the mill here once again. And since I needed speed, I decided to do 8 x 1-Mile again. And by now you've figured out what I'm going to say next: ouch! Yes, the PF, which never went completely away, is back in full force, or at least as bad as it was in January.


Other La Vista Running, Part 1

I did venture outside later in the week, and I wasn't pleased with the running possibilities; not at all. Every direction I went, there were concrete roads, traffic, and generally poor places to run to.

It almost didn't matter, because
a) my foot was hurting
b) I was tapering for the Cornbelt 24-Hour Run, so I didn't need a lot of miles
c) I was beginning to come down with an awful cold


DNS

I had decided to be as prepared as I could be for the Cornbelt 24. I packed gobs of gu, oodles of other odds and ends, several changes of clothes, etc. I bought a preponderance of Powerbars, a clutch of Cliffbars, and even some bottles of Boost. My work would keep me in Omaha over the weekend, and I'd decided that for something to do, I'd drive five hours east to the Quad Cities area in Eastern Iowa on Friday night, run the race Saturday morning until Sunday morning, and then drive back to Omaha on Sunday in order to be at work on Monday. Yes, I had it all figured out. Hey, maybe I'd even run well. At least I was giving myself the chance.

It was about midweek when my cold hit, and it hit hard. I'm a baby about these things anyway, but it was surely a bad one. How in the world was I going to run all day and all night with this? Would exposure to the elements for that long cause me to develop something worse, like pneumonia?

Of course there was the option of showing up, doing just a few miles, and simply running according to how I was feeling. Even this little bit would have seemed okay - at least I'd have tried. There was only one problem with that: the five-hour drive to get there. As bad as I was feeling, I wasn't sure I could even get through that in one piece. The one-hour drives to Lincoln were bad enough.

So I ditched the whole idea. It's disappointing, since I had begun to think I could possibly have done quite well. And in addition, I also wanted to see another one of these events in action. All in all, I probably made the right decision, however.

So then there was Lincoln.


Lincoln

When I was originally making my travel plans, I thought: "I wonder if there are any nearby marathons during the weekend that I'll be in Omaha." Sure enough, there was one, in Lincoln, Nebraska, on May 1! Alas, several weeks ahead of time, it was SOLD OUT already, at 10,000 runners for the full and the half. I didn't think there were that many people in all of Nebraska! At about the same time, I realized that I was having a difficult time getting hotel rooms for Thursday through Saturday night. Lincoln was an hour from Omaha, could the rooms be sold out because of the marathon?

Ironically I did find a hotel in Lincoln for Thursday and Friday, but not Saturday, when that one was sold out as well. After rearranging my plans anyway, I wound up back in La Vista for Saturday night. I also found out that what was filling up the Omaha hotels was the Berkshire Hathaway annual shareholders meeting.

My run in Lincoln was actually pretty good. I went south on 27th street for 2 1/2 miles and then east on a (concrete) bike trail for another 2 1/2 miles before turning back. There were a few mile markers, so I could gage my speed. And that speed was about 8 1/2 minute pace outbound, and better that on the return; almost tempo pace for me these days. And my cold? I was beginning to feel better, and the running seemed to actually help.

But note that the running was ten miles, not ten times that amount.

On Saturday I visited the marathon expo. It was just a bunch of runners. I then made my final drive from Lincoln to Omaha. About half-way I stopped to visit the Strategic Air Command Air and Space Museum. SAC had been in place during the cold war years to be the nuclear deterrent to the USSR and other threats. Part of the US Air Force, SAC was the outfit that had all the heavy bombers and also the ICBM's. I was pleasantly surprised by the museum; there were plenty of huge planes inside, including a B-29, a B-52 and a B-1. The World War II exhibits included a sample plane and information about Doolittle's bombing raid on Tokyo. It was all quite impressive, to say the least.



Finally

I found it! A place to run from my La Vista hotel. This, after not finding anything the week before, and then spending part of the weekend in Lincoln. I had done some more searching, this time for trails, thinking that I'd probably have to drive to a park somewhere to get to them. Voila! Wehrspann Lake Park (part of the Chaco Hills Recreation Area) is only a short three miles away, and there are six miles of trails there, mostly around the lake.

Like everything else around here, the trails are concrete, but that wouldn't be a problem this time: once I got there, I ran along the grassy trail berms. It was a nice park, and it even had some small hills. I ran around the lake, taking a shorter route that cut part of the trail out by crossing over a bridge over the lake part-way through. I called this a five mile loop. Then I went around again, taking the longer route, which I called six miles. After doing about three more miles in the park, I went back to the hotel, trying to pick the pace up as best I could.

It was enough to call twenty miles, and I'm happy I did it. The cold continues to improve. Later Sunday I drove downtown to take a long walk along the Missouri Riverfront. Turns out there are plenty of nice places to run (and walk) there too. There's also a neat new pedestrian bridge crossing the river to Iowa. I did this walk too, but then just turned right back.

Later in the week I made my way to and around the park three more times - each time for the six-mile loop along with the three miles each way to and from the lake. Each run was a little faster, and my cold continued to improve. It's good to run again!

So it turned out that after finding no places to go at first, and after not being able to make it to my 24-hour run, I did eventually discover places to run.

GCM

GCM stands for Glass City Marathon. I ran this one in lieu of Boston because it's easier, cheaper, less time consuming, etc., etc. I'm happy I did.

There were a bunch of us Medina County Road Runners who made the two-hour trip to Toledo. Debbie Scheel, Michelle Wolfe and John McCarroll shared the ride with me. John and I also shared a room at the Roof. We went to the not-so-big expo and then to dinner at Bravo. I believe there were on the order of 15 of us at the table.

I'd forgotten how noisy cheap hotels can be on Saturday nights. I guess I'm spoiled. I wish I could blame my slow time on lack of sleep, but that wouldn't be entirely fair. It would be more appropriate to blame my absolutely stupid 20 miles of running (11 on trails at night) on Thursday.

Although I was pretty beat up from Thursday (as well as the previous weekend's 100k run), I felt okay at the start. Connie, Ladd, Debbie and I stayed together in the early miles before I fell behind to try to stay with the 3:20 pace group. This wouldn't be bad, thought I. If I could stay with them and possibly even pick it up a mile or two out, I'd be able to call it a 3 hours, 1x minute marathon, and I'd like that.

But then something funny happened at about mile nine. We passed Debbie, and instead of staying with the group, I ran with her. At that point I was still feeling extremely good, and truly thought I would be able to continue to hang with them. For some reason, however, I made a split-second decision to stay with Debbie. I could see that she was struggling, and I could also see that the pace group almost immediately got way ahead of us. In my mind, now that I'd decided to run with Debbie, I was locked into staying with her for the entire race. In any case, I honestly thought I'd be able to help Debbie recover and begin to get her pace close to what it had been.

She didn't. We slowed quite a bit during those middle miles. The easy pace gave me a chance to admire the scenery. The course had changed entirely since I'd run this race before. The change was definitely for the better: starting at University of Toledo (where I went for my freshman year of undergraduate studies), through neighborhoods and parks, on roads and bike trails. Although the leaves weren't out yet, a few flowers were, and even the bare trees were pretty. The finish was inside the UT Football Stadium.

And speaking of pretty, it was pretty darn windy! I'm not sure of the wind speeds, but they were extremely strong, and seemed to be getting stronger all the time. Luckily those winds were in our face mostly in the first half, and mostly at our backs in the second half. Debbie did manage to pick up her pace a little by about mile 20. Even then, she had some foot cramps that slowed her down. As the finish approached, so did the 3:40 time barrier. Don't ask why this is a barrier, just accept that it is.

I pushed hard to beat that, and I encouraged Debbie to do the same. I finished in 3:38.

So that's another one for the books. At some point I'd like to get back to last year's levels, but that probably won't happen any time soon.

Thanks to Wendy Kouvaras for use of the photo.

Mad City 100k

The piper would need to be paid. It was just a matter of how much.

I was about to break one of the cardinal rules of running. You know the one: Thou shalt not try for a PR in the 50k en route to a 100k run. Just after one of ten 10k loops of the Mad City 100k, I did some quick math and analysis in my already rattled head. It went something like this.

Let's see, 52 plus minutes for that lap. If I can just do four more 53 minute laps, I'll beat my 50k PR of 4:25. But how much would the piper charge for something like this? Hey, maybe little or nothing! Maybe I do 4:25 or so for both the first half and the second half!! Or even if not, maybe I can just go back to the original plan and still wind up with a fast time.

That original plan had, I thought, been a good one. Since my previous three 100k's were all in the range of 10 to 11 hours, I felt that anything under 10 hours on this day would be a great and wonderful thing. Since the Mad City 100k consisted of 10 10k's, something I can actually get my head around, the math is easy: just do each one under an hour. Note the overuse of the word "just" here and in the previous paragraph. There were other sensible parts of the plan as well: E-caps, gel and Perpetuem every lap; stuff like that.

Mad City, so named because it's in Madison, Wisconsin, serves as the USATF 100k National Championship. Therefore, the best ultrarunners in the country were present. The weather at the start was cloudy with temps in the upper 40s; they would rise through the 50s during the day. In other words, absolutely perfect. RD Tim Yanacheck started us off and almost immediately the 30 runners separated themselves into three groups: the fast folks - about 20 of them - ran up ahead. The slower folks - 10 or so - fell back. The third group consisted of me, all by my lonesome, in the middle.

We left Vilas Park, ran on bike trails and roads, went through some neighborhoods, past playgrounds, through an Arboretum and other small parks including wetlands and woods, all the while keeping Lake Wingra on our left. There were a few rolling hills. The toughest was through a neighborhood around mile 2.5. Those hills were enough to slow me down some, but they really weren't bad. In fact, they helped break up the monotony. Each of the six miles were marked by a pillar. All in all, it was a very nice course to be traversing ten times. I do need to mention, however, that the hills did increase in size every time through.

After that first time around, I thought, "this is easy". Sure enough, I was able to run the next three laps in right around 53 minutes and I was on my way. Lap five proved more difficult. I was still maintaining that same pace, but it was tougher and tougher. That's when I really started to wonder some more about paying that piper.

I got my 50k PR: 4:24:17. And then almost collapsed. Well, it wasn't quite that bad, but as I started the sixth one, I knew I was in trouble. Everything started to hurt. Nothing specific, just general pain, and a lot of it. The piper had begun taking his payment already. This lap took me on the order of 59 minutes (and my pace slipped from 8:30ish to 9:30ish); just right according to the original plan. But would I be able to do four more?

Yes and no. Yes I was able to do four more. No, I couldn't keep them under an hour. In fact, they were all just over an hour. Not by much, mind you, just a minute or so off each time. I had taken an ibuprofen tablet for the pain - something ultrarunners are never supposed to do - and that seemed to take some of the edge off. Maybe it's just the placebo effect.

Throughout the race I'd seen fairly few other competitors. There were 50k runners and relay runners. There were 100k runners that I lapped and some that lapped me. But I was still surprised at how few I saw in general. Near the end of lap 10 I did see two others however. One came from behind, and although I tried to hold him off, he passed me with about a quarter mile to go. The other was ahead, and I recognized his shirt and running style. It was Bob Pokorny, whom I'd driven up with. I hadn't seen Bob for the entire time. After the other guy passed Bob, I pulled even with him. Hey, I was finally running with someone! We only had about 100 yards to go, and I suggested we tie. Bob had crashed much harder than I had, and he agreed. We finished 15th and 16th, with a time of 9:31.

Note to self. Next time, stick with the plan! It may not get me there that much faster, but it would definitely get me there with less pain.

RD Tim and his volunteers did a great job. Except for the pain, it was a pleasure!

Then came the (even more painful) ride home, but that's a different story.

Slick Speedwork

Unfortunately, this title is intended to be in the literal and not the figurative sense of the word.

Debbie and I drove through constant rain and snow during our trip to Connecticut yesterday. This made for a somewhat stressful drive. Veronica's part of CT experienced mostly rain. As expected, we're having a great visit and are especially enjoying Grandson Malcolm.

It was clear and in the mid-thirties (I thought) when I started running Saturday morning. Things were still damp from all the rain, but this didn't appear to be a problem as I ran downhill from Veronica and Barry's place, and then up (way up) Daniels Farm Road, past Daniels Farm and Daniels Farm School, to the track. With all the miles I've been doing, more than ever I had a need for speed.

After 36 (24 out and 12 in) on Thursday, along with other long stuff during the week, I haven't been very speedy at all lately. My (current) theory is that running slow doesn't make you slow; not running fast makes you slow. And if you're doing gobs of your miles slowly, that puts you (read: me) squarely in the latter category.

For this attempt at a Something of Substance run, I figured I'd do some mile intervals at the track for the quality part, and then enough other jogging around to call it 14 for the day and 100 for the week. As I hit the track and tried mightily to pick up my speed, I immediately realized that (whoa!) the track was covered with a thin layer of ice. That put a quick damper on thoughts of any real speed.

I tried to go fast anyway, but when the first mile went by at about 7:37 - about a minute slower than I'd have liked - I began to think it would be a Nothing of Substance run. I did three more icy mile repeats anyway, each one faster than the last, but still pretty pathetically pokey. At least I somehow managed to not slip enough to fall completely.

So I ran back down Daniels Farm Road, back up to Veronica and Barry's place, did some half-mile loops around the block, and stopped when I thought I had 14.

Nothing of Substance, but more miles for the week.

going long

Again and again I pound out the miles at the expense of quality. But now I have a reason: I signed up for the Mad City 100K. Plans are to travel to Wisconsin and run this April 9 race with Connie and Bob. But holy cow. I'd better train. And that means even *more* miles.

So last Sunday, after getting home from California the morning before, I ran on the order of 33 miles at Hinckley. It wasn't all 9-mile loops, although there were a couple. There was some back and forth, and also 8+ miles of trails as the first loop of the first annual Buzzard Run 50K put on by Roy and Shannon. That, incidentally, was a blast - it was near the end of my odyssey, so it was rather slow, but still fun. Part of the run was with Dan and Becky.

That wasn't enough. I wanted to do a *longer* one, and I wanted it to come in 6-miles increments because Mad City consists of 10 10K loops at the University of Wisconsin in Madison. So Wednesday I ran my own 6-mile loop 3 times, did some additional stuff around the school, and came back with 24 miles. Then I hopped on the mill for 9 more. Unfortunately I ran out of time and had to quit at 33 for this day as well. Not quite as far as I wanted, but it would have to do.

Today I did 21 at Dave's. We did his favorite loop into the valley and back out to his place. It was cold, but the run went fairly well.

Now, about running long, here is my weekly mileage:
Sunday: 33
Monday: off
Tuesday: 10
Wednesday: 33
Thursday: off
Friday: 4
Saturday: 21

I'll leave the math as an exercise for the reader.

Will the madness ever stop?

Bubka-esque

In my post about the Green Jewel 50K, I mentioned the concept of setting a PR so far ahead of one's previous best, that it could be called "Beamonesque". Of course I was recalling the Bob Beamon long jump in the 1968

I now find myself in Lake Forest, CA once again, and I'm once again running the 10-mile Portola Hills route that I described in my Running in La-La Land post. Note that there is neither a lake nor a forest here. But it's really nice, nonetheless.

Ukrainian Athlete Sergei Bubka, made his living as a pole-vaulter. But he wasn’t just any track and field athlete; he was a world record holder. He would famously predict another world height record to the promoters of any and all events where he was invited. The promoters would happily pay a bonus for such record performances, and Bubka would come through for them.

The thing was that he would only break his previous record by a small amount each time. He wanted to continue making such a good living with the bonus payments he constantly earned. Had he ever broken the record by a large amount like Bob Beamon did, he would’ve had a much tougher time breaking it again the next time.

Last time I ran the route 3 times, and I got a bit faster each time. Those times were pretty darn slow however. I’d like to point out, however, that the elevation gain during this 10-mile run is pretty darn significant. It appears that I run from an elevation of 300 to 400 feet, all the way up to 1600 feet at about the 4-mile mark. From there it’s down to mile five before turning around, climbing the mountain, and heading back down the other side.

After an improvement of something like four minutes for those three runs, I was wondering whether I could continue that trend this week. I’d be doing the run as many as four times; that’s a lot of improvement. One thing in my favor was that I knew the course well by now. Another was that the weather, which was excellent last time, would be even better this week – the morning lows would be in the low 50s.

So for my first trick, I wanted to at least break 90 minutes; something I couldn’t accomplish at all last time. The problem is that the elevation gain in the first half is so darn high, that it’s tough to even make 10 minutes per mile for that portion. But Monday morning I did succeed: I went out in 48 minutes and got back in 41 for an 89 minute run. Would I be able to beat this?

Tuesday’s splits were 47 and 40 minutes for an overall time of 87. That’s real improvement. But was I holding enough back to break this course PR the next time.

That answer would be yes: Wednesday’s splits were 45.5 and 39.5 for a time of 85 minutes. Surely I’d now hit my lower limit on speedy times. But I only had one day left. I’d run on Friday, but I’d probably do a shorter route. I had this one major run left. There would be no tomorrow.

Instead of my usual 2+ cups of coffee I use to get myself out the door, on Thursday I did something I hadn’t done in a while: I took a caffeine pill. And I washed that down with a little coffee. Hey, I just *had* to get myself going. And get going I did. I went out in 44 minutes and came back in 39. That adds up to 83 minutes for this, my course PR.

Sergei would be so proud of me.

2011 Green Jewel

I've been putting in the miles, and my 50K PR, at 4:46, is mighty soft, so I went into this one *expecting* a PR. And not just an incremental one; I wanted to be Beamonesque, and really put one out there. But before I get to a description of the run, I just have to list the excuses:

1) I flew in from Boston last night, arriving at 8:30, which is pretty nearly my bedtime. I don't often run well the morning after a late (for me) flight.
2) With all the traveling, I've naturally put on a few pounds. This is never helpful.
3) The weather was fairly awful. The constant rain was bad enough, but the cold wind never let up, and seemed to be constantly in our faces.
4) Said rain caused flooding at many points along the way. The water (more like rivers) running across the all-purpose trail at many points was bad enough, but in some places there was thick mud on the asphalt, with water on top of that. It turned out just like ice.

Okay. Even with those caveats, I was still going for it. And that means, of course, that I went out too fast. I ran alone most of the way, but that was fine. I probably averaged 8 minutes per mile for the first half, hitting the mid-point (maybe 14.5 to 15 mile) aid station in Berea at 1:58.

Things went downhill from there. Actually uphill, but my pace slowed considerably. I hit mile 24.5 - the final aid station at about 3:25. Would I be able to do those final 7+ hilly miles in a bit over an hour to break 4:30?

It was tough. I was doing only marginally better than 9-minute pace on those parkway hills through N. Royalton and Broadview Heights. I hit Brecksville Road at about 4:17. Now I had a (steeply) downhill mile and a half to do in 13 minutes. Would I be able to?

Yes. I finished in 4:28 - a PR by 18 minutes. Almost, but not quite Beamonesque. (By the way, google Bob Beamon - and the 1968 Olympics - if you want to know what I mean by that.) Patrick told me that I'm not allowed to complain about any run that results in a PR, so I won't.

It was wonderful, once again, to run with all my MCRR buddies. Everyone did well!

(photo courtesy of Dan DeRosha)

Running in La La Land

Trails Galore

Yes, trails galorious, trails. And right across the road from my hotel. I’m in Lake Forest, California, which is in Orange County and not too far from Irvine. It seems strange to have these hills and canyons so close to suburbia, but that’s California for you.

Since I did the Hinckley Triple yesterday, and also had to fly here last night, I’m a little tired today. My goal of running 50 additional miles this week means that I’ve got to jog around for an hour and a half or so today in spite of the weariness.

As I cross the road I pick up some trails right away. They’re sandy and a little muddy. Jogging around a bit, I discover that some trails even lead underneath the road and eventually to a couple corners of my hotel’s strip-mall parking lot. I note that the one corner contains a plastic surgery center. This is California, after all. I didn’t even need to cross, or encounter the road at all. I’d come back this way to avoid it for sure.

Heading back under the road and further into the park, I arrive at a closed gate. The park is called Whiting Ranch, and I believe it’s a county park. The sign on the gate indicates that the park is closed for 48 hours for each day of rain. California had had quite a bit of rain for the previous couple days, so I’m not sure how many hours that works out to. The weather is fine right now, but I am already encountering mud and can understand the need to preserve the trails from erosion. I could go around the gate and fence to get into the park, but decide to head back out instead.

Back on the sidewalk, I head north on Glenn Ranch Road, which is adjacent to a mile or so of the park. I encounter a couple other park entrances that are also closed. Eventually I come to a trail that has no gate. I suppose that I shouldn’t enter due to the information about it being closed on the other sign, but I can’t help myself. I start on this trail anyway.

I’m treated to great views of canyons and hills. It occurs to me that I’m having an experience not unlike those of the out-west ultra trail running video I love so much. Only one problem: the mud. It’s getting caked on my shoes so much that they get to the point where they feel like they weigh five pounds. I hate when this happens. I try to kick it off, but eventually it’s time to turn back anyway.

I’m treated to a beautiful sunrise as I’m heading back to the hotel. What a great run!



Verticality
The California weather is to be clear and 40 at night and 60 during the day. It’s the same for each day of the entire week. I don’t know if that’s normal for late February here, but it’s absolutely perfect running weather.

I start out at about 5am, which is a wee bit earlier than yesterday. For Tuesday’s adventure, I decide to stay on the roads but head further (way further) up into the Portola Hills and then into Modjeska Canyon. The park and its trails are still closed anyway.

The route brings me north up (and I do mean up) Glenn Ranch Road, left (north) up Saddleback Ranch Road, left (north) DOWN Ridgeline Road (this is a steep downhill section, but it’s short – probably less than ½ mile), left (north) up Santiago Canyon Road, and finally right (north) up, up, up Modjeska Grade Road. That final one is the real doozie.

Parts of the route are near Whiting Ranch, but other parts are past entrances to subdivisions built into the hills. At about half-way (2.5 miles, give or take), the sidewalks end and I’ve got to run off to the side of the roads. There is plenty of room, but the cars are traveling mighty darn fast. Modjeska Grade Road, my last, is partially blocked to traffic (and therefore NOT busy), although you could drive around the barrier. This is also by far the steepest part.

I reach the summit at a little before mile four. After a mile or so of no habitation whatsoever, there’s a major mansion here at the top with a commanding view. The views, in fact, have been wonderful the entire way. It helps that it’s beginning to get more light. I go down the other side of that hill and see more mansions perched on cliff sides. It occurs to me that California is so beautiful that I’d recommend that anyone and everyone visit here. It’s just that no one should live here. It just doesn’t seem like there ought to be mansions on cliff sides where there should only be trees, scrub and roadrunners.

My pace has been pretty slow. I reach my 5-mile turnaround point at about 52 minutes. I hope I can get back down faster. I do. But not that much. I return to the hotel at a time of 95 minutes. Not one of my faster 10-milers.

One more thing about the route: if you click the link for it, you can see the interactive gmap-pedometer map. From there you can also look at the elevation. That indicates that I made it up to 1600+ feet, but my starting elevation is shown as 800 something. I think Lake Forest is actually at 300 something. So my total elevation gain is between 800 and 1300 feet.

More Verticality, More Trails Galore
For my Wednesday trick I decide to do that whole hilly run a second time. Everything goes pretty much the same, except that I’m able to run a couple minutes faster for both the outbound and the return. It’s funny how just knowing the course seems to enable me to run it faster.

Since I still have a bit of time before I have to get to the office, I jog around on the trails for a bit. This time I run further into town instead of running into the park. It’s great how they have these dirt running trails amidst all the freeways and strip malls.

It’s now Thursday, and it would be nice to get in something that I can call 18 miles to make 80 for the week. I won’t be able to run Saturday because with the red-eye, I won’t be home in any kind of time or disposition to run. And it would be nice to take Friday off from running as well.

I am able to get out the door by 4:30, so I’ll have enough time. I begin by doing the Portola Hills 10 for the third day in a row. Will I be able to do it faster still? The answer is yes! I get back down to the hotel a half minute faster than yesterday.

Now I still have 8 more to do. I run past the plastic surgery place and enter the world of trails once more. I go directly into the park and the gate is open this time. I go on in and immerse myself in the wonders of California wilderness. Those trails sure are nice. I think that I ought to be able to link up with the same trails I ran on Monday, but I get lost trying. That’s okay though. I run on relatively flat terrain until I hit a hill. This one is steeper than any I’ve encountered on the roads – I end up only getting half-way up before turning back. I also take some side trails off into wilder areas.

So I got my miles in for the day and for the week. It’s bee a good one.

Quantity vs Quality

Before the Plantar Fasciitis injury I was struggling to get up to 70 miles per week. At some point in there I made up a half-baked goal to do 3,650 miles this year. But back to before that injury: at least some of those miles were at some kind of speed. I wasn't setting the world on fire, but at least I'd do some kind of quality run once or twice per week. Some of it was on the mill.

And, who knows, those mill miles may have been part of the cause of my injury. But the result of the PF has been reduced quality. This is mostly out of fear of making the injury worse.

The quantity, however, has not been reduced. In fact it's the opposite. I've increased both my weekly mileage and the distance and quantity of my long runs. The weekly mileage for the last two weeks, and probably this week as well, is now well up into the eighties.

Regarding long runs, in a previous post I described the trials and tribulations of running three iterations of the Hinckley loop. Since that time I've done some long treadmill runs (24 along with 6 outside in the snow, and 30), and a second incidence of running three Hinckley loops last Sunday. Moreover, I'll often do 20ish and 30ish mile long runs in the same week. This weekend I'm going to try to do them back to back.

The PF is on the run now, although it's always still there. And the mileage is still up, whilst the quality is still down. I'll need to work on that.

Recertification

I'm taking an online class to complete what's needed for me to renew my Project Management Professional Certification. I do this every few years, but this may be my last, since it'll take me until I'm 60.

The thing is, it's 5 required practice exams with 200 questions each, and then a final exam with 50 questions. If I'm doing the math correctly, that's 1,050 questions. And each one takes time because I have to look almost all of them up.

So, besides running gobs of miles and work, and work, that's what's been keeping me busy.

Hinckley X 3

After a couple good night's sleeps in a row, I find myself awake at 2am. The night splint/boot that I wear at night for my Plantar Fasciitis is bugging me as usual. But even after I tear it off, I still can't get back to sleep. The PF seems a bit better these days, but this little bout of insomnia is no fun either.

At 3am I get up and realize that by default, I've made a decision. I will get to Hinckley at 4am. We're there every Sunday, and I'm one of the organizers / regulars. The runs traditionally begin at 7am and include a big loop around Hinckley Metropark. This means starting at the Spillway parking lot, going east on Bellus, turning onto Parker which becomes Harter, then turning onto Medina Line, Ledge, Kellogg and Hinckley Hills before the return onto Bellus and back into the parking lot. It's a beautiful 9.2 mile route that circumnavigates the park, getting away from it in a couple places. And, oh yes, it's quite hilly. The entire course is rolling, but there are two really notable hills: the one starting out onto Bellus Road, and the one about half-way through on Ledge that we affectionately refer to as "Effie". (When we were discussing possible names for her, Angie Kovaks said, "I just call it, 'F' This Hill.")

I arrive just a bit after 4am. It's cold and there's snow about. Yesterday's cold was really down there - -4F when we (Debbie, Michelle, Brad and I) began our run on the parkway - but today's +10 to 12F actually feels colder. The difference is the wind and the snow; they make it feel colder. The snow on the roads makes footing bad, and this also contributes to the overall difficulty.

Since a loop takes anywhere from 75 to 85 or more minutes, I must hurry. It's difficult, but I manage to arrive back within a minute or two of 5:30am. That's just in time to talk to Jack before he takes off on his 5:30 loop. There are often other 5:30 runners as well, but today there is only Jack. And me. I tell Jack that he can begin without me as I need to go to the car for refreshments.

It turns out that I never catch him until the very end of the loop; we each wind up running alone. There is even more snow on the road this second time around, and I run the loop about two minutes slower.

As Jack and I return to the Spillway lot, a small throng of runners has gathered for the 7am loop. This is usually when we have the most folks, and today is no different. I am surprised to be able to keep up with Connie, Bob and Dave during that initial climb on Bellus. It's after the hill when I find I can no longer hang with them.

I run the next mile or two with Michelle, but eventually find that I can't keep up with her either. I'm getting slower and slower as I arrive at the base of Effie to have some refreshments out of Jack's stash. I'm beginning to seriously doubt whether I'll be able to finish this loop at all. Jack arrives at our aid station just after I do, and after some gel and sports drink, we tackle Effie together.

The weather has actually gotten worse; the snow is still slippery, and the wind is at least as cold now as when I began.

Somehow, I manage to stay with Jack for the remainder of the loop. It isn't easy, and I suspect that he slowed down just to help me out. The gel probably helped as well. I shuffle back to the Spillway lot for the last time, say goodbye to Jack and the rest, get into my car and drive home.

Debbie is waiting; she had come home yesterday to visit for the week. We will spend the day visiting Mom and then going to a concert at BW put on by Bob Mayerovitch. We have dinner with Bob and Laura, and also Mike and Judy George.

Whew. What a day.

TM=PF

Got an email from Dave whilst I was in Omaha! (Note that Omaha is always followed by an '!'. There are no exceptions.) He had run long and hard on his treadmill and wound up with plantar fasciitis, or something just like it. The funny thing is that I was beginning to suffer from PF myself at that moment, and I'd also been doing too much treadmill running due to the bad weather in Omaha! I'd never before considered that the mill itself could be the cause of my own occasional bouts with the PF, but who knows?

Speaking of the mill, four days in a row was tough, but what made it tougher was my limited choice of tv stations. What I wound up with was the Patty Duke show as well as Mr. Ed. Not that I ever forgot them, but I'm now really, really good at knowing the lyrics to their respective theme songs.

I missed the usual Saturday run because of a missed air connection and becoming stranded in Detroit. Sunday I did two big loops as I'd done the previous week, but I even added a lap around the lake this time.

Back to the pain. I'm fighting this PF thing tooth and nail. I'm using the boot, stretching, strengthening, walking around the house in my Keens, etc., etc. My other pain is coming from my wrist, and this one is even more puzzling. It's most likely a sprain cause by lifting weights, but I really don't know for sure; it just started to hurt.

Reminds me about the time Spock did the mind meld with the Horta:

[opening his mind-meld with the Horta]
Mr. Spock: [crying] PAIN! PAIN!

And so on.

Weight Weight, Don't Tell Me

165. But don't tell anyone.

That's ten (10) pounds over my fighting weight.

This happens every year about this time. A couple at Thanksgiving, a couple at Christmas, a couple during the vacation (this year only), one or two more at New Years'. Pretty soon it starts adding up to some real fat.

I don't know why I thought this year might be different. I suppose one reason is that I have indeed been keeping my mileage up. The other reason is that it happened so gradually, and seems to continue getting worse, even now that the holidaze are over.

No wonder that 3:36 marathon was so tough. I was carrying a piano the whole way!

Epiphany

Not in the religious sense. It was a "sudden intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something, usually initiated by some simple, homely, or commonplace occurrence or experience."

I'd been running on the towpath with Dave. At 19F it felt pretty cold, and the snow - enough to cover the ground - was falling at a steady rate. Although the towpath surface was uneven frozen mud in places, I had thoroughly enjoyed our 11-mile run together. Dave had to take off, and I decided to run a few more miles.

I went south from Red Lock this time; the opposite direction I'd run with Dave. Now it was a little after 7am, and the darkness was just beginning to give way to early morning daylight. The snow was still falling. The two nearby ski resorts were brightly lit up in the distance. There wasn't another soul on the towpath, or anywhere else nearby. All this taken together made the experience seem almost unreal. Surreal, and beautiful beyond description.

That's when it hit me - the epiphany: This is why I run.

Landis Loonies Marathon

"Now I *know* I've seen you at races before. I recognize that straining grimace on your face." Randy Crowder, whom I had met for the first time that morning, and I had been running together for almost the entire way. Near the end of the third of four 6.55 mile Landis Loonies Marathon loops, he made this statement. We had each previously mentioned that we'd *thought* we'd seen each other at other races - probably Columbus or Akron. The grimace made him sure of it.

I replied that if I'm grimacing with 7 or 8 miles to go, this was not a good sign.

What better way to start off the new year but with a marathon? Don't say a 24-hour run. That gem was last year's folly. This year it would be more mainstream stuff: a little small-town marathon. The Landis boys, Kevin and Keith, set this one up. All along I thought they were brothers, but it turns out that Kevin is Keith's uncle. They are nevertheless fairly close in age, and both good runners. And they did a good job of setting this little run up for us. I say little because there were only about seven starters and five finishers. A couple other runners joined in at times.

Did I mention the wind and rain? The temperatures fluctuated between the upper 40s and the lower 50s; pretty good for New Year's Day morning. But the rain and wind never quit. The rain was in the form of a downpour at times, but was mostly fairly light. The wind made the whole thing challenging however.

The whole bunch: Ladd Clifford, whom I drove to New London with, Joey Curtis, a high school runner doing his first marathon, Randy, Keith and Kevin, mostly stayed together for the first two loops. The second had been faster than the first. I didn't linger very long at the start/finish aid station, and only Randy ran the third loop with me. That's when we had the above-mentioned conversation.

Sure enough, I was straining a bit on the fourth loop. It was quite an effort to keep the pace up, and I did, in fact, slow a little. Randy had been slowing down in order to stay with me, but decided to pick it up for the final mile and finished a minute and a half ahead of me. Too bad I couldn't hang with him - tying for a marathon victory would've been nice.

Not that anyone would, or should have called this little event a race. It was really just a fun run. And it really was.

The only concern: my time, 3:36 was something like my fifth slowest marathon. I'm fine with that since it was such a low-key event and the wind/rain was tough. But it was a *tough* 3:36. It should've been easy; it wasn't.

Cool(er) Runnings

A Chronicle of Dan's Running and Other Stories Since Returning Home from Jamaica


Really Cool Runnings

Debbie and I got into the house at 1am Sunday, and darned if I was going to miss another Sunday morning run at Hinckley. Now I wasn't quite so silly as to try to make the 5:30 loop, but 7am seemed doable.

So a few hours and 75 degrees later, I was there at the Spillway looking for all my running companions. Nary a one showed up. What, was 9 degrees too cold for them? Hey, if I can go from Jamaica in the mid-eighties to Cleveland in the upper single digits in a couple hours, they should've been able to make it too.

But they didn't. So I did the big loop (only one of them, thank you) alone. It was actually a pretty peaceful, nice run. The cold didn't bother me at all.


Later That Week

It got a wee bit warmer. I ran at Hinckley a couple more times. Once I did two of the big loops including the first one with Mandy (whew, that was tough). The other was my Boxing Day Run. More on that one later.

In the mean time, I did a few other runs, including a 15-miler from home and ten with Dave on the parkway on Christmas Eve day.


Family and Friends

There is Life Outside of Running, and sometimes *I* even have some. Veronica, Barry and Malcolm came for almost a week, and Valerie made it for a day. At my suggestion, we had an open house on the 23rd in order to show Malcolm off to family and friends. Besides everyone else, Dave and Carol brought Mom so that she could see the Baby as well.

Sandy and Nancy's Christmas Eve Party was fun as usual. Christmas Day itself was rather quiet. We visited Mom and prepared for our trip to Connecticut, which included taking down the tree and decorations.


The Great Snowstorm of 2010

We knew it was coming, and we knew that our plans had us driving into the thick of it. Should we leave a half-day early on Christmas night in order to beat the storm? We decided against driving all night. Should we simply leave extremely early on Boxing Day? Yes, but in retrospect, it should've been earlier.

I did manage to get in one Hinckley loop with the gang. I really wanted to do the second 7am loop as well since I had set the thing up and there were more folks ready to go at that time. But I didn't want to be the one holding everyone up with us driving into the storm.

And wouldn't you know it? We drove into the storm just when it was at it's worst. It got so bad that we had to stop and get into a hotel in Middletown, NY. Luckily it was a fast moving one, and Monday was cold and extremely windy, but, by mid-day, generally drivable. That is, assuming one has four good tires. Somehow Barry's Ford Edge had gotten a flat, and the tire needed to be replaced.

So it was an eventful trip, but it wasn't quite over yet. We had to dig our way into the driveway. And with drifts several feet high, this wasn't easy at all.

I should say that out of the five human beings in the car, the one least troubled by all these events was the smallest one. Malcolm just seemed to take it all in stride.


Running in CT

I tried to take running in Connecticut in stride as well.

Who was Daniel, and why did he put his farm at the top of such a long, arduous hill? That is, of course, what I was asking myself as I was running up Daniels Farm Road. It's quite a hill, but the worst of it was that the footing was so bad. With all the traffic I was relegated to the sidewalks, which had been plowed, but were nonetheless still snowy and very icy. It was even tougher coming down than going up.

Hearing from new Ohio resident Dave James that he was in Connecticut caused me to send him a message wondering if he was close by and if so, whether he would like to go for a run. He responded that he was and he would. In fact, we'd be meeting a group of runners at the Housitonic (or whatever you call that durn thing) trail head - the place I run all the time.

Well it didn't work out. Dave got sick - just like everyone else around here - and I decided to just run around and get back a bit earlier than planned.

Speaking of sickness: Veronica, Barry and Malcolm all had colds, and Debbie got some kind of stomach illness. They're all recovering while I'm knocking on wood.


2010

This morning's run here in Connecticut is my last for 2010. The grand totals:

3,465 miles, the most ever in a year for me. don't know why..
8:31 per mile average. not nearly as slow as last year, but my second slowest ever. don't know why.
gobs of races, including 4 or so marathons and 5 or so ultras.

Hey I've got an idea! Start 2011 off with a marathon!! I'll discuss this one in my next post.

Cool Runnings, or Sorry, but I don't smoke and run

I suppose it had to happen. It still surprised me when it did, however. Of course I'm talking about someone offering to sell me ganja as I ran by. What was so comical was that it happened so early - probably 1/4 mile into my first run of this trip to Jamaica. The seller's thought process must have been something like, "here comes a rare white American or Brit (one of the few in the entire town right now) who also happens to be running. How can he not want to buy some herbs from me?"

As always, I was polite and said, "no, thanks", just as I said hello and good morning to everyone else on the streets at 6am that wsnted to talk to me. And it seemed as if most of them did.

We stayed in Ocho Rios for three days, and the running wasn't what I'd call idyllic there. Pollution, traffic, bad sidewalks and worse roads. Puddles, potholes and trash. Chickens, goats and dogs. Oh my.

I did manage to get some miles in whilst in Ochi. It was mostly easy stuff, but there were a few hills thrown in for good measure. I also ran on the hotel dreadmill once in order to get some speedwork in.

Running on the beach in Whitehouse was a different story. The Sandals Whitehouse resort owned a large portion of the approximately 2-mile long beach. Of course that's where I'd be doing a good part of my running.

At the end of the Sandals property I encountered a security guard. The beach kept going, but it was deserted beyond the guard. He actually told me that he couldn't allow anyone to leave the property. What was this, a prison? I pressed him, and he said, well, at least stay in during the dark hours (it was early morning). After a couple more laps back and forth, it was light, so I went through - after leaving my name and room number. I understand why they have the security, but this was a bit ridiculous.

The running in Whitehouse was generally good. I ventured out on the roads a couple times, besides an additional run on the beach. All good stuff.

Okay, enough running. Now, where was that ganja guy?

For more on this Jamaica trip, see the 'ole travel blog.

Chasing Connie with a Banana in My Pocket

It wasn't really in my pocket, but it *was* a real banana. I'd been trying to run her down for the entire third 5-mile lap of the Buckeye Woods 50K, and almost caught her before we reached the aid station. The trouble is, she most assuredly *did not* want me to catch her. She knew that if I did, I'd leave her with some smartass remark that she wouldn't like. That's pretty much what happened during other races when I've managed to pass her up. You know, the ones where she had just run a grueling 100-miler the week before.

I had organized the Buckeye Woods 50K (BW50); it was *my* race. And dad-burn it if I wasn't gonna run it well. We had about 20 starters, and many others showed up later on to run a lap or two. The weather in early December was frightful, however. The snow never let up, although it didn't accumulate to more than an inch or two. But the snow-covered trails weren't much of a problem. What *was* much of a problem were the wind and the cold. Temperatures never made it above 24, and the wind chill was in the low teens or worse.

Despite the conditions, everyone was running well and having fun. Ahead of Connie were Jon Brenenstuhl and Bob Pokorny. I didn't care about them; I just wanted *her*. We talked briefly at the aid station, and she tried to pry open a tupperware type container of bananas. "Here, let a man do it", I said. When I couldn't do it either (my hands were freezing), some nice volunteer did it for us. But by that time Connie had spent all the time she could handle at the station, and took off sprinting into her fourth lap. The volunteers mumbled something about how would they ever get the half-banana to Connie. "Don't worry, I'll catch her and present her with the banana", said I.

All of this transpired within a few seconds, and before I knew it, I was sprinting after Connie with half a banana between my fingers. As I mentioned, I never really put it in my pocket, but I did joke about the whole thing as I passed Debbie, Brad and Ladd coming the other way. I was going full-tilt, but I never made up any ground on my prey. Shortly after I passed those three, I felt it. The pulled calf tugged again.

Until that point, each lap was getting faster than the last. But now I had to slow down drastically in order to keep running at all. Connie was long gone. I was left with the banana, so I eventually ate it myself so as not to let it go to waste.

Now the fourth lap was done, and I was struggling. I bumped into Rachel at the aid station, and we began the fifth lap (her fourth - she started a little late) together. I had thought I'd never get back into the groove again, but whilst running with Rachel, somehow I did. We ran a pretty decent lap.

By the time I started my sixth and final 5-mile lap, I was hurting again. This time it wasn't the calf so much as *everything*. I let Rachel go by and ran slower and slower. Then I came upon Dan, who had been walking. "Let's jog together", I said, and we did. That sure helped me get through it, as did the couple cookies he shared.

My last 5-mile lap and the final mile were excruciatingly slow. But despite everything, I got myself a PR at 4:46. I won't mention that that time should have easily been more in the neighborhood of 4:30. Finishing fourth amongst this group of ultrarunners, is quite an honor however.

Better Just Shoot Me

Yup, lame again. Reminds me of the jokes I heard back when we got a Polish Pope. His first miracle? He made a blind man lame. Secondly, he cured a ham. But I digress..

Yes, I need to be put down for the good of all. This should have happened a week ago after the CWRRC Fall Classic Half when I pulled my right calf. After that incident, I (uncharacteristically) wisely took a couple days off before hitting the roads again. The problem is that when I did hit them, I hit them a little too hard: 10 with Dave on Wednesday, 22 on the mill on rainy Turkey day, 9 on the mill the next day, and then 16 in Buckeye Woods Saturday followed by 18 at hilly Hinckley on Sunday. That's a heap of running, and my calf paid the price. It was swollen Sunday, Monday and today - Tuesday. Monday was, I think, the worst day. It seemed to be double the size of my left one. This didn't seem good.

The not-so-bad news is that it's a bit better today. I'm concerned about Sunday's Buckeye Woods 50k/50 mile run. Time will tell. I'll try to run tomorrow, and we'll go from there.

I do need to add that these extra pounds do not help this situation. Our traditional Wednesday night dinner with the family was pizza this time. Thursday's turkey was as good as ever, and then there were the leftovers. Not to mention the Cousins' Brunch on Sunday. When will it ever end? (Maybe a bit now that Debbie is back in Connecticut.) Of course the best part of this holiday is family. It was wonderful as always, but Debbie and I miss our Daughters tremendously. We will have them here for Christmas, so that's some consolation.

CWRRC Fall Classic

This once little half-marathon in the Cleveland metroparks now fills to capacity at about 800 runners plus many hundreds more in the 5k. It seems like everything fills up these days. But the crowd wasn't too much of a problem for me. I've done this one many times, and I pretty much know what to expect. It's a fairly fast course, and I usually do well here. Moreover, I've done well at my last two halves. So expectations were high. (Read: Danger, Will Robinson.)

A bunch of us MCRR folks carpooled down there. This is always fun. It was cold, probably in the upper 30s, so we didn't even want to get out of the car for a picture. We did, eventually, however. But as we lined up and started running, the temperature, now rising into the 40's, felt fine. Things started well for me. I got right down to the solid pace that I'd intended to maintain throughout the race. I saw several other friends before and during the race. There are several turn-arounds in this double out-and-back course, so that helps everyone see everyone else.

I said the crowds weren't much of a problem for me. Actually they were, but it was the 5k runners, not the half-marathoners, that were the problem. As we came to about the 5-mile mark, we bumped into hundreds of 5k runners, who took up large chunks of real-estate. It was challenging to try to get around them. I managed, and came through and around Bonnie Bell Park for at a still-solid pace - right where I wanted to be.

Around about mile 7, my right calf began to hurt. I hoped to run through the pain, but it got worse instead of better. By mile eight I was hurting to the point of limping. By mile nine I was hobbling horribly. Of course lots of folks were passing me, and of course I didn't care - I had other concerns, such as survival.

At some point the level of pain reached a steady state, and so did my now-very-slow pace. I finished in 97-something, about 10 minutes slower than I'd hoped. I still managed third in my age group.

Now I'm hobbling around with this pulled calf muscle. It's been a while since I've had a major injury, and even longer since it happened during a race. I can only hope it'll heal quickly.

The irony is not lost on me. It was just a couple days ago when I posted this little gem: What if Eleanor Roosevelt Could Fly?

Where’s the Dang Statue?

It’s cool and windy as I turn onto Beacon Street. That wind is right in my face, but the temperature isn’t really so bad, and I’m dressed for the occasion. It’s also dark, but I know that here on the eastern end of the time zone, it’ll get light soon. My hotel is at about mile 23 to 24 along the Boston Marathon Course. I’m running in the opposite direction of the race. This means I’m running uphill for a couple miles until I pass Boston College. Before I reach BC I must turn right on Chestnut Hill at Cleveland Circle, and then left on Commonwealth Avenue. The rest of my run will take place on Comm Ave.

It’s starting to get a little lighter as I reach the top of the hill. Now, about 3.5 miles into my run, I’m looking down Heartbreak Hill. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen it from this perspective before. It occurs to me that this would be the best time to find the statue.

In 1996 a statue of Johnny Kelley was unveiled here on Heartbreak Hill. The hill is named after Kelley because during one of his 61 Boston Marathons, he had earlier passed the leader, Tarzan Brown, but was then in turn passed by Brown near the top of the hill. This reportedly broke Kelley’s heart. But here’s the thing about the statue: I’ve never seen it. I’ve run Boston 10 times, and probably seven of those were after the statue had been placed there. I guess I just don’t know where to look, but Heartbreak Hill really isn’t all that long (or steep, for that matter – but it’s enough to slow you down at mile 20). I figure it to be in the median area somewhere.

Now I’m usually fighting to keep my head up, and I’m usually aware of the crowds and the other runners at this point. So it may be at least a little understandable that I keep missing it. But it’s not for lack of looking. In any case, I’ll find it this time for sure. I head down, looking all around me. There are no cheering crowds. There are other runners, but most are running in the opposite direction: up.

I get the bottom, and I never see it. I’ll have another chance when I run back up however. I go on for another mile or so, including the next of the Newton Hills before I turn back. I’ve gone five miles out. Now the sun is starting to shine, so I’ll see the statue for sure.

Guess what? No statue. I head back to the hotel, enjoying the run and the memories of this great course. I suppose I can go through the rest of my life not having ever seen the statue. The run was nice enough anyway.

What if Eleanor Roosevelt Could Fly?

Whilst on the Towpath during last Thursday’s early morning run, Dave hit me with a hypothetical query: what if I could no longer run? It was a good question, and it gave me pause. These types of questions also do something else to me: they remind me of a good old series of SNL skits based on extremely silly what-if hypothetical problems. Two that come to mind are, What if Eleanor Roosevelt Could Fly, and What if Napoleon had a Nuclear Bomb at the Battle of Waterloo?

For his part, Dave, good and serious runner that he is, would be just fine if he couldn’t run. Having a young family tends to help focus one’s priorities. Me? Oh, I’d be fine too. Running isn’t *that* big a part of my life.

I’d probably no longer work at the store, but that would be all right. The income is small, and I wouldn’t miss the friends I’ve made amongst my fellow workers and customers.

I would quit being involved with the Medina County Road Runners. No problem there. Oh, maybe I’d miss my many close friends there a little, but this still wouldn’t be a problem for me.

I would probably stop directing races, including NC24. This would give me lots of extra time and relieve me of some extraneous stress. I’d also no longer volunteer at races, freeing up even more time.

I’d have to find something else to do with my Saturday and Sunday mornings. This shouldn’t be a problem. I could start by sitting around and reading the paper. For that matter, I’d have to find something else to do with almost every early morning and maybe try sleeping in.

There would be no more racing every two or three weeks. I wouldn’t miss the competition and pressure to train and perform well at these events. And I wouldn’t miss seeing all my competitor friends at them. No, in fact I wouldn’t miss that competition at all.

Of course I wouldn’t have running to keep me in mental and physical shape. These are both of equal importance, and running is one of the best, if not *the* best thing for them. But I’d find alternatives. Sure.

Yeah, I would be fine if I could no longer run. Perhaps my life would be even better. Any more hypotheticals?

After last Thursday’s run, I ran Saturday morning with some of the usual bunch at Lock 29. We went south on the Towpath for a change, and wound up doing the 5-mile Perkins loop just ahead of the Bill’s Bad Ass 50K on the same course. What a blast that was?

Brian and Ginny came to visit Saturday and Sunday. I took Brian to Hinckley and we did the big loop together, a bit slower than the rest of the gang. More fun.

After two relatively easy weekend runs, I thought I’d be ready for a strong 11-mile training run on Monday. Think again. For reasons I can’t figure out, I failed to get down to tempo pace that morning. To atone, I hit the mill to do 3 miles at 6 minute pace, as I’d done last week. Monday night Connie, Ladd, Bob, Janet and I scouted trails at Buckeye Woods Park. I think we’ll be able to pull off an ultra there.

Tuesday was better: I did two tempo runs – four out of the six-mile loop, and then the entire Presidents three-mile loop.

What was that question again? What if I couldn’t run? I’d just ….. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

Two Tempo Trots Today, Track Tonight

This was actually last Tuesday's Title (Hey, I could've prefaced the above title with "Tuesday's Title:"! But the point is that I've been running fairly hard lately. And based on the result at Stomp the Grapes, I think it's working. It's not that I'm running all that much faster - I still have terribly slow leg speed - I've just been doing more of my runs at a faster pace, including several tempo runs per week. Oh, I'm still taking rest days and getting occasional slow stinker runs. I will be trying hard to run next weekend's Fall Classic Half even faster than STG.

Other news:
1) I'm managing to survive without Debbie. But I don't like it. I think I said that right.
2) Brian and daughter Ginny are coming to visit tomorrow. It's been years.
3) My consulting work is picking up. In fact I've been downright busy lately.
4) There's most likely other non-running stuff going on in my life, but I can't for the life of me think of any of it right now.

Grapes Well Stomped

I don't know when or if I'd ever beaten Ron Legg before. Perhaps when he was injured; perhaps never at all. But I had begun to see him ahead of me between miles 10 and 11, and eventually overtook him a bit before the 12-mile mark. There were some big hills remaining, and I wasn't sure I'd be able to maintain my advantage, but I had been coming on strong since mile 10, and Ron looked to be slowing. We grunted good luck to each other as I went by, and I did manage to stay ahead, as I also passed a couple others.

Yes, I was having a good run at the 2010 Stomp the Grapes Half-Marathon. I had also been entertaining thoughts of breaking the 55-59 age group record of 1:27:4x. When I hit mile 12 in 1:21 flat, I thought there was still a very slight, itsy-bitsy possibility. Although I'd been running faster and faster, the last mile would need to be my fastest of all - a low 6 minutes, considering that the final point-1 would need to be factored in as well.

But then I hit the hills. They weren't that much worse in the last mile than anywhere else in the second half of the course, but they were enough to ensure that there would be no record in the geezer age group today. I finished in 1:28:25. Best in years, and good enough for First Grand Geez... I mean Grand Master. Not too shabby.

The race was high on the hassle factor scale: 12 noon start, being bussed to the start after the finish (and waiting a long time), having to arrive very early, etc., etc. But, the rewards were good: wine, good shirts, socks and a hat, and then a $25 gift certificate for my win. That would only buy me one bottle of wine and a bit of cheese, but that was better than nothing.

As always, the best part was the fun being with the MCRR folks. As usual, we had a good contingent, and you just can't beat the camaraderie. The icing on the cake? I beat my arch-rival Jan!

Okay, one more thing. I have to tell the story of the shoes. Connie came into work shortly after me on Friday. She tried on a pair of shoes that she had special ordered for herself, some Mizuno Ronin racing flats. They were much to big for her, and we realized that she'd ordered and received a men's and not a women's shoe - they are unisex sized. So of course I tried them on, and they fit perfectly.

I tried to pay Connie, and she wouldn't take the money. She said that if I could run a minute faster than my best 1/2 marathon of the year using the new shoes, she would allow me to pay her for them. What if I can't? "Then I'll just take them back," she said. Never mind that returns weren't allowed, I just wouldn't have deserved them. Also never mind that my incentive was kind've backward. Wouldn't I have tried harder to run fast if it would *save*, and not *cost me* money? Never mind. This was Connie logic at work.

With my 1:28, I did indeed earn the honor of paying for the shoes.