Free State Trail Marathon

In the six weeks leading up to the Free State Trail Marathon by Clinton Lake in Lawrence I managed to sprain an ankle on three successive trail runs. Two (both the right ankle) were within five yards of each other on two different occasions out at Wyco. The third (left) was done on a training run out at Clinton Lake itself and was the worst of the three, putting me on crutches for a couple of days and preventing me from running for ten. When I did get back to it, I stuck to roads, not wanting to risk another twist before race day.

So it had been three weeks since I'd run on any kind of trail and the injuries had also prevented any long runs over about 15 miles since Run Toto Run in February. My overall mileage had been pretty decent though (40-50 per week), so I wasn't as worried about being undertrained so much as I was about another nasty sprain which had me quite anxious by the time the race arrived. The Clinton Lake trails, while nowhere near as hilly as Wyco, are just as technical, possibly more so in some sections, and require a great deal of concentration. My goal was to finish, pure and simple, and to do so without confining myself to crutches once again. Maybe that wasn't a lofty goal, but it seemed plenty challenging enough.

Both my ankles taped up, Jill and I arrived at the starting area at about 7:20pm and milled around for about 40 minutes while other marathoners and half-marathoners gathered. The 100k and 40 mile runners had left an hour earlier. I had toyed with the idea of up-sizing to the 40 miler at one point, but the ankle turns put paid to that, and at that moment, even the marathon seemed quite an optimistic goal. Some of the usual crowd, including Ben, Dick Ross, Sophia, Puccini and assorted nerds were there. The weather was great; cool with a slight breeze but warm enough for t-shirt and shorts.

At 8, the gun went off and me and my fellow marathoners set off on about a half-mile stretch of road before we turned right into a field. The first 5 miles or so weren't in the woods on the single track, rather were cross-country type trails, mostly grass covered. I really felt good and thoroughly enjoyed this section. It thinned out the line of runners, basically eliminating traffic concerns right away, not to mention it was probably the best smelling run I'd ever done, with the sweet Spring scent wafting over everything.

Finallly we returned back near the start line, ran down a small hill and entered the woods for the first time. The first few miles of single track I had not run on before, and, while not the most technical portion, I was immediately on high alert for ankle gremlins. I trod very carefully during the rockiest and rootiest bits and kept my stride length short and careful everywhere.

For the most part, I was on my own to the extent that I couldn't see anyone in front or behind me at all, but occasionally I would catch up with someone or they'd catch up with me. One particularly chatty Michelob Ultra rep was running in front of me and seemed half the time to be talking to himself, no other runners being immediately visible. I passed him after a couple of miles and he jovially informed me of the beer that would be waiting for me at the end.

The aid stations were perhaps more spaced apart than at Wyco, and several were unmanned and just contained water, so it was quite an insulating experience, but other than the slight anxiety regarding my ankles which never entirely left me, I was relaxed and feeling strong. Almost without realizing it, I'd been running for almost 2 hours when I hit the shoreline trail. This is an extremely rocky mile or so of trail right on the banks of the lake. It's almost impossible to go full out here, even on a perfect day, but I was particularly careful on this occasion because of the multiple opportunities for sprainage. It made it rather rhythm-ruining, so I was quite glad when it finally ended and found myself at a big aid station in a clearing that was probably pretty close to the half way point.

I'd had a gel already, but I stopped for a few seconds, drained a little cup of coke and ate a packet of Gu Chomps which gave me a bit of a lift. I headed back into the woods for a relatively flat stretch of trail that I was pretty familiar with from my training runs. I Godzilla-posed for a picture a couple of miles later, then soon after found myself on a steep uphill section of road. A quick dip back into the single-track, then around an aid station, where I was told I had 9.5 miles to go, and I was heading down the same asphalt hill and back into the woods for the final time.

'Final time' meaning I still had 9 more miles of single track trail of course. A fairly technical stretch, fatigue was by now playing its full part. I felt I was keeping a good rhythm, but apparently either I had slowed down quite a bit or those behind me had perked right up because I was caught by maybe five or six people during the next few miles and didn't catch anyone myself. My ego was unaffected, however. I was too concerned with not blowing it by face planting so close to the end to care.

I was checking my watch and felt I was probably on about 4hrs 20 pace, but when I reached the same aid station as I'd passed at 13 miles and they told me I had 3 miles left, I realized I was further from the finish than I realized and had no shot at that. My feet were hurting by now; I knew I had at least two blisters (turned out to be three), which I figured were probably partly caused by me not having run a trail in 3 weeks. These last three miles seemed to last forever, but finally, I made it to the same hill I'd entered on some three and a half hours earlier and climbed it, turned a corner and there, like a soothing warm bath, waited the finish line, Bad Ben, Dick Ross and of course Jill. My final finishing time was 4:47:00. 42nd out of 88. A solid middle-of-the-pack finish, which I was more than happy with given the joints-that-shall-not-be-named that had cursed my previous few runs.

I was absolutely spent, but really pleased. As tough as the last few miles were - and believe me, there were times when I was asking myself why the f**k I'd chosen this sport for a hobby in recent years - it was all worth it. The trails were in terrific shape - very little mud - the weather was perfect, and I had another marathon under my belt. Most happily of all, the crutches weren't needed. This also undoubtedly goes into the books as by far the best smelling race I've ever done.

Wonderful work as always performed by the Nerds at the aid stations and the finish line areas, Bad Ben, Sophia, Dick Ross, Puccini the wonder dog made this another great, low-key and friendly event. While right now I am in awe of those that did the 100k and 40-miler, I have to admit, that pewter belt buckle you get for the 100 would look pretty good on me, so who knows, maybe next year I'll really go psycho. Then again....

Run Toto Run 50k - 2011

It's been about 10 days since the big dump of snow, and about five since a smaller dump, so you might say I was somewhat concerned when I lined up for my first 50k, and second Run Toto Run experience. Would it be, as they say, "runnable", or would it be 50 kilometers of running through sugar? I did a loop of sugar running just last weekend and knew that if it were anything like that today, I'd be doing more swearing than running.

Fortunately, I'm not that fast, and those that were did a fine job of clearing a bobsled path before me, so in fact, the trail ended up being really rather excellent, although as time went on and the sun did what the sun does, it got a bit slushy and muddy in places. I pulled my groin playing the idiotic sport that is kickball a few months ago, and I was just waiting for something like that to happen again, but happily, the area made it out relatively unscathed.

Hmm. I sound like quite the pessimist there. Alright, enough of my yapping, on with the race report.

Arrived at 7:30 or so and headed to the starting area. It was pretty crisp. In the 20s, and my plan to wear shorts seemed a bit misguided, so I kept on my longies, pinned the number to my fleece, slapped on the Trail Nerds beanie and at 8am, I lined up somewhere near the back and a horn sounded the off.

You have to cross a field to get to the trail, and, while it had been cut up, the path wasn't smooth, so it was a tricky little opening. Added to that, 250 or so other 50k and 20 milers were jockeying for position with screwed shoes so progress for the first couple of miles was fairly slow. Fortunately, I didn't fall prey to any testosteronic need to blast through the sugar to pass anyone and contented myself with hanging back, knowing that I had a long way to go and a slow start probably couldn't hurt me in the long run.

The early miles passed uneventfully enough, with the line of runners gradually thinning out. The most notable moment was when a runner behind me announced that he was getting a bucket of Chick-Fil-A chicken later that night as a reward for completing the race. His friend (and I) felt that 1 mile into a 31.1 mile race was quite early to be making poultry plans contingent on finishing successfully, but each to their own.

I had resolved to make sure I got plenty to eat this time as I bonked like no-one has ever bonked at about mile 13 last year, but unfortunately, awesome me forgot to wear my belt that had all my gels in, so I contented myself with a couple of handfuls of my running crack, jelly bears, at the aid stations and made sure I kept drinking like an addict, knowing that eventually, Jill would show up with the necessary vittles.

By about mile 5, I was feeling pretty good, ate a salt tablet, and made my way slowly up the road section and back to the trail. My time, despite the slowish start, was about where I wanted it to be. I was on pace for about a 2:10 first loop. The "broken leg" hill after re-entering the trail was a bit treacherous, but I found that a good tactic was to engage in complete denial about it and ran my way down it pretty fast.

The rest of the loop, up to the final mile, which contains the notorious "Three Hills" section was pretty uneventful. The Hills (I capitalize "Hills" not because I'm making a veiled reference to the stupid reality show, but because their might and power deserves such an honor) were, as always tough, especially Hill#1, or as I call it, "The Bitch", but I realized I was feeling pretty dang good and made it through with only one minor swear (I think it was "bugger" for those that are interested).

One thing I thought was absolutely awesome this year was that there were mileage signs on the second half of the loop telling you how many miles there were till the end of the loop. These were posted every half mile and they were outstanding motivation for me. Definitely hope this idea is retained in the future.

OK. Pealed through the finish line - this year right at the end of the trail - another good idea - and Ben was there. He said something about a Union Jack and clueless me didn't realize until after the entire race was done that he'd posted a big British flag right by the finish line just for me. I suppose if I had looked up and seen it, I might have wiped out on the trail, so I can't be too hard on myself. Eyes on the trail always, you know... My time was 2:07, so I'd made up a little on the second half. I stripped off my long pants (my fleece came off about 2 miles later), filled my bottle and I in-a-while-crocodiled the finish line.

Loop 2. Infinitely better than last year. Unlike 2010, when I was ready to lay down in the star position, pray to Scott Jurek and call it a day at the Wyco Triangle, this year I was not only holding my own but actually catching people in front of me. I put this down partly to better training, but also better nutrition and hydration. Experience really tells when doing long trail runs; I'm finding this more and more. On top of everything else, the trail was even better now because of the 400 or so 10 milers that had, since my last loop, smoothed it out some more.

It wasn't until about mile 18, when I saw Jill - who was even more a trooper this year than last, meeting me at many of the trail openings to give me gels from my forgotten belt, salt tablets and force me to pose for photographs - , that I started feeling pretty tired. I suppose we all get to that point eventually during a long race, but it's a mental issue as much as a physical one, and it's certainly possible that the psychological idea of running another loop was a bigger hurdle than the physical one.

Oh well, enough of my complaining, I got up the Hills, and after a brief scare when I almost pulled a calf muscle going up a small incline, ran through the finish line for the second time and once again Ben was there to tell me I was looking good. In truth, I did feel quite strong, but still, that voice was telling me that I still had one more loop before I could call myself a trail Man. Until then, I was still a trail Boy, albeit one with a bald head and a penchant for gourmet beer. My time was about 4:15, some 25 minutes quicker than my time over the same distance in 2010. I was keeping a pretty even pace, but suspected that was going to be a tough thing to achieve three times in a row.

Things had really thinned out as I trudged towards the trail for loop 3. By this time, I was separated by a good distance from those in front and those behind and it was a good two miles before I saw anyone. When I did, it was now people passing me and not the other way around. This (he said in overly dramatic fashion) was the dark time.

The Wyco Triangle came upon me for the third time and I stopped for aid for a little longer than at the other stations to gather myself. It's not that the triangle is hard per se, it's that it seems like you're running to stand still. You emerge just ahead of where you went in, basically advancing about 10 feet in 12 or 13 minutes. The aid station position is cleverly positioned, perhaps partly to make sure people don't "cut" the triangle, and by this time, I could see where that would be really damn tempting.

In the triangle, I caught up with Randy from Wichita and my mental and physical fatigue made me think I could really benefit from some company at this time in the race, so I tagged along with him for the next few miles. If there was a moment where I at least saw a wall if not outright hit it, it was then. Having someone to chat with and keep me occupied was a Godsend.

I mentioned to him my observation about the trail being like a bobsled track, and he returned with something I thought was an even better description. He said it was like skiing every discipline... cross country, slalom, downhill and moguls, complete with epic falls and the occasional injury. Perfect.

Jill kept appearing when I needed sustenance, though I have to say I was getting a bit tired of the all-gel, banana and jelly bear diet by this stage. On the other hand, I didn't want to upset my stomach by introducing something else at this point, and besides, nothing else sounded good. I did start drinking coke at the aid stations though, which was a surprisingly tremendous pick-me-up. The sports drink was rather diluted (perhaps from ice) by this stage, so it was really good on the old taste buds.

At broken leg hill, I decided I had bounced back enough to go on ahead, so I passed Randy and another guy just in front and set off on my own for the last 4.5 miles. I observed to myself that at this point, every step I was taking would mark the new furthest distance I had ever run. You'd think that was an encouragement, but, you know, eyes on the trail lad, eyes on the trail. Concentrate.

Checking my watch, I knew that it would at this point take a major meltdown for me not to finish in under 7 hours, which was a goal I actually thought might have been a bit optimistic, so I was pretty pleased with myself. I passed a couple of other people, including some 20 milers, at around this time, and finally reached Jill for the last time with about 3 miles remaining. I think this was the first time I started thinking about how I'd feel when this was all over. Relieved probably, but also elated, and, yes, maybe slightly boastful. But, still, eyes on the trail.

1 mile to go and the Hills looked at me with all the evil of a Real Housewife of Atlanta. The first, as always was the real son-of-a-mountain, and I could feel myself veering close to "E" on the gas tank. I just had water in my bottle at this point, and probably should have had one more little bite to eat at the previous aid station than just an orange segment (they were all out of jelly bears). Still, I knew the end was near, inched up the other two hills, and summoned the energy to hurtle down the final little stretch through the finish line in 6 hours 42 minutes dead. I was really pleased with the time and with Ben's observation at the end that I'd looked strong throughout, something Jill also echoed, comparing it to my disheveled look from a year ago when she had been "really worried" about me.

Needless to say, a few minutes later, I was walking like Herman Munster and EVERYTHING started to ache. Here's the list... Headache. Face sunburned. Shoulders sore from carrying the waterbottle. Chest, back and hips sore. Hams tight from the uphills. Quads burning from the downhills. Calves shot. Ankles twisted. Big toe bruised. Knees seem to be the only thing that escaped relatively unscathed, but I'm betting they'll be tons of fun tomorrow...

However, I look at these not as ailments but battle scars. This was my first 50k and it wasn't an entry-level one. I got through it and I was proud of myself. There, I said it.

As always, a first class event was run by Ben, Sophia and all the Nerds that contributed time and energy. Big ups for the mileage signs and the new finish line. Dick Ross was his usual jovial picture taking self. Jill was awesome as she always is, and thanks also to Randy from Wichita who, perhaps without knowing it at the time, helped me through my toughest, and most pretentiously introspective miles.

One final "magnifique" to Ben (again) for finding what had to be the biggest Union Jack in the Midwest. Rule Britannia!

Gobbler Grind

In November 2008 I lined up for the Gobbler Grind Half-Marathon. At the time it was my first race of that distance and my longest run ever. Since then of course, I've covered that distance many times in training and have completed five races of that distance or longer, including the full marathon at the same event in 2009.

November 21 2010 saw me line up for the third straight year, this time, as in 2008, for the Half. This year, Jill and my two daughters were in attendance also, to run the 5k (a separate race at the same event, effectively covering the first 5k of my run).

Here was the problem with this year. First of all, I was, I felt, undertrained. I've seemed to develop a knack of twisting my ankle over the last few weeks and this has slowed me down both in speed and volume. On top of that, I've been eating like I'm doing a universal junk food audit, and yesterday topped it off when we celebrated Thanksgiving early and I anti-carbo loaded with turkey, potatoes and the usual trimmings. More like preparation for a bigger pair of pants than a Half Marathon.

Still, I love this race. After the first 5k around a corporate complex, paved trails weave in and out of wooded areas and under and over bridges until two or three more miles of road and then a return on the same trails to the finish line. I wouldn't say the course is overly challenging, but it's not slam dunk piss easy either. There's no major hills except for a long steady incline on the road section in the middle, but it's rare that you encounter a truly long flat area. Plenty of little bumps. Added to that, while this year was by far the warmest of the three "Grinds" I've done, it was also far and away the windiest.

My youngest was going to walk-run the race with Jill, who's been fighting allergies and flu and wasn't up to a full run. My oldest daughter's a cross-countryer so she started with me (and soon pulled away - she would later finish 4th in her age group, and probably could have finished higher but she thought she'd missed a turn and double backed to me, costing herself probably 30-45 seconds at least in the process).

Really, almost immediately, I knew this was going to be a tough race. My goal going in was 1:45, much slower than my PR, but all I felt capable of. I knew even that was going to be pretty difficult, but I muscled around the first 5k in about 8:10 pace, not too far off. I kept expecting things to start to ease up, but my lack of energy, somewhat bloatedness for the ill-advised turkeyfest the day before, and the incessant wind meant it never really did. The incline on the road mid-section I found far more challenging in years past too. True, I was actually running faster than I did the last couple of years, but I'd run faster in training over 10-11 mile distances, so it was rather frustrating to know that I didn't quite "have it" on this day.

Still, the miles did tick slowly but surely by and as always I was encouraged when I returned to the trails with about a 5k still to run. Somehow, I passed people still on their way out, some 5 miles behind. It made me think back to my first marathon in Arizona when I had to walk almost half of the distance. Seemed to last forever then, and it was nowhere near as windy. Poor them I guess, but they seemed happy enough, so who am I to speculate.

My legs were out of steam and I was absolutely ready for the race to be over, and thankfully, finally it was. I managed to keep going the whole way and even put in a little kick at the end - though was once more blown away by a fellow competitor in the home straight, a rather deflating pattern.

My final time was 1:46:59, about 2 minutes outside my goal, but I was relatively satisfied. A perusal of the finish times revealed times were slower in general than the last couple of years, probably because of the wind. I should have prepared better, but all in all, it was still a respectable time and I held my pace of 8:10 the whole way so it was nice to power through and stay consistent. I have to say it was also great to run with Jill and the kids even if I only really saw them at the beginning and end. The kids were proud of themselves, and with medals and tech shirts given out to all participants, even the 5kers, everyone was a winner. My guess is I'll be back for Grind #4 in 2011.

Fall Fell Trail Race

I'd been looking forward to this run for a while. Haven't actually run an honest-to-goodness trail race since February's Run Toto Run, and indeed I was off the trails entirely for a while in the Summer after spraining my ankle. I've been back on them the last few weeks, mixing up trail and pavement and slowly easing back up to 25-30 miles/week. Still, although I did run an enjoyable Wyco loop recently, almost all of my trail-ing has been at Shawnee Mission Park, which has some fine trails, but ones that were becoming very familiar. As the Fall Fell Trail Race was at Kill Creek Park in Olathe, this seemed an ideal way to try out a new spot. At the bargain price of $8, it was much cheaper than the KC Marathon the day before too. Count me in.

Unfortunately, on Wednesday, while running in SMP, I managed to twist both ankles several times. Nothing hugely serious, but enough to stretch out the tendons and make me just a little nervous coming into this one.

Kill Creek Park is quite a way out there, very quiet, very low key, rather like the event. There are two major trails. One, called Hank, Bad Ben told us is named after Dr. Henry Jekyll, the other, Eddy, after Mr. Eddie Hyde. It wouldn't take a Dr, or even a lowly Mr, to figure out which was the apparently more challenging then. Overall the race is about 7 miles, so a good way to start the day without blowing every gasket for the next three weeks.

I paid up, got my number (99) and people-watched for about 45 minutes with my support crew (Jill) until the race began at 9.

The weather was sunny and warming as we started, and I bolted out way too fast and headed down a little road into "Hank" in probably around 9th or 10th place (there were a little over 70 runners total). The frustrating thing is that I think my fitness level probably would have been enough to keep me there, but my confidence on the trails was a little shot after the ankle twists and soon, people were passing me.

The funny thing was, I would reflect later that even though Eddy was no question the more technical of the two trails, I actually had a harder time with Hank, perhaps because although generally smoother it occasionally would surprise you with a small root or rock, sometimes hidden under some fallen leaves, that would be just enough to turn what was already a weak-ish left ankle. I counted at least four times that I gave it a significant twist. One in particular caused me to yelp like a surprised dog.

Still, I managed to keep going and soon I was on another little stretch of road and then down towards a stream and photo op. Jill and the "official" photographer were stationed here with a few spectators, and it was great fun galoshing through about four or five inches of water for a few steps. Also did a good job of cleaning off my rather muddy Brooks Cascadias, so practical as well as refreshing.

While Hank was fairly flat to downhill with occasional rocky and rooty patches, Eddy was very rocky, requiring a bit more skill and concentration. Maybe it was this focus, or maybe I was warmed up, but as I said, I actually didn't have too many ankle problems during this section and I'd settled into a comfortable pace. Running largely on my own for long stretches by now, I thought I was probably still in the top 20 or 25 or so and as I bent around a little lollipop and doubled back I started passing some of the runners still heading out. This was a relief because I realized I probably was still going the right way. Mind starts playing tricks when you're out in the boonies on your own sometimes.

Before long, I was back over the stream and really splashed through it this time (see pic for my hero shot). Confidence in my ankle was better by now, and I returned to Hank with a better rhythm and although passed by one more guy who literally seemed to appear from nowhere, I had enough left for a decent finish.

My final time was 1:01:06. Good for 21st place. Would have been a nice cherry on top to break an hour, but all in all, I was pleased with how I ran and most of all glad to have found a new trail I can add to my rotation. As always, the race was impeccably put together by Ben and his peeps, and the donut at the end was very welcome. Hopefully I can keep my ankle in joint long enough to run further and - well, probably not faster - in February.

Run For The Polar Bears

For the third time, on September 18, Jill and I lined up, with Jill's pal Kim and her husband Adam, for the Kansas City Zoo Run, this year in aid of the Polar Bears, the poster children for environmental activists and cute but deadly food chain toppers in the Arctic.

Conditions at the zoo were anything but arctic of course. The brutal summer may have lost some of its sting, but it was humid and still warm as we lined up on Swope Parkway and readied ourselves for the off. Hoping for a better performance than my previous two runs here, we lined up closer to the front of the pack. The race gets bigger every year but some of the running lanes are very narrow in this twisty turny event. I didn't want to get held up in traffic.

My goal was a relatively modest one. 30:00. (4 mile race, this would be a 7:30 pace). Some 4+ minutes slower than I ran the Trolley Run in April, but my fitness level isn't as high as then due to a busy summer (got married, went to Europe, put on weight) and the sometimes dangerously hot conditions keeping me from running as much as I was in the winter.

After one of the better National Anthem renditions I'd heard at one of these things - an a capella group - the gun went off and we shot down past the entrance and into the zoo. I was out of breath almost immediately and wondered what in the hell was going on. I think in the past, I'd started so far back, the runners around me were much slower than I was, but this time, lining up near the front, they were all as fast or faster and I found myself surprised by that to a certain extent. There seemed like a lot of people in front of me, which made me wonder if I was really running that fast, or if I just wasn't as quick as I was back in the Spring.

After a quick out and back, we reached the first mile marker and a glance at the watch showed a 6:44 first mile. Much quicker than I'd gone in several months, so I felt better mentally, if not physically. Adam was just a little behind me at that point, which surprised me a little as he'd not really done any training, but I decided not to worry about it and moved on into "Africa".

Much of this section was on gravelly trails and wooden bridges, comprising a loop around the outdoor African exhibits. Usually I don't really notice the animals, but I did see one fairly curious looking hippo wondering what was going on just outside his enclosure. I felt pretty comfortable at this point, but knew that on the way out of the loop, I'd be running uphill over a bridge, something that kicked my ass last year, so some of what I was doing was preparing mentally for it.

It worked, apparently. For whatever reason, it wasn't nearly as daunting or challenging as it had been last year when it sort of snuck up on me. However, my recollection that this was the last real challenge was less accurate as the mile and a half remaining through "Australia" seemed to be a constant maze of uphills, downhills, sharp turns and narrow pathways. Fun course, no doubt, but hard work in the warm wet air.

I turned one final corner and into the home straight I went. I had enough left for a kick and passed a couple of people, feeling pretty good about myself until a 12 or 13 year old boy shot past me like I was standing still. Apparently he had mailed in the first 3.9 miles because he certainly had a lot more left than I did. Still, I crossed the line in 29:03, after adjustments, ahead of my goal, at 7:16 pace, not too bad for the course, conditions and my level of fitness.

Adam was a few minutes behind and finished in 32 minutes and change, not bad for someone who probably hasn't run in months. If he trained, he'd leave me in the dust.

Jill and Kim finished in just over 49 minutes, and after a donut and a drink, we all headed over to the brand new Polar Bear exhibit, which featured the brand new MVP of the KC Zoo, Nikita, the 500 pound Polar Bear "baby". Rarely do animals do what you want them to at a zoo. Most of them prefer to just laze around occasionally looking at you. This guy was the exception. Belly flopping and backstroking his way around the pool, he was an absolute star. Hopefully he doesn't pork out and get lazy as he grows older, but right now, the millions of dollars it took to bring him there appear to have been well spent.

Later, I checked the results, and I finished 66th out of about 1,500 or so. 6th in my age group. Not too bad, though I think if I was in Spring form, I could have been close to the top 20, and maybe the top 3 in my age group. Oh well, I'll take it. It's still one of my favorite runs and marks the third year in a row I've gone faster. Moving on...

Trail Gremlins

I'd been looking forward to a nice long trail run at Wyco for a week or two but heavy rains last week and the race at the weekend delayed my trip until now. Although I knew it probably wouldn't be 'perfect' trail conditions (I'm starting to wonder if that unlikely situation is as elusive as Sasquatch), I was tired of waiting, so filled up my new $19 Wal-Mart special backpack water hydration device (you can just say 'bladder' -ed) and headed out.

The trail was actually quite runnable, but there were still some very stodgy mud pits. It was also quite different from the last time I'd done it because of all the foliage and Spring growth. Unfortunately, I wouldn't have too long to enjoy it. About 2 miles in, my right leg got caught in the mud, my ankle turned and I heard/felt some clicks and I knew my day on the trails was destined to end early.

I was kind of in the middle of nowhere, so had little option but to limp on for a while and even started back up with a slow, careful jog. As it started to feel better, I even thought about continuing around the loop, but after another 2 miles, the jog was becoming more of a skip, common sense finally prevailed and I headed for the comfort of asphalt and a slow, somewhat painful walk back to my car.

My guess is it's sprained. It's pretty bruised and swollen this morning, and there's considerable pain when I move it certain ways, but I can more or less walk on it, and I've done the "classic" tests for broken ankles, and I don't think it's that.

So, a forced absence from running, my first since Arizonagate. Hopefully it will be a week to ten days; no more. Frustrating as that will be, I will take the occasional minor acute injury over a chronic complaint like shin splints or plantar fasc any day. Plus, with no races coming up and, as mentioned, a house to paint, hopefully it will be no (lasting) harm, no foul.

Trolley Run

Jill's bridal shower was this weekend, so the kids were here for a couple of days. This meant a 9 hour drive to pick them up from Kourteney's track meet on Friday afternoon/evening and also a 9 hour dropoff on Sunday. This was after a business trip earlier in the week, so I was already running on only partial power, and finally, sandwiched between the two drive-a-thons was the 22nd Annual Trolley Run. Yeah, it was always going to be a pretty long weekend.

The Trolley Run has a kind of special significance to me, though I had never actually run it before this past weekend. It holds the distinction of being the first organized race I watched, as I think I might have mentioned in an earlier post. Jill ran it two years ago, and I found myself fascinated with the spectacle of it, and thus my running "career" was reborn. Last year, I was still injured from Arizona at this time, so was once again a spectator but this year I was healthy and ready to try to set another PR. Jill meanwhile was set to run her third straight, though first without her running partner Kim.

The course is a point-to-point starting in the Waldo neighborhood of KC and ending on the famed Country Club Plaza. Plotting an old trolley bus route, it's flat to downhill and probably the fastest 4 mile course in the country. It is home to the national 4 mile record and attracts top tier talent and 10,000+ other runners and walkers each year.

We dropped the kids off at the Plaza near the finish line, then took a race bus to the start area. It was a nice day for running, but not particularly pleasant for standing around. There was a healthy breeze in the air and a few spots of rain. I was wearing a long-sleeved shirt under my short sleeved shirt, a last-minute decision, but we found ourselves wandering from place to place in an effort to keep warm.

The race is so big, they segmented everyone into corrals based on projected finish time. I was in the red corral (sub-30 minutes), blue was next, then green (Jill's corral), yellow, orange and white. One of the biggest problems with larger races - the KC Marathon is a good example - is that the fun runners and walkers tend to have no idea on race etiquette and are perfectly content to line up way too close to the front, then block the entire street while they chat with their six friends or call someone on their cell phone, with no regard paid to runners trying to get around them. For the most part, corralling stops this from happening, so it works out well.

A lone wheelchair racer went first, then a couple of minutes later, the red runners were told to get ready. Jill lined up on the other side of the fence until the start then I told her I'd see her at the finish and the gun went off.

It was kind of new to be running with a bunch of other runners at approximately the same speed as me right at the start. Usually there's such a mixture of paces that it's several miles before you end up with people of the same pace. I started fast, picking as my target a woman with broad shoulders that I remembered passing in the last mile of the Rock the Parkway.

The first mile went by quickly - in retrospect too quickly. I was surprised to see the first mile marker and a check of my watch showed I'd powered through in 6:10. I felt good, but had a feeling I was going to pay for it later. The only two inclines I can remember were next, in quick succession and I knew from having run part of the route before that after I'd crested the second, I wouldn't see another for the rest of the run, a comforting thought as I was already breathing pretty heavily. I also felt rather warm. The long-sleeved shirt had been a godsend at the start, but I could easily have done without it on the run.

We ran through the trendy Brookside neighborhood across 63rd street with it's red and blue striped awnings and down a residential portion of Brookside Blvd that I'm pretty familiar with. I passed the two mile marker and checked my watch. 12:33. Second mile in 6:23, but with the two small hills, I felt I was probably keeping a reasonably even pace over the flat parts. However, my fast start was certainly catching up with me already and another 2 miles felt like a pretty long way to go.

I finally passed broad-shouldered-girl near this section and didn't see her again, so maybe she too started a little too briskly. An older guy was holding his hamstring on the side of the road at this point also, probably not the last casualty of the day.

It seemed to take forever for the 3 mile marker to arrive. My breathing was becoming very labored and my legs heavy. My fast start was biting back hard and I was afraid of a big slowdown over the final mile. I checked my watch. 19:00. Somehow I had run the last mile in 6:27, only 4 seconds slower than the previous one, but it continued the trend of running slower with each successive mile.

People that had paced themselves better started passing me at this point. Possibly they'd sped up, and/or I'd slowed down. I didn't know and I didn't care. I just wanted to see the finish line. I heard the sound of cheering and figured I wasn't far away, but then I realized it was just a small group of cheerleaders and I found myself slightly annoyed at them for fooling me into thinking I was closer to being done than I was.

It had been pretty breezy the whole race, but the trees had for the most part sheltered us from the worst of it. This all stopped when we headed out onto a bridge crossing that would take us to the final turn into the finish line chute. Completely exposed, the wind pounded us full on here and for a couple of minutes it felt like running into an invisible wall.

At last, we were across and I turned into the final hundred meters or so to the finish line. I had very little left for a big finish but when I saw the clock at 25:40, 41, 42, I did manage a final mini-burst to get across in under 26:00. After adjusting to chip times, the final time was 25:49 (avg 6:27/mi pace). My last mile was by far my slowest. 6:49. Still, better than I could ever have imagined even a few weeks ago, but probably a combination of the windy conditions and going out too fast took away the potential for something even faster.

Overall then, a good race, a new PR on an albeit lightning fast course, and I even had my kids cheering me on at the finish line (though I only saw one of them and only one of them saw me). I finished 148th out of 7,500+ timed participants, and 23rd out of 515 in my age group, so a respectable spot. It was a good time, though I have to admit that despite being glad I'd finally run the race that "started it all", it wasn't really my favorite. Nothing bad about it, per se, but maybe I'm just starting to get snobbish about enjoying the smaller, more intimate events. This one was so huge, it was some 30 minutes later before Jill crossed, her corral having started a good 10 minutes or so after mine. Her time was 41 minutes and change, 10:30/mile, not quite as fast as last year, but her best effort of 2010.

I would like to have had a bit longer to relax after the run, but the 9 hour drive beckoned and now, just a day later, it already seems like it happened a long time ago.

After two shorter distance races, I'm looking forward to a few weeks off from racing and getting back to running slower for longer. The next event I'm eyeing is the Psycho Wyco Summer Run Toto Run in July. If training goes well, I'm going to try for the 50k. (WHAT? -Ed.) In the mean time, I have the small business of a house to paint and a wedding to plan for so if you'll excuse me.....

Braden's Race for Life and Miracle Mile

Braden Hofen is a five year old boy/warrior that has been struggling with neuroblastoma for some two years. Aggressive treatments initially led to the disease entering remission, but just a few months later it returned and now the prognosis is unfortunately not optimistic. Despite this, Braden's fighting spirit has endured and the hope is still there that he will respond to the treatments and can somehow beat the odds.

I don't personally know Braden, nor his mother Deliece, she also now struggling with recently diagnosed breast cancer, father Brian or brother Zach. However, it emerged that Jill's sister knows Deliece, a school principal, having worked with her previously, and it was she that suggested we take part in the inaugural Braden's Race For Life and Miracle Mile, put on by Ben and Sophia of the Trail Nerds. Although the idea for the race only came about two months ago, signups exceeded expectations, buoyed by the cause and the spirit of the Hofens, and by Sunday, a remarkable 1,600+ were signed up to run or walk in one of three events; a mile, 5k and 10k. Jill and I signed up for the 10k.

The information on childhood cancers is tragically limited. 'Hope' was the key theme of the day and, written in block letters on the event t-shirts that almost everyone seemed to be wearing, it undoubtedly applied to Braden's particular case. However, there's no doubt it also had a broader meaning. The long-term hope will be for diagnosis and treatment options to be adequately funded and recognized moving forward. Deliece, in one of several speeches made to the gathered crowds, mentioned how within 2 days of being diagnosed with breast cancer she had a firm action plan, but for Braden, not only did it take a long time for him to even be correctly diagnosed, the treatment options were in many cases either limited or experimental, a gulf that has to be addressed.

Many, if not most organized races are for a good cause, and power to them all. For some reason, though, this one, to me, seemed closer to home, more intimate, more real. It could have been the fact that the Hofens were on hand, including the pint-sized star himself, to speak with passion and conviction about their son and his illness. It might have been the fact that almost everyone seemed to know them, or know someone that did. It might be that everyone knew someone with cancer. It might even be as simple as everyone knowing someone with a child.

Whatever the combination of factors, it was a moving, inspiring, and, yes, life-affirming occasion. It was also an extremely well organized one. The food and refreshments were great. There was a very extensive silent auction (Jill and I managed to win a weekend at the Crowne Plaza, which will work out great as our wedding hotel), and even a raffle for a guitar signed by KC American Idol David Cook. No-one would have held it against the race directors if there were problems, given the compressed time frame with which they had to work, but as far as I could tell, other than a somewhat congested race course (again, they hadn't anticipated such a big response), everything seemed to go flawlessly.

It's funny, but the atmosphere was so good that in the end, the races, particularly the 5k and 10k, almost seemed beside the point. Still, after the parade-like stroll of the Miracle Mile was done and dusted, Jill and I, along with about 90 other 10k-ers and 400 or so 5k-ers, lined up near the front of the pack for our race, Ben blew a horn and off we went.

The run was an out and back, mainly on trails, that reminded me a lot of those I ran on for the Gobbler Grind, though they were a little more challenging, with a few short, but relatively steep bumps. I started fast - for a while I thought maybe too fast - and settled into something of a rhythm as we rounded a field and entered the trail portion. I figured I was in about 7th or 8th place at this point, but also knew that at least some of those in front of me were most likely running the 5k so my actual position was probably a little higher.

I told Jill going in that my hope was that I could crack the top 10 for the first time, and after the 5k-ers ahead of me had turned around I knew I was well into that and was actually pretty certain I was in 4th. Once again, I feared I'd set off too quickly and my legs felt rather heavy for a while, but I managed to run through it and by mile 3 and the turnaround I felt pretty good. I wasn't closing on the guy in front of me but I had seemed to pull away from those behind. I grabbed a cup of water and headed back.

I started passing the 10k-ers still on their way out. There was a decent gap between me and 5th place, and as I ran on, many of those I passed shouted encouraging words as I went by, including Jill, who looked pretty comfortable herself and confirmed that I was in 4th. Not long after, the line of people going the other way thinned out, then it was just me and some open trail, perhaps my favorite part of the run. I felt the most comfortable at this point and a glance behind told me I had a good lock on 4th place. I also realized for the first time that I was gaining on the guy in front.

A bridge was followed by a quick turn and then, almost without being conscious of it, I was on the 3rd place guy's shoulder. I stayed there for a while, gathering myself for a burst, then after maybe 20-30 seconds went past and upped the speed a little, hoping I had enough left in the tank for the finish. A third of a mile later, and I was back at the 5k turnaround point.

Lots of 5kers, mainly walkers, were still on the course, and the next mile or so was a challenging weave through crowds. I shouted 'Scuse me' as I approached, but mostly I had to do the dodging. I think perhaps in my haste to get through without injuring myself or anyone else, I actually was forced to speed up a bit, so it might not all have been a bad thing. Still, I was running right at my limits, so the finish was certainly not going to come a second too soon.

Finally, I could hear the crowd at the start and I popped out of the woods and into the open where I rounded the field back to the start/finish. I was pretty much out of gas, but managed to drain the last of it to propel myself into the final stretch and across the finish line. I was well behind 2nd place, but well ahead of 4th; a solid 3rd; my first "placement", and a PB of 41:51; 6:44 pace. I even won some prizes - another first.

I waited at the finish for Jill, who came in at 1:07:32, some 10 minutes faster than at Rock The Parkway! She was well pleased. We hung around for a good hour or so afterwards, listening to Deliece, Sophia and others tell stories, both heartwarming and heartbreaking, and enjoying the weather and festivities.

All in all, a great race, but a greater cause. Braden's future is uncertain, but the race seems destined to become a key event in the fight against childhood cancers. Backed by the first-rate organization of the race directors and sponsors, year one, at least from what I could see, couldn't have gone much better. Doesn't that show you that all things are possible?

Hope.

If you wish to make a donation, you can do so here.

Rock The Parkway

The Inaugural Rock The Parkway was this past Saturday. Offering the three classic distances, 5k, 10k and Half Marathon, I opted for the Half. It's probably my favorite race distance, sitting as it does between the zoom ze bop bang of the 5 and 10ks and the long sappery of the longer distances. Jill meanwhile lined up for the 10k.

Despite it's virginal status and cold rainy conditions, 4,000 runners turned out to run one of the three distances. The course, while certainly considerably more challenging than the website pretends, isn't Hospital Hill or Psycho Wyco hard, and is a treat on the eyes, comprising tree-lined streets and some of the nicest residential areas of the city.

I think this race is an example of what an excellent marketing campaign and solid organization can achieve. To get this many runners in the first year requires some clever positioning, and from the very good website to the constant, interactive facebook updates and finally the execution of the event itself, the directors really got a lot right.

I arrived in plenty of time, leaving the warmth of the car a little while before Jill, whose race started 15 minutes later. A quick meander through the starting area, and I was able to find a spot right where I wanted, next to the 1:35 pace group leader, Tony. This was my goal going in, and I felt I had a decent shot at getting it, even though it would be quite a bit faster than my current PR. Training had been going well, and the trail work has really boosted my speed and core strength over the last few months.

The gun went off and within just a few seconds I was across the start line. The first couple of miles flew by. We were a little behind pace, which was intentional. The pacers were adopting a smart-technique where the first few miles are treated as a warmup, the next few are faster, and the last few are basically "hang in there".

I remember thinking during almost all of the first half that for a "gently rolling" course, much of the "rolling" seemed to be uphill with only a few scattered downhill moments. I felt Tony pick up the pace appreciably as we hit the 5-6 mile mark and indeed one quick stop at a water station and I had to work pretty hard to catch back up. I feared this might come back to bite me later.

Most of the route is on the famed Ward Parkway, but there's a middle loop through some residential sections near Loose Park and it's probably the best looking part of an already very scenic course. Jill and I had driven it the day before when it had been bathed in sunshine. The scenery wasn't quite as impressive through the gloom of the rain, but on the flip side, it was cool and not overly windy, so I wasn't complaining.

I think around 7.5 miles was when I started to feel it a bit, the seemingly constant, albeit fairly gentle, uphills starting to take their toll. Then I careened (almost out of control) down a quick steep downhill and realized I'd left my pace group behind. I figured I could slow down and wait for them, but kept going and whether I'd quickened or was just getting tired, I started to wonder if I was going to regret the move.

Fortunately, what goes up must come down, and the back side of the course as we re-entered Ward Parkway was almost all downhill with just a few little bumps along the way. It couldn't have come at a better time and I found myself working less hard to maintain my pace and my energy began to return.

At about 10 miles, I passed a very enthusiastic spectator with a flower power shirt and bright white pants for the second time who was yelling something about holding onto our "chi", bringing a brief, if somewhat confused, smile to my face. I started feeling tired again, and this time decided to take evasive measures by swallowing the energy gel I'd brought along before grabbing a cup of water at an aid station.

Half a mile later and the gel had kicked in and I was ready for my big finish. Very few people actually passed me after I left the pace group, but I caught up with a fair few, as well as some of the 10k and 5k runners still out on the course (they started later than the Half-ers).

Finally, using up the last of the gas in the tank, I crossed the finish line in 1:34:09. 7:11 pace, knocking 14 minutes of my previous race PR. Later, I found out I'd finished 86th out of 1,450. 16th in my age group. Getting faster anyway.

Jill was waiting for me at the end, having just finished her 10k, and we went to the post-race area which we breezed quickly through. Rattle and Hum were playing - and playing well - but the weather was just too cold and wet to stay long, so off we trotted.

It's weird to think this is only the third actual Half-Marathon race I've done. I think I've probably run the distance (or further) 20 or more times over the last year and a half, mostly in training obviously, but I've managed to lower my time each of the three times, so hopefully that trend can continue.

All in all, this was a great race. Very impressed, as mentioned, with the organization, giveaways (the tech shirts and medals were great, as well as the post-race refreshments and entertainment) and atmosphere. Next year's is already set; hopefully the rain will hold off next time, but other than that, couldn't really ask for too much more. I'll be back.

Run Toto Run

February 13 2010. The 6th Annual Run Toto Run, run, totoed, run again, and otherwise MCed by the Trail Nerds, and led by the intrepid duo of Ben and Sophia, who enjoyed their last day of non-engagement the same day. (Congratulations, felicitations and other iterations to you both).

In actual fact, this was a course I was quite familiar with, having run it first at the Alternate Chili Run - also put on by the Nerds - and several times thereafter. What that meant was that I knew that I didn't know what to expect. Snow, ice, mud, yetis, and of course the ever present threat of spider monkeys.

So... to start at the top..

Jill drove me in at about 7:30am straight past the already full parking lot and into a probably illegal parking space on the side of the road. We ambled down to where the party was already beginning. A little snow was on the ground in places, enough to where I decided I needed to screw... my shoes for extra traction. A station was set up where a couple of people were very helpfully screwing everything that was sent their way, so I joined the queue. I asked the guy who did them - my Swiss cheese brain has forgotten his name - if he was running. He said no, he was going to do some sweeping later, but the 100 miler he'd completed the week before had apparently led to some very mild fatigue. Imagine...

I'd signed up for the 20 miler, but the little devil on my right shoulder was telling me I should go for the 50k if I felt good after the first two 10 mile loops. I asked Sophia if this was doable and she said "Yeah, just make sure we know" so I pottered off to Jill and told her it might be a long day for both of us. She was a good sport about it considering my inevitable slowness and her fondness for not being cold.

Ben and Sophia loudspeakered a few instructions - basically saying if you get lost you're an idiot (they were right; the course was excellently marked) - and with no further ado, we were at the start line and the (metaphorical) gun went off..

Miles 0-3ish. Across a field, a few yards of pavement then up into the first section of the bridle path. The ground was pretty hard and a bit slick, so I was glad I had screwed right before the race (OK, that's enough -ed). Most of this is a gradual uphill, with a couple of steeper bumps and a few short downhills. The path's been torn up by horses in a few places, so footing's fun there. I came out a couple of times onto some grassy clearings, but otherwise was in the woods the whole time here. I actually find this quite a challenging segment, mainly I think because it's the first thing I do, and I'm not yet warmed up properly. Lots of traffic in the early going, both human and canine, a couple of pukers, and the occasional f-bomb. One guy told me he liked my shoes (he had the same ones). I ran across him a couple more times when we strangely found we had more gear choices in common every time.

Miles 3-4ish. First aid station, and, I think, the only one I skipped. I took a right here onto the Wyco Triangle section of single-track. This is one of my favorite parts of PsychoWyco. It's not overly challenging, the trail's pretty smooth, and although there are times when you're sure you're just running in circles, there's something kind of 'yeah, I'm still alive' about completing it. Someone told me that there are people that can do it in 7 minutes. There are also non-superbeings like me who are usually just pleased they didn't get too lost. I've been 'triangled' for 30+ minutes before. No such problems here. Those little pink flags were like runway lights.

Miles 4-5ish. After I popped back out onto the bridle trail (on the other side of the same aid station you saw on the way in), there's a flattish section leading up to a road crossing and back into the woods. I think this was the first time I saw the guy cheering us on who I swear had seven or eight clones scattered at various spots around the course. He (and his doppelgangers) were a welcome sight, and his enthusiasm was impressive. Down one hill, then up what was one of the steepest on the course, and definitely the most challenging part of the first half of the loop. The highly motivating signs "It's OK to puke" and "It never only gets worse" greeted me towards the summit, and I considered both at length. Afterwards, I was rewarded with a fairly steep downhill section of back and forth, then you take a left and a sharp right and all of a sudden you're in the middle of a giant field.

Miles 5-6ish. The field seems to take forever to cross, and is the most exposed part of the course, so is really the only time you really feel much wind. I'm always relieved to get past this and onto the brief uphill section of road, past an aid station - where I gratefully had my bottle filled with Succeed. Back into the woods for a couple of very steep downhills where signs warned us to "SLOW DOWN" which all of those in my pace range certainly took heed of after Ben had regaled us before we started with stories of the broken legs of those who'd gone too fast.

Miles 6-7ish. It may not be, but this part always seems to me like the longest part of uninterrupted running in the woods without coming out at a field, road or parking lot of some kind. Lots of up, lots of down, a little flat, and a slightly muddier track that warned of things to come. I think this was the area I started to get passed by 10 milers that started 30 minutes after me - always an ego boost - including one very fast, (and very young) kid who made the hills that were burning my quads with every microstep seem like minor speed bumps - I later found out he came 2nd overall in the 10 mile race. Overachiever. Across another field, back into the woods, out by some boats, back in again, then one more aid station before the infamous "Three Hills" section.

Miles 7-10ish. Dominated by the aforementioned hills, the first of the three might be the worst because it's so dang long. Just as you think you're at the top, you turn a corner and it KEEPS GOING UP. I didn't even try to run this one, and all I could think was how in the frig was I going to do it again with 10 more miles on my legs. The second is a bit shorter, then the third is another real bugger, though at least you know it's the last main obstacle before the end. Finally, I heard noise that resembled the unmistakably lively chatter of finish line peoples and sure enough, I ran down one final hill and into the back of the parking lot where I'd started. A jovial guy took a picture as I crossed the finish line for which I managed to muster a smile - of all the pictures taken, it was the only one where I didn't look like I was about to keel over.

Round 1 complete. Jill snapped pictures and looked suitably concerned as I was somewhat disheveled already. My time was just over 2 hours; a PR for me, which probably meant I was going too fast.

Miles 10-13ish. Starting to feel a bit iffy. Jill was now meeting me whenever I emerged from the woods, with food and drink, and she told me after that this was the period she was most worried and that I looked "terrible". I was definitely starting to feel it. I took a salt tablet and ate some gummi bears at the aid station.

Miles 13-15ish. Definitely the worst part for me physically. The triangle was a bit muddier than the first time but mostly I just felt like I was about to pass out from exhaustion at this part. The idea of going 6 or 7 more miles didn't seem realistic. I slowed to a walk, even on the flat areas, and prepared myself for doom. To think, a couple of hours earlier, I'd been full of vinegar asking about "up-sizing" to the 50k. What a foolish child I can be. Also, somehow my stopwatch got stopped here, so it added to the feeling that I wasn't making any progress, time itself having apparently stood still.

Miles 15-17ish. Against all odds, I started to bounce back. The salt and food kicked in and all of a sudden I actually felt fairly comfortable again - oh, I still wasn't attempting to run up the hills, but I was pretty solid on the flats and downhills. Mud was really a factor by now, the product of melting snow and 500 runners tearing it up. Plp plp plp. Some were trying to run around the edges but I just charged through it for the most part. I still managed to fall flat on my face, side and butt four or five times, but at least it was a soft landing. I'd done this course in a foot of snow, and although I'll take the mud over the snow, it might be interesting to actually do this one day without either. Of course, then there'd be snakes and ticks, so, you know, every silver lining has its cloud.

Miles 17-20. The three hills were, if anything, not quite as painful as they were in the first loop (though it has to be said I took my sweet time with them), and were one of the few areas where the mud hadn't completely taken hold, so in some ways they were almost welcome. Plus I knew the end was in sight.

Finally, I saw the parking lot and, as if someone had injected me with an elixir of everlasting energy, I suddenly bounded out heroically and shot over the finish line in near average pace. A very brief thought of going for the 50k flashed through my head, then equally quickly went away. The second loop had taken me 2hrs 37 minutes, about 35 minutes slower than the first. The mud was getting worse, and I was spent. I'd put in my day's work. It was time to go home and caress my blisters.

At the end, Ben was there to greet me (see pic), and told me I looked a little pale and needed some food. I didn't reveal that I am the twelve time runner up at the whitest man alive contest behind only Conan O'Brien, but followed his advice anyway and had a bowl of hot soup and an awesome cookie.

I'm the pale one on the left

So, was it fun? Hell yes. I had mud up to my knees, I spent almost 5 hours running in the woods in February, and I got a medal with a dog on it. What more could you ask for?

A special thanks to...

All the Nerds at the aid stations. They were attentive and kept the bar well stocked. The variety of food was impressive (though I personally mainly stuck to gummi bears which I found to be like happy pills for me that day).

The mud

Ben and Sophia for putting on a first class event and for the really impressive amount of stuff you got for your money (long-sleeved tech shirt, mug, medal, soup, cookies - the list goes on)

The guy who screwed my shoes. Good luck on your next hundred miler.

Jill for being there at every corner on the second loop when she probably would rather have been at Banana Republic or David's Bridal. That's my girl.

Anyway, that's it for now. This post ended up being almost as long as my race. But slightly cleaner. See you at the next one!

The Winter

What a winter. Gary Lezak said it's been 27 days since the last day of 45 degrees or above here in the metropole. I've never known anything like it in the 15 years I've been in this hallowed land. We've also had 28 or so inches of snow through the season, including one that kept us inside on Christmas Day. Average is 12 inches, and it's only just now mid-February!

Hasn't stopped me running though. In fact, I've used the runs as my way of showing the proverbial middle finger to the elements. I remember the 15 mile run I did in 7 degree weather when my chin was so numb you could have stuck a needle in it and I wouldn't have known. I remember the 7 mile run I did in -2 degree weather (I wore a scarf that time at least) - and I remember slogging through 10 miles of snow in yaktrax, with their signature crunch the only noise - even drivers stayed home that day.

But most of all I remember the trail runs. After the marathon in November, I was looking for a fresh challenge. Trail running became it. I figured one of the best ways to prevent stress fractures was to mix up the surfaces on which I ran, and head to softer ground. Sure, you can run on the little grassy areas you see on some streets, but that's not really "roughing it" - plus you get weird looks.

Then I found the Trail Nerds. These nutty folks, led by "Bad" Ben Holmes, run in the snow, rain, ice, 100 degree heat and the pitch black through rough single-track, mountain bike and bridle trails throughout KC. I was intrigued, and joined them for a 10 mile trek at Wyandotte County Park up north, which was the running equivalent of being dunked in an ice bath. It was a shock to the system, and possibly one of the hardest runs I can remember in my life. I was immediately hooked, and not long after, signed up for a 20 mile run over the same trails in February - a run I just completed (more info to follow).

So I've mixed my runs. Short, faster runs during the week on the roads, long hard slogs up and down hilly trails at the weekend. I've run through a foot of snow when even deer are giving me weird looks (not that much fun), and I've ended up lost, flat on my face or with a shoe full of icy water more times than I can count. When running alone, it's one of the most isolating experiences I can think of, but it's also one of the most intensely focusing, and, ultimately most rewarding.

So, with that, I have decided to start this ole blog back up - as before, it's really just for me to keep track and keep motivated. I'll post race reports, maybe the occasional interesting (to me at least) vignette and that, as they say, will be that. We will start with the race I just completed last weekend, the Trail Nerds signature event, and 6th Annual RUN TOTO RUN.

One year (and a bit) on

OK, so I think it's time I started this back up again.

It was 3 months before I stopped limping after the Arizona marathon, and almost 6 before I could run again. Initially diagnosed a muscle tear, it was actually a stress fracture - apparently quite a bad one given how long it took to recover. Still, once I got back into it, I soon got back into rhythm, and was even able to finish a marathon (this time both legs intact) before the end of the year. Below are the events I competed in.

September 19, 2009 - 4 Mile KC Zoo Run "For The Chimps". 32:24. 8:06 pace.
Took 2 minutes off last year's time. I was pleased with the run; was really the first time I'd tried to push the pace since "coming back"
October 17, 2009 - Kansas City Half Marathon - 1:49:21. 8:21 pace.
Really attractive course. Early traffic slowed me somewhat, but was able to complete the last 10 miles in 8:02 pace for a PR race time at that distance.
November 22, 2009 - Gobbler Grind Marathon - 4:06:36. 9:25 pace.
So, finally, the do-over. Felt very comfortable for about 19 miles, then bonked hard at a vicious little hill around mile 20. After that, it was a walk-run into the finish. I probably was a shade undertrained or I think I could have cracked 4 hours. Obviously pleased I didn't have to make a beeline for an ER this time though.

That brings us, more or less, to 2010, and on to the next challenge...

The Future

It's now Thursday January 22, 4 days since marathongate. I am still on crutches, still able to put very little weight on my right leg, but there are some signs of improvement and I'm confident that a few weeks of rest should set me straight.

Jill has already decided to do the Olathe Half-Marathon, in Olathe, KS, a neighboring town to Overland Park at the end of March, along with several friends. She's been universally congratulated at work ever since the race, and has become a pied piper of sorts, inspiring those around her to attempt what she has already accomplished. Her long-term goal is a full marathon of her own, though she thinks next year might be more realistic than later this, where Chicago had been eyed as a potential destination.

I of course will not now be able to do the same race, but will, I think, enjoy being on the other side of the wall cheering her and her pals on. Obviously I'd prefer to be competing, but as I enjoy the whole atmosphere of a race, I'll take that as the next best thing.

As for me running again, assuming I can once more take to the streets in 6-8 weeks, my first race will be the 4-mile trolley run in late April, here in Kansas City. It's the largest 4 mile event in the country, with over 15,000 competitors expected to line up. Jill did the run last year, and I met her at the end, and for me, this was perhaps the biggest reason I finally completed my first marathon a few days ago. It was the first time I'd been at a race that large and the atmosphere, the faces on the finishers, the joy on Jill's face as she crossed the line, even the free food at the end, made for an atmosphere that I found intoxicating, and led me down the path I've been following ever since.

I've told those that are interested that I will one day run another marathon, though I suspect it will be an occasional event, a once a year or once every couple of years type thing, just to prove I can, and to keep it as the special distance. I'm not looking to dilute these ultimate experiences by doing too many, nor am I looking to render myself lame by the age of 45. The marathon is both terrific and terrible, and I'm committed to treating it with the necessary reverence.

I do however think that running races is something I will continue to keep in my life for the foreseeable future. I'm officially addicted. Whether it be a 5k, 4-mile, 10k, Half-Marathon or something more exotically measured, you'll see me regularly lining up and exorcising demons with hundreds, if not thousands of others. At 35, I've rediscovered something beautiful.

That, and the t-shirts are useful souvenirs.

The Aftermath

Jill was waiting for me at the finish, a very welcome sight, but her face told of her own sufferings. She finished her Half in 3 hours and change, and was rather disappointed with how it had gone. Personally, I don't think she had anything to be sad about. She got her medal too, and did something that she'd never done before. I wished she were happier, but as the day went on, I think she did start to realize the achievement more and feel better about it.

Also, she was in much better shape than me. I somehow made it back to the car and drove back to the hotel, but after a few hours of leg stiffening, I simply couldn't put any weight on the right leg at all. Fearing I would have a very hard time making it through three airports and two flights the next day I finally decided I had to seek help. An urgent care facility was open close by, so we went and spent two and a half very long hours in a soulless facility filled with coughing children and bored orderlies. The doctor, who it must be said didn't exactly do a thorough examination, determined it was "probably a torn muscle", said he saw it in marathoners all the time, and sent me on my way with a prescription for hardcore ibuprofen and a pair of crutches.

The crutches certainly helped keep weight off the leg, so they were a relief, and finally, at around 11pm, we got back to the hotel room and went to bed, knowing we'd have to be up, for the second night in a row, by 5am the next morning.

Here's a tip for you. If you want to get through an airport quickly, go on crutches. Fake it if you have to, but seriously, take note. I had been dreading the trip, but it was just about the smoothest travel experience I'd had. Assistants were only too willing to provide wheelchairs, which, in addition to getting through the airport quickly, also get through such nightmares as security lines in double quick time. No-one cares when a person in a wheelchair jumps the queue. On top of that, the check-in woman upgraded our tickets to give us free TV on the flights, and even changed our seats on the first flight to the first row, making it easier to disembark. It was awesome.

So I made it home, damaged but alive. I fulfilled my dream, though not quite in the way I'd hoped, and yes, I think in time I would like to try again, good health permitting. I won't run another one unless I feel 100% at the start line though. It's now Wednesday, three days later, and I can still put almost no weight on the leg. In fact, if it doesn't improve in the next couple of days, I will seek a second opinion on the extent and cause of the injury.

That doesn't mean I regret pushing through and finishing. As I've mentioned before, I might do more marathons, but I'll never do another first marathon, and it has been my experience that mental scars are more difficult to recover from than physical ones. If I'd dropped out, I'd be forever regretful. The way things did go, while I have allowed myself to occasionally second guess some of the decisions I made during training, I'm satisfied that I did everything I possibly could have done on the day of the race and pushed myself beyond the limits of which I felt capable.

I think with the passage of time, and after my leg heals, I will grow to cherish this experience every bit as much as if it had gone perfectly and I'd registered a sub-4 hour time. I've proved I can do it the hard way. I've proved that I have the character to complete a bad marathon as well as a good one. I've proved that it means more to me to hurt myself succeeding than protect myself failing. I believe it has been a life changing event.

I will probably post another one or two entries with some final thoughts, then likely will wrap this blog up. Writing this, like running, has been a very personal experience that I expect few, if anyone else, will have been interested in, but on the off chance someone did stumble across this at some point, I'd be curious to know what you thought and if you'd shared any similar experiences in your own life. If not, well, as with the running itself, it's something I think I'll enjoy looking back over and remembering what turned out to be a very cathartic time of my life.

The Marathon - Part 2

A lot of thoughts were going through my mind at this point. In no particular order, here were some...
1. What would my friends and family think?
2. What about all the people who'd donated money for charity?
3. If I did somehow make it to the finish, would I be dead last?
4. Finish or not, how would I make it home, through two flights and three airports the next day?
5. What would I do if the left leg went out too?

The last question was a big one. Up until now, leftie was doing almost all the hard work, but there's only so much I could ask of it. Would it hold out?

I hauled myself up and kept going, resolving that I would not stop again for any reason. I knew I might not be able to start again if I did.

The next few miles ticked by slowly, but the ice bags and tylenol did help somewhat. It also illicited some sympathetic words of encouragement from onlookers. I ate my GU, went through the Scottsdale Art District I'd ambled so comfortably through only one day earlier - I was a little sad that I hadn't got to enjoy this part running. I'd been looking forward to that section ever since I'd done the drive through. Limping painfully through it wasn't how I envisioned it back then.

At mile 20, I started picturing myself back in Overland Park doing one of the routes I'd been running for the past few months. I always ran loops of 10k or less, so I knew exactly how far I had to go, and though I hadn't done it walking, I was at least vaguely aware of the fact that I'd never gone further at one time, walk or run, in my life than I had completed then.

The sun became a factor over the next few miles. I was by this stage at peace with the fact I was going to finish in a much slower time than hoped for. I started picturing myself as a heroic warrior with some serious injury, perhaps a gunshot wound, heroically making his way back to base camp to present news of the war to the General lest the battle would be lost. As my skin turned red and my eyes squinted, I walked down a wide open highway in an increasingly sparse crowd of runners and spectators.

At mile 24, I could feel the leg start to deteriorate more, but knew that with only 2 miles to go, it would basically take something like it falling off altogether for me to stop. Nevertheless, it slowed me down even more, and I started wondering what exactly I had done so wrong to deserve this.

At mile 25, another runner came up on my shoulder and said something - I don't even know what, but it was enough for me to strike up a conversation. He too was carrying an injury - a bad ankle - and seemed to come at the perfect time for me, being quite willing to keep me company the whole way in. We passed the last water station and grabbed a drink, and all at once, we saw the last turn into the Sun Devil stadium parking lot ahead. We turned, then turned again, and there it was... the oasis in the desert - the arch representing the culmination of 4+ months of hard slog in the cold, the heat, the rain and the snow.

Determined that my finish line picture would be of me running, I tried to break back into a run for the last few steps, but instead managed only a strange skipping motion, my right leg now able to take almost no weight at all.

My finish time, 5:46:07, was slower than I would have considered possible, yet I was far from last, with runners, walkers, joggers, and crawlers still coming in. I said goodbye to my new friend and headed straight into the medical tent for more ice, my biggest regret later that I hadn't secured his email address.

I had done it. Everything that I'd feared came to pass, and yet, somehow, I'd fought through it and finished my marathon.

The Marathon - Part 1

It's now Tuesday. I'm back in KC, and my marathon experience is over. I was going to write about it right after the race, but the truth was, I was too exhausted, mentally, physically and emotionally. Yesterday I have less of an excuse for, but the travel home and the usual "getting home" type errands (picking up the dogs, getting food etc) got in the way then. So finally, now, here's the full account, and needless to say.... actually, enough of my yapping. Let's boogie.

The Rock n' Roll Arizona Marathon
Before the race, I was quite nervous. My leg was still causing me some concern, but I figured I surely wasn't the only one with a last-minute niggle. I needed to just shut up and run. If I'm honest, I knew that I was probably playing with fire a little by risking it. It simply didn't feel like my other aches I've encountered through training. It wasn't even that it was more painful. It was just different somehow.

I resolved to ignore it, and give it my all. My theory was that if I made it to the first major turn, at about mile 5, and felt OK, that I would probably be able to get through the run and then I'd deal with any injury afterwards, safe in the knowledge that I'd banked my first marathon successfully.

The gun went off right on time, and off we trotted. As I crossed the start line, I saw John Bingham standing with Bart Yasso and some others on a little balcony type thing a few feet off the ground. I took my hat off and waved it as I passed, and was pleased to see him recognize me, as he shouted "Hey man, looking good!" while I ran by.

The first mile or two went by uneventfully enough. Off to one side, I saw what might well have been the first person to drop out. He was stretching, and looking in some pain. Rather selfishly, I said to myself "Well, worst comes to the worst, I won't be the first person to drop out". My leg was feeling OK. I could certainly feel some pain, but it was confined to the inside shin and I didn't think it would restrict me too much if it stayed at that level.

Perhaps the most comfortable segment of the race was from about mile 5, when I made that all important turn, to mile 9. I started to feel very comfortable. I was maintaining an easyish pace of around 9:30/mile, but gradually speeding up as I found my groove, and I had some fun with a group of runners dressed in Foot Locker outfits who were giving out beads. I took their picture and received beads in return. I wore these for the next mile or two before they began to be a distraction, and so I took them off and presented them to a young girl who was watching from the side of the road.

Up until now, my biggest issue was my shorts. The elastic lining had long gone, and I think a combination of my weight loss and me having two GU packets in the back pocket made them very loose. I ended up having to hold the GU packets in my hands to avoid having to constantly adjust it. I peed in a bush at around mile 8 - every port-a-pot seemed to have a line - and motored on.

We went up a very slight incline at around mile 9 and a woman said to me "I guess this is the hill, huh?" - I told her there was another one at mile 24 to look forward to and sped off.

It was mile 11 when the problems started. I'd almost forgotten about the injury altogether but found out very quickly at that point that it had absolutely not forgotten about me. The pain started on the inside, suddenly becoming much sharper, and then the dreaded outside shooting pains started and my leg began to buckle. I tried running through it, but soon I was limping quite badly. At mile 12, with no improvement, I started to accept for the first time that I might not make it. I felt tears begin to accumulate behind my eye, and tried to tell myself that this too would pass.

It didn't.

I somehow managed to get through another three miles before the reality hit me. I walked through a water station and this time, couldn't start running again. My right leg simply had nothing left. I had completed the first half in just over 2 hours, but I knew I had only one chance of making it through the second half and that was to walk. In all the training runs and tune-up races I've done for this thing, from a 1 mile jog to a 20 mile long run, I've never onced stop to walk other than to get a drink, and now, here I was, finally at the race I'd been working to the whole time and I was walking with 11 miles still to go. It was disheartening and disappointing.

Initially I didn't feel too bad. I was limping, but mainly able to keep propelling myself forward, but by about mile 18, which seemed to take an eternity to come, I was badly struggling, my limps becoming more pronounced by the step. I began to fear the overcompensating would soon take its toll on my left leg. A medical tent was set up at this point, and, seeing my discomfort, a volunteer offered me ice, which I gratefully accepted. I sat down for a second, they attached two ice bags to my leg and gave me two tylenol. I told another woman I wanted to get back out there and she said "For sure", in a very certain kind of way, but I knew there was a chance I wouldn't even be able to stand back up, let alone walk another 8 miles to the finish line.

The Courses

We decided a while back to drive the routes. The website advertised the course as "fun, fast and fantastic" or words to that effect. Yesterday we drove the marathon course, today, the Half, to see if they were telling the truth.

One thing we've noticed about Phoenix and the surrounding area is how wide open it is compared to Overland Park and Kansas City. The trees are usually tall, thin palm trees and there's very little shade anywhere, even in some of the built up areas. I'm loving the weather right now, but I have a feeling it would be too oppressive for me to handle in the summer. KC can be almost as hot as Phoenix in the summer, but it's much easier to find shade, and the heat is at least broken up by a few milder moments.

The marathon course is definitely flat, of that there's no doubt. The only bump I remember seeing was a short slope at around mile 23. It's hardly a hill at all but placed where it is on the course, it could be a little irritating. I wouldn't call the course hugely scenic, but it is kind of pretty in an old-west kind of way, with dusty colored roads and mom and pop businesses interspersed with fast food joints and the occasional residential section. Camelback mountain is in view for a lot of the course, and the last few miles are quite interesting, with the pleasant Art district of Scottsdale, a bridge crossing over the Salt River and a finish in the Sun Devil Stadium parking lot. I loved it.

The Half-Marathon course is just as flat as it's big sister, but takes a much more direct route to the stadium, a good percentage of it all on one road (McDowell). It shares part of the first mile or so with the marathon, but other than that is completely separate. There are a couple of little segments that almost seemed desert like in spots, with dunes and cacti dressing the sides of the roads for good stretches. These were my perhaps favorite areas of this course. It also passes by the Phoenix zoo, and affords a decent view into where the animals might potentially be milling about. There's no doubt it's less varied than the full, but that's probably as it should be. The full-marathoners pay more after all. :-)

The next post will be me telling you whether I succeeded, failed, or landed somewhere in between. That's if I can physically type at that point. What another fine mess I've got myself into.

The Eve of the Marathon

In about 10 hours, give or take a few minutes, I'll be sweating my first few steps on the Phoenix streets. I'm expecting a painful first mile or two, though I have to say my leg has felt better today than it has in a while, which is encouraging. As long as things loosen up by mile 4 or 5, I'll be happy.

Today went quicker than I expected. Jill and I drove the Half-Marathon route (having done the marathon route yesterday), attended the Scottsdale Artwalk, enjoyed a relaxing swim in the OUTDOOR pool, and ate at the ever-reliable Olive Garden. Finally we came back to the hotel, pinned our numbers on our shirts, attached our tags and laid out tomorrow's gear. So, not much down time, though it wasn't overly taxing physically.

The nerves are well and truly here. I can feel the old ticker going double time already. Sleep might be hard to come by, though I do actually feel quite tired, so I might get lucky. Either way, we'll need to be on the road by about 5am, so it's not like I'm going to get that many hours anyway. To be honest, I'm grateful for the early start. Anything to reduce the tossing, turning and fretting.

The Surprise

Jill's inability to keep even the smallest secret is legendary. I find it endearing, personally. It's an almost childlike excitement that leads her to almost burst at the seems with the weight and responsibility of guarding any treasured information.

Therefore I was totally blindsided when she announced last night that she had a surprise, and proceeded to present me with a file folder full of cards and emails from friends, family and the like that she had covertly requested and gathered without my knowledge over the last few weeks. In addition, not only had she managed to keep quiet, but everyone who contributed were similarly silent, a remarkable feat given the range of personalities and ages of those involved. I am usually alert to underground dealings and like to think of myself as having a good nose for this kind of thing, but I was utterly in the dark.

The cards and emails were all good luck wishes and messages, and some were remarkably thoughtful, frequently hilarious and invariably touching. I had just told Jill how I was slightly jealous of the amount of good luck cards and so on that she'd received for her race, which she posted all over the hotel room when we arrived, and then she uncovered this little treasure trove.

Without wishing to be cliched, sometimes I feel I've grown quite cynical and perhaps a little too worldy-wise over the last few years, so when something like this happens, it's hard to even know what to say or do, but it's rare I'm so moved, and, whatever happens tomorrow, I'm a better person for knowing the people I do, and especially for having the partner that I have.

The Day Before The Day Before

Breakfast at the hotel consisted of pancakes, bacon, and a discussion over the nationality of the waitress, which we finally agreed was an Eastern European nation of some description, then it was time to head to the Health and Fitness Expo in downtown Phoenix to pick up our numbers and goodie bags.

This was not the "Gobbler Grind Packet Pickup". A huge convention hall was packed with booths, apparel and other merchandise and celebrity guests signing books and giving speeches. I thought that the KC Marathon's expo was a decent size, but this one was easily three times as big, and although I'm sure we went during one of the less busy times (noon on Friday, when the Expo would be running for two solid days until the end of Saturday), the place was hopping.

First things first, we picked up our numbers and timing chips. I liked that the backgrounds are different colors for the marathon and the half. Jill said that was probably because that made me think I was cool and more of a badass for doing the full, and, well, she's probably right. My number had a yellow background, Jill's blue. The chips were actually Chronotrack disposable tags, rather than those plastic Championchips that a lot of races have. So that'll be an extra souvenir when all's said and done. One thing was immediately apparent. There are far, far, far more people doing the Half than the full. There were probably thirty different lines for half marathon packet pickup, and maybe ten for the full. (Stop it, you're a badass, we get it.)

The t-shirts were next, and they were pretty good, again different for the marathon and half - this is the first race I've been to big enough to have two different t-shirts for the different races. Not race shirts; they were 100% cotton, so just a souvenir, but nevertheless, I'd read some comments in the past that they were a bit lame, so either those people were extra-picky or they'd upped the quality this year.

We meandered through the booths, picking up free samples (the freebie of beer was perhaps my favorite of these), and eyeing clothing and shoe. Jill actually ended up buying a very nice pink New Balance shirt she's decided to wear for the race, which she tried on in a booth made out of curtains and velcro.

We passed by a celebrity signing. The Olympic gymnast, Shawn Johnson, even tinier in real life, was dutifully signing for a long line of people, a lot of whom were clearly too young to be marathoners, or even, I'd venture to suggest, half-marathoners.

Finally, we sat in on a Q&A with a panel of experts, including former marathon champions, running legends, and writers Frank Shorter, John 'The Penguin' Bingham and Steve Scott. I was particularly pleased to see John Bingham there, whose column I've found frequently hilarious and often inspirational. At the end of the Q&A Jill and I actually introduced ourselves to him and picked his brain for about 10 minutes or more. He's as pleasant in real life as he seems in his columns and very funny. He gave us tips on shin splints (my topic du jour), marathon recovery and pacing. He's also completed the London Marathon seven times, counting it, with Chicago, as his favorite of all, so was quite interested in the fact that this was my home town.

After, we listened to Bart Yasso, the Runner's World editor, runner, and inventor of the now-famous "Yasso 800s" - an interval training workout that has been used for years as a way of predicting marathon race times. Jill was keen to buy his book, so after the talk, we went to his booth and bought one, having him sign it for us right there. Great stuff.

After the expo, we decided to drive the marathon course. I'll talk more about this - and the Half-Marathon course that we're going to drive today - in another post, but for now, I will say just one word.... "flat".

The phrase "We're not in Kansas any more" resonated time and time again in my head as we headed home (via Dick's Sporting Goods and Ikea, which Jill badgered me into checking out). Not only is Phoenix as different to KC as knives are to jelly, in terms of both terrain, infrastructure and landscaping, but the marathon is clearly big time. The organization, the quality of the goods on sale, the people hired to talk, the sponsors. This ain't your momma's marathon. Well, it ain't the Gobbler Grind, anyway.

I ran a mile on the treadmill, which I documented in the finaly daily log, then another unhealthy dinner, this time at the Cheesecake factory, followed, and we were once again spent. I've been happy to get two good nights of sleep, because I have a feeling tonight won't be as smooth. I woke up nervous and part of the reason I'm blogging now, before Jill is even awake, is so I can get rid of some of that energy. This might be one of the longest days of my life. :-)