In Memoriam: Austin Marathon 2015

I had absolutely no expectation of running a marathon any time in the first few months of 2015. The year had already been quite busy. The first two weeks of January were consumed with packing for a long-distance move. The rest of the month was filled with driving from Indianapolis to Seattle and unpacking, along with searching for a job. In addition, my eldest kitty finally reached the end of his year-long decline, and we had to say goodbye January 31.

The first weekend in February I decided it was time to get down to Texas to visit my parents. I hadn’t been since Thanksgiving, and I knew my ailing father (congestive heart failure and COPD) had been struggling more than usual lately. He was getting ever nearer the end, but he had already held on far, far more longer than any doctor would have dared dream, so I was feeling only a little more anxious than usual. The plan was to fly down there mid-week, depending on availability of seats. My dear brother, who has been looking out for both parents for years, sent some concerning texts early in the week, so Wednesday afternoon I went ahead and purchased a ticket to Austin. By this time, I knew my Pop was likely having his last ride on the downward side of the roller-coaster he’d been on for so long, but still didn’t expect to lose him for another few days. I landed in San Jose early Thursday morning to find a text from my brother.

Ugh. Now it’s a race to say goodbye. Dammit. Of course the flight was 20 minutes late and we had a never-happens Easterly headwind, so I just had to cross my fingers that I wouldn’t miss him. Thankfully, Pop was still alive, and was keeping his promise to hold on until I got there.

He was clearly miserable, laying in his recliner, covered in blankets just trying to be as comfortable as possible. By now he was too weak to speak with any voice, but he was completely present and aware of his surroundings. He was able to rouse and open his eyes, and we said our goodbyes. He told me he was proud of me, and said “I love you” many times, to everyone. His mind was there until the end.

He gave up the fight and died at around 6:30pm Thursday. He had defied the odds for many, many years and had far surpassed many doctors’ expectations. His will to live was extraordinary, and we had benefited from that will for a very long time. He never stopped smiling and finding joy in being alive, no matter the circumstance.

So how does this relate to the marathon? Well, Friday I decided to do the marathon, after the following conversation with my brother.

Me: I don’t know which to do, the full or the half.
Bro: Are you trained for a marathon?
Me: [Laughing] Oh heck no!
Bro: But you can do a half, easy, right? Isn’t that like a long training run?
Me: Yeah...I can get through a half without too much trouble.
Bro: Well, a full would probably be really good at burning off stress. Would give you more time.
Me: Oh what the hell. Gonna hurt anyway.

I had packed a minimal set of running clothes, in the hopes of getting a training run in, but no fuel belts or gels or any other typical racing items. The route is laid out such that if, by mile 12, I was severely hurting and needed to bail, I could simply turn off and finish the half. Given that my “training” had essentially consisted of 4-5 30-minute or so trots around Seattle and zero bike training for two months, my expectations were quite low. I just wanted to finish. My father had always enjoyed my spontaneous (lack of planning) nature, and got a kick out of the fact that his baby girl does endurance events, so he would have loved it that I just decided to do this race to remember him and try to burn off some grief.

Somehow I survived, resisted the urge to turn right at mile 12, and trotted to the finish line. My slowest marathon ever, but I finished. I had five hours and 44 minutes to reflect on how lucky I was to enjoy my father’s presence for 53 years. The day was pleasant, I was surrounded by several thousand people who each had their own story, and it was easy to enjoy being alive.

This one was for you, Pop. I love you.

Brrrrr! Flying Monkey Marathon 2013

This is a most irreverent race that sucks you in with its sarcastic attitude. I survived this one last year, and was once again unable to resist the temptation to invite bodily pain.

You see, the Harpeth Hills Flying Monkey marathon boasts a total elevation change of 7200 feet (or 7500, depending on which statement you believe). In any case, it's a brutal combo of steep ups and downs, and the downs never seem to be quite as long as the ups. The slogan of the race is "Running is Stupid", and that attitude pervades the entire day.

Flying Monkeys are said to inhabit a beautiful park just southwest of Nashville, TN, and are rumored to occasionally attack runners. You are encouraged to deal with the hills as quickly as possible, or risk attack. This is not a "race" for most participants however -- it's an experience to survive, and most people are quite laid-back about the whole thing. There are a few genetic mutants who actually do race, and the rest of us watch in awe when we see them coming, on their way to finish a good two hours before us mere mortals.

It's a small race, about 300 runners. Part of the swag is a personalized race bib and tech shirt, and you are asked for your "monkey name" when you register. Since I was stupid enough to subject myself to this again, knowing full well what was ahead, I chose "Stupid". Not everybody was as self-aware as I, but I did run into Idiot before the race. There was also a red cape in the swag bag, to go along with this year's "Faster than a speeding banana" theme, but I forgot to wear it. Sigh.

The weather in Nashville in late November can be a total crap shoot. Last year it was a very comfortable high-40s range and dry. This year it was a beautiful sunny day, but the temps were in the 20s with wind-chills in the teens for most of the race. Some people were thoroughly bundled up, most were like me (knit hat, gloves, tights, couple of tech shirts and a running jacket), and a few crazies were wearing shorts and/or nothing on their arms. Ummm. NO.

Everyone gathered in the park for the casual start, stood around trying to use other bodies as wind blockage, and got ready to enjoy the gorgeous day ahead, cold wind be damned. One very nice runner offered me an extra set of hand warmers. I took one, and asked him to give the other one to another needy runner. I'm sure he had plenty of takers. I was carrying a camera in the other hand anyway, so it would be warm enough. Trent (the race director) said, "Ready, set, go!" and we were off. No ceremony. It was wonderful.

Before the first mile, we saw our first sign in the "I hate Trent" series: "Trent Sucks". Awesome. I ran with Dorothy for another mile or so. I remembered seeing her last year. She has run the Monkey every year, this was #8, and she drove up from Birmingham AL She had red-sequin slipcovers for her running shoes, and didn't think the wig would get too hot this year. She was going to be happy with anything under six hours. I didn't want to be that cold for that long, so I went on ahead.

After another mile or so, I caught up with group of guys who were running together, obviously old friends. We were all walking up a hill, and one of them was wearing a blade prosthetic. I asked him if his monkey name was "Badass". He laughed and said, no, he just stuck with "Matt" this time. I hung with them until we got to the top of the hill, then took advantage of the downhill. We would leap-frog each other for about 18 more miles before I finally left them behind for good. I don't care what Matt says, he's a major badass and I am in awe.

Thankfully the trees and hills provided some coverage from the wind for most of the course, but there were a few spots on the tops and outside edges where the wind was painfully cold. The biggest problem with stopping to drink or suck down a cold, stiff gel was the chill that could set in if you dawdled too long. I was amazed at the cheerfulness of the volunteers at each and every aid station. They HAD to be miserably cold, yet were smiling and supportive and very helpful. One was even breaking the thin crust of ice in the water cups before handing them to us!

Personally, I had a great day. After I passed mile 20, I decided that I wasn't going to let anyone catch and pass me for the last 10k...unless they were really moving. I steadily caught and passed runners, and managed to stay ahead of them. Things started hurting but not too badly, and finally I passed the mile 26 marker. There stood Paula, holding my cape! I was happy to use that as an excuse to stop long enough to put it on, then run to the finish, passing someone else along the way. I managed to finish three minutes faster than last year, at 5:13:54, relatively pain-free.

...until I got back to the car with my medal and beer. The second I stopped moving, my legs started bitching loudly about the hills. The quads were actually fine, but the hams and calves were just itching to seize up. Somehow I avoided a full-on cramp-fest, and was very happy to sit in the warm car with the seat heater turned on. We had to get Paula back to Indianapolis in time to work that night, so there was no hanging around to socialize or try to score any more swag. Along with the free beer (from a local brewer, Yazoo), there was a pot-luck feast of goodies. I grabbed a plate of food and munched on that all the way back home. Wonderful way to end a race!

Goofy Challenge 2013

Still need to write up a race report...meanwhile, here's a couple of videos about the experience. By far the worst part was the 3am bus ride to the start, two days in a row!

Day 1, the half marathon

Day 2, the full marathon

Watch out for Flying Monkeys!

I knew this one was going to be different as soon as we pulled up to the motel.

The drive down from Indianapolis had been about as painless as it gets, but both myself and my driving companion were tired and ready for bed. Due to the time change, it was only 9:00pm in this suburb of Nashville, but we had both already had a long day. We pulled up to the motel lobby and parked and just sat in the car, taking in the apparent party that was going on inside. "Are those people running tomorrow?" Dezra asked, somewhat nervously. "Ummm, I think so. Sure hope they quiet down and go to bed soon", I said.

Suspicions were confirmed as I was checking in. Several times I heard the word "monkey" dropped (loudly) in conversation, and I spotted a couple of shirts with the Flying Monkey logo on them. I also saw a few stray beer bottles. Definitely not the typical endurance event crowd that goes to bed with the chickens the night before a race. Thankfully the Monkeys quieted down and went to bed around 10pm local time, and we all got some sleep. I was excited to see what this crowd would be like in the morning.

The run is held on paved paths in a beautiful park about 10 minutes southwest of Nashville. It's known for being crazy hilly. Trent, the organizer, enjoys the sadistic aspect of the entire event, threatening a painful end to your day if you get caught by a Flying Monkey. The race is entered by lottery to keep the numbers down, and you make your case for wanting to do something so stupid. Those who are accepted get an apologetic email warning them of their selection, and chiding them for being so irresponsible. Any follow-up communications continue this delightful combo of concern and scorn, and end with, "We got hills."

This race is small enough that they ask runners to bring something for after the race, a large potluck after-party. Sunday morning I dropped off my contribution and joined the variety of people milling about waiting for the start. One woman has run the race every year (seven so far) dressed as Dorothy. This year was no different. Another runner wore a hat that looked like it had wings, and his face was painted green. There was lots of laughter and chatting, and a general festive atmosphere. The race start was the most casual I've ever seen: while people were standing around in no particular order, Trent said, "Let's start this race!" That was it. We were started.

Somewhere around mile 2, at the top of one of the easier hills, was a small sign. "300 feet climbed. 3200 to go." What have I gotten myself into? I was grateful for the little bit of trail running that I have done, as it taught me how to run down hills without hurting myself. I would fly down the hills, then walk up. After we leapfrogged each other a few times, one woman told me she was going to watch my form. "Lean forward just like you're skiing, and let gravity do the work. Take smaller steps to slow down instead of leaning back. You'll trash your legs if you use them to brake." "I'm trying, but I feel like I'm going to lose control!" She ultimately passed me once and for all around mile 23, despite having taken a fall and banging up her knee and wrist. She definitely qualifies for BA (badass) status.

It was a spectacular day for running, starting in the 30's and warming up to 50's, sunny and clear. Despite all the hills, the miles seemed to slip by more quickly than they should have. I was thrilled to hit the halfway point at 2 hours 29 minutes, and be passing the mile 20 marker at four hours. I had estimated six hours due to the hills, and was clearly going to be much "faster" than that unless I had a complete meltdown.

It was a good thing I carried my little camera, too. The park was so beautiful that it was impossible to get frustrated by the hills: they were part of the beauty. If a particular hill was getting to be a pain, looking around at the scenery made you forget all about it. There were also very entertaining and sarcastic signs all along the course. Before we even hit mile 1, there was sign that said, "Trent sucks". I laughed out loud when I got to mile 21 or so and started seeing signs that said "Idiot", "The beer is gone", "The winner has already finished", "I hate Trent", "I really really hate Trent", and so on. I stopped numerous times to take photos of the signs, the scenery, and the outstanding volunteers.

I think the volunteers have as much fun as the runners. They were tossing sock monkeys ("Flying Monkeys"), holding funny signs, and very encouraging. At one aid station, they were even providing leg massages with the Stick. The volunteers were greatly appreciated by all of us, and were good at making us smile.

My second half was slower than my first, but only by 15 minutes or so. I trotted across the finish line at 5:17:01, a time I was pleased with. Thankfully my calves waited until I was finished to completely seize up. I thought I drank enough, as I had stopped at every aid station, but apparently hadn't had enough electrolytes. A pint of Gatorade later, the legs finally settled down. The sun was pleasantly warm, so Dezra and I enjoyed basking for a while, sampling the free local brew, and checking out the potluck selection. We eventually climbed back in the car and came home to the not-so-hilly cornfields.

Course: Hilly but beautiful. Lots of trees.
Support: Plentiful. They even understand that you need fuel well before mile 18, and start offering gels, bananas, pretzels, whatnot around mile 4 or so, early enough to help.
Volunteers: Can't say enough good things about them. Super supportive and fun.
Swag: Best ever. Personalized bib, personalized tech shirt, t-shirt, weird flexible plastic pint glass (filled with local brew), cool wooden medal
Would I do it again? Absolutely. I can see why locals do it every year.

BodyGlide Your Butt. Detroit Marathon 2012

I learn something from every long race, and the Detroit Marathon was no exception. However, there seems to be a lesson that I keep failing to learn. Maybe this time it will stick, after sitting in a car for 5.5 hours directly afterwards (sans shower and still wearing running tights).

BodyGlide your butt.

For the uninitiated, BodyGlide is the balm of endurance athletes everywhere, offering the friction-blocking bliss of Vaseline without the other problems: rubbing off on your clothes, washing off with sweat and water, general greasiness. BodyGlide prevents chafing like no other substance, and is a wonderful invention. Perhaps now I will remember to use it EVERYWHERE. Detroit's other lessons have required a bit more thought to figure out.

The Detroit Marathon is unique, in that you run across the bridge to Canada, along the waterfront of Windsor, then back to the United States through a tunnel under the water. There are not very many races that cross international borders, and this one was close enough to home to be worth the drive. In addition, one of my favorite Navy buddies lives in Detroit, and it was a terrific opportunity to see him and finally meet his wonderful wife.

At the expo, I had to show a passport before collecting my bib -- no passport, no bib, and we had to take care of that Saturday. The race was on Sunday; I drove up Saturday, went to the expo, then headed for an early dinner with my friend. We had a wonderful visit, then I called it an early night and padded off to bed. The race organizers were advising runners to get downtown by 6 am to avoid possible traffic hassles, so it was going to be an early day.

Driving in Sunday, after bailing out early to avoid the sea of brake lights ahead, I found myself not knowing which way to turn. Thankfully, there were other "lost" runners as well, and I just followed them for a bit. I picked up a follower as well, and hoped I wouldn't get HIM lost. We stumbled upon some street parking that was perhaps four blocks from the finish. Perfect!

Followed more runners to the starting area, people-watched for a while, then finally gave up my jacket and gloves and checked my gear. Wandered to the start, enjoyed the energy of the crowd, and finally got into my starting corral. Like many races, Detroit seeds you based on your estimated finishing time, then starts each "wave" about two minutes apart. We all slowly shuffled up to the front (I'm always in the slower corrals), and there was lots of nervous chatter going on around me. Detroit also does something very unique: in addition to the full marathon, they offer two half-marathons. The "international" half follows the exact same route as the first half of the marathon, until veering off around mile 12.5 to finish. The "US-only" half starts later, and follows the second half of the marathon course, all in the United States. Clever. There were many first-time half- and full-marathoners, and it was fun to eavesdrop on their chatter.

Eventually it was our turn to start. It was just starting to get light out, but the sun hadn't fully risen. We made our way towards the Ambassador Bridge, about two miles away. As we got closer, I was really wishing I had dragged along a camera. The bridge is quite tall, so there is a long winding approach to it, about a mile long. It was a beautiful sight at that time of day. The approach was full of runners, and you could see them all the way up and going over the bridge, silhouetted in the morning sun. Beyond the bridge, the sun was just coming up over the horizon, a big orange orb low in the sky. All around was the skyline of Detroit, lots of water, and the skyline of Windsor, all in fall colors. There was lots of looking around, oohing and ahhing, and many runners stopped to take photos.

It felt a little strange, if liberating, to run right past the Customs officers with a wave, and past the cars and trucks that were waiting to go across the border. They had one lane open on the bridge, and took turns letting vehicles cross from either side. The truckers seemed to have a good time with it all, honking and waving to the runners (yes, they were waving, not...well, you know). For about a mile we had a spectacular view of the sunrise, water, and skylines.

For the most part, I felt good and was keeping a really good pace, but my legs were tired. This wasn't too terribly surprising, given my schedule this fall and the long drive up the day before, so I shrugged it off. Made a mental note to make sure I didn't forget to take in a gel every four miles or so.

We ran a little over two miles along the waterfront in Windsor before heading to the tunnel entrance. I checked out the Detroit skyline, trying to figure out where we had started and where we might go back. I really didn't expect to hear a distinct Canadian accent, as I figured the two cities probably diluted each other's language...but there it was. I even heard one "eh" from a spectator. Fun!

Ran past more Customs officials and guard gates, and down into the tunnel. The "Underwater Mile" is around mile eight. There was definitely some seepage on the way down, with small puddles of water near the curb. Wow, we really are under a lot of very heavy water. I didn't realize how warm it was down there until we ascended and came out the other side, and hit the cool air again. Ran under a huge "Welcome to the USA" sign, past more Customs agents, and now it was time for the real work to begin.

Around mile ten, my feet decided to start a pain party. Felt like big giant blisters on the balls of both feet, but I knew they were just hot spots. Damn, my feet haven't hurt like this since Houston, marathon #2. This was #10, what the heck is going on? Oh well, it hurts as much to walk as it does to run, so may as well try to jog as much as possible.

Which worked fine until some time after mile 13, when the left calf decided to join in on the fun. For the next ten miles I fought off a full-blown cramp, but it did bring me up short a couple of times. Had to run very flat-footed to keep it under control. I'm sure I looked like something from the Walking Dead. Who knows what I was doing to compensate for the pain. Oh well, can't do anything about it except get through it and try to figure out the cause...and try to distract myself.

One doesn't usually think of "Detroit" and "beautiful" in the same sentence, but the course was very, very nice. After a few miles downtown, the marathon wound through a really beautiful old neighborhood, with lovely old homes and spectacular fall colors. The residents were out in force, blaring music from their homes and offering treats ranging from orange slices to M&M's to beer. I passed on the beer, but did give it serious consideration. By now the stomach had also come to the pain party, and was threatening to revolt.

We then headed across another bridge to Belle Isle, and ran around the island enjoying a waterfront view and glorious weather. By now it was approaching 60 degrees with a slight cooling wind, and the sun felt great. Not too warm, not cold. We went back across the bridge, and I knew I'd somehow stagger to the finish. Only a little over more than three miles to go!

All but the last few blocks were along the waterfront in a nice developed park, and the weather could not have been more perfect. I enjoyed looking around at the marina and the Windsor skyline across the blue water, and kept moving forward. Finally I knew it was safe to believe the spectators who were cheering, "You're almost there!" Thank goodness. Rounded the last corner, and limped/shuffled/walked/jogged/whatever to the finish. Gratefully collected my medal and thanked my lucky stars the car wasn't too far away. Got through the finish area and retrieved my gear, hoping that changing my shoes would help my feet (it didn't). Staggered to the car, driven by a vision of sitting in it, off my feet, enjoying the sunshine.

The approximately 300-mile ride home wasn't as bad as I'd feared it might be, but I was extremely grateful to pull up in front of the apartment. That burger from Stacked Pickle while sitting on my futon was a little bit of heaven on earth.

Official finish time: 5:10:31. Not great, but I'll take it. And the medal ROCKS. It's very nice and was worth the challenge. If you're not up to a full marathon, I would heartily endorse the international half -- it's THAT unique.

Lessons learned from marathon #10:

1. BodyGlide the butt. I've already talked about this one.
2. Eat more the day before, even if travelling. My appetite was off. This is the second time I've had problems eating enough the day before a race, so I think it's time to plan on drinking my calories.
3. Drink more the day before, even if travelling.
4. Don't wear shoes that worked fine for a running style that you no longer use. Over the last two years, I've gravitated to lighter-weight shoes with minimal support. This means my stride has changed. I used a pair of shoes that were fine before this, but clearly no longer work for longer runs. In addition, the materials were likely tired and starting to deteriorate as well. I think the calf issue was a response to bad form due to hurting feet.
5. Plan better for #4. I wore out my favorite shoes a mere two weeks ago at the Chicago Marathon, and since my legs were trying to recover, didn't have time to break in a new pair. If I'd had a spare "favorite" pair that I had been wearing occasionally, this wouldn't have happened.

Do Epic Sh*t, or, Chicago Marathon 2012

This was marathon #9, one week after completing a half-iron tri. Probably not the best planning. But I digress.

I used to live in Chicago, so I still have friends there. This was a combo marathon/see-friends-and-family trip. I drove up Friday night, made it through Gary without encountering any cars burning on the highway, and hit parking-lot traffic as expected. This was when I discovered two problems with the car. 1) The headlight that I replaced the day before was out again, and 2) my oil light came on a couple of times when I had to stop suddenly. Great. Issue #1 was simply massively annoying, as this was the second time I'd replaced the headlight and been ignored when I suggested it was an electrical problem. #2 was very concerning.

Upon arrival to my friends' place in Oak Park, we decided to drop the car off the next morning at his mechanic. I scrapped my breakfast plans with family and we had a nice quiet morning just hanging out and relaxing while waiting for the car. The garage called, and it turned out the engine was bone dry, and thankfully didn't appear to be damaged. Why was it bone dry? Don't know. The last time it was worked on it was supposed to have had an oil change. Not sure that happened. In any case, I was extremely grateful to have been caught in stop-and-go traffic. Otherwise, that light would not have come on and I probably would have seized the engine somewhere on I-65 between Chicago and Indianapolis. Crisis averted. Headlight issue would just have to wait until I can go be pissy with my hometown mechanic.

Got the car around lunchtime, complete with oil. Drove through horrible traffic to get to the expo and picked up my bib/shirt/etc., more horrible traffic to get back to the suburbs, then spent a quiet evening with friends.

Sunday morning my amazingly wonderful friends drove me into Chicago, and dropped me off within a couple of blocks of the start. I was there about two hours early to avoid the horrible traffic, so there was plenty of time to scope out the area, people-watch, shiver uncontrollably from the cold, and get to gear check. I don't know what the temperature was, but there was a very cold wind that made it uncomfortable. I had not planned on the cold wind, so really wasn't dressed warmly enough to sit around for two hours. While sitting there, I was missing my usual pre-race enthusiasm. As I watched arriving runners, many of them all excited and happy, some of them nervous, I just wasn't feeling it. I reminded myself that at least today I would be exerting myself for less time than last weekend (six-and-a-half hours), and wasn't even going half the distance as last week (70.3 miles). That was a happy thought, and I was almost as happy as if I'd had a wonderful hot latte to wrap my cold hands around. Finally I gave up my sweatshirt, checked my stuff, and wandered into the crowd in the start corral, hoping to enjoy the collective warmth of all those bodies sharing a smallish space.

After another 30 minutes of standing around with thousands of excited people, I finally started to feel ready to tackle the day. We shuffled to the start line, and were off.

Things went really well for the first 13 miles. Then my hamstrings started hurting. Then my calves. Then my butt. (See a trend here?) It was at this point that I started seriously questioning the wisdom of running a marathon on only six days of rest after a half-iron tri. Oh well, I knew it would be hard when I signed up, I really wanted to do Chicago this year, and there wasn't a darned thing I could do about it now except suck it up and keep going. I reminded myself that this was a heck of a lot easier when not preceded by a long swim and longer bike ride. Small consolation, but a wee bit helpful. Let the walk/jog process begin!

At least Chicago offers constant distractions. There are no lonely spots on the course; there are spectators everywhere and they make a lot of noise. They also carry some very funny signs. I saw a couple that referenced Paul Ryan's (bogus) claim that he had once run a marathon and done it in under three hours. One said something like, "Don't worry, this marathon is being timed the Paul Ryan way". Another said, "Run like Paul Ryan". "Run faster, the Bears kick off at 3pm!" and "Run faster, my arms are tired" were also good. However, my very favorite sign of all time was "Do Epic Shit". That one just summed it up!

I'm afraid that I was in too much pain to fully appreciate my surroundings; I was just trying to get through it. I vaguely recall a nice little Spanish neighborhood with a great Greek band (!), and a couple of spectators handing out beer. I seriously considered the beer, but decided that might make things worse. Around mile 24 my shoes began letting me know they were due to be replaced, and the feet got into the pain party. At this point I was fully appreciating the runner with the shirt that said, "This is the LAST time!" It was a good reminder that the pain really is forgotten remarkably quickly, and we keep coming back for more. At least the temperature was perfect for running -- nice and cool. It was downright cold for the volunteers and spectators, though.

The mile 25 sign was cause for celebration, and I was actually able to keep passing people, and eventually the finish line was in sight. Thank goodness for all those spectators! They really do make it hard to walk for very long at a time, and probably had a lot to do with keeping me moving faster than I otherwise might have. At last I threw myself across the finish line and was very happy with my 5:07 time. My average time is in the 4:50-5:15 range anyhow, so this was not an especially pitiful performance. I didn't have my typical steady pace, but the overall time was well within my abilities. Another good day and the hot shower was bliss.

Went and visited the family that I had missed on Saturday, had a really nice time, then drove back home. Thankfully the cop that pulled me over for the burnt-out headlight was a nice guy and didn't give me a ticket. All in all, a successful weekend! Next up: Detroit marathon in two weeks.

Total time: 5:07:23

Split	Time	Pace
5K	35:06	11:18
10K	1:07:54	10:34
15K	1:41:07	10:42
10K	2:15:46	11:09
HALF	2:23:51	11:52
25K	2:51:56	11:35
30K	3:30:16	12:21
35K	4:10:35	12:59
40K	4:51:02	13:02
Finish	5:07:23	11:59

Happy New Year!

Wow, what a weekend! Where to begin? With the crazy ride back to Indianapolis (home)? With all the runners I met from all over? With the two very different races? I'll just jump in and go.

So I get an email some time in December about a pair of races on the same weekend, one in Mississippi and one in Alabama. They’re being promoted as a two-fer: two races, two states, two days. The 50 States Marathon and 50 States Half Marathon clubs love these things. The organizers are offering 20% off registration to those who do both, and a special plaque or something in addition to the medals all finishers receive. Hmmm, sounds intriguing. I’ve done many races a week apart, but have never done back-to-back races of these distances in the same weekend. Wonder how I’d hold up?

I signed up for the Mississippi Blues Marathon on Saturday, in Jackson MS, and the First Light Half Marathon on Sunday, in Mobile AL. I think this was 3 weeks before race weekend, some time after Thanksgiving. I’m well into my holiday binging, and only running maybe 3-4 miles at a time a few times a week. Oh well. I’ll wing it. We'll see what this experiment yields.

The Races

I don’t really do any reconnoitering on either course, beyond finding lodging and procuring the last semi-affordable rental car left in Mississippi. The Jackson race sold out at around 2500 people, with 750 or so doing the full and the rest doing the half. I lucked out and got a room within walking distance of the start/finish line, and had fun chatting with other runners from all over the country, many of whom are also doing the back-to-back. We laugh at our craziness (or stupidity, or whatever it is), and look forward to the weekend.

This race benefits aging blues musicians, who never really made any money at their trade and are now struggling in old age. It also was a wonderful tribute to the area known as the birthplace of the blues, even including a harmonica (a real one, not some cheap piece of garbage) and a CD of blues in our swag bag. Definitely the coolest swag I’ve ever gotten!

The marathon course turned out to be extremely hilly, on par with the Seattle marathon. Oboy. However, the weather is glorious, starting at a very humid 54 and warming/drying to the high 60’s. Hotter than many of us are used to in January, but very survivable and not really an issue. I wasn’t sure what kind of time I would do, since I was concerned about not blowing up my legs before doing the half on Sunday, so I just went with what I felt. There were no clocks on the course, and I (in typical fashion) walked out and left my Garmin in the room. That worked out fine, as it forced me to go with my gut and not try to adhere to any subconscious desires to go at any particular pace.

The marathon was difficult, but it didn’t suck, at least not enough to wonder why I was doing this to myself. Water stops were every 1.5 miles, and no matter how hard it felt at times, I was still surprised at every stop. Had I really gone another mile and a half? There were timing mats every 5 miles (but of course no clocks), so each timing mat was a major accomplishment. The hills were unrelenting, and my strategy was to walk up and jog down. After about mile 20 I had to look around and chuckle, because I’m sure we all looked like the Bataan death march to the volunteers. Lots and lots of walking. It was actually kind of nice to be in a race where no one really cared about lofty time goals; we were more focused on enjoying the experience.

I trudged up the last hill to a respectable finish of 5:13. I typically do a marathon around 5 hours, so was pleased to be that close to my norm, especially given the hills. A wonderful volunteer handed me an enormous and truly awesome medal, I listened to a few minutes of some good blues, and back I trudged to the hotel for a shower and food.

On the way to the hotel, I met a nice couple from NY who were flying back home that afternoon, and they told me about a runner they met who was looking for a ride to Mobile. He had found one, but that person had to work and couldn’t leave until very late at night. They wouldn’t arrive in Mobile until some gawdawful time like 3am or so. Unacceptable. We exchanged phone numbers and invites to check in when in each other’s city, and he contacted the hitchhiking runner. Turned out the guy had found a better ride, so I didn’t have a traveling companion. But it was good to meet Keith and Andrea, and I’m sure we’ll be staying in touch.

Showered and packed, on the way to Mobile, and I 'm ready to gnaw my arm off when I finally see a Sonic (there weren't many quick eating options). Those burgers are a little bit of heaven after a marathon. Not quite a Whataburger with jalapenos, but they do in a pinch.

Got to Mobile, found the packet pickup, ate my free spaghetti dinner, then was ready to find my hotel . Turned out there was some college bowl game that weekend in Mobile, with a Mardi Gras-type parade just as I was trying to leave packet pickup. I was far too tired to stay and watch, and was trapped. I got a very nice police officer’s attention by driving the wrong way down the only clear street, and he led me out of the mess. Turned out he was working the race Sunday, so he understood why I was so desperate to get out of there and get to bed.

Sunday morning comes, and I have no idea if I will even be able to run; feet were still a little tender and would have been happier propped up on an ottoman, and my quads were definitely feeling the marathon from Saturday. Overall, however, I felt quite good and ready to go. Figured I'd just do what I could do, as this entire weekend was one big experiment anyway.

Saturday's race was to benefit aging blues musicians; this one benefited a local facility for special needs adults, L'Arche Mobile. The medals were each handmade by the residents, so each one was special. Those of us that did the back-to-back also got a handmade "plaque" with a bio of the person who made it on the back. This was a very nice touch and I think everyone appreciated it.

The race was blessedly flat. It was the first no-chip half marathon I’ve ever done – they noted times at the finish and tore the strip off the bottom of our bibs and strung them in order, to piece together later. No clocks on this course either, but this time I remembered the Garmin. I had to laugh when I got there about 45 minutes before the start and they were just taping the street to mark the start line. The obligatory Southern Belles were there in full drag, keeping things in perspective. The gear check was somebody's SUV. Considerably more relaxed than the norm!

As it happened, I was able to manage a respectable trudge with occasional walk breaks. Like the marathon, water stops were about 1.5 miles apart, and I was able to trudge most of the way between them, until the last three miles. At that point I had to take more walking breaks, simply because the legs were tired. It hurt as much to walk as to jog, so I tried to jog as much as I could. Of course, when I say "hurt", I'm not talking about agonizing pain or anything; the quads wanted a break and I had a few hot spots on my feet, but nothing severe. However, I was extremely grateful to only be doing a half instead of another full. I am nowhere near ready to attempt two marathons in a weekend. I bow down to all the folks that are.

Finished in a satisfactory 2:28:something, only about 10-15 minutes off my typical half-marathon pace – not bad for the first attempt. Received my medal from one of the residents of L'Arche Mobile and considered the day a success. It doesn't get any more special than that! (No, that's not me in the photo.)

The People

Never met so many 50-staters (and Marathon Maniacs) in my life. These are people who do a marathon in every state, some of them multiple times. There's also the Half-Fanatics (like me) who want to do at least a half in every state. These people have scoped out all the opportunities to knock out at least two states in a weekend, and it's fascinating to listen to them talk. When I got to the packet pickup in Mobile Saturday afternoon, those of us doing the back-to-back were either wearing the very cool tech shirt from the Mississippi race, or wearing the medal, so we were easy to spot. I shared a table at the complementary pasta dinner with a couple of guys who had raced that morning, and one of them was also from Indiana, about 45 minutes south of Indianapolis. He knew of two other people who were there from Carmel. Unbeknownst to me, he pointed me out to one of the other Carmel residents, but I had left before she came to sit down. Sunday morning she found me at the race start and introduced herself. It turned out that she lives very close to me, and her son is a pilot with Republic, and we were both flying standby on family passes. Small world!

There are not a lot of flights out of Mobile, so many of us had time to kill at the airport Sunday. The race was originally scheduled to begin at 7am, which would have allowed many of us to get to the airport just barely in time for the morning flight out. Unfortunately the start time was moved back to 7:30, and that 30 minutes was just enough to cause many of us to miss that morning flight. The next flights weren't until 5, 6, and 7pm, so the airport quickly filled with runners. I think we all actually had a wonderful time meeting each other, comparing experiences, and finding out who was certifiable (the people who did a double, like me) and who still had their wits about them. I met a law-student with a full-time job from Columbus, OH, a very fun woman from CA who wants to do the Mississippi race again (we exchanged info), an older gentleman from Syracuse, NY who was a master at finding back-to-back races, and a cancer survivor from south Texas who was running just to say "eff you" to her cancer. The hours passed quickly, and finally it was time to leave. Elaine (my new friend from Carmel) and I easily got seats out of Mobile.

Got to Charlotte, and of course our connection was at the farthest point possible from our gate. We hoofed it over there, and it was...oversold. Nice. And there was no hope of getting on the first flight out the next day either, or several others for that matter. Great.

Ok, what about Cincinnati? There's a flight leaving in 20 minutes. Nope, it's full too.

Hmmmm, Louisville? Any seats on Louisville? Yes, there is! But of course, the gate is back where we started from, and it's leaving in 15 minutes or less. Yikes. We both run the entire way back, and find the gate agent literally seconds from closing the door. Between gasps for air, we explain the situation. Well, there's one seat in coach and one seat in first class. Score! The wonderful ticket agent back in Mobile had given me a first class upgrade just 'cuz. We're on! (Oh, and that run to the gate? Damned near killed me and my aching feet.) Elaine's son thankfully wasn't flying Monday, so he very kindly drove down to get us. Since we both live in the same area, she gave me a ride home. At last I was standing outside my apartment door at 3am, very happy to be there.

Summary

Both races were very enjoyable, and I would do both of them again. I'd like to do the Blues half, and this time stick around for the Blues Crawl Saturday night. It went to several different venues to hear good local artists, and I was sorry to have to miss it.

The entire weekend had a very relaxed feel, as the vast majority of people were simply there to have a good time. The 50-States people are not hot for fast times; they're enjoying seeing a new place, meeting new people, catching up with other 50-Staters, and experiencing the locale. I saw quite a few runners pull off to take pictures now and then, and no one was stressing about PRs or other esoteric goals. The main goal seemed to be to have a good time and leave it at that. It was a very refreshing and rejuvenating atmosphere. I highly recommend it!

A great day at NYC Marathon 2011

This past weekend I had the honor of running the NYC marathon. It was truly one of the most fun races I have ever done, and definitely my best marathon experience (this was #7). The course was easy and fun, the weather was perfect, and the spectators were the best around!

Due to the size of the race (46,795 people finished), getting to the race start is quite the logistical challenge. The race starts on Staten Island, and the bridge has to be closed sometime after 8:00am or so. There were three wave starts, at 8:40, 9:40, and 10:40. This meant that most people had some serious time to kill once they got there.

I was lucky that my B&B was 5 short blocks from the No. 1 subway, which went directly to the ferry station. Another gawdawful-early alarm, on the subway by 6, at the ferry by 6:45, loading at 7:00, and we are on our way. The Au Bon Pain at the other end of the ferry ride was a blessing - I still had 3 hours before my race, so it was safe to drink a good cup of badly-needed coffee. From the ferry, we walk to some buses, take a 20-minute bus ride, then walk about another mile to the start villages. By the time I found a spot of ground for myself and settled in, it was 8:40 or so.

Most of us ate while we waited, and enjoyed the morning sun. Hung out and people-watched, got the bag checked, then it was our turn. This race was so big that those of us in the back (I was in corral 60 of 66) couldn't even see most of the wave. We didn't get to run on the top level of the bridge, which was a little sad, but we still got a good view of Manhattan from the lower level. It looked so far away! Are we really running all the way back?

Crossed the bridge, then ditched the warm fleece jacket I had picked up from Goodwill. The day was warming up fast, but the temperature was perfect. It peaked at 53 and the breeze was just enough to keep us comfortable. The course was split for the first eight miles to accommodate the large number of runners. Spectators were everywhere, making all kinds of noise, waving, holding signs, keeping us entertained. Wow. I'm really running in the famed New York marathon? Are you serious?

There was an aid station every mile, shortly before the mile markers, with porta-potties. I'm still waiting for menopause to kick in, so I had to use the porta-potties more than normal. With a crowd this size, there were always lines. Oh well, at least there were plenty of options. I had to stop at mile 4 and 17, and it was a little frustrating to watch all those people run by, but I didn't have any expectations of doing a PR today anyhow.

Felt great at the halfway point. Took a picture to prove it.

Made it through Brooklyn and Queens with their wonderful supporters, before crossing another bridge at miles 15-16, into the Manhattan for the first time. Running up First Ave into the Bronx was great fun. The streets were lined with people cheering and screaming, and it was easy to stay focused. How could you not feel good with so many people cheering for you?

The miles just slid by, ticking off faster than I expected. Reached mile 18, normally the dreaded Wall for many people, and didn't slow down. Is it possible that I can feel this good? What's wrong with me today? I'll take it! Crossed back over to Manhattan around mile 20, only 10K to go! Some poor guy near me was saying "Is it over yet?" He was hurting. He just groaned when I suggested we were close enough to walk the rest of it if need be.

I carried a little camera, and stopped a lot to take pictures. The pace felt slow, and I consciously slowed down when I found myself panting. Sometimes there was no choice, when 2-3 people would walk side by side or jog slower than I wanted, but that was a sort of break too. I walked all the aid stations but ran between each one, and didn't take any other walk breaks until around mile 22 or so, then I just took a few very short breaks. This is a heck of a lot easier when it's not preceded by a 112-mile bike ride!

The run down to Central Park was long, but beautiful. Between the crowds and the gorgeous fall colors of the trees, there was plenty to look at. I passed someone who had "40 Years Old Today" on her shirt, wished her a happy birthday, and said "It only gets better!" I'm not sure she believed me.

Mile 24 was shortly after entering the park, and I realized that I might actually do this thing in 5 hours, my typical time sans photo stops and potty breaks. Wow, really? How is that possible? I totally screwed around sightseeing, taking pictures and potty breaks for 24 miles, how can my time be that close to normal?

Pushed the last two miles, didn't stop for any more pictures, and barely did it: 4:59:57. Just enough to get my name printed in the New York Times Marathon Results secion, albeit in the bottom inch-and-a-half! Hey, it counts.

Post-finish was a bit of a cluster...yes they gave us the moon blankets (and even provided a piece of tape to tape it in place around your shoulders) and a bag of water/Gatorade/food. Unfortunately we were then herded into a funnel to get to the gear check trucks, and it was too crowded to walk and warm up. We shuffled along for what felt like a mile, and runners were dropping like flies. We were all wet and cold and unable to really move, a recipe for bad cramps. They did have plenty of medical people there, but if we'd been able to actually walk, there would have been far fewer people going down. I was lucky and my gear truck was one of the first few, so I could get out of there.

Found Shirley, my lone Honey Badger crew member, put on my warm clothes that I had checked, and immediately went for a burger, cheese fries, and a shake. The perfect way to cap off a glorious day (with a hot shower after, of course)!

The results: