Well, Bill's latest blog entry is mostly accurate so I suppose I'll just let it stand as is and be thankful that he is willing to take the time to chronicle this ridiculous Ironman journey of ours. And anyone who reads this blog knows what a great job he does telling this story.
One very small clarification around the "Arrogant Bastard" references. Arrogant Bastard is the name of a microbrew that was on the menu at the Ale House where we ate dinner on our last night in Seattle. Bill ordered this brew all on his own. I never called him an "arrogant bastard" or even suggested that he order this brew that I guess, could have been named in his honor --- ooooops, did I just say that? Just kidding folks.
Nonetheless, I have great respect for Bill as an athlete, a friend, a family-man and yes, even as an attorney! The beauty of running with Bill is that we truly never compete with each other. I'm certain that we've both accomplished more in our athletic pursuits than we ever would have because of how much we've supported and pushed each other. There's nothing like a great training buddy!
Until the next time ----- this is the "other" Wild & Crazy Guy signing off.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Arrogant Bastard: the Seattle Marathon Report
My training buddy John is a wise runner. For the 2 days we lightly toured Seattle and attended the Seattle Marathon Expo, John proposed that we treat the Seattle Marathon as a training run. We had signed up for the event months ago as a way to keep our feet to the training fire for our long term goal of the Arizona Ironman in November. John was coming off his calf injury and was being somewhat cautious about re-injuring a muscle that the doctors had told him would doubtfully be marathon ready by late June. Yet, here we were in Seattle ready to run the inaugural Rock & Roll Seattle Marathon.
Our training leading up to Seattle was not ideal. It had rained a lot and we had record breaking heat in June. My first 20 miler had been a treadmill run in AC due to rain. My second 20 and John's only 20 miler was 2 weeks before marathon day. The heat just about killed me late in that training run. As John kept repeating all weekend: "Running slower in heat during training doesn't help make you faster in cooler weather." You trained slower; you simply end up running slower.
I am a stupid runner. If the weather on race day is cool and I feel light and fast, I'm going for glory. My theory is that if you start off slow, you will finish slow. I have never negative split a run in my life and don't think I'm genetically engineered to do so. My self imposed nickname is "Rabbito Andropov." I go out fast and drop off that pace. The question is weather the course finishes before I do. Some days my abilities are longer than the course. Other times, I run out of effort before the course ends.
We arrived in Seattle on Thursday afternoon on separate flights. Our first surprise is the cost of parking at the race host hotel, the Weston. $36 a day to park a car we don't intend to use until Saturday evening. We find out from the desk clerk that we can park at a secondary parking lot for $18 a day. After trying to drive across downtown Seattle in rush hour traffic, the desk clerk's statement that "You really don't need a car in Seattle" rings true. We find out it will cost us $39 to park near the expo and decide to drive back across town, park the car and go to the expo Thursday morning by public transportation. By the time we get the car back across town and parked for the next three days, there is just enough time for a pasta dinner and a stroll through a bookstore before turning in for the night.
Friday morning, we hit the expo. Nice official gear, but a little pricey for a recession. Not only are the prices not discounted, they are pushing the limits of consideration. After dropping about $200 each on shirts, jackets, caps, and souvenir mugs, we stroll the open vendors and sit in for bits of lectures. A doctor tells the crowd of a new study that says if you drink more than 200 milligrams of caffeine pre-race, it reduces the blood flow to the heart by 70%!!! Uh oh, I have been drinking a double shot espresso as a pre-race ritual for the last year or so. How much caffeine is in that? The doctor says you are safe with up to 2 cups of coffee.
After the expo, we go to Pikes Market and watch the fish tossing and pick up some fresh fruit. We eat a late lunch/early dinner at a hole in the wall pizza joint at the market. Two days of pasta. We should be good to go. As we do our pre-race gear set up and race number set up, John advocates running with the 4 hour pace group. I tell him I'm sticking with my higher placed corral number and will not go with a pacer. John responds that I'm going to jackrabbit out of the start and blow up like a pinata. Overnight, I decide that perhaps my wise friend is correct. Our training has not been ideal. I announce in the morning that I'll start with him in the pace group and go out at a 4 hour pace.
As we head by bus over to the race start in Takwila, a suburb south of Seattle, the atmosphere is light and fun. We line up in Corral 11 and meet our pacer, a women who is pacing for the first time. She will hand us off to a second runner at around the half way mark. The gun goes off and in about 15 minutes our group crosses the start line. One of the reasons I'm not a fan of pace groups is there is a clumpage factor. Everyone who want to or thinks he or she can run a 4 hour marathon sticks as close to the pace leader's flag as they can comfortably get. The net result: clumpage. Too many runners, too close together, darn near tripping over each other's shoes. I deal with this by running slightly off the front of the group. John, being what I call "highly social" stays a little further back closer to the pacer. He mixes it up more with the other runners. While I enjoy chatting up other runners before and after a race, I'm more of a solo, don't talk to me during a race, runner. I'll give you a dissertation on the state of the world during a training run; but during a race, I'm more in my own head than into social networking.
I stay within the group through the 6 mile mark, but I've been noting that we are behind a 9 minute per mile pace. Not having run at a 4 hour pace before, I mistakenly believe that we need to make 9 minute per mile pace. I've been checking my watch and see that we've been behind this pace since the start. This is starting to bother me. I start to get a little ahead of the group and John starts to call out for me to slow it down. He tells me to run an even effort and ignore the slope. We had studied the elevation chart prior to the race and I am keenly aware that the first half of the course is fairly flat. The miles from 13 to 20 have some real hills and elevation changes. I figure that its those second half mile that will slow us down. In effect, I lose confidence in the pacer. I feel she is putting us behind the eight ball and we are blowing our pace. I decide to go ahead based on John's statement of "even effort."
I am soon off the front and away from the group. I am aware that John will think I've broken a pact with him, but I don't trust this pacer. I go off at my own pace. I keep the mantra "even effort" in my mind and feel great. In fact I am in the zone. I've got that feeling you get when its all going right. It feels good to be alive and running. A very primordial feeling. I could be caveman running down a mastodon or an American Indian chasing a herd of buffalo for a kill. It is for moments like this that I run. As a species, we are meant to do this. We are evolutionarily designed for running; when you hit just the right stride, this is how you feel. You feel connected to the natural world.
The course has a number of out and back sections. As I cross the bridge over Lake Washington around mile 10, I realize I will soon be doubling back and will come across the 4 hour pace group and John. Over the last 4 miles, I pulled ahead about a 1/2 mile. I've not move up to another pace group, so I know I haven't over done it. But to see the look of disgust on John's face as we pass, you would have thought I had committed a high crime. I figure I'll ask for his forgiveness later. I never said that I would stay with the 4 hour pace group; I said I would start with it. I'm sure he would accuse me of being overly lawyerly, but it's not like I'm saying that it depends on your definition of what the word "is" means. And yes, after giving John this explanation post race, he threw every nasty lawyer joke at me that he could recall. And, yes, I'm an attorney.
As I come up to the 13 mile mark, I note that my watch is a 1:59. Ha, I know we were off pace. I think about the pace group and how the new leader will now start pushing the group to a faster pace for the more challenging section of the course. This section consists of a series of long uphill and downhill slopes in tunnels and on bridges just north of downtown Seattle. The course is along the double-decker State Road 99 that is just west of the downtown area. The outward bound section is on the lower deck. Here, I tuck into the shadows to keep the weather as cool as possible. Miles 18 through 21 are over a long sun exposed bridge. While I feel like I'm taking in enough fluids, I think it is during this section that I am getting behind the hydration curve. But I still feel great and I'm loving the course. On the return section of this out and back on a bridge over Lake Union, I again see John. He has fallen behind 4 hour pace group and looks like he is having a hard time of it. "Hang in there," I shout as we pass. It does not seem to cheer him up.
From mile 22 on in, the course is on the upper deck of State Road 99. Open, hot black top with no hope for shade in slight. At mile 23, I start to wilt fast in the heat, which seems to be rising quickly. Perhaps its my Northern European genetics, but I do not do well running in hot conditions. Perhaps no one does, but I seem to do worse than the average runner. I sweat pretty good in the heat. In this situation, I think the dryer air has caused me to not notice the fact that I've been slipping into dehydration. By mile 24, I've got classic signs of dehydration: my back aches, my leg muscles are starting to twitch, and my body just want to stop running. I go from having the time of my life to hoping I can finish this event. I go from an ever slowing jog to a walk and jog combination. My race is over, but I've go 2 miles left.
Its amazing how you can go from Heaven to Hell in a short time. "Why do I do this to myself," I think. More importantly: who am I kidding that I can even attempt a full ironman event? "Only myself," I respond in my head. I start watching for the 4 hours pace group leader coming up behind me. Sure enough, I see the new pace leader pushing the group at what appears to be a pretty brisk pace. There are only 3 or 4 people keeping with her. "At least I had that figured out" I think. There had been probably 40 people pacing at the beginning. I believe a pacer signed up to run the entire course would have run a more even pace.
Me, I'm starting to have muscle cramps. I'm past mile 25, and occasionally look back to see where John is on the course. With less than a half mile to go, he runs by me walking it in. "Come on Humpty," John says. While I'd love to pace in with him, my legs will not respond. "You go ahead," I say. Off he goes, probably with a nice grin on his face. I am paying dearly for my sin of hubris. No, I am not better than the running gods and I am paying a dear price for having overly enjoyed my earlier miles. With about 100 yards to go, my left calf muscle freezes up and I'm forced to stop and message the cramp out. I hobble over the finish line. I look towards the medical tent just ahead of me and for the first time ever contemplate going in for an IV hookup. "Walk it off," John says to me like a disgusted drill sargent to his new recruits after a long march. I try to keep walking, but I seriously want to lay down.
We go to the free beer section of the finish area and sit on the steps of Qwest Football Stadium. John climbs the flight of steps up the stadium to get us a couple of hot dogs. There was no way in Hell that I was going to climb those steps. John came back with the hot dogs which tasted like the best meat I've ever had in my life. Its amazing how good food tastes when your body needs the protein. I am of course humiliated with my last miles, but John is kind enough not to rib me about it. Yet. Over the course of the next few days, he lets me know how he really feels. Oh well, the guy knows my history. He really should not be surprised.
For the books, John ran a 4:08; me, a 4:11. Not a great result for either of us. We both are regular sub 4 hour marathon runners. But as John said, we ran as well as our training allowed. Its been hot and we were under trained for a good marathon result. As a waitress told us at a restaurant, "It's over, you finished, move on." Well said.
That night we drove out to a park in Redmond and saw Keb Mo, a great blues/soul singer. It was a free concert for everyone who ran the marathon. Your race number bib was your ticket in. Keb plays a great blues guitar. He was accompanied by a great keyboard player. If you get a chance to see Keb Mo, just go.
We finished our visit to the Northeast with a day trip to the San Juan Islands. We rode scooters around San Juan Island and went on an evening whale watching boat trip. Some Killer Whales from the L pod that feed in the area came very close to our boat. Captain Pete and his biology student assistant were both entertaining and informative. We spent Monday doing classic tourist stuff around the Space Needle: an IMAX movie on the Lewis & Clark Expedition; watching the kids play in the music fountain; going through the Music Experience Museum; and going up to the observation deck of the Space Needle, which is 605 feet tall. I know, it only looks to be about 300 feet; but really, its twice that high.
We finished our night at a brew pub/restaurant called "Roasters." I was going to order a locally brewed beer, but when I saw a California beer, I knew I had to order it. When the waitress returned with our drink order, she asked, "Who's the Arrogant Bastard?" I raised my hand and shrugged, "That would be me." I got no objection from my wiser running buddy John.
So, let the errata begin! I'm sure John will want to correct various misrepresentations of fact. But the fact remains that I got infinite joy out of the first 23 miles of the Seattle Marathon. Unfortunately, the race was 3 miles too long for me. I would run it the same way if I had it to do over. I may never find out. It too hot down here to train for summer marathons. The summer is for triathlons. I can't wait to get on the bike and hop in the pool and start serious bike and swim training.
Our training leading up to Seattle was not ideal. It had rained a lot and we had record breaking heat in June. My first 20 miler had been a treadmill run in AC due to rain. My second 20 and John's only 20 miler was 2 weeks before marathon day. The heat just about killed me late in that training run. As John kept repeating all weekend: "Running slower in heat during training doesn't help make you faster in cooler weather." You trained slower; you simply end up running slower.
I am a stupid runner. If the weather on race day is cool and I feel light and fast, I'm going for glory. My theory is that if you start off slow, you will finish slow. I have never negative split a run in my life and don't think I'm genetically engineered to do so. My self imposed nickname is "Rabbito Andropov." I go out fast and drop off that pace. The question is weather the course finishes before I do. Some days my abilities are longer than the course. Other times, I run out of effort before the course ends.
We arrived in Seattle on Thursday afternoon on separate flights. Our first surprise is the cost of parking at the race host hotel, the Weston. $36 a day to park a car we don't intend to use until Saturday evening. We find out from the desk clerk that we can park at a secondary parking lot for $18 a day. After trying to drive across downtown Seattle in rush hour traffic, the desk clerk's statement that "You really don't need a car in Seattle" rings true. We find out it will cost us $39 to park near the expo and decide to drive back across town, park the car and go to the expo Thursday morning by public transportation. By the time we get the car back across town and parked for the next three days, there is just enough time for a pasta dinner and a stroll through a bookstore before turning in for the night.
Friday morning, we hit the expo. Nice official gear, but a little pricey for a recession. Not only are the prices not discounted, they are pushing the limits of consideration. After dropping about $200 each on shirts, jackets, caps, and souvenir mugs, we stroll the open vendors and sit in for bits of lectures. A doctor tells the crowd of a new study that says if you drink more than 200 milligrams of caffeine pre-race, it reduces the blood flow to the heart by 70%!!! Uh oh, I have been drinking a double shot espresso as a pre-race ritual for the last year or so. How much caffeine is in that? The doctor says you are safe with up to 2 cups of coffee.
After the expo, we go to Pikes Market and watch the fish tossing and pick up some fresh fruit. We eat a late lunch/early dinner at a hole in the wall pizza joint at the market. Two days of pasta. We should be good to go. As we do our pre-race gear set up and race number set up, John advocates running with the 4 hour pace group. I tell him I'm sticking with my higher placed corral number and will not go with a pacer. John responds that I'm going to jackrabbit out of the start and blow up like a pinata. Overnight, I decide that perhaps my wise friend is correct. Our training has not been ideal. I announce in the morning that I'll start with him in the pace group and go out at a 4 hour pace.
As we head by bus over to the race start in Takwila, a suburb south of Seattle, the atmosphere is light and fun. We line up in Corral 11 and meet our pacer, a women who is pacing for the first time. She will hand us off to a second runner at around the half way mark. The gun goes off and in about 15 minutes our group crosses the start line. One of the reasons I'm not a fan of pace groups is there is a clumpage factor. Everyone who want to or thinks he or she can run a 4 hour marathon sticks as close to the pace leader's flag as they can comfortably get. The net result: clumpage. Too many runners, too close together, darn near tripping over each other's shoes. I deal with this by running slightly off the front of the group. John, being what I call "highly social" stays a little further back closer to the pacer. He mixes it up more with the other runners. While I enjoy chatting up other runners before and after a race, I'm more of a solo, don't talk to me during a race, runner. I'll give you a dissertation on the state of the world during a training run; but during a race, I'm more in my own head than into social networking.
I stay within the group through the 6 mile mark, but I've been noting that we are behind a 9 minute per mile pace. Not having run at a 4 hour pace before, I mistakenly believe that we need to make 9 minute per mile pace. I've been checking my watch and see that we've been behind this pace since the start. This is starting to bother me. I start to get a little ahead of the group and John starts to call out for me to slow it down. He tells me to run an even effort and ignore the slope. We had studied the elevation chart prior to the race and I am keenly aware that the first half of the course is fairly flat. The miles from 13 to 20 have some real hills and elevation changes. I figure that its those second half mile that will slow us down. In effect, I lose confidence in the pacer. I feel she is putting us behind the eight ball and we are blowing our pace. I decide to go ahead based on John's statement of "even effort."
I am soon off the front and away from the group. I am aware that John will think I've broken a pact with him, but I don't trust this pacer. I go off at my own pace. I keep the mantra "even effort" in my mind and feel great. In fact I am in the zone. I've got that feeling you get when its all going right. It feels good to be alive and running. A very primordial feeling. I could be caveman running down a mastodon or an American Indian chasing a herd of buffalo for a kill. It is for moments like this that I run. As a species, we are meant to do this. We are evolutionarily designed for running; when you hit just the right stride, this is how you feel. You feel connected to the natural world.
The course has a number of out and back sections. As I cross the bridge over Lake Washington around mile 10, I realize I will soon be doubling back and will come across the 4 hour pace group and John. Over the last 4 miles, I pulled ahead about a 1/2 mile. I've not move up to another pace group, so I know I haven't over done it. But to see the look of disgust on John's face as we pass, you would have thought I had committed a high crime. I figure I'll ask for his forgiveness later. I never said that I would stay with the 4 hour pace group; I said I would start with it. I'm sure he would accuse me of being overly lawyerly, but it's not like I'm saying that it depends on your definition of what the word "is" means. And yes, after giving John this explanation post race, he threw every nasty lawyer joke at me that he could recall. And, yes, I'm an attorney.
As I come up to the 13 mile mark, I note that my watch is a 1:59. Ha, I know we were off pace. I think about the pace group and how the new leader will now start pushing the group to a faster pace for the more challenging section of the course. This section consists of a series of long uphill and downhill slopes in tunnels and on bridges just north of downtown Seattle. The course is along the double-decker State Road 99 that is just west of the downtown area. The outward bound section is on the lower deck. Here, I tuck into the shadows to keep the weather as cool as possible. Miles 18 through 21 are over a long sun exposed bridge. While I feel like I'm taking in enough fluids, I think it is during this section that I am getting behind the hydration curve. But I still feel great and I'm loving the course. On the return section of this out and back on a bridge over Lake Union, I again see John. He has fallen behind 4 hour pace group and looks like he is having a hard time of it. "Hang in there," I shout as we pass. It does not seem to cheer him up.
From mile 22 on in, the course is on the upper deck of State Road 99. Open, hot black top with no hope for shade in slight. At mile 23, I start to wilt fast in the heat, which seems to be rising quickly. Perhaps its my Northern European genetics, but I do not do well running in hot conditions. Perhaps no one does, but I seem to do worse than the average runner. I sweat pretty good in the heat. In this situation, I think the dryer air has caused me to not notice the fact that I've been slipping into dehydration. By mile 24, I've got classic signs of dehydration: my back aches, my leg muscles are starting to twitch, and my body just want to stop running. I go from having the time of my life to hoping I can finish this event. I go from an ever slowing jog to a walk and jog combination. My race is over, but I've go 2 miles left.
Its amazing how you can go from Heaven to Hell in a short time. "Why do I do this to myself," I think. More importantly: who am I kidding that I can even attempt a full ironman event? "Only myself," I respond in my head. I start watching for the 4 hours pace group leader coming up behind me. Sure enough, I see the new pace leader pushing the group at what appears to be a pretty brisk pace. There are only 3 or 4 people keeping with her. "At least I had that figured out" I think. There had been probably 40 people pacing at the beginning. I believe a pacer signed up to run the entire course would have run a more even pace.
Me, I'm starting to have muscle cramps. I'm past mile 25, and occasionally look back to see where John is on the course. With less than a half mile to go, he runs by me walking it in. "Come on Humpty," John says. While I'd love to pace in with him, my legs will not respond. "You go ahead," I say. Off he goes, probably with a nice grin on his face. I am paying dearly for my sin of hubris. No, I am not better than the running gods and I am paying a dear price for having overly enjoyed my earlier miles. With about 100 yards to go, my left calf muscle freezes up and I'm forced to stop and message the cramp out. I hobble over the finish line. I look towards the medical tent just ahead of me and for the first time ever contemplate going in for an IV hookup. "Walk it off," John says to me like a disgusted drill sargent to his new recruits after a long march. I try to keep walking, but I seriously want to lay down.
We go to the free beer section of the finish area and sit on the steps of Qwest Football Stadium. John climbs the flight of steps up the stadium to get us a couple of hot dogs. There was no way in Hell that I was going to climb those steps. John came back with the hot dogs which tasted like the best meat I've ever had in my life. Its amazing how good food tastes when your body needs the protein. I am of course humiliated with my last miles, but John is kind enough not to rib me about it. Yet. Over the course of the next few days, he lets me know how he really feels. Oh well, the guy knows my history. He really should not be surprised.
For the books, John ran a 4:08; me, a 4:11. Not a great result for either of us. We both are regular sub 4 hour marathon runners. But as John said, we ran as well as our training allowed. Its been hot and we were under trained for a good marathon result. As a waitress told us at a restaurant, "It's over, you finished, move on." Well said.
That night we drove out to a park in Redmond and saw Keb Mo, a great blues/soul singer. It was a free concert for everyone who ran the marathon. Your race number bib was your ticket in. Keb plays a great blues guitar. He was accompanied by a great keyboard player. If you get a chance to see Keb Mo, just go.
We finished our visit to the Northeast with a day trip to the San Juan Islands. We rode scooters around San Juan Island and went on an evening whale watching boat trip. Some Killer Whales from the L pod that feed in the area came very close to our boat. Captain Pete and his biology student assistant were both entertaining and informative. We spent Monday doing classic tourist stuff around the Space Needle: an IMAX movie on the Lewis & Clark Expedition; watching the kids play in the music fountain; going through the Music Experience Museum; and going up to the observation deck of the Space Needle, which is 605 feet tall. I know, it only looks to be about 300 feet; but really, its twice that high.
We finished our night at a brew pub/restaurant called "Roasters." I was going to order a locally brewed beer, but when I saw a California beer, I knew I had to order it. When the waitress returned with our drink order, she asked, "Who's the Arrogant Bastard?" I raised my hand and shrugged, "That would be me." I got no objection from my wiser running buddy John.
So, let the errata begin! I'm sure John will want to correct various misrepresentations of fact. But the fact remains that I got infinite joy out of the first 23 miles of the Seattle Marathon. Unfortunately, the race was 3 miles too long for me. I would run it the same way if I had it to do over. I may never find out. It too hot down here to train for summer marathons. The summer is for triathlons. I can't wait to get on the bike and hop in the pool and start serious bike and swim training.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
I Packed My Bags Pre-Flight, Zero Hour 6 AM
Man, it's been hot down here in Sunny Florida the last several days. Tri buddies Tony and Carrie did a sprint triathlon in Key Biscayne on Sunday. They both did very respectable 1:13s, but word is the run was hot. Very hot. Pace slowing, heart rate raising hot. On Monday, Tony offers up a 5 miler at 7PM. Should be cool by that time. Monday, however, was record breaking hot. I check the Weather Channel website around 5:30 PM and its showing a heat index of 102 degrees for 7 PM. I e-mail Tony that I'm out. No way am I running in that kind of heat.
Tuesday morning, I go out at 6:45 AM to get the paper and note that it has rained. Its overcast and cool with a nice cloud cover. I get geared up quickly and head out the door for a 5 miler. I must be cashing in some karma chips as I have no right to expect this kind of cool weather. On the return half of my run, I hear distant thunder. I'm hoping its heat lightening. The last mile, it starts to rain. Not heavy, just enough to make me think of Seattle. "Yes, a nice light Seattle rain could be OK during the marathon," I think. After I get home, the rain starts to fall more heavily. It starts to pour and continues to rain and thunder for the next couple of hours. That little window of opportunity was over. Thank you Lord, Thank you Jesus. I'll run 20 red lights in your honor.
This morning was my last pre-marathon run. A not too challenging 5K speed treadmill workout. I only took it down to 7:30 mile pace. Don't want to do anything stupid the couple of days before a race.
As I start gathering gear and checking my paperwork for Seattle, I note that my flight out is at 6:10 AM. What was I thinking? With my wife driving my son to Gainesville the same day, its going to be hard to get her or him to get up early for a 5AM drive to the airport. These must have been the only flights available on my frequent flyer ticket. That, or I'm just an idiot. A rose would smell as sweet, I guess.
I gather together my usual doodads and goodies for Seattle. Race registration, hotel and car confirmations, shoes, goos and power bars. Don't forget the Pedialyte and the Starbucks Double Shot Expresso for pre-race hydration and accelerant. What to wear for the race? I usually over pack race gear to give myself options. Portable speaker set and iPod. Check. Camera. Check. Books for the plane ride. Check. Houston, we've completed our checklist and are "all go" here. Now, if I can just arrange that ride to the airport. Wish me luck. That, and cool weather.
Tuesday morning, I go out at 6:45 AM to get the paper and note that it has rained. Its overcast and cool with a nice cloud cover. I get geared up quickly and head out the door for a 5 miler. I must be cashing in some karma chips as I have no right to expect this kind of cool weather. On the return half of my run, I hear distant thunder. I'm hoping its heat lightening. The last mile, it starts to rain. Not heavy, just enough to make me think of Seattle. "Yes, a nice light Seattle rain could be OK during the marathon," I think. After I get home, the rain starts to fall more heavily. It starts to pour and continues to rain and thunder for the next couple of hours. That little window of opportunity was over. Thank you Lord, Thank you Jesus. I'll run 20 red lights in your honor.
This morning was my last pre-marathon run. A not too challenging 5K speed treadmill workout. I only took it down to 7:30 mile pace. Don't want to do anything stupid the couple of days before a race.
As I start gathering gear and checking my paperwork for Seattle, I note that my flight out is at 6:10 AM. What was I thinking? With my wife driving my son to Gainesville the same day, its going to be hard to get her or him to get up early for a 5AM drive to the airport. These must have been the only flights available on my frequent flyer ticket. That, or I'm just an idiot. A rose would smell as sweet, I guess.
I gather together my usual doodads and goodies for Seattle. Race registration, hotel and car confirmations, shoes, goos and power bars. Don't forget the Pedialyte and the Starbucks Double Shot Expresso for pre-race hydration and accelerant. What to wear for the race? I usually over pack race gear to give myself options. Portable speaker set and iPod. Check. Camera. Check. Books for the plane ride. Check. Houston, we've completed our checklist and are "all go" here. Now, if I can just arrange that ride to the airport. Wish me luck. That, and cool weather.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Sleep, Perchance to Dream
As reported this week in the New York Times, new sleep research out of Stanford University suggests that simply getting more sleep can improve athletic performance. In the article, a fitness writer was explained how she felt great and went the fastest she had in weeks on her long run after coming back from a vacation. One possible explanation came to her mind: she had erased her chronic sleep debt on vacation, which made her extremely well rested when she took the run. I can relate.
I have a tendency to being a night owl. I blame this partly on our culture and the network heads in New York. Most of the fun/good stuff happens at night and very often the later, the better. Watch Letterman, Conan, or the Daily Show and you don't get to sleep until around midnight. Go out with friends to a concert or a bar on a Friday or Saturday night and you're getting to bed after midnight or later. The NBA playoffs are finally over. Thank God! There was some truly great basketball this year. Well, maybe not the finals so much, but leading up to them there were some great games: a full 7 game series between my Miami Heat and Atlanta; a Celtics/Bulls overtime fest; Orlando taking Boston at home in game 7; LeBron's game 2 one second three from the top of the key in the series against Orlando. Great basketball, but not good for getting proper sack time. You could watch a game about every night that kept you up to midnight or close to it.
Thus, I'm coming off a bit of a sleep deficit myself. I don't think that sleep deficit helped on my 20 miler last Monday in which I broke from the heat and had to death march the last 3 miles. The next couple of days, I've come down with one of those over-training sniffles/fatigue things. I don't know if its a full blown cold, or just my body protesting running too long in the South Florida heat on too little sleep. OK, let's just call it a cold.
Did I mention, I love a good cup of coffee? I love the smell and taste of a cup of Joe; but have a cup of coffee after the noon hour and I'm up late into the night. It's not a problem when you've got a good book you want to get through; not so good when you've got a early morning training run or ride scheduled. Not to mention the sleepless night we all have before a big endurance event. Not only does the mind keep the body awake thinking of the event, but we get up a 4AM to get ready. Thus, while we make sure to get in all of our scheduled training, we tend to cheat ourselves on sleep.
It reminds me of my experience at the Berlin Marathon last September. I was so excited to be in Berlin, that I didn't get enough sleep before marathon day. I toured around, met and hung out with other marathoners, and basically didn't get enough sack time. My race turned out to be a bit of a struggle to get through. I just made it over the finish line just under 4 hours with literally a few seconds to spare. I had a great time in Berlin, but probably at the cost of a better run time.
Thus, for the next several days, I am going to try to grab some extra sleep. Hopefully, that will help me get over the sniffles and reduce my sleep deficit. Fortunately, I've been to Seattle a couple of times before, so the touring siren song will not be as loud. Buddy John is also very good about chilling the day before a race, so I'll try to follow his good example. I'll also avoid the Starbucks until after the marathon. That's the plan anyway.
On the training front, this quasi-cold put a dampener on my training. I ran 6 miles Wednesday and took the next 3 days off trying to recuperate from the cold. I was supposed to do 10 miles with buddy John Sunday morning, but drank a glass of wine with some visiting friends Saturday night and ended up with a terrible headache. This told me that I was not over this cold, so I bailed on John late Saturday night. I ended up doing a 10K on the treadmill on Sunday. Who knows, maybe this is the proper taper given my situation. It does not make me feel better about abandoning my buddy though. Sorry John. Remember, I now own you a Starbucks at the original store in Seattle.
I have a tendency to being a night owl. I blame this partly on our culture and the network heads in New York. Most of the fun/good stuff happens at night and very often the later, the better. Watch Letterman, Conan, or the Daily Show and you don't get to sleep until around midnight. Go out with friends to a concert or a bar on a Friday or Saturday night and you're getting to bed after midnight or later. The NBA playoffs are finally over. Thank God! There was some truly great basketball this year. Well, maybe not the finals so much, but leading up to them there were some great games: a full 7 game series between my Miami Heat and Atlanta; a Celtics/Bulls overtime fest; Orlando taking Boston at home in game 7; LeBron's game 2 one second three from the top of the key in the series against Orlando. Great basketball, but not good for getting proper sack time. You could watch a game about every night that kept you up to midnight or close to it.
Thus, I'm coming off a bit of a sleep deficit myself. I don't think that sleep deficit helped on my 20 miler last Monday in which I broke from the heat and had to death march the last 3 miles. The next couple of days, I've come down with one of those over-training sniffles/fatigue things. I don't know if its a full blown cold, or just my body protesting running too long in the South Florida heat on too little sleep. OK, let's just call it a cold.
Did I mention, I love a good cup of coffee? I love the smell and taste of a cup of Joe; but have a cup of coffee after the noon hour and I'm up late into the night. It's not a problem when you've got a good book you want to get through; not so good when you've got a early morning training run or ride scheduled. Not to mention the sleepless night we all have before a big endurance event. Not only does the mind keep the body awake thinking of the event, but we get up a 4AM to get ready. Thus, while we make sure to get in all of our scheduled training, we tend to cheat ourselves on sleep.
It reminds me of my experience at the Berlin Marathon last September. I was so excited to be in Berlin, that I didn't get enough sleep before marathon day. I toured around, met and hung out with other marathoners, and basically didn't get enough sack time. My race turned out to be a bit of a struggle to get through. I just made it over the finish line just under 4 hours with literally a few seconds to spare. I had a great time in Berlin, but probably at the cost of a better run time.
Thus, for the next several days, I am going to try to grab some extra sleep. Hopefully, that will help me get over the sniffles and reduce my sleep deficit. Fortunately, I've been to Seattle a couple of times before, so the touring siren song will not be as loud. Buddy John is also very good about chilling the day before a race, so I'll try to follow his good example. I'll also avoid the Starbucks until after the marathon. That's the plan anyway.
On the training front, this quasi-cold put a dampener on my training. I ran 6 miles Wednesday and took the next 3 days off trying to recuperate from the cold. I was supposed to do 10 miles with buddy John Sunday morning, but drank a glass of wine with some visiting friends Saturday night and ended up with a terrible headache. This told me that I was not over this cold, so I bailed on John late Saturday night. I ended up doing a 10K on the treadmill on Sunday. Who knows, maybe this is the proper taper given my situation. It does not make me feel better about abandoning my buddy though. Sorry John. Remember, I now own you a Starbucks at the original store in Seattle.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Home At Last
Well the danger on the rocks is surely past. Still I remain tied to the mast. Could it be that I have found my home at last. Home At Last - Steely Dan
Crazy busy weekend this past three days. I feel like Ulysses on a long voyage with strange happenings and hardships before finally getting home.
It all started off Friday night with a stop at the Seventh Street Wine Company. Wife Salome & I were simply stopping by for one glass before we were to go see our son John MC an American Cancer Society concert at Huizenga Park. Buddy Tony had asked a bunch of us to stop by since it was bar tender Sydney's last night before going away for the summer to Seattle. While I had never met Sydney, I figured I could get some tips on things to do in Seattle after the marathon. Sydney was the equivalent of the witch-goddess Circe, the enchantress who turned half of Ulysses' men into swine after feeding them cheese and wine. While a lovely woman, she didn't seem too keen on offering any insight into the Seattle scene. Instead, she kept pouring all of us the various wines we bought, distracting us from our voyage for the evening. We never did make it out of that wine bar until late that evening. Luckily our son texted Salome to let us know that his MC gig wasn't much of an event due to low turn out. He had fun with his friends that he invited, but it wasn't the big gig we all had hoped it would be. Good thing, as I was feeling like a swine for not showing up.
The next morning was a fishing trip with buddy John on his boat. He had invited three of us dads with our young sons to go fishing for the morning. Thus, Saturday morning was an actual sea voyage. Captain John is a great host for young fisherman. He took us out to the first reef and trailed a chum block to attract reef fish. Now, the fish on the first reef are generally too small to keep. No matter. The kids had a blast casting and catching whatever would bite the squid on the hooks. We dads kept busy cutting bait, setting the hooks and helping the kids get their catch in the boat. Older son John came along as Co-Captain and photographer. Young son Alex was thrilled to catch a yellow tail snapper. I would have been more thrilled if it was big enough to keep and grill. Afterward, we had some of the gang over to our house for burgers, hot dogs and a swim.
After a mid afternoon nap, I get a call from a friend offering two tickets to see Steely Dan that night at the Meizner Park Amphitheater. Coming out of my nap, it felt like a dream. Previously, I was told there was one ticket available. Steely Dan is one of my favorite bands, but I was hesitant to go without Salome who is also a big fan. Luckily, my friend's college age son, Josh, decided to give up his ticket. Problem solved.
If you like jazz and get a chance to see Steely Dan, go. Don't think twice; buy tickets and go see these guys. Walter Becker and Donald Fagen were backed by a very tight jazz band. The horn section included a trumpet, sax, tenner sax and trombone. Becker looked like an old man in shorts, Bermuda shirt, ankle high socks and sneakers, but he rocked that guitar and swayed as he played. Donald Fagen not only sang most of the songs, but he also played a Harmonia, a clarinet like instrument with a keyboard along the side. They played a lot off of Aja, Goucho and Katy Lied. The three backup singers shared some of the lyrical work. All in all, the concert was better than I had any right to expect. It had me itching to go to a jazz festival.
Sunday morning we all went to our church for son John to receive a scholarship from the Greek educational group called AHEPHA. Several high school graduates get scholarship money and the mood was very festive. My wife had mistakenly thought that Sunday was father's day (it next Sunday). She had the kids wish me happy father's day. That afternoon, I called my father to wish him a happy father's day. He thought I was nuts. When he corrected my misconception, I told him that I just wanted to be the first to wish him a happy father's day. We both agreed that its a holiday created to not have fathers feel left out after Mother's Day in May. My feeling was the fishing trip the day before was the best Father's Day gift I could receive. No need for a gift next weekend.
Training buddy John & I had agreed to put off our last 20 miler before the Seattle Marathon until Monday morning. John hates to get up too early for a run; I hate running in the heat. We tossed the starting time around and settled on a 5:30 AM run. The first two hours were lovely. The sun wasn't up at the start and by the time it got too high up in the sky, we were running along a condo shaded area of A1a. I was good until we got to about mile 17. Suddenly, we were out in direct sun at about 8:30 AM. In South Florida, that equates to 90 + degrees of heat. With humidity, it feels like 98 degrees. Suddenly, I'm wilting in the sun and bordering on heat exhaustion. We duck under the beach showers to try to cool off. I have to finish the run as a run/walk death march. I start singing the lyrics to Steely Dan tunes in my head to try to get thought the ordeal. "I see the ditch out in the back they're digging just for my." "Still I remained tied to the mast. Could it be that I have found my home at last?"
I offer for John to go ahead to finish his run. He declines all offers saying, "No one gets left behind." He has that dive buddy/Marine Corps ethic. I think he may also have felt a little guilty knowing I would have chosen to start earlier to avoid the extreme heat. In any event, we finished our 20 miles and cooled off at my house. I was home at last.
Now, its taper time. We cut back on our run distance to be well rested for Seattle on June 27th. The lesson I keep relearning is that even though we pick northern climates to run our summer marathons, we still have to train in the heat of South Florida to get ready. June 15th is a little late in the year to be doing 20 mile runs outside. Hopefully, we are now weather tested and will survive our voyage in Seattle.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Mutually Assured Destruction
After our 17 mile run two weeks ago, buddy John and I were talking to a neighbor of his as we rode up in the elevator of his building. The neighbor asked how far we had run. We told her about the upcoming Seattle Marathon and our long training runs. We explained our long term goal of doing the Arizona Ironman in November. "Whose idea was that?" she wondered. I replied that it isn't a question of one person convincing the other to do these long endurance events, but more of a policy of mutual assured destruction. If I'm going to put my body through the hell of training for these events and risk a death march in the Arizona desert, I'm not going down alone. If I crash and burn, someone is going down with me.
Isn't that how we choose our training buddy? Someone as dedicated (or as foolhardy) as ourselves to sign up for an event, go through the rigours of training, and see the event through from starting gun to finish line. Most of us know Sir Edmund Hillary becoming the first man to reach the summit of Mount Everest. Nine other expeditions had tried before and didn't make it to the summit. People had died trying to get to the summit. Did Sir Hillary attempt this crazy expedition by himself? No way. He teamed up with Sherpa Tenzing Norgay. Could Sir Edmund have made it to the top by himself? Perhaps. But when we attempt a task that is sure to test the limits of our endurance, it somehow helps to have someone else along for the ride (or swim or run for that matter).
Before you finish your first marathon, there is a real doubt in your mind as to whether you will be able to finish the 26.2 mile run. Your longest training run is usually 20 miles. I know I had those doubts in the back of my mind before I ran my first marathon in Athens in November, 2002. I was hedging my bets so much that I signed up for the Miami Marathon scheduled for the following January as a backup in case I didn't finish the Athens Marathon. Or course, I did finished the race. So I convinced my brother to train and run Miami as his first marathon. On the way to the expo, the exchanged refrain was, "I'm not worried about you, I'm worried about me." My brother had the first timer doubts about being able to finish. I was trying to improve on my first marathon time, so I was worried about pushing myself too hard and possibly blowing up. I knew my brother had done the proper training, so I was confident that he could finish. He knew I had run a marathon before, so he was sure I would be fine.
I think that goes to the heart of the buddy system. Having trained together, each buddy knows the other guy (or girl) is properly trained and is capable of completing the endurance event. But these endurance events are long enough that a crash and burn is always possible. The psyche remains a doubting Thomas constantly calculating the risks of problems and failure. Doubt and anxiety about completing an endurance event never goes completely away. The solution? Get your buddy to sign up for the event too.
I'm sure Sir Edmund knew the Sherpa could make it to the summit, but wasn't sure about himself. I'm guessing that either Neil Armstrong or Buzz Aldrin could have done the first moon landing solo, but neither guy wanted to try that crazy landing and takeoff by himself. I can picture Neil Armstrong drinking beers with Buzz one night in a bar in Coco Beach saying, "If I'm risking dying on the moon, you're going down to the surface with me." "What about Mike Collins?" asks Buzz . "That sissy can stay in the Command Module as our support team," replies Neil as he drains his glass. "OK, I'm in."
So, while we joke about the buddy system being a policy of "mutually assured destruction," its really a policy of "mutually assured success." Shared hardship equates to shared success. Knowing our buddy is getting up before dawn for a workout, forces us to get out of our warm beds. Set up a ride or swim with your buddy and you are more likely to make sure you are there on time. The loneliness of the long distance runner is not so lonely when you've got a buddy to share a conversation with along the way.
Doing endurance events teaches us that you can accomplish just about anything you put your mind to achieve. You just need to break a big task down to into managable parts and creat a plan to get the parts accomplished. We can climb Mount Everest, land on the moon, run a marathon or do an ironman event. It just helps to have a buddy crazy enough to be the Sancho Panza to your Don Quixote. See you this weekend for that last 20 mile run, Sancho.
Monday, June 8, 2009
So Long, and Thanks For the Fish!
Son John leaves for college in a couple of weeks, so Wednesday evening we had a farewell party for him and his peeps before they spread out around the country. It was also a bit of a make up party for the headliner band from the graduation party that got shut down. A good time was had by all. The lead singer, Ciara Emauele, has a great voice. Look for her on American Idol one of these years. The band rocked. One of the songs they played was Pink Floyd's "Another Brick in the Wall." It was a bit ironic as the song came out about the time I graduated from high school. I guess what goes around, comes around.
Young son Alex's 3rd grade class had a 50's/60's poetry reading. As the kids shouted out after each poem was performed: "Cool, groovy, peace." They finished with a rendition of "If I Had a Hammer." Talk about your throw back tunes. A very nice event. Alex is 9th in from the left in an old long sleeve tie die tee-shirt of mine. I used it for skiing for the last 15 years or so. The sleeves were too long for Alex, so I cut them off. The sacrifices we make for our kids. He loves the shirt, so it has new life. Our riding leader, Tony was off to Hawks Cove in the Florida Keys for the weekend for his builders association group's annual fishing tournament. So, Saturday morning it was buddy John, Ironman Carrie and me out for a 35 mile ride. Without Tony as our natural lead, we each took turns at the front. However, not being out on a group ride in many weeks, my group riding skills were a bit rusty. We also got to sharpen our tire changing skills by failing to find the sliver of glass that lay hidden under a small flap in Carrie's tire. Three tube changes later and we were on our way.
That night Salome, son John & I got together for dinner on Hollywood Beach with John's classmate, Catherine Ettman, and her parents. The restaurant was an open to the beach. Very lovely, reminding me of restaurants on the Greek Islands. Then, the skies filled with rain clouds and the rain came down for hours. The food was delicious and the conversation interesting. A good thing, because we ended up there for hours waiting for the rain to stop. The rain and lightening made for an even more interesting view of the beach. However, it did make for a late evening. Not intended, as I was scheduled to do an early morning 15 mile run with John on Sunday.
I manage to get up at 5 AM and get to John's by 5:40. The 15 miles were not too bad, but have I mentioned that it has gotten pretty darn humid down here? I can't wait until we get to Seattle for the marathon. The humidity has got to be less than the 90% + we've been experiencing. John's I.T. band started acting up for the second week, so he tells me to go ahead around mile 11. I go off and make sure to not look back and make him feel bad. Little did I know he was stalking me and goes shooting by me around mile 13. The sand bagger.
Later that day, I get a call from Tony saying he's coming back with 30 pounds of fresh Dolphin (the fish, not the mammal). Tony asks me to invite enough people over to eat 30 pounds of fresh fish. Normally, you don't get a positive response to a same day party invitation. But when the last minute invite starts with "Tony's bringing 30 pounds of fresh Dolphin for the grill," you get a much better acceptance rate. So, we ended the weekend with a great fish grill. A couple of bottles of red, many bottles of white, and lots of good company. It was nice having a party for the adults after having to act as supervisor for the last couple of high school parties. We may be older, but we still like to have a good time. Thanks to Tony for the fish and the grill work. Any time you've got the fish, we'll fire up the grill.
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