Chicago Marathon 2010

In the 1957 MGM classic film "12 Angry Men" with Henry Fonda and Lee J Cobb (and 10 other brilliant, talented actors...seriously, one of the best casts ever), a key piece of evidence discussed in the movie is whether or not one can look through the windows of a passing L train to see what's happening on the other side. I've always wondered about that, and I can now report that it's true: one can, in fact, look through the windows of a passing L train and see what's happening on the other side. This has nothing whatever to do with my race experience; just something I've wondered about since I first read Reginald Rose's play in the 6th grade.

Going into this weekend, my spirits and hopes were both high. I'd had some excellent recent races, including the Park to Park 10 Mile, Georgetown Half Marathon, and even the Donor Dash 5k. Between that and my speedwork with Runner's Edge of the Rockies I was certain that I would break four hours at this race. All my friends had voiced support and encouragement. I'd even come up with what I felt was a very clever idea: I'd asked several friends to call me and leave encouraging voice mails, which I uploaded to my iPod to play every half hour or so. I was very pleased with the number of friends who called, and the positive messages they all left (Very Special Thanks to all who called and props to Yvette whose original idea of carrying her cell phone on her marathon suggested this to me). I was really looking forward to hearing them.

As the weekend progressed my excitement grew. I visited the expo Friday morning and had lunch with my friend JaCinda. My baby sister flew in from California and arrived late Friday. Saturday morning she and I went to the expo to see the panel of online diarists, including JaCinda (the Marathon had selected ten people to keep training diaries on the marathon website)! Then Vicki and I had lunch at Navy Pier with my dad and Katie, who had also flown in Friday. Over lunch we discussed where they would be waiting for me on the course to cheer me on. Then it was back to the hotel for me, to rest my legs (and the rest of me).

When I woke up Sunday morning it was already 60 degrees! That didn't bode particularly well for the rest of the morning, but I tried not to think about it and instead focused on my plan of attack. During my mental coaching with Coach Ashley, I'd divided the race up into four segments, based on the splits on my pace band, and had a strategy for each. The first four miles were my Warm Up segment, where I was going to gradually (but consistently) increase my pace. The next 8 miles were going to be the most aggressive pacewise, and I was looking forward to pushing myself and building up some time. The third segment would be slightly slower than the second, but still aggressive and steady. Then, for the last 6.2 miles, I'd dig deep and push through. My pace band had me easing off pace a little for those miles, and I figured I'd need that in light of the 16 aggressive miles in the middle. Regardless of anything else I was resolved to turn up the juice as much as I could at the end and have as strong a finish as possible.

After hitting the portajohns, checking my bag, hitting the portajohns, doing a few strides to warm up, and hitting the portajohns, I made my way to my starting corral. Finally, the National Anthem was played and the wheelchair racers took off. Minutes later, I started walking forward, then jogging as my corral made its way to the start. I reached the starting line and my race began!

Despite the hundreds of people surrounding me (more than at any other marathon--or any other race except possibly the BoulderBOLDER--I've run), I was able to settle into my warmup miles relatively easy. Unfortunately I'm not entirely sure what my splits were for the first few miles, because a big chunk of the first mile was practically underground! Not underground exactly, but the course ran under bridges which, combined with the tall buildings of downtown, interrupted the satellite signal to my Garmin! I first noticed it at the 2 mile mark when my watch said I'd run 2.5 miles. By the end of the race I'd somehow picked up nearly 1.1 miles!

Even without knowing exact distance, however, I had a pretty good idea of how fast I was running. And, honestly, I was a bit ahead of myself by the time I'd come to the second part of my race. But my energy was high, and so was my confidence still. But it was starting to get warm. This was about the time that I made my second mistake.

I think I made my first mistake when I didn't eat any Honey Stinger Chews at the first aid station. In my training, and in my last 3 marathons, I'd taken 2 or 3 chews at every aid station, washing them down alternately with water or Gatorade. I'd had good results with that; but I'd earlier made a decision to not do that at the first aid station (although I did drink some Gatorade) because it was only 1.6 or so miles into the race. After that, I fueled up at each subsequent aid station by both eating and drinking. But for the first half of the race, I drank only one cup of either water or Gatorade. Temperatures were climbing, and if I'd been thinking ahead I might've acted differently. But I was focused on the moment. When I started the second half of the race, I decided to start drinking a cup of water AND a cup of Gatorade, doubling my fluid intake. This helped a little, but I think it was already too late. This was my second mistake: I should have started that sooner. By mile 18 I was taking 2 cups each of water and Gatorade; but again that's something that I should have started sooner.

When I was at mile 16, I heard someone announce that the Event Alert System had been upgraded from Green to Yellow. This meant that temperatures were slightly higher, and the announcer encouraged runners to keep drinking fluids and slow down if necessary. I was definitely running slower myself: I'd slipped from running between 8:45 and 9:00 miles to somewhere between 9:15 and 10:30 for the past few miles as things had gotten warmer. I'd also begun walking longer through the aid stations, and even my scheduled regular walk breaks had been going longer than usual. I still hoped that, if I could push myself and find the inspiration and the energy, I might be able to make up the time. As the miles dragged on, however, and the temperature continued to rise, my pace continued to slip and I soon knew that a sub-4 finish was out of reach. And, by the time I reached mile 22, I knew that even setting a new PR was out of the question.

I have to admit, it was pretty demoralizing. I'd trained hard, consistently, and well. I'd had excellent results in my recent races. I had the love and support and encouragement of family and friends. I'd run the first half of my race almost exactly according to plan (maybe even a bit faster). And now, I was watching my goals and dreams evaporate like so much spilled Gatorade on the hot streets. I was crushed. I wanted to run faster, to use my anger and frustration to fuel my run; but I couldn't. I didn't have the energy.

At the Nike Powersong Zone at mile 24, I heard an announcement that the Alert System had been upgraded to Red. Runners were now strongly encouraged to stop running and walk, or drop out entirely. With only 2.2 miles to go, I was determined to finish upright, and conditions and alerts be damned. The sight of a runner lying on the sidewalk, being tended to by an EMT, furthered my resolve. This was where I made my third mistake. In my grim determination to finish, I vowed not to slow down to a walk for anything, including the last 2 aid stations. Granted, I was running at a 13 minute pace by then, but I was still running!

I knew I was dehydrated (although I didn't know how badly). I believed that, at that point, I was so far gone it wouldn't matter if I took any drinks at those aid stations anyway, so I could at least keep from losing a few seconds by not slowing down to drink. In retrospect I think it's nothing short of a miracle that I made it to the finish line. Given the mistakes I'd made with regards to my fluids, I should by all rights have collapsed on the course. If I had, though, I'm certain I would have crawled or dragged myself to the finish line (or until some EMT forced me to stop).

When I turned the final corner just after mile 26, I saw the finish line clock inching its way towards 4:35:00. Now, I'd determined early on that I was about 5 minutes behind the clock, although I hadn't done the math to figure out exactly how far. I thought I was just under 5 minutes, say 4:57 or so. I reasoned, if I could cross the finish line before the official clock said 4:35:00, that would give me a sub-4:30 race. It turns out that I was 5 minutes and 10 seconds behind. My final time was 4:30:02.

After the race I made my way to the Hospitality Suite. I thought a massage was in order, but as my face and hands began to tingle and I started to sway, I realized going to the medical tent would be more prudent. They diagnosed me with severe dehydration, sat me down, gave me oxygen, took my blood pressure (low) and blood sugar (extremely low), and almost put my on an IV drip. I persuaded them to give me a cold Diet Pepsi instead which, combined with 3 sandwiches I scarfed down soon thereafter, served to bring me back from the brink of...well, whatever I was about to fall into.

I was pretty disappointed in myself immediately following this race (and for the next day, too). On the one hand, I think if I'd made some different choice--some smarter choices--with regards to my fluids, or let myself walk less, I could have had a better race. On the other hand, I believe that if I'd pushed much harder I probably would have collapsed on the course. I spent a lot of Sunday and Monday analyzing the race. I wondered if I'd gotten complacent, taken for granted that I'd have a sub-4 race. And, as I said, I think I've found the mistakes that I made. I hope to learn from them at my next marathon (which at this point I have decided will in fact be Mardi Gras in February 2011). But everyone has continued to be supportive and encouraging. The following comments in particular, made by friends over the past few days, have helped snap me out of my funk.

1. "Don't be disappointed. There are other races...you will break this goal...be proud you finished another marathon. Very few even attempt."
2. "Your time at Chicago had NOTHING to do with being overconfident."
3. "Race day is only one day...make peace with race day."

I believe I finally have.

Official Time: 4:30:02
YTD Race Miles: 155.4
YTD Total Miles: 1053.7
Honor Roll: Jon S, JaCinda S, Vicki T, Beth K, Janet M, Adrian W, Doug Sr, Katie C, Stevie Mac, Pat L
Very Special Thanks: Ashley A, John B, Patricia B, Randy C, Laci D, Michael K, Julie M, Keri N, Jen S, Maggie T, Sara T, Vicki T

Park to Park 10-mile 2010

Ever since my success at the Georgetown Half last month, I've been completely convinced that my goal of running the Chicago Marathon in less than 4 hours will be a reality. Today's race bolstered that mind-set even more (not that it really needed it). Although it was touch-and-go for a few miles...

Everything started out fantastic. The morning was nice and cool, and I was energized and ready for a great race. After a quick warmup jog and some strides, I put myself pretty far towards the front, just behind the 8 minute mile sign. I held back only slightly during the first mile, which I finished in 8:10. I'd planned on between 8 and 8:10 for the rest of the race. I knew it would be a challenge--my old 10 mile PR was an 8:27 pace, and for the last 2 years I haven't been able to maintain an 8-minute pace for 10k. Still, bolstered as I was by my GTIS results (after all, I'd averaged 8:20 at that race) and my physical and mental training, I was confident that I'd succeed.

I cruised through the second mile in 7:46. This was a trifle faster than I'd intended, but I'd wanted to make up some time before I hit the aid station. The only problem was, there was no aid station at the end of that mile! I was mildly disconcerted by this, as I'd thought there would be aid stations every two miles. But I pushed on and found the first aid station a half mile later. I refueled on gatorade and water and kept running, and finished mile 3 in 8:11. I was definitely on track to set a new PR, maybe even (if I pushed it a bit more) come in under 80 minutes.

I averaged 8:00 for the next 2 miles into Cheeseman Park. My pace slipped a little during the climb in Cheeseman, but I was confident that I'd be able to make up the difference on the downhills. Suddenly, though, I started feeling very, very tired. I tried to push through it, using all the mental tips and tricks I've learned from the mental coaching I've been doing with Coach Ashley over the summer. But I couldn't seem to rally myself. Even hearing Jen cheer for me at the 6 mile mark and Anissa at the 7.5 mile aid station didn't seem to help. At least I was able to resist the very strong temptation to let myself walk...

I felt so slow! I wouldn't let myself look at my Garmin for fear of really getting depressed. As it was, by this time I was sure an 80-minute race was off the table. However, as I finished mile 8 I got a bit of a second wind. I'd been running for just over 65 minutes, and had 2 miles to go. That meant I could still set a new PR even if I slowed to a 9:30 pace for those last miles! Not that I intended to go that slowly, of course. But the realization that I was going to PR put that last spring in my step and a smile on my face, and gave me the energy I hadn't thought I had anymore. Newly energized, I covered mile 9 in 8:10 and the last mile in 8:04, giving myself a new 10 mile PR, about 2 1/2 minutes faster than the Snowman Stampede back in February.

After the race I checked my splits for all the miles, certain that I'd slipped to 9:00 pace for miles 6 through 8. To my immense surprise, I had not: mile 6 was 8:09, and I finished mile 7 in 7:56! Only mile 8 was comparatively slow, clocking in at 8:57. I'm not sure why those miles felt so much slower than they actually were; but I'm encouraged by the fact that even though I felt so tired I was still more or less maintaining the pace I'd started with. This was yet more proof that I'm going to hit my goal in Chicago next month.

Official Time: 1:21:56
YTD Race Miles: 129.2
YTD Total Miles: 922.8
D'oh: I was talking with April from Runner's Edge after the race, about the person calling out splits at 3.8 miles (instead of 4). "I don't know if she was still there when you passed," I said. "Well...yes. I was only 2 minutes behind you," came the response.

Georgetown Half Marathon 2010

For weeks I've been telling people that I was going to run this race in under 1 hour and 50 minutes. My half marathon PR from the Platte River Half in April was 1:54:20, so shaving another 4 minutes and 20 seconds off was something I felt I could definitely do. I've been training smart this season, participating in weekly Runner's Edge Speedwork workouts, and have even been doing some mental strength training with Ashley of GUTS Coaching.

That's actually been a key element of my training, the mental strength workouts. I know my body is strong and fast enough to hit the time goals I set for myself; but mentally I have a tendency to get in my own way. I overthink things, and psyche myself out of what should be a victory. Ashley's been helping me get around that. At our last session before today's race, in fact, we spent some time going over ways the race would be similar to a regular weekend long run: since Runner's Edge was doing it as a training race, I'd have plenty of friends around to offer encouragement and support, and help me push myself. Plus, having run the race a couple of times before, I'm familiar with it and would know what to expect. It really helped set my mind at ease.

Last night I barely slept at all for nervous excitement. This morning I was up at 3:30 to get ready. I'd arranged to carpool with some friends from Stapleton, which necessitated the early wake-up call. But a can of (flat) soda gave me enough caffeine to start the day, and I knew my excitement would build and keep me awake as start time drew closer. (By the way, the flat soda is something else I'm trying this year. I don't drink coffee, but I've found that a jolt of caffeine in the morning before a long run helps get me moving. I let it go flat so the carbonation doesn't cause me issues, either. I read that some of the elites do this, and thought I'd try it; so far, I've had good experiences with it. Plus it's like the only soda I drink during the week anymore.)

Prior to today I put together my splits for the race:

Mile	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9	10	11	12	13	.1
Pace	8:53	8:38	8:23	8:18	8:13	8:13	8:13	8:18	8:18	8:18	8:23	8:23	8:23	FAST

Reviewing them again this morning at the starting line (for the umpteenth time), I felt confident that I'd be able to hit them all. I knew I'd be tired by the time I got past mile 10, but the built in slow down over those miles would allow for that. In the last few moments before the starting gun was fired, I pulled my focus inward, taking some deep breaths and visualizing energy flowing in with each inhalation (another drill I'd learned from Ashley). The starting gun was fired, and I was off!

I covered my first mile in 8:54. I'd put myself very close to the start so that I'd have an easier time of getting up to speed. I felt strong and fast (in fact I had to work on pulling myself back occasionally, so I wouldn't burn out too quickly). I exchanged greetings and shouts of encouragement with my friends as I passed them (or they passed me) as we wound our way through Georgetown.

Knowing that I would need it later, I began reciting a mantra in my head with each step: "Pain is Temporary, Glory is Forever." Actually, to keep it in rhythm with the cadence of my footstrikes, it got shortened to "Pain temp'ry, glory f'rev'r."

Over the next few miles I increased speed on schedule. Actually some of my splits were a bit faster than I'd intended; I was mildly worried about that but figured I'd slow down as I went through the aid stations enough to balance things out.

I continued to tear up the course, averaging about 8:20 per mile. As I ran I repeated my mantra, interchanging it with another inspired by a t-shirt I'd seen about mile 4: "Pain is Just Weakness Leaving the Body." I also took great delight in seeing so many Runner's Edge shirts on the course, running with some, passing some, being passed by others (and those that passed me pushed me--without knowing it--to run a little faster for a while, to try and keep pace with them). I was having a great race and feeling fantastic. The sun was shining, and even though that was warming things up, there was a cool breeze blowing that balanced it out very nicely. I felt strong and speedy and unstoppable. I was maybe a minute or so ahead of schedule, and even thought that a sub-1:48 finish could be in the cards.

This almost euphoric feeling in my race continued through the first 10 miles. But at mile 11 I finally started to feel tired, and my pace started to slip. I could feel myself slowing down, but didn't worry too much about it because a)I was a bit ahead of my pace, and b)I had built a slowdown into the last 3 miles anyway. But I didn't realize how much I'd slowed down until I finished that mile in 8:46, more than 20 seconds behind what I'd wanted. I pushed harder, but only managed to finish mile 12 four seconds faster. At that point I glanced at my watch and saw that I had less than 10 minutes left to finish.

It was time to rally. I focused all my energy on picking up speed, increasing turnover and pushing myself forward over that last rolling mile. With a quarter mile to go I saw Coach David and some other Runner's Edge folks cheering and taking pictures. That plus the sight of the crowd at the turn to the finish helped a lot. Suddenly I didn't feel tired or heavy as I had over the last two miles. I felt strong and fast and invincible. I wasn't looking at my watch, but I knew that I was going to come in under my goal.

I flew around the last corner and saw the finish line. I put on my final burst of speed and crossed the finish line, arms upraised triumphantly. I checked my watch, and sure enough I had reached my goal: I'd finished under one hour and 50 minutes.

Now that I've hit that goal, I'm more confident than ever (and I was already plenty confident) that I will break 4 hours when I run the Chicago marathon in October. I've even been thinking about just going for broke and shooting for 3:50 (although one of my running idols was quick to say, "Take it one step at a time, Doug The Doug. Break 4, then worry about breaking 3:50"). Either way, this race was a tremendous shot in the arm and a huge accomplishment for me, and I'm ridiculously proud of how I did.

Official Time: 1:49:18
YTD Race Miles: 119.2
YTD Total Miles: 816.5
Countdown to Chicago: 57 days...

Donor Dash 5k 2010

The year 2000 saw the first Donor Dash in Denver, Colorado. It was a very small race. Today was the 11th running of that race, and it had a record crowd: 3,500 registered participants! Once again, as they have for the past 4 years, my younger sister Sara, my kid sister Maggie and her husband Marty, and my Dad all joined me in Washington Park for this race.

I felt very confident about this race. The mental strength training I've been doing lately with Ashley from Runner's Roost, combined with some tweaks and adjustments to my running form I've incorporated over the last week, left me feeling good about having a strong race and hopefully PRing. Sure, I ran 18 miles yesterday, but I'd spent the rest of the day off my feet and relaxing after an ice bath. I was as recovered as I was going to be. Plus, I had something else on my side: a new course.

Because the race was so big this year, they decided the couldn't keep everyone inside Washington Park for the typical loop-and-a-half 5k course. Instead, although the start line was in essentially the same place on the southeast side, we were routed out of the park at Arizona and ran along the streets: Arizona to Gilpin, south to Louisiana, then North along Downing to Virginia and across to Franklin before entering the park again at Exposition. Then we followed the inner loop east and south, turning in at the crossroad and finishing in the usual place, just north of Mississippi.

I have found that I tend to do better on new courses. I don't know why, but there's something about new scenery that translates into better races for me. Or maybe it's just that I've gotten bored running the same old Washington Park 5k loop. Whatever, I believe that the new course was a positive factor in today's race. Once I got out of the park and onto Gilpin, the crowd loosened up and I was able to move through the pack fairly quickly. I'd attacked the course with some intensity, wanting to set the tone for myself of a strong and fast race. Granted, for the first quarter mile or so, I was limited in how much attacking I could do, just because there were so many people to contend with; but once we were on the wider streets that was easier. I kept my intensity up, fueled by the people I managed to pass as I ran up Downing.

I reached the 1 mile mark in 7 minutes and 22 seconds. My 5k PR in Colorado Springs last year was run at a 7:25 average, so I noted with extreme satisfaction that I was on track for a new PR. I also noticed something very interesting indeed: in the crowd, about a quarter mile ahead of me, was what looked like the back of a familiar bald head! He was too far ahead for me to be certain; but I wondered, could that possibly be my friend Jason? Sure looked like him: white singlet, dark shorts, about the right size (from what I could judge from a quarter mile away), and a shiny, bald head. The shoes were green, and I couldn't remember what color shoes Jason had now; but, I thought, that could actually be him! But if so, what's he doing this far back? He's about a mile and a quarter into the race; after seven and a half minutes, he should be closer to a mile and a half, and out of my line of sight. Unless he's taking it (very easy)...and if he is, maybe I could pick him off! A wild, improbable hope surged within my breast, lightening my feet and pushing me forward. The barest possibility that I could give Jason a run for his money in a 5k put a fresh shot of adrenaline into my legs.

These thoughts flashed through my brain with the speed of a European bullet train. The coldly logical part of my brain told me that it was extremely unlikely that Jason would be at this race, or that I would see him if he was--he'd be too far ahead of me. But because the vision of catching up to him was so enticing and was helping me run, I chose to ignore the logic and go with the fantasy. After another half mile or so I could see that it was not, in fact, my friend; but as chasing him was keeping me at a good pace I decided to continue thinking of him as "Jason."

I ran out the rest of the second mile, grimly determined to catch up to "Jason." As I ran, I checked in with my running style and breathing, working on (but not obsessing about) my form and footstrikes. I made a conscious effort to keep my strides somewhat shorter, which allows me to conserve energy and run a bit faster. Remembering a lesson I learned from Thursday's session with Ashley, and my run afterward, I also made sure to keep smiling (I've discovered that if I smile while running--even if I don't really feel like smiling--things seem to go easier for me).

I was inching my way up the line, drawing ever closer to "Jason" and passing other runners at the same time. At about 1.7, as I was running across Virginia and going uphill, I started to think that I couldn't keep up the pace, that I'd have to slow down. Knowing that I was just over halfway done with the race, I ground my teeth (mentally; I was still smiling) and ignored that voice, concentrating on the rock music playing on my iPod until the voice went away. At 2 miles we turned back into the park. I knew I was on the home stretch at this point. At that point, something interesting happened: my iPod started playing Metallica's "Master of Puppets." This is long song. I couldn't think just how long at the moment, but knew it was at least 7 minutes. I knew I had just over a mile to go, and was determined to reach the finish line before the song was over. I knew I was tired, because I'd been running a hard race the day after an 18 mile training run. I hadn't noticed my mile 2 split, but felt I was still on pace for a new PR. I was drawing closer to "Jason," although he too was still keeping an aggressive pace. I dug as deep as I could to keep my legs moving, and ran and ran.

At 3 miles, we turned onto the cross road to the finish. I poured the last of my energy into forcing my legs to move faster. Two things happened simultaneously as the finish line came into view: "Master" began wrapping up, and I came up right behind "Jason," who glanced over his right shoulder and saw me. As the song's final bars played in my ears, I pulled abreast of "Jason" and, with meters to spare, lunged ahead of him and crossed the finish line.

Sadly, this race was not a PR for me. In fact, I missed that mark by 18 seconds. Turns out I ran the 2nd mile in 7:29, and the last in 7:44 (plus 44 seconds for the last tenth). I hadn't felt like I'd slowed down, and I know I increased speed in the last minutes. I can only put it down to being more tired than I'd thought from yesterday's long run. As such, I'm not losing much sleep over it (apart from being sad and surprised that I couldn't make up that 18 seconds). The race was a good chance for me to use several tips and strategies I've been developing and working on over the past few weeks, and I'm quite pleased with their results.

Official Time: 23:17
YTD Race Miles: 106.1
YTD Training Miles: 669.2
Best part about running with family: They can go get me recovery drinks while I'm having a massage!

Liberty Run 4-mile 2010

Compared with yesterday's heat, this morning was almost letter-perfect! The race didn't start till 8:30 (by which time yesterday I was almost finished with my 16 mile run with Runner's Edge of the Rockies), and it was much cooler than 24 hours ago--although it was a bit sticky and humid. I knew that would slow me down a bit, but I still felt confident that I'd have a good race, and stand a good shot of beating last year's 31:48. But when I went for a warmup jog, I was alarmed to feel some stiffness in my right ankle! I was very upset by this because, after a bad week of running due to pain in that ankle, yesterday's run had been entirely pain free! I held myself to about a 10 minute pace for a short warmup jog, and concentrated on keeping my weight forward a little bit. This combination seemed to alleviate the mild discomfort in my ankle, so I immediately revised my goal for today: I planned to run by feel, hoping just to have a solid race at that pace which I felt I could maintain without exacerbating my ankle issues.

This was actually the first race in some time that I was going to run entirely by feel, as I did not have my Garmin with me. Not by choice: the charging cradle chose yesterday to malfunction, and so I wasn't able to charge the Garmin's battery, which had drained itself on yesterday's run.

It turned out to be kind of an interesting experience, running without knowing how fast I was going. I used to have a pretty good idea of what a 10 minute pace felt like, or 9 or 8 or even 7. Basically it was based on my perception that an 8-minute mile was painful, and difficult to sustain for more than 1 or 2 miles; that anything faster was borderline excruciating; that 9 was what my coach refers to as "comfortably hard;" and that 10 was relaxed and easy. However, as I've improved over the last year and gotten stronger, my perceptions have shifted. Now an 8 minute mile is a pace I can easily sustain for a 5k, although it's still an effort to hold that for a 10k. A 9-minute mile, which is what I'm going to have to run at Chicago in October, is now a pace I can sustain for much longer distances. But I haven't quite adjusted to the different feeling yet.

Here's what I'm talking about: I knew the first mile was going to be slow, and anticipated that the whole thing probably would be, due to the care I was taking with my ankle. Without my Garmin I had no way of knowing, but it felt like I was running about a 10-minute pace for the first mile. After that mile, the stiffness in my ankle went away, and I felt good enough to increase my pace, pushing to what felt like a 9-minute mile, a pace that I sustained for the rest of the race. But, instead of crossing the finish at about 37 minutes, I was closer to 35:15! Turns out, if I'm right about the first mile taking 10 minutes, I ran closer to 8:30 for the rest of the race. It wasn't a PR, but a very satisfying race, especially given how fatigued I still was today after yesterday's long run.

My younger sister was there, too, running her first 4-mile race. I talked her into it after she finished the Bolder BOULDER last year: "It's 2.2 miles less than what you just did! Piece of cake!" I also saw Susan B and Bill McD from Runner's Edge, who also ran the race, as well as Bret S who was there taking pictures after his own 16 mile run that morning. Smart guy, that Bret, avoiding yesterday's heat!

Official Time: 35:18
YTD Race Miles: 103
YTD Total Miles: 599
Thanks, Bret: The pictures look great as always!

Father's Day 5k 2010

Father's Day dawned cool and cloudy in my dad's neighborhood. "Doesn't look like too great a day," he commented wistfully as we drove up to Arvada for the Father's Day 5k. "Looks perfect to me," I countered. I'd much rather run in cool, cloudy conditions than bright, merciless sunny ones. Of course, just because it was cloudy down south didn't mean it wouldn't be sunny up north...Sure enough, by the time we got to Arvada the clouds were nowhere to be seen. It promised to be a warm and bright day to run this race.

I was still feeling somewhat stiff from yesterday's 10 mile run with Runner's Edge, my first in the sub-4-hour pace group. So I wasn't planning on breaking my record today. But I still felt I could have a decent race, and finish under 30 minutes. But when I went out for my warmup miles (I always warm up with 2 miles when I run a 5k), I wondered if I was being optimistic. Not only was I still stiff, my right ankle was letting me know it was there. It wasn't screaming at me, but I could definitely hear it. I promised myself I'd take the race nice and slow, and ice my ankle afterwards.

And I was pretty good about doing just that--for the first half mile or so. I held back conservatively, paying attention to any messages my body--specifically my ankle--might be sending me as the crowd surged around and past me. But when the course turned onto Eldridge and started a mild descent (after a short climb on 72nd), I stopped paying attention to my pace and started paying attention to the runner who was just in front of me, whom I could easily pass. And, when I passed that runner, I saw another one just ahead of me, whom I could also pass with ease. And after that, there was another one, and another, and another. Before I knew it, I'd made my way back up to my relative starting position, and was still picking a few people off here and there.

I settled into a comfortably hard pace just before the turnaround at about the halfway point (the course isn't a strict out-and-back). I was still making my way forward through the crowd, and as I approached the end of mile 2 I was getting ready to enjoy the gentle downhill of the rest of the course. I had loosened up nicely by this time, and my ankle's conversation had lapsed into silence. I knew by this time I was on pace to finish near or maybe even under 25 minutes, 5 minutes faster than I'd originally planned on. At about 2.25 miles I passed my dad, who was looking pretty good for a guy who smokes 5 pipes a day.

I was still moving my way forward through the crowd, although not as rapidly as I had before. In fact, with about a quarter of a mile to go, a runner caught up to me! I pushed for a bit, just to see what his response would be. He kept right alongside me and even managed to pull ahead for a little bit! I rallied quickly, though, and passed him again just as we reached the 3 mile mark. Pouring on a final sprint, I managed to pass one more runner, crossing the finish line just a second before he did. I didn't PR, but had a surprisingly good race given how bad I'd felt before the start.

After I finished, I walked back up along the course looking for my dad. I caught him about a third of a mile away from the finish, and jogged alongside him to bring him in for a new PR. The race had featured an ugly tie contest, and he was wearing one hideously bad tie that many volunteers commented on and cheered. We made our way up to the pancake breakfast (included in the price this year--smart!) and checked out the car show before heading home, satisfied with our respective races. I'm sure we'll do it again next year.

Official Time: 25:31
YTD Race Miles: 99
YTD Total Miles: 547.7
World's Finest?: Two guys running together were wearing a Superman and Spider-Man tie for the ugly tie contest. Not that I would think of a Superman tie as "ugly"...

Garden of the Gods 10-mile 2010

In 2009 I ran this race in 94 minutes and 49 seconds. This was a huge improvement over my 2008 race (my first GOG), which was 1:48:38. Additionally, in February I ran a 1:24:33 at the Snowman Stampede. For these reasons, I felt confident that a 90 minute race was achievable. Even knowing what a challenging course this is, I believed I could accomplish my goal. Sub-90 was still five and a half minutes slower than my PR, after all. That's a lot of wiggle room on a 10-mile course. I felt confident I could have a good race.

With this sense of confidence and optimism I drove down to Colorado Springs yesterday to spend the night at my sister's place. We had a delicious and filling homemade spaghetti dinner and watched an old, funny movie before calling it an early night. I was looking forward to a restful and deep sleep, which would help prepare me for a fast race in the morning. Unfortunately, I had difficulty falling asleep--I was too wired, too excited about my forthcoming fantastic race. When I did finally slow my brain down enough for me to start to sleep, I kept drifting in and out. So a solid night's sleep didn't happen. But I still felt confident that I could have a good race.

I think this was the biggest GOG 10 Mile race yet. I heard the announcer say that there were about 2,000 participants. It looked like a good crowd, and everybody was ready to have a fun race. Thankfully, the weather had taken a turn for the better: after steady rain for much of yesterday, today there was none, although the sky was filled with clouds. Actually, it was almost letter-perfect: cool weather (low 50s), clouds to keep the sun away, and even a mild, gentle breeze. There was a bit more humidity in the air, but the cool weather made that less of an issue. I still felt confident that I could have a good race.

The race start itself was somewhat unusual and mildly amusing: the starter pistol fired early. I was watching the clock at the start line counting down, and the gun went off with 17 seconds remaining! From where I was, back a bit from the line, there were some amused glances and shared chuckles, but we soon realized that the crowd was moving forward! Of course, the runners toeing the line, who were in it to win it, had naturally taken off at the sound of the gun, and there was no way they would stop, retrace their steps, and start over. So, naturally, the rest of us followed. I noticed as I crossed the line that the starting clock had been disabled. I figured they'd recalibrate it by the time everyone had cleared, but thanked my lucky stars and technology dependence that I had my Garmin. Despite this initial confusion, I still felt confident that I could have a good race.

I made my way along the first mile, the (relatively) flattest part of the course. I told myself that I could run a 9:15 pace for that first mile, knowing that I'd be able to make up that time on the rest of the run by hitting just under 9-minute pace. I remembered the steep downhills on the course, and figured I could easily make up some time on those. After the first mile, as the course turned into Garden of the Gods Park and the first steep uphill, I pushed myself and attempted to increase my pace to sub-9 minutes. I felt pretty good, still rested and confident that I could have a good race. As I topped the first hill and began the descent on the other side, I increased my turnover and let gravity take control. Before I knew it, I was almost sprinting down the steel decline (I confirmed later that I'd broken 6-minute mile pace). However, as I was tearing down the hill, I told myself that it was a mistake, that I'd end up burning out too soon. I was no longer confident that I could have a good race.

I think that was when I really lost my edge in this race. Lately I've been struggling with self-doubt and negative thinking, and I believe what happened here today at that point is another example of that. I told myself that I was going to burn out because I was going so fast on that (ridiculously steep) downhill, and I let myself believe it. So when I started climbing up the next hill, I felt my energy disappear. I was still holding between a 9 and 9:15 minute pace, but I'd already persuaded myself--2 miles into the race!--that I was done for. My spirits rose a bit at the next downhill, just past the 2 mile mark, and I let myself speed up; but on the next steep climb I let it happen: I walked. It wasn't for long; but as I've said before, once I let myself do it once, it becomes easier and easier to do it again and again. I'd lost all confidence that I could have a good race.

This pattern repeated itself for the next several miles: on the descents, I would increase my turnover and let gravity take control. Then, on the uphills, I would slow down and eventually walk to the crest. I was getting angrier and angrier with myself for letting it come to this. Then, as I made my way along the path through the park (approaching mile 5), I began to feel a little dizzy. I focused on keeping myself moving, and prayed that I wouldn't trip or collapse. I feared I was becoming dehydrated, but told myself I was imagining things.

Ever since I'd started to walk, I'd begun playing leapfrog with, well, several runners; but one in particular caught my eye: a girl with twin tattoos on her lower back, one a red bird with devil horns and the other the same bird in blue, with an angel's halo. As she passed me in the park, she called out encouragingly, "Come on, you're doing great, more than halfway done!" Sure enough, on the next downhill I pulled ahead of her, and maintained my lead for a bit, but as before she caught up to me on my next uphill walk. We continued this until the steep climb up to mile 7, at which point she passed me for the last time. She soon pulled out to a respectable lead, and I despaired of ever seeing her again.

Miles 8 and 9 were my slowest of the day. I was deeply discouraged and disappointed in myself and all the walking I'd let myself do. I was no longer feeling dizzy; but my calves were spasming slightly, a sure sign that I was dehydrated. And now I was beset by a new, odd complaint: my right foot felt slightly numb, like it was falling asleep. It wasn't completely without feeling, but I worried that I might step badly and twist my ankle. I tried as hard as I could not to focus too much on these things, but instead to keep my attention on the fact that I was almost done. That proved exceptionally difficult. I'd spent so much of the last 7 miles listening to my negative self-talk that I was really having trouble banishing it.

The sight of the mile 9 mark helped in that regard a great deal. Knowing that I only had a mile left, I began to push as hard as I could. Unfortunately it didn't feel like I'd sped up all that much. But then I saw something in the distance that lifted my spirits tremendously: a matching pair of red and blue tattoos! Yes, Tattoo Girl was only a half mile or so ahead of me. I wondered idly if I might catch up to her before the end...the sight of those birds gave new life to my tired legs and pushed all negative energy right out of my head. Hearing the crowd noise as in the last half mile helped too, as did seeing my sister cheering for me in the final stretch. I saw the finish line clock inching its way towards 1:36:00. I poured the last bits of energy I had into my legs, driving myself across the finish line just before the clock turned over that minute. My final time according to my Garmin: 1:35:25.

I'm not particularly happy with today's race. I did not run smart. I ran very unevenly. I let negative thoughts and self-doubt affect me to an alarming degree. My friends all say I'm being too hard on myself, that 95 minutes and change is still a fantastic time for a 10 mile course, especially one as deeply challenging as this. Besides, I only missed beating last year's time by less than 20 seconds. I know that, and understand it, and appreciate it. But I know I can do better. I should have done better. I let myself slow down, and so I let myself down. I have got to work on getting rid of that self-doubt. Fortunately I have some resources that should be able to help me with that.

Time: 1:35:25
Total Races: 7
YTD Race Miles: 95.9
YTD Total Miles: 519.7
Unexpected Bling: For the first time, I got a medal for finishing this race!

BolderBOULDER 10k 2010

I don't usually suffer from pre-race jitters, at least not so badly that I can't sleep the night before. But last night I didn't fall asleep until almost 11 and was up by 4:30. I think there were a couple of reasons for this. One was excitement for my sister, who was going to run her first 10k race. The other was excitement for myself--I was feeling pretty good about my chances for breaking 50 minutes this time. Of course, I was steadfastly ignoring the voice in my head that repeatedly pointed out that I'd run a marathon two weeks ago. And I refused to think about the last time I'd run the BolderBOULDER two weeks after a marathon--in 2007, after Colfax. After all, this year I haven't run at all since Cleveland, except for two very easy short Saturday runs with my friends. I was going into today's race rested and determined. But you know what they say about those who don't learn their history...

On the drive up this morning I discussed strategy and logistics with my sister. For one thing, my race started at 7:10 and hers at 8:55. Which meant that I would be done nearly an hour before she would even start! We agreed that she would position herself on the sidelines near the start to cheer for me when I went past, and I told her I would meet her at the 2k mark during her race, and run the rest of the way with her (at least, I told her I would try. I didn't know how much I'd have left after my own race!). When we got to the starting area (using a primo parking space suggested by a friend of hers), I gave myself a quick warmup mile and stretched. We hugged each other "Good luck" and I made my way to my corral.

As the clock inched towards my start time, I tried to quell the nervous energy I felt radiating through my arms and legs. I didn't want to let myself start too quickly and burn out. I tried to remember the lesson I'd learned last year, when I'd flared out after the first two miles following the angry burst of speed I'd used at the start to make up time (on a related note, I had learned one lesson, and double-knotted both of my shoes). I still intended to run an aggressive race, but I wanted to maintain control this time.

Even so, I let my speed get away from me a bit at the start of the race. Caught up in the excitement, I let my pace creep slowly up to around 7:30 for most of the first mile. I eased off a bit to finish in 7:44. It was a touch more aggressive than I'd wanted, but I felt confident that I could hold the 8-minute pace I wanted for the rest of the race. My split for the second mile was 8:13, which meant I'd lost all the extra time I'd built up in the first mile. At the time I figured I'd be able to maintain a steady pace and could still come in under 50 minutes. But as the course turned onto Glenwood and the 4k mark, the fact of my sleepless night (combined, I guess, with the fact that I was more tired after Cleveland than I thought) began to tell on me. My splits for miles 3 and 4 were both just under 9-minute pace, thanks to some (thankfully, short) walking breaks.

I have to admit, I was depressed. I told myself I'd let myself down, that I should have been able to keep my pace. I was still pointedly ignoring the voice in my head that was still pointing out that I'd run a marathon two weeks ago. In fact I rallied a bit in the 5th mile, which I finished just under 8:14 (8:13.99 actually). But then I slowed again, crawling along at about 9:15 pace for a quarter mile or so. I just couldn't get my legs moving any faster, and was resigning myself to a slow finish after all when I heard someone call my name. I looked and, coming up next to me, was Laura from Runner's Edge! Somehow, out of all the 50,000+ participants each year, she and I always manage to find each other. "How are you doing?" she asked. "I'm dying," I replied. But, somehow, seeing her (again!) gave me my third wind, and I increased my pace slightly for the last hill on Folsom. I turned onto Stadium Road, drawing on everything I had left to finish as strong as I could. That last little rally helped me run mile 6 in 8:55. I kept pushing as I ran through the stadium, finishing triumphantly in 52:30. It wasn't a PR, but it was my second fastest 10k.

After spending about 45 minutes recovering in the stadium and chatting with some friends, I made my way up Folsom to meet Sara at the 2k mark as we'd agreed. As it happened, I got there just in time and still nearly missed her. She called my name and I joined her on the course. We ran along at what was, for her, a solid effort that she'd have to work to maintain for the whole race, taking regular walk breaks. Personally I was glad for the breaks...In due course we made it to the last hill up Folsom. At the 9k mark (bottom of the hill), I told Sara, "Okay, that's it, no more walking. We're going to run out this last 'k'." "No problem," she said.

As we turned onto Stadium Drive, I exhorted her to pick up her pace even more. This, however, proved problematic as for some inexplicable reason people were walking! Seriously, I don't get it. And I'm all about the walk breaks. I understand making them a regular part of your run (I've done that in my last 4 marathons and PR'd each time), and I definitely understand doing that when you're tired (that happened to me 3 times today). But when you've got less than a quarter mile to go? Why would you walk? Slow down if you need to, but come on! You're so close! Sara and I bobbed and weaved our way into the stadium as I continued to urge her to run as fast as she could. She did, giving herself a very strong finish for her first ever 10k!

Official Time: 52:30
Total Races: 6
YTD Race Miles: 85.9
YTD Total Miles: 502.3
Most Inspirational Moment: The first three finishers of the Men's Elite race, all from Team Ethiopia, crossing the finish line together, hands clasped and raised skyward in victory.

Cleveland Marathon 2010

"Why Cleveland?" a lot of people asked me. "Why not the Cincinnati Flying Pig?"

I had a few reasons for running the Cleveland Marathon. One, it was very cheap: cheap entry, cheap flight, and (thanks to my Dad) cheap room. Two, it was low and flat, at between 500 and 600 feet elevation. Three, I was running it for a girl: my friend JaCinda who, with a bunch of her Royal Oak MI running friends, was driving down for the race. Four, I would have a chance to visit a small, recently-renovated house on Kimberly Ave--the house where, in 1938, a young boy named Jerry Siegel conceived the idea of the greatest hero the world has ever known: Superman.

Monday I did take some time to visit the house. I got some great pictures of the front, which as I said was recently cleaned up and repaired and repainted thanks to author Brad Meltzer and the Ordinary People Change the World Foundation. I knocked on the door, but nobody was home. My kid sister says that was weird, that I wanted to look into some total stranger's house. She doesn't get it.

But before I made my little pilgrimage, I ran a marathon!

Sunday morning dawned with a clear blue sky and promises of a gorgeous but still cool day. This sounds nice, but the forecast for all of last week had promised mostly cloudy skies! So, that was BS. Instead of mostly cloudy, it was all sunny. Fortunately it was still plenty cool; and, as I'd learned on the course tour on Saturday, there would be plenty of coverage and shade as I ran. I will say this much for Cleveland, there's a lot of trees.

I started out feeling strong and very ready for a great race! I kept the 4:00 pacer in my sights (in the distance) for as long as I could, and covered the first 10k in 58:56. I was definitely on track for a 4:05 marathon, maybe even sub-4! I told myself this for the first 9 miles as the course wound through downtown and into one of the small neighborhoods to the west before heading back to downtown. I was pleasantly surprised at all the spectators out cheering--it almost seemed like every house in that neighborhood had someone cheering for us. Although, I do wish they'd had more diverse music tastes. Seemed like every house was blaring either "Beat It" or "Sweet Home Alabama."

At about mile 9 I developed a bit of an interesting problem. Thank to some frustrating headphone issues, I was running without my iPod and my Star Wars. I'd been doing okay without it so far, listening to the cheers in the neighborhoods, the music, and the conversations around me. But at this point, out of nowhere I started having serious self-doubt. Despite the fact that I was running a great race, I was just not feeling it. I have no idea what brought it on, or why; but I found myself contemplating turning off to follow the half marathon course to the finish and quitting. I knew I'd never be able to live with myself if I did that; but try as I might I could not shut out the voice that was telling me to give up. Making this worse was the fact that, as I approached that point, spectators were shouting "You're almost finished!" Of course they weren't talking to me, they were cheering for the people running the half marathon. I had to tune them out and focus on convincing myself that I did not want to quit.

In the end, of course, the part of me that knew I'd never live down giving up halfway through the race won out, and I kept going straight when the half marathoners turned right. Still, I wasn't entirely sure I'd made the right choice until I reached the halfway mark and glanced at my Garmin. According to that, I'd been running for 1 hour, 59 minutes, and 58 seconds! That did it. Reaching the halfway point in less than two hours gave me a huge burst of confidence that was sufficient to blast that negative self-talk right out of my head. Taking its place was a wild thought: could I possibly finish the marathon in less than four hours?

Of course, loyal readers (and my friends...and anyone who will listen) will know that my goal is to break four hours when I run the Chicago Marathon in October. But this new thought, that I could do it in Cleveland, led me to several interesting mental scenarios that kept me occupied for the next several miles as the course wound its way east, parallel to the shore of Lake Erie. If I broke 4 hours in Cleveland, I said, I could take it easy at Chicago, and just stroll along. Or, alternatively, I could throw myself even deeper into the water. I could take a page from my Olympic hopeful friend Jason's playbook and ramp up my mileage and increase my training intensity and hope to shave off another 55 minutes and qualify for Boston! I was so caught up in these visions that I'm afraid my pace started to get away from me. I wasn't sprinting, but I was definitely moving a bit faster than my pace band dictated. More than once I had to force myself to slow down a bit or risk burnout.

Miles 18 to 21 were in Rockefeller Park on the east side of town. This is a very pretty park that's very nicely shaded, with some fantastic gardens, and a very Central Park vibe to it. Unfortunately, in contrast to the neighborhoods where every resident seemed to be on his porch cheering, the park was virtually deserted. It was a good spot for some quiet contemplation, but I was needing some more distraction. I started to slow down, although I was still on pace to finish sub-4:05 as I climbed out of the Park and onto St Clair Ave. Then I was in for a VERY LONG 2 1/2 miles. St Clair is a major road into downtown, so there were businesses lining the wide street. Translation: very little shade. The sun, of course, had been shining all day, and now I was starting to feel it.

There was one amusing moment on St Clair. Several times during the race, spectators had shouted "Go Superman! Batman and Robin are just ahead of you!" I thought they were all just having some fun with me. But as I ran along St Clair, I saw two men ahead of me, one wearing a grey shirt and blue cape, and the other with a black cape, red shirt, green tights, and a mask. Batman and Robin! I caught up with them in short order and we laughed and hi-fived. I briefly toyed with the idea of hanging back with them so that we could all finish at the same time, but soon discarded that idea. In fact, I have to admit, as much as I was starting to hurt by that time (and I was), and as much as my pace had slipped, I didn't want the Dynamic Duo to beat me to the finish! Just as the thought of how I would feel if I'd quit got me through the halfway point, the thought of being beaten by those two pushed me through the final miles.

At about 25 1/2 miles, my Garmin died! When that happened in St George, I'd poured my frustration in to my run and picked up my speed. This time, I didn't have enough left to do that. Instead, I just slogged along at what felt like a snail's pace. I turned onto Lakeside for the last half mile. I could see the finish line in the distance...it seemed so very far away! I studiously looked anywhere but directly in front of me. At the 26 mile mark, I first heard and then saw JaCinda and some of her friends cheering for me on the sidewalk. Then I focused all my attention on the finish line. As I drew closer, I could see the finish line clock. It was slowly creeping up on 4:12:00. I'd been about 3 minutes behind the clock for the entire race, and even though my Garmin was dead and I was running slower, I figured I was still pretty close to that range. I managed a slight increase in speed, crossing when the clock read 4:11:54.

I made my way to the Live Results tent, where I was told my final time. He had to tell me three times, partly because I could barely believe it, and partly because I'd need the repetition to keep from forgetting. Four hours, eight minutes, and forty-nine seconds. Fantastic.

Official Time: 4:08:49
Total Races: 5
YTD Race Miles: 79.7
YTD Total Miles: 481.1
Seriously, United?: My flight out left from gate B92. My flight home arrived at gate B88. I've never had to walk across the entire concourse before, much less twice!

Platte River Half Marathon 2010

I almost didn't run this race.

I'd put it on my birthday list last month, but the race sold out so quickly that I figured I was SOL. But on Friday morning, my friend Barb posted a note to the Runner's Edge of the Rockies message board: she was recovering from an injury and felt it more prudent to sit this one out. But she didn't want it to go to waste, and so she offered to give it to anyone who wanted it. It seemed like a sign to me: I was destined to run this race. Even then, I chewed and hemmed and hawed all day. I'd been feeling kind of tired, and hadn't had a great running week, and was probably overtrained, and could stand to not run this one race. But that afternoon, as I was driving up to Estes Park for a gig with my a capella band, Cool Shooz, I convinced myself that, because I'd had such a blah week, I could really use a good confidence booster. I'd heard mostly positive reports about the course, and figured this could be a good race for me. I arranged to meet with Barb at the expo on Saturday, and we got her number reassigned to me.

Sunday morning I drove to downtown Littleton. I found several friends from both Runner's Edge and Runner's Roost at the starting line. We chatted for a while and wished each other luck while waiting for the race to start. I mentally went over my pacing strategy which I had developed the night before: 10 minutes for the first mile, 9 for the second, and 8:30 for the rest. That would get me to the finish in slightly more than 1 hour 52 and a half minutes. It would be a challenge, I knew, to maintain that 8:30 pace for 11.1 miles, but I believed I was up to it. After all, I'd held that pace for the Frosty's Frozen 10 Mile in February, and this was just 5k more.

As the race started, I settled into my easy warmup pace and let myself get distracted by some of the conversations near me. As I drifted along, I heard a voice at my shoulder ask, "Is there any race you don't run?" Looking to the source, I saw fellow Runner's Edge member Frank smiling at me. I was glad to have a friend to chat with for a bit, even though I knew Frank would soon leave me in his dust. He graciously held back, though, and we ran together for the next two miles, during which time my pace increased slightly to around 9 minutes per mile.

After he left me behind, I increased my speed a bit more, going for the 8:30 pace I'd planned. By this time, of course, I had left the streets of Littleton and was now running along the Platte River Trail. Fortunately the crowd had thinned, so the fact that we were now on a narrow trail wasn't as much of a problem as it could have been. And although the cement trail was only so wide, there was a wide--and soft!--shoulder on either side. As much as possible, I ran on the crusher fine shoulder, counting on the soft surface to pay dividends later in the race.

The next several miles were fairly uneventful as the trail wound its way out of Littleton and through Englewood and Centennial and into Denver. I felt strong and held an even pace. I passed a number of runners who were starting to slow down, and jockeyed for position with a handful of others for a time. I leapfrogged with a few who would pass me as I walked through aid stations, only to have me overtake them again a mile or so later. I saw some other Runner's Edge friends on the trail: Dave at about mile 10, Michelle at 6 or 7, Jessica around 11 who ran with me for about a quarter mile before leaving me behind. I saw Bret cheering and taking pictures near mile 3, and Steve doing the same closer to mile 11 (his wife and one of his daughters were running the race also). I also saw the same spectators a couple of times, folks who would wait for their racer to pass and then drive a few miles down and do it again.

Annoyingly, I felt myself starting to slow around mile 11. I was running out of steam, and knew I still had the one, big hill ahead of me. I'd been warned about it before, but figured I'd have enough still in my tank by the time I got there that I'd be able to handle it. Little did I know...

By the time I reached the bottom of that hill, at the 12 mile mark, I was almost completely out of energy. I had slowed from an easy but speedy 8:30 average to just under 10 minute pace as the trail turned and climbed slowly along 8th Avenue, up and over the train tracks. Try as I might, I couldn't find the energy to push myself faster up the trail. I dug as deep as I could, but that was just to keep myself from walking. Finally, after an eternity, I reached the top of the climb. The trail flattened out for a bit before beginning the descent on the other side. At last I was able to let gravity work to my advantage, and although I didn't make up much time, at least I was able to keep moving as I left the trail and ran along the streets for the last half mile. Seeing the cheering spectators lifted my flagging spirits, particularly when I recognized John from Runner's Roost. "Almost there," he said with an encouraging smile. After smiling back, I grit my teeth and focused on the bend in the road near the sign that read "Mile 13."

I made that final turn and saw the finish line, only a tenth of a mile away (but it sure looked like more than that!). I poured everything I had left into covering that distance as fast as I could. I could see the finishing clock ticking off the seconds, inexorably counting up. It was just about to turn over 1:54:00 as I rounded the corner; I knew I could finish before the clock read 1:55:00! I had to! I pumped my arms furiously, using their momentum to drag my legs forward with them. With only a few yards to go, I saw the clock turn over 1:54:30! I crossed the line at 1:54:34, arms thrown triumphantly upward! My chip time I knew was closer to 1:54:25. I was certain I'd set a new PR, but my brain was so fuzzy at the moment that I didn't know by how much--I couldn't quite remember what my PR had been at Disneyland (it was 1:56:21, so I'd shaved 2 whole minutes off!). I soon connected with several friends and compared notes--seems like almost everybody had PR'd (and some in some big ways). I also stopped by the First Aid tent, which was staffed by my coworkers at Back to Motion Physical Therapy. And after a quick lunch, I boarded the Light Rail to head back to my car, noting with amusement that the trip back took far less time than the trip out had!

Official Time: 1:54:20
Total Races: 4
YTD Race Miles: 53.5
YTD Total Miles: 186.1
Post-run almost-injury moment: whipping my head around in surprise at the lead singer of the Dixieland Band at the finish, who sounded so much like Louis Armstrong singing "Hello Dolly!" I thought maybe it was ole Satch'mo come back from the dead!

Running of the Green 7k 2010

My a capella group Cool Shooz performed at the 2010 Harmony Sweepstakes Regional Tournament the night of Saturday, March 13. A good time was had by all as we sang as the last of 7 a capella groups (including one from Utah and one from Texas--it really WAS a regional competition!). We even won several awards, including Audience Favorite and Best Show Performance, as well as Joe winning Best Soloist for our rendition of "Come Together" by The Beatles.

I was pretty excited by this, and hoped that my mojo would continue working until the next morning, when I was going to run the Running of the Green Lucky 7k in downtown Denver. This was actually going to be a pretty key race for me. It was at this race in 2009 that I had a major racing breakthrough: thanks to an article Coach David of Runner's Edge of the Rockies had emailed (called, appropriately enough, "Breakthrough Racing"), I shifted my focus and efforts and pulled off a huge course PR. And for the next year, I PR'd at every distance I ran--sometimes more than once! What better way to cap off such a fantastic year of running, I thought, than to do it again at this year's Running of the Green?

Each year I've run this race (including in 2008, when I had to drop out thanks to some careless oaf who trod on my right foot less than a mile into it), the weather has been beautiful. Sunny skies, cool but not cold, perfect race weather really. Not this year. As though mocking my sunny and upbeat disposition (to say nothing of the beautiful weather they'd supplied on Saturday), the Weather Gods conspired to create a day of cloudy skies that threatened rain or even snow, chilly temperatures, and a brisk wind. Of course, ever the optimist, I dressed in my trademark blue shorts and custom-made running shirt--although a small practical voice did insist that I throw tights and a jacket into the car.

Another surprise was the sheer volume of people present at this year's race. Apparently the event had sold out and people were being turned away at race-day registration. I didn't really think too much about it, though, figuring that I'd put myself close enough to the front that it wouldn't present a problem. I put the crowd out of my mind and focused on my strategy ("Run fast at the beginning, run fast in the middle, and run fast at the end!") while Coach David led us on an easy warmup jog. I took advantage of that time to go over my body, looking for any aches, pains, or issues that might cause me trouble. I found none. I was ready and confident that I'd have a good race, crowd or no crowd, chill or no chill!

But when I put myself into the crowd, I made the mistake of going back too far. There were hundreds of people between me and the starting line (as compared with last year, when there were maybe 30). When the gun went off, I inched forward v-e-r-y slowly with the massive crowd. When I finally reached the starting line I was able to break into a sort of half-hearted jog, because the crowd had not yet begun to thin out. Complicating things still further was the fact that the finish line banner, barely 100 yards past the start (this was new, by the way), was sagging down, creating an odd bottleneck for the crowd. Once I was past that, I was able to start my race; but I'd lost precious minutes up to that point. As the course turned onto 17th and then onto Market, I dodged and weaved through the crowd, looking for openings where I could and surging through only to be forced to slow down until another opening presented itself. In retrospect this was probably a mistake, as I burned precious energy on these spurts.

When the course turned onto 20th I was able to move into the open and pick up some speed. 20th St rolls up and down a few times before ramping up and crossing over the highway. I actually enjoy this part of the course. I have fun pushing up the hills and coasting down, increasing my leg turnover and letting gravity do the rest. I set my eyes on a landmark at or near the top of the hill and focus all my energy on pulling myself towards it. And, the crowd having finally thinned out after about 4/5 of the way through that first mile, I had been able to pick up some speed and move my way forward through the pack. As I turned onto Central, I felt I was hitting my stride. My energy was high, my legs felt strong, and my effort (without looking at my actual pace) felt on target.

I finished the first mile in 8 minutes and 31 seconds, more than a minute slower than I'd planned on, thanks to that enormous crowd and very slow start. I knew I wouldn't be able to make up that much time, and that my dreams of a massive PR were essentially gone. But I still felt confident that I could have a very strong race; and even if a PR wasn't in the cards, I'd go down swinging. The crowd had thinned out somewhat, and as I completed the second mile I continued to pull ahead of other runners. That second mile is mostly uphill, which again I seem to enjoy. I finished it in 8 minutes and 6 seconds.

According to the "Breakthrough Racing" article, the midpoint of a run is the time to increase intensity, to really start a push to the finish. If done right, this is the part of the race where you can make up for some lost time. I increased my effort at this point, helped in no small part by the general downhill angle of that third mile. But something was wrong. Even though I'd been steadily increasing my speed since breaking out of the throng of runners, even though I'd been consistently passing other racers, even though I had energy to spare.....I'd lost...something. I wasn't sure what it was, exactly, but I'd lost it. I wasn't going to PR. I slowed to a brisk walk through the water stop at 3.8, and gave myself an extra 10 or 15 seconds recovery time after that, hoping to find.....whatever it was I didn't have any more. Finally, spurred on more by the seventh or eighth runner to pass me rather than any inner discovery, I began to run again.

I pulled myself over the highway crossing and back onto 20th street. Having finished mile 3 in 7:48, I'd reached the point at which, last year, I'd realized I was going to PR in a big way. And although I knew that wasn't going to happen this time, I still felt that I could push my pace harder. I was still feeling strong and knew I was making good time. I reached back to last year's race and found the excited but serene energy I'd had, and channeled that into my legs for the push up the last hill before turning onto Wazee. From there out, the course would be flat as it wound through the streets of LoDo. I focused all my attention and energy on pushing harder, getting ready to make my final push in the last half mile.

I finished mile 4 in 7 minutes, 31 seconds. With just over a quarter mile to go, I tuned out everything but the back of the runner in front of me. With determination, I closed the gap and moved past him, then reset my sights on the next one. In this methodical fashion, I moved my way up through the pack, turning onto 15th and then back onto Wazee. As I made that final turn and saw the finish line, I zeroed all my attention to that low-hanging banner. I was already running as fast as I could, but for that last block and a half I dug deeper and found the last bit of energy and inspiration (and determination) that I could, and used it to force my legs to move even faster. They obeyed, and I crossed the finish line at 34:47. This was not a PR--I missed that by 58 seconds--but it was a good race, a solid race, and about as fast a race as I could run under the circumstances. Of course, if I'd set myself closer to the front.....but if "ifs" and "buts" were candy and nuts, etc.

This may be the part where you're expecting me to get all philosophical, and say that I've learned a valuable lesson. That I was so caught up in my own successes over the past year that I'd figured another PR was inevitable, and forgot that there were things that happened that were beyond my control (i.e. the weather), and other things I could have done differently or better (seeding myself closer to the start, not taking as long a break in the middle). You might be expecting that, and I could easily go that way because there's some truth to it. But I'm not disappointed in my results (well, maybe a little. It's the first race of the year that I haven't PR'd). I had a good race and a fun time. As with any race, there are positive and negative elements that I can take and learn from, to improve my performance at the next one. Because that's what I try to do. Sure, I have fun at my races, but part of the fun for me--a big part, as I'm discovering--is being able to consistently improve, even if that means walking away from a race with a lesson instead of a new PR.

Well how about that.....I got philosophical after all. Thanks for reading!

Official Time: 34:47
Total Races: 3
YTD Race Miles: 40.4
YTD Total Miles: 250.8
Sunday's high according to KDEN Almanac: 39 degrees Fahrenheit(!)

Snowman Stampede 10-mile 2010

The seasons in Colorado are always interesting. We can have sunny skies and 60 degree weather in December, or snow in July, and the complete opposite within hours. As we often joke, if you don't like the weather, wait ten minutes. And although it took a bit longer than that, today's race was a great example. It snowed yesterday morning, and was cold enough at the start of the day that it looked like the white stuff would stick around and make things interesting for today's race. But the sun soon came out and started melting most of it away; and by 3:00 yesterday afternoon the road and trails at Chatfield State Park were mostly clear (according to pictures posted to Facebook by the race director).

I was relieved at the improved road conditions, because I was determined to break 90 minutes for this race. My last 10 mile race was Garden of the Gods in Manitou Springs, and I finished that in 1 hour, 33 minutes, 49 seconds. Before that (at the 2009 Snowman Stampede, in fact) I'd run 1:32:12. And with a half-marathon PR of 1:56:21, it seemed extremely likely that I'd be able to hit my goal. I might even be able to finish in less time--say between an hour twenty and twenty-five.

The race started at 10:05. I'd planned on running the first mile in 10 minutes, then picking up speed to sub-9:50 or so for the rest. But, caught up in the excitement of the day and the perfect conditions (sure it was chilly, but once I was moving I'd hardly noticed except for some wind), the clear roads, and pulled along by the faster runners surrounding me, I wound up finishing the first mile in 8:57! Ah well. I knew if I raced smart, and backed off if necessary, I could hold out. My pace held steady through the next mile and a half, when I got to the first water stop where the first misfortune hit: I slowed to a jog and reached for a water cup from a volunteer, but we missed each other! I was already past him and, with runners coming up behind me, I didn't dare stop and turn around for a do-over. So, no water for me. But I had less than 8 miles to go, and two more chances to get it right (at 5 and 7.5).

I spent the next couple of miles shadowing two very tall men who were running at about my speed. This worked out well for me as there was a bit of a headwind at this point, and the size of my rabbits allowed me to draft them and stay out of the wind. I was sort of running on automatic at that point, still feeling strong enough to hold that pace--which by then had increased to 8:40--through the rest of the race. As the course turned onto a gravel road in front of the marina, I had to focus on my footing more because (wait for it...) I was now running on SNOW! That's right, it hadn't all melted away, but it was plenty soft and made for some tricky footing for about a mile.

As we came off the gravel road and onto the walking trail, I hit the second water stop--successfully! I'd hit the midpoint of the race in 43:37. I was well on target for finishing under 90 minutes, and felt that I could pick up my pace and shave some more time. I increased my pace to target 8:30 for the next few miles. Unfortunately, the next 3 miles on the footpath were still partially covered in snow. Someone had gone over the path with a utility vehicle, and there were ruts where the tires had been which were mostly clear (but not entirely). So of course, that was where people were running, making it difficult to get past them. Difficult, but not impossible.
The last 2 miles of the course were on the path, but parallel to the road and more exposed. Consequently the snow was gone, although there were still some patches of ice--including one very large one at about mile 8.6. I saw it coming and was ready for it, but I still had a brief moment of terror when my foot slid ever so slightly on the slippery surface. "That was too close!" I said to the runner I passed shortly thereafter. Unfortunately, it wasn't the last time I almost wiped out. There were several more patches of ice (and giant puddles from melted ice and snow) along those last miles that made things very interesting and somewhat annoying. I had by this time increased my speed even more--I ran mile 9 in 8:02 and was running the last one at sub-7:30 pace, and the last thing I needed was to have a tremendous wipeout this close to the finish. My mind was equally focused on the ground looking for icy spots, and the runners in front of me.

Actually I had a moment of panic at about 9.25 when I feared I'd made my move too soon. Irritated with following a runner through several puddles, I took advantage of a chance to pass him just at the 9 mile mark (I realized with some satisfaction that this was a runner who had passed me in the early miles of the course). I poured on my speed to pull away from him, but after a quarter mile or so I worried that I'd made a mistake, that he would come up from behind and pass me in the last quarter mile. I was getting tired and didn't know if I'd have enough for a final kick to outrun him. I imagined I could hear his heavy footfalls and breathing right off my shoulder, and dared not look back.

Instead, I focused on the few runners in front of me, and forced myself to push harder and pass them. With a quarter mile to go I could see the finish line. Pumping my arms harder, I pushed my speed even more and soon overtook another runner. With just over a tenth of a mile to go, I could see the finish clock. It had just turned over 1:24:20. I was determined to finish under 1 hour and 25 minutes. I pushed even harder, to a full-on sprint (according to my Garmin, I hit 4:29 pace at the very end), and crossed as the clock read 1:24:51. Of course, my chip time was even faster than that!

So far (knock wood) my New Year's Resolution to PR at every distance is intact. In fact, my plan had been to run a 10 mile race in under 1:30, and I improved on that by an additional 5 minutes (and almost 8 minutes faster than my old 10 mile PR). Next up is the Runnin' of the Green Lucky 7k, which I'm hoping to finish sub-31.

Official Time: 1:24:33
Total Races: 2
YTD Race Miles: 36.2
YTD Total Miles: 169.9
"Go Superman!" count: 7

Phoenix Rock N Roll Marathon 2010

(“The last race you ran was in October! What happened?” “The economy got in the way of my racing. I had to take some time off.” “Well I’m glad you were able to rest up; but your fans have been waiting to hear about your running!” “I did write that New Year’s Resolution post.” “Yeah, three weeks ago!” “Well, now I’m ready to tell the tale of my first marathon of 2010!” “But that was almost a week ago! What do you think this is, the chronically-late Tisdale Family Christmas Letter™?”)

I flew into Phoenix on Friday afternoon. Incidentally, this was my first time flying Southwest Airlines. A longtime United (and occasional Frontier) passenger, I was amused to discover that Southwest doesn’t have seat assignments. Instead, I was assigned a number when I checked in, and stood in line preparing to board. An interesting way to do it, but I was able to snag an aisle seat. (“And a good lesson for the flight home: check in at the earliest possible time to assure a spot closer to the front of the line.” “Wow. Shades of grade school. Did you have to face forward and keep your hands at your sides?”) After a short and uneventful flight (the best kind), I landed in Phoenix and caught a shuttle to my hotel. I called my baby sister, who was going to drive from LA on Saturday morning, and touched base with her before going to dinner at Joe’s Crab Shack. Then it was back to the hotel to rest and get a solid night’s sleep.

Saturday morning, I caught a shuttle to the nearest light rail station to take the train to the Expo. I got to the Expo shortly after it opened that morning, so there was a comparatively small crowd. I picked up all my essentials and some souvenirs, then spent the rest of the morning wandering up and down the aisles and checking the various sellers’ wares. I even saw Frank Shorter and got his autograph! (“Wait, you got his autograph at the Nashville Expo.” “Yeah, but he didn’t remember me, so it doesn’t count.”) Before I knew it, I’d been at the Expo for almost three hours—and had foolishly spent virtually all of that on my feet! Plus I was hungry. I grabbed some lunch and sat watching a video course tour for a while, before returning to my hotel.

My sister arrived late Saturday afternoon, and she and her friends picked me up at my hotel and took me to dinner. Her friends told me they were excited to see me run, and asked me a lot of questions about my training and my plan for race day. My dad, who flew in late Saturday, had spent some time pouring over maps of the Phoenix area trying to determine where the best places to spectate would be. (“Actually, he probably spent most of the day working it out.” “Must be nice to be retired.”) Since their hotel was within a quarter mile of the finish, the plan was for them to pick me up at my hotel Sunday morning and drive me to the starting area. They would then drive to the first place they would wait for me—near mile 9. (“My dad chose that spot for sentimental as well as practical reasons—it’s near where he went to grade school.” “Is there any place he didn’t grow up?”) After I passed that point, they would wait for me under the Mile 26 sign, then we would reunite in the Family Reunion area.

Sunday morning I was up before my alarm and ready to go! My dad, sister, and her friends picked me up on schedule and we drove to the starting area. They walked with me to my starting corral, and they kept me company for a while and took some pictures. After they left, I realized I had broken one of the cardinal rules of marathon racing: I hadn’t gotten in line at the portajohns! Now the lines were twenty people deep, and the race would start in less than half an hour! I nonchalantly strolled around looking for other options—an open building, a tree, a shadowy corner. Behind a museum dedicated to mining, I saw a group of about eight portajohns tucked away in a semi-secluded area and virtually deserted, of which I quickly made use. (“I commented on my luck to a runner standing nearby. She told me she thought they were the VIP toilets.” “Well that worked then, didn’t it? It was Very Important that you P.”)

I had three pace bands: one for a four hour finish, one for 4:05, and one for 4:10. I figured if I ran the 4:00 pace, my regular short walk breaks would average the miles out to about 4:10 pace; maybe slightly faster as I was going to shorten the breaks after the halfway point. At 7:40 the starting gun fired and the (considerable) crowd made its way through the start line. I crossed at about 7:42. As I approached the timing pad, I saw Senator John McCain (R-AZ) waving to the participants along with the race officials! (“Don’t tell me, you recognized him from his two-second cameo from 24 Season 5.” “Well, he kinda looked familiar…”) Conditions at the start of the race were letter-perfect: very cool, with a slight breeze, and a somewhat overcast sky (making for a very pretty sunrise to boot).

I felt fantastic! After a couple of warmup miles I picked up my speed just as planned. I hit the first 10k split and crossed the timing mat after just over 1 hour. However, I found out after the race that the race’s tracking service, which sent texts to people to alert them of runners’ splits, incorrectly identified that as the 5k split! (“So my family thought it took an hour to run 3.1 miles!” “When they saw you at mile 9 half an hour later, they must’ve thought you’d caught a cab!”) Seeing my family and my sister’s friends just before mile 9 was a big boost for what was already turning out to be a perfect race. I smiled and slapped five’s with them as I passed.

I stayed strong for the rest of the first half. I was feeling very good and confident that I would have enough energy to shorten my walk breaks as planned. However, the first mile I did that, mile 14, was a real challenge. I rethought my strategy to alternate short and long walk breaks every mile. (“You were going to be able to keep track of that as you were going?” “Well, it was nice to have something to focus on other than my feet. Mental acrobatics is a great way to keep myself distracted.”) The new strategy worked well enough for me, and at mile 20 I was still on pace to finish between 4:05 and 4:10. Then, it happened. I bonked. Hard.

I hadn’t really hit the wall in either of my last two races. Things got tough in the last 10k, to be sure (especially dealing with the fierce wind in Oklahoma City), and I had to work for it; but I was able to hold to my pace in each of those races. Not so in Phoenix. Although I felt like I was running as hard as I had been for the last 20 miles, I was starting to slip. My 9:15 average fell to 10:15 for mile 20, then continued to slide down until I ran the last full mile in 12 minutes and 12 seconds! Not helping matters was the sun, which chose to burn through the clouds as I was finishing mile 22. I kept pushing as hard as I could. Although I had given up hopes of a sub-4:05 race, I was still certain I’d be able to set a new PR. Seeing my family at the mile 26 sign was a big boost. (“They told me later there was a big difference between the upbeat and strong version of me they saw at mile 9 and the broken and shuffling creature they saw near the finish.” “Good thing you wear a distinctive running shirt!”) I was able to push a little more, knowing that I had “less than once around a track” to go.

The course zigzagged a handful of times in the last half mile. At every corner, a spectator would say, “It’s just around the corner!” After about the fourth time hearing that, I said to the guy running next to me, “Next person who tells me that, I’m gonna punch him in the mouth.” With a smile, he said, “Well, it actually is just around this next one.” I turned that last corner and, sure enough, there was the finish line! I poured it on as much as I could with what I had left, crossing the finish line in 4:14:54, setting a new PR by 9 minutes and 40 seconds!

Official Time: 4:14:54
Total Races: 1
YTD Race Miles: 26.2
YTD Total Miles: 71.1
Answer to PHX TSA agent's question "Whose bag is this?": "Mine. I ran the marathon earlier today, and that has my race clothes in it; so if you're gonna open that, you better move back."