I just want to write a quick blog about the race I ran on Friday. It was pretty much a last minute choice--I'd decided after the Omaha marathon that I wouldn't run any races in October (with two in September and two in April, plus one more each in November and December) I was more than covered for the number of races I want to get in 2008). But my friend Keri told me about this 5k at Washington Park, and it sounded like it would be fun, so I signed up on Tuesday. Being a week before Halloween, runners were encouraged to show up in costume, which was likely to be interesting (fortunately for me, my running outfit pretty much is a costume).
The most interesting part about it for me, and really the reason for this story, was the friends I saw that night. Obviously Keri was there, and I figured I'd be able to spot at least one other Runner's Edge member (in fact I saw two: Dana and Jim, both out with their kids). I also saw some familiar faces from the Irish Snug group. At this point, I've become used to that: it's a pretty sizeable community, but when you go to a lot of events you're bound to see some familiar faces because everybody else is doing the same thing. Naturally membership in a running club (or two or three) helps those odds. I also saw some women I'd met when I saw "Spirit of the Marathon" in the theatres earlier this year (and whom I also ran into at another 5k I ran in June...see what I mean?).
But what really surprised me was seeing my friend Julie there. Julie and I worked on a show together in Parker last year, and I'm proud to say that I rekindled her interest in running at the time (mostly because I would never shut up about it). Although she had some false starts in the last year, she and her boyfriend ran this race and she happened to see me in the crowd. I was delighted to see her and very happy that she'd had a successful race. I'm sure I'll see her again at another race (if nothing else, probably the same one next year).
Oh, and I have to tell you about my finish. I ran a very good, strong race; and in fact my average pace matched my fastest 5k speed, so I'm happy with that. As I raced toward the finish line, I saw a small child--no higher than my knee--jogging up, and an adult--I'm guessing his mother, although I don't know that for certain--coming on his left. Since she was on the left, I decided to break to his right to pass him. Unfortunately, there was no room on the kid's right to pass. So instead, I leapt over him, hurtling across the finish line (and, thank god, managing not to kick him in the head as I did so). I sincerely hope somebody got a picture of that.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Omaha Marathon 2008 Part 3: The Race!
(“So now we come to it: a detailed recounting of the marathon itself!” “Are you going to take us through all 26.2 miles?” “No. Just the most memorable parts, for better or worse.” “I get it. The thrill of victory, and the agony of the feet.” “Watch it! One more pun like that and you’ll lose me my fan base!”)
I’ve trained pretty hard over the last couple of years to not shoot out too fast at the start of a race, and I’ve gotten pretty good at it. I had my Garmin on my left wrist and my pace band on my right, so I knew how fast I wanted each mile to go, and I stuck within a few seconds of my splits for the first 6 mile loop. I ran with Kari for awhile at the start, enjoying the company and taking it easy. I was feeling strong and confident, and didn’t even mind as the course wound its way towards the starting zone and that first big hill again (“Although it was kind of trippy, seeing the signs marked ‘Mile 25’ and realizing I still had 19 to go.” “You’d think they could have waited until after everyone had made the first pass before putting those out.”). I saw my family fan club just past the point where the 10K course split towards the finish area, which was a nice confidence booster that carried me through the next several miles.
Starting at about mile 8 (“Still running on pace?” “More or less. That Garmin is a lifesaver.”) I began seeing my teammates who were running the half marathon, coming back from their turnaround and heading into their final 5K. First I saw Coach David, looking strong and tearing down the same hill I was powering up. Then, practically on each others’ heels, I saw Rose, Jen, and Al, every one looking tall and strong (“Did Al finish within ten minutes of Jen?” “He did. I’ve never seen the big guy so happy.”). I slapped fives and shouted words of encouragement, feeling high as a kite myself.
As the course wound its way south towards the Henry Doorly Zoo, past the point where the half marathon course turned back, I found myself virtually alone. I could see a few runners in the distance, and barely heard the sounds of others behind me. Running through the zoo itself was nice, if a bit of a challenge because of the hills. I heard birds squawking as I ran past a giant pond, but other than that no real sounds of wildlife (“Stupid nature! Sleep on your own time!” “Wow. Nine pages before your first Simpsons(TM) reference. That’s gotta be some kind of record.”).
Coming out of the zoo, the course turned north. My focus was pretty internal at that point, as I was concentrating on keeping my pace up the long hill, so I don’t remember much of it. In fact nothing terribly memorable happened until I lost my right nipple band-aid at about mile 18. But again, was so focused on my pace (which was starting to slip at that point) that I didn’t even recognize the pain for what it was until mile 20. I started asking spectators and policemen alike if anyone had a band-aid, and it wasn’t until mile 21 that a cop finally put me out of my nippular misery (“You completely passed over seeing some of the parade at breakfast on Saturday, which was a pleasant memory for the whole group, but you spend a paragraph on this?!” “You’ll notice I haven’t said anything about my blistering thigh chafeage.”)
By the time I got to mile 20 I was in a pretty bad way for another reason, too. I’d let myself become dehydrated to the point that my legs were shaking under me, and I slowed to a walk out of fear of collapsing. Occasionally I would try jogging, but could only cover a small distance before the shakes started up again. Between that and the energy-sapping heat that arose during that last 10K, I’m afraid I didn’t exactly cover myself in glory. But I was determined to have a strong finish, and with about a mile and a half to go I cranked up the juice and started running again, ignoring any pain or spasms I might encounter.
I turned onto Cuming just before mile 25 (“Bet you weren’t sorry to see that sign this time.”). Half a mile past that, as the course turned right and headed back to the staging area, I saw Jill in the distance, cheering me on (“Thanks, Jill!”). I picked up my stride and soon saw Merrill (“Thanks, Merrill!”). Just before the course split towards the finish, I saw a whole Runner’s Edge contingent, smiling, waving, taking pictures, and cheering (“Thanks, Coach David, Dan, Jim, Al, Barb, Tara, Laura, Jen, Karen, Lana, Rose, Susan, and Steve!” “Did you get everyone?” “God, I hope so. If I missed you, please let me know.”). A final burst of speed for the last 0.2 miles, and there were my dad and sister screaming and taking pictures as I crossed the finish line (“Thanks, Dad and Sara!”). I had done it: I had finished my fourth marathon (“And well before 3:00, to boot!”).
It really was a fantastic, successful, and enjoyable trip. Everybody had a great time. Some testimonials:
- Karen (half marathon PR!): “I knew I would set a new PR at mile 10. That was the best part of the race for me.”
- Tara (full marathon): “I liked running through the shaded section just past the zoo.”
- Kerri (half marathon): “I felt my best at the ConAgra campus at mile 8.”
- Jen (half marathon): “I liked the long uphill before the turnaround. It reminded me of the Loretto Heights speed workout.”
- Dan (full marathon PR!): “The shaded section on the back side of the zoo was very nice, but there was random furniture that I wondered about. Didn’t the monkeys like their couch?”
- Jason (first full marathon, finished 8th overall!): “At mile 14, I was in the zone, running through the crowd, not sure who was running the half or the full, just lost in the people.”
- Coach David: “Seeing all you guys finish was the best part of the whole weekend.”
So there you have it. That’s my tale of the 2008 Omaha Marathon, complete with running commentary and sound bites from my teammates. Coach David is looking at doing the Oklahoma City Marathon next April. You can be sure I’ll be along, and I hope most of the Omaha road trip alumni (several of whom are also Kansas City road trip alumni) will as well. Thanks for reading!
Click here to see my pictures from the weekend.
Omaha Marathon 2008 Part 2: The Buildup
(“Welcome back! In my last post I talked about the bus ride out and the first night in Omaha.” “A real party town, eh?” “Don’t knock it: Larry the Cable Guy was in concert at the Qwest Center, and Jessica Simpson played on Saturday.” “Oooh. And the marathon?” “A huge blaze of no publicity at all.”)
We had agreed to meet at the Hampton for breakfast on Saturday morning. This actually worked out well, since the Hampton had a bigger space than the Fairfield, so we were all able to sit more or less together (“Forcing all the non-Denver-based hotel guests to stand?” “No, but the certainly kept their distance. We’re an intimidating group, especially Tara when there’s waffles on the line.” “Pretty territorial, eh?” “Yep. Try to get in on that and you’re asking for it.”).
After breakfast we visited the Race Expo, which was set up in a large conference room at InPlay, an Entertainment Center next door to the Fairfield (“Wrong side of the tracks, right?” “Well, the Qwest Center was still full of River City Roundup stuff.” “River City? Isn’t that in Iowa?”). As race expos go, it wasn’t a huge affair. But we were able to get our shirts, race bibs, and timing chips, as well as some other goodies. At 11:00 about a dozen of us took a bus tour of the course—sort of. Between street closures for the Roundup parade, street closures due to construction, and one-way streets going the wrong way, it was a somewhat circuitous tour of the course (“We got held up en route to the start because we were caught behind the parade.” “At least the parade wasn’t following the same course.” “Then, at one point near the Henry Doorly Zoo, we were going down the street in the opposite direction the marathon would take.” “What was that like?” “It was nice, for once, to be going up a hill and be able to think, ‘It’s all downhill from here.’”).
After the course tour we returned to the Hampton Inn (“This place is quickly becoming Runner’s Edge Central!”), to regroup before lunch. My dad joined us there, along with my sister. In fact, the two of them made it to the Hampton before I did, and spent some time talking with Jill and some of the other Runner’s Edge folks (“So now Jill knows all your secrets.” “Yes, and unfortunately, so does my Dad.”). We walked down to the Old Mattress Factory Bar and Grill for lunch; but due to their No Dogs Allowed policy my sister couldn’t join us (“Relax, folks. He means, because she had her puppy with her.” EDITOR’S NOTE: This joke pre-approved by Dr Tisdale, MD).
Then, after a tasty lunch, it was back to the hotel for some reading and a nap before the prerace pasta dinner. Several of us thought that four o’clock was awfully early to have a prerace dinner, but there you have it. The guest speaker, Jerry Dunn, was scheduled to talk at 4:15 (“I was certain that was a misprint: they had to have meant, dinner was at 4 and the speech would be at 5:15. That way people could eat and then digest during the speech.” “Was that the way it was?” “Nope.”). However, I cannot tell you what his speech was about, because I didn’t hear a word of it. Since he was speaking at 4:15, he was dealing with the crowd noise, as people arrived, found their seats (or tried to), and made for the buffet line. Between that and a less-than-stellar sound system, I’m afraid it was pretty much a lost cause.
Actually, I ducked out of the diner shortly after arriving. A number of my teammates were already there and trying to eat, but the food was less than amazing (“Rose took one bite and proclaimed it the worst food she’d ever tasted.” “Wow, that’s harsh.” “But she was awfully fond of the ice cream…”). So instead, my dad and sister and I drove to Omaha Prime, where I had a fantastic filet mignon (“Thanks for the free dinner, Dad!” “Wait…wasn’t the pasta dinner included with your registration? That was a free meal, too.” “Maybe, but not nearly as nice.”). I also enjoyed the chance to have some quality time with my family. They did come all this way to see me, and that meant an awful lot to me (“What about everybody else?” “As it turns out, everyone else decided to blow off the dinner. They all went to the Spaghetti Works for an all-you-can-eat.” “Good choice!”). Then, after dinner, we took a walk around Old Market (“A walk? Wouldn’t you want to spend as much time as possible off your feet, seeing as how you were running a marathon the next day?” “I tried to tell them that…”). Then it was back to the hotel for sleep. Of course, I was still pretty wired, so sleep didn’t come easily. I think I finally went down for the count about 10:00.
I woke up at 3:00, two hours before I’d planned on it, and drifted in and out until the alarm went off. Randy had taken a “belts-and-suspenders” approach, and within 30 seconds of the clock alarm, our wake-up call rang through (“There’s nothing wrong with a belts-and-suspenders approach.” “Unless you’re talking about actual belts and suspenders, which just looks silly.”). I turned on the news while we got ready: not a single mention of the marathon, although the Huskers’ loss to VA Tech was big news (“Don’t sound surprised. It’s Nebraska. The stadium is the third largest city on gameday. Football’s all they have.” “I hear they have corn, too.”). Nothing daunted, we made our way to the Hampton to meet up with everybody and caravan over to the race start (“Is it a caravan if you’re on foot?” “More a parade, I guess, but we didn’t have music.”). Dad and Sara were there, along with Sara’s puppy Persephone. While my family went in search of coffee, I went in search of a portajohn that didn’t have a fifty-person line (“Did you find it?” “Eventually, yes. Randy and I made our way towards the finish area and found about half a dozen with only a few people waiting.” “How long did that last?” “Maybe 20 seconds after we left.”).
After one last “Good luck!” to everyone on the team, I made my way to the 4:30 pace group. I was ready. I felt confident. I’d trained hard for the last 15 weeks. Victory was in my grasp, I could taste it. I had family and friends to support me. I had my Garmin, my shades, my lucky shirt and socks, my gels, and my Star Wars (“You are such a dork.”). The National Anthem played. Then, the starting pistol was fired and I was off!
Next: the race!
We had agreed to meet at the Hampton for breakfast on Saturday morning. This actually worked out well, since the Hampton had a bigger space than the Fairfield, so we were all able to sit more or less together (“Forcing all the non-Denver-based hotel guests to stand?” “No, but the certainly kept their distance. We’re an intimidating group, especially Tara when there’s waffles on the line.” “Pretty territorial, eh?” “Yep. Try to get in on that and you’re asking for it.”).
After breakfast we visited the Race Expo, which was set up in a large conference room at InPlay, an Entertainment Center next door to the Fairfield (“Wrong side of the tracks, right?” “Well, the Qwest Center was still full of River City Roundup stuff.” “River City? Isn’t that in Iowa?”). As race expos go, it wasn’t a huge affair. But we were able to get our shirts, race bibs, and timing chips, as well as some other goodies. At 11:00 about a dozen of us took a bus tour of the course—sort of. Between street closures for the Roundup parade, street closures due to construction, and one-way streets going the wrong way, it was a somewhat circuitous tour of the course (“We got held up en route to the start because we were caught behind the parade.” “At least the parade wasn’t following the same course.” “Then, at one point near the Henry Doorly Zoo, we were going down the street in the opposite direction the marathon would take.” “What was that like?” “It was nice, for once, to be going up a hill and be able to think, ‘It’s all downhill from here.’”).
After the course tour we returned to the Hampton Inn (“This place is quickly becoming Runner’s Edge Central!”), to regroup before lunch. My dad joined us there, along with my sister. In fact, the two of them made it to the Hampton before I did, and spent some time talking with Jill and some of the other Runner’s Edge folks (“So now Jill knows all your secrets.” “Yes, and unfortunately, so does my Dad.”). We walked down to the Old Mattress Factory Bar and Grill for lunch; but due to their No Dogs Allowed policy my sister couldn’t join us (“Relax, folks. He means, because she had her puppy with her.” EDITOR’S NOTE: This joke pre-approved by Dr Tisdale, MD).
Then, after a tasty lunch, it was back to the hotel for some reading and a nap before the prerace pasta dinner. Several of us thought that four o’clock was awfully early to have a prerace dinner, but there you have it. The guest speaker, Jerry Dunn, was scheduled to talk at 4:15 (“I was certain that was a misprint: they had to have meant, dinner was at 4 and the speech would be at 5:15. That way people could eat and then digest during the speech.” “Was that the way it was?” “Nope.”). However, I cannot tell you what his speech was about, because I didn’t hear a word of it. Since he was speaking at 4:15, he was dealing with the crowd noise, as people arrived, found their seats (or tried to), and made for the buffet line. Between that and a less-than-stellar sound system, I’m afraid it was pretty much a lost cause.
Actually, I ducked out of the diner shortly after arriving. A number of my teammates were already there and trying to eat, but the food was less than amazing (“Rose took one bite and proclaimed it the worst food she’d ever tasted.” “Wow, that’s harsh.” “But she was awfully fond of the ice cream…”). So instead, my dad and sister and I drove to Omaha Prime, where I had a fantastic filet mignon (“Thanks for the free dinner, Dad!” “Wait…wasn’t the pasta dinner included with your registration? That was a free meal, too.” “Maybe, but not nearly as nice.”). I also enjoyed the chance to have some quality time with my family. They did come all this way to see me, and that meant an awful lot to me (“What about everybody else?” “As it turns out, everyone else decided to blow off the dinner. They all went to the Spaghetti Works for an all-you-can-eat.” “Good choice!”). Then, after dinner, we took a walk around Old Market (“A walk? Wouldn’t you want to spend as much time as possible off your feet, seeing as how you were running a marathon the next day?” “I tried to tell them that…”). Then it was back to the hotel for sleep. Of course, I was still pretty wired, so sleep didn’t come easily. I think I finally went down for the count about 10:00.
I woke up at 3:00, two hours before I’d planned on it, and drifted in and out until the alarm went off. Randy had taken a “belts-and-suspenders” approach, and within 30 seconds of the clock alarm, our wake-up call rang through (“There’s nothing wrong with a belts-and-suspenders approach.” “Unless you’re talking about actual belts and suspenders, which just looks silly.”). I turned on the news while we got ready: not a single mention of the marathon, although the Huskers’ loss to VA Tech was big news (“Don’t sound surprised. It’s Nebraska. The stadium is the third largest city on gameday. Football’s all they have.” “I hear they have corn, too.”). Nothing daunted, we made our way to the Hampton to meet up with everybody and caravan over to the race start (“Is it a caravan if you’re on foot?” “More a parade, I guess, but we didn’t have music.”). Dad and Sara were there, along with Sara’s puppy Persephone. While my family went in search of coffee, I went in search of a portajohn that didn’t have a fifty-person line (“Did you find it?” “Eventually, yes. Randy and I made our way towards the finish area and found about half a dozen with only a few people waiting.” “How long did that last?” “Maybe 20 seconds after we left.”).
After one last “Good luck!” to everyone on the team, I made my way to the 4:30 pace group. I was ready. I felt confident. I’d trained hard for the last 15 weeks. Victory was in my grasp, I could taste it. I had family and friends to support me. I had my Garmin, my shades, my lucky shirt and socks, my gels, and my Star Wars (“You are such a dork.”). The National Anthem played. Then, the starting pistol was fired and I was off!
Next: the race!
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