Eugene Half Marathon

Liz and I rolled into Eugene Saturday afternoon and headed straight to the expo for Sunday’s Marathon and Half Marathon.  We were both registered for the half, but Liz is just coming back from an injury and decided not to race.  It was pouring rain when we arrived; with a forecast suggesting it would be raining all weekend.   I’d been feeling tired for weeks, and the wet weather did not perk me up at all.

As the afternoon progressed, though, the skies cleared somewhat and Liz enjoyed a lovely run late in the day.  The course for this year had been changed in the section along the river near our hotel, and she ran that section to see what was new.  I stayed in the room and took a nap.  Liz returned with an upbeat report, and mentioned that the bits of rain she encountered were actually quite refreshing.  My nap, the change in the weather and her comments all contributed to a slight improvement in my mood.  But I was still not sure I was going to enjoy the race.

Not long before bedtime, I was looking through the goodies we got at the expo, and I noticed a sample of something called Vitamin Water.  Well, I was a bit thirsty, and vitamins seem like a good thing, so I opened it and started sipping.  It was pretty tasty.  Between slugs I was reading the label.  With one gulp left in the bottle I happened to reach the end of the ingredient list, and discovered I was consuming caffeine.  Oops!  I immediately wished I’d read the entire label before I started sipping.  We went to bed early and I managed to drift off, but my eyes snapped open and I was wide awake shortly thereafter.  Sigh.  I often lie awake with race jitters, but this was something else entirely.  The clock slowly churned its way to 1:00 am before I felt drowsy again.   It seemed only a few moments later it was 4:45 and I was awake again.  The alarm was set for 5:00, so there was no point in hoping for more sleep.  I got up and looked out the window to see pouring rain and big puddles.  Ugh.

We went through all the steps of getting ready, but I was pretty sure I’d wimp out if the rain didn’t let up at least a little.  Liz wasn’t very excited about standing around in the downpour just for a glimpse of me trudging past with furrowed brow.  I normally like to arrive at the starting line with lots of time to spare, but I was dragging my feet.  Our hotel was about a mile from the start, and I figured I absolutely had to leave by 6:20 to have enough time to deal with warm ups, clothing drop and so on.  The rain seemed to be letting up a little as the deadline approached, so we decided to jog to the start in case it kept getting better.  I was even getting psyched enough to consider running in a pretty hard rain.  Race day magic was finally getting to me.

The closer we got to the start, the lighter the rain became.  The temperature was in the upper 40s, but I was pretty comfortable in short sleeves and shorts.  I decided to gamble and did not wear gloves and did not carry my rain shell.  It was uncharacteristically brave of me – I do not like to be cold!  I did wear a hat to keep the rain off my face, though.

There was no apparent way to enter the start area, so I followed a line of guys climbing over the fence to get in.  My plan for the race was to try for 1:25.  I lined up a ways in front of the 3:10 marathon pace group, as that was the fastest pace group offered.   There was just enough rain to be bothersome when I removed my cap for the national anthem.  Shortly, though, the cap was back in place and we were off and running to a shout of “GO!”

Despite a bit of nervousness that I’d lined up too far forward, I ended up having to pass many, many slower runners in the first quarter mile.  I tried not to worry about being blocked in for a few moments, and didn’t spend too much energy getting through.  I saw Liz as I climbed the first hill.  She was, as always, the best supporter I’ve ever seen.  That hill and a couple of turns helped string out the crowd, and we were settled into an orderly line well before the end of the first mile.  The first mile went by in about 6:20.  That seemed a little fast, but I was feeling great and my heart rate was right where I wanted it, so I didn’t worry.  I did ease up a tiny bit, though, just to be cautious.

During the second mile I saw Max and Kari.  Max runs the Tuesday Night Performance Running Group in Bend and is an amazing – really amazing – runner.  I suspect he was in Eugene to support someone he coaches.  Kari is one of the regulars at Tuesday nights, but she’s been sidelined for weeks and weeks with a hamstring injury.   It was fun to see familiar, motivating faces.   The second mile clicked by in 6:06.  Whoa!  That’s definitely too fast!  I eased up a little more and was supremely comfortable for the next few miles.

The rain was light to non-existent, I was feeling great, and I was comfortably holding a pace I was very happy with.  I was having a delightful run.  As we headed back toward Amazon Park, we were exposed to a noticeable headwind.  I’d been tucked in behind a small cluster of guys, but they were slowly dropping me.  I gave a little surge and caught them again for the benefit of the wind break, but they slowly gapped me again.  It felt just a little too hard to stay with them.  Better to face the wind by myself I decided.

In Amazon Park I saw Max and Kari again, and that was a good boost just as I was starting to feel the effort.  There was a big, noisy crowd at South Eugene High School.  That was a great distraction, too.  I’d forgotten that my bib had my name printed on it, so I turned my head a few times to see who had shouted out “Good job, Dave.”   It didn’t take long to realize I couldn’t possible know that many people in Eugene, and I remembered the bib.

Next came another hill, and I knew to look for Liz somewhere near the top.  When Liz spotted me I was still ahead of pace for a 1:25, and I could tell she knew!  The woman next to her had a nice camera and was obviously taking pictures of me.  I learned later that they’d had a nice talk and Liz’s new friend had decided to take some pictures of me and email them to us.  The big smile on my face makes it obvious how much I enjoy seeing Liz along the way! 

Happy to see Liz - despite a hill and some rain!

 My legs were getting a little heavier, but I still felt great otherwise.  Even with the hill, the 9^th mile went by in 6:40.  It seemed I was holding pace.

After cresting the hill I tried to relax into an easy cruise down the other side, but found I was getting a little tight.  When it flattened out I was no longer supremely comfortable.  My legs got more sluggish – it took more effort to keep them turning over – and a nagging discomfort was building.  It was different from previous races, though, in as much as I felt like I could keep going.  At the end of the 10^th mile I was still ahead of goal, but I decided to quit looking at my watch.  If I was going to fade I didn’t want to know about it.  I focused on the last 5K and tried to make it as fast as I could.  I could hear my feet slapping a bit, so I concentrated on form.  With about a mile to go, a couple guys came by and I tried to stay with them.  The first guy opened up a gap, but the second guy didn’t manage to get away.  It really helped to have him to focus on.   My legs felt like they were in water, it was so hard to turn them over.  But I knew I was almost done and I didn’t want anybody else coming by.  The guy I was chasing caught the guy ahead of him, and they clearly energized each other.  They both looked a lot stronger and smoother than I felt!  I saw Max and Kari a third time just before turning the corner for the final, flat tenth of a mile to the finish.   I saw Liz waving and jumping along the rail a bit before the finish.  I was still too far away to read the clock, but I guessed from Liz’s excitement that I had a shot at 1:25.  When I was close enough to read it, I saw I was going to finish under 1:25!

My chip time turned out to be 1:24:08, and I am delighted.  Max’s Tuesday night workouts have made a big difference.  When it got uncomfortable, I had a new level to dig into and I was able to hold pace at a level that seems somewhat incredible to me.  Thanks, Max!

A 50 year old guy finished in 1:19:46, so I was not the fastest in the 50-54 age group.  But the fast 50 year old turned out to be the 2^nd place master, and got a plaque for that achievement.  That took him out of the age group awards, so I got a nice plaque for 1^st place in my age group.  It’s one of the last races I’ll run before I turn 55, so it was especially fun to bring home some hardware!

After an inauspicious start, it turned out to be a great day for a run!

Tuesday Night Magic

My lovely wife, Liz, has joined me for the past two Tuesday night performance running clinics. It took a while to talk her into it – she’s not enjoyed speed work in the past and she was worried about being too slow for the clinic. I eventually convinced her that it was a very laid-back group, and that there would very likely be someone for her to run with. I couldn’t promise it would be fun, but I guaranteed her it would be better than going to the track alone.

Her first time out was last week, and Max had us doing a tempo run on a loop around the park. There are parts of the loop without lights, so our tempo pace had to be fast enough to finish before it got too dark. Good motivation! Liz had a great experience and felt welcome and not intimidated. And we finished before dark!

Last night the workout was 6×1000 or 6×700 with a short rest between loops. The short workout often draws newcomers and a few people who need to leave early. Last night the short workout drew three newcomers, including Liz. By happy coincidence, the three were all about the same speed, so they stuck together and challenged each other. When the six loops were done Liz had run faster than she’d expected to, and she had fun. She’s sold on the magic of Tuesday night.

Wintery Mix

Winter weather was slow in coming, but has been strutting its stuff since it got here. Max canceled the Tuesday night running clinic a couple weeks ago due to cold and snow. And there was a stretch with snow every day. Very pretty. But it was still cold, and the snow was coming down just fast enough to require shoveling at home to get out, shoveling at the office when we arrived (the small parking lot and a couple hundred feet of sidewalks) and a repeat shoveling at office and home at the end of the day. With all the shoveling I was too tired and sore to get excited about running. Our little dog, though, never lost interest. We take him out for a daily jaunt in the park near the office. It’s about a mile total, and the little guy runs at least half of it – with appropriate stops at favorite trees and lamp posts. If not for the dog I’d have not run at all. Luckily I also had two or three spin classes a week to keep me working.

By the time the next Tuesday night running clinic rolled around, it had warmed up a bit and I’d gotten into the rhythm of snow shoveling (so I wasn’t always sore and exhausted). I actually looked forward to it! The paths had been cleared, but there was still enough snow that traction devices were required. Max gave us 1K repeats with 1 minute of rest between… it was fun and got me thinking about running again.

Then it warmed up and rained on top of all the snow. Slippery, yucky slush guaranteed to get your feet wet and cold. And the mashed potato slush would refreeze every night. Our spin classes took a one week break around Christmas. I was back to a short run with the dog each day.

A few days ago the rain stopped and the sun came out long enough to mostly clear some roads and paths. On Monday my lovely wife and I took the dog for a 3.5 miler and I added a couple miles on my own. It felt great! On Tuesday Max had to be creative because of a few very icy areas on the paths we use, but we got in a good workout and no one slipped or fell down. Wednesday was nice again and my wife and I took the dog for a repeat of the 3.5 miler. Our dog usually gets only one “long” run a week, and we hadn’t planned to take him again. But he’d been so enthusiastic on Monday and got so excited when we were getting dressed to run we decided to take him again.

Yesterday was New Year’s Day, and I planned to join the local running club for a 6 miler on the River Trail. It had turned warm again, so the trail was likely to be slush and mud, but I’d regained my runner mentality. I wanted to run. I was a little late in arriving and found every parking space full at the park. I saw several other cars doing a pass-and-review, too. I don’t know of any legal parking within half a mile, and I didn’t want to hurry to park and then run hard to catch the back of the pack. Plus, I knew I’d have a hard workout in a 90-minute spin class later that day. So I blew it off. Oh, well. The spin class was hard, and I would’ve had a really hard time if I’d done the run. It worked out. I’ve become such a wimp!

 

Jingle Bell Run

Early every December there’s a 5K run just prior to the Christmas Parade through downtown Bend.  It’s the annual Jingle Bell Run and it’s a fund-raiser for the Arthritis Foundation.  But it’s in December, and the weather is usually cold and icy and miserable.  So I’ve never participated before.  But this year winter has been slow to arrive.  The parade and the Jingle Bell run were the day before yesterday, and it was a freakishly beautiful day for running!

So I signed up at the last minute and ran in short sleeves and shorts.  I was curious to test myself a bit to see what amazing magic was being worked upon me in the Tuesday Night Performance Running Clinics.  My plan was to start hard and see how long I could hold on.  The Jingle Bell Run isn’t really a race – only the first three men and women are timed, and a lot of people show up in costumes appropriate to the season.  I lined up a row or two back from the front, but I found myself behind a couple of elves and a team of reindeer.  By the time I’d nudged myself around them, I was on the very front row.  There was a mix of folks up front, but most of the front row was filled with excited, eager kids – the kind who explode off the line and have a wonderful time for the first quarter or half mile.  The run follows the parade route through downtown, and the crowd was building and perhaps a bit bored waiting for the parade.  Old guys and kids alike got a few moments of glory as we charged down the parade route to the cheers of the parade spectators.  Bend’s old downtown is three blocks long, and at the end of that stretch is when the most exuberant of the kids started to fade.   It’s also where the truly fast guys started coming by me (they’d presumably been stuck for a bit behind some reindeer).  I didn’t count, but it felt like a dozen or fifteen guys came by.   After about half a mile I was settled in to line of guys that barely changed for the rest of the run.  One or two guys came by and one or two fell back.

My Garmin is set to beep every mile, and it beeped within a few feet of the 1-mile sign.  That’s always reassuring.  I glanced at the time at the mile, and it was 5:52.  Well, that was faster than I’m used to running!   I tried to keep myself at the same level of effort to see if I could hang on.  The first mile had a bit of downhill, and the second mile was flat or a little uphill… and there was a bit of a headwind.  So I expected to be a little slower.  But the second mile beeped at 12:14, so I’d managed only a 6:22 for the second mile.  The third mile was with the wind and generally a little downhill, but it had a noticeable climb in the last quarter mile.  I didn’t look at my watch when it beeped at three miles, but the Garmin tells me the third mile was a 6:24.  I’d say I was definitely fading.  My Garmin also reported a total distance of 3.2 miles, and it tells me I ran the final .2 miles at a 5:34 pace.   The Garmin reported a 6:10 average pace, but I don’t get too excited about the absolute numbers it gives me (I suspect it reads a little long, so I assume it thinks I’m faster than I am).  But I assume it’s probably pretty consistent, and I can compare data from different races.  It’s the fastest pace my Garmin has reported for a 5K, so I think the Tuesday night workouts are working!

Tuesday Night Performance Clinic

My favorite running store, Footzone, sponsors and facilitates a lot of great activities.  A couple months ago they teamed up with a local speedy runner to offer performance running clinics every Tuesday evening.  The speedy runner is Max King, and he turns out to be as nice as he is fast.  And he’s very, very fast!

I do a lot of running alone, and I didn’t expect to enjoy doing speed work with a group.  But I’ve been really enjoying the clinics!  Max welcomes all abilities and there are always two workout options – one for runners training for shorter races, and another for those of us with an eye on longer races.   We’ve been meeting after dark at a park with wide, lighted sidewalks that happen to have four loops with distances from 400 meters to 1000 meters.  Rather ideal for what we’ve been doing.

Max calls out times for the different groups (it gets quite festive at times with several groups out running different distances at different speeds), so we can tell if we’re hitting our targets.  I wear my Garmin to each clinic, but I can’t read it except when I’m standing still right under a light. So I just hit the lap button at appropriate times and let it keep track of my times and distances for downloading later.  Those downloads tell me that I am, indeed, getting faster than I was last summer.  How cool is that?  I’m having fun and getting faster!

Thanks, Max!

Chicago Marathon 2008 – Hot Time in the City

My lovely wife, Liz, and I just ran the Chicago Marathon.  We expected it to be warm, so we chose our lightest-weight running costumes.  I don’t remember how it was that Liz came to refer to running wear as “running costume”, but I love the description and we both use it.  We were in our costumes and had left our hotel room on our way to the start.  Once again we were in a pretty nice hotel pretty near the start/finish, so we weren’t surprised by the number of runners already in the elevator when the doors opened.   We were delighted to hear some of the elevator’s occupants talking about it being “kinda cold” out.  Stepping out of the lobby, though, we immediately took issue with the “kinda cold” assessment.  The Chicago Tribune reported a temperature of 65 degrees F at the start of the race and 84 degrees F three hours later.  I’d say it was kinda hot.

 

We had packed a recovery drink and clean clothes in our gear-check bag.  Liz’s sister, brother-in-law and an old friend planned to meet us at the finish, and we thought clean clothes might be worthwhile.  Our gear-check bag also included sun screen and an old pair of my glasses – the ability to read might come in handy, too.   Unfortunately, gear check required us to walk about a mile out of our way.  We both had spots in the seeded start corrals, and we had a special gear-check tent very near the finish – not so near the start corrals.  I like to walk a bit after the race, so I’d prefer the gear check to be near the start rather than the finish.  Oh, well, nobody asked me.  We dropped off the gear bag and took the recommended path to the entrance to the seeded corrals and entered the special area where we hoped to relax a bit before the race.  There were surprisingly few porta-potties inside the special area.  Lines weren’t too long, though, and we were able to visit the facilities pretty quickly.   With about 45 minutes left before the start, we got in line for a second/final visit to the potty.  The seeded corrals are closed 15 minutes before the start, so we really had only 30 minutes.  It didn’t look like we’d make it through the line in half an hour, so we nervously left the seeded area and ran back to some potties we’d seen out in the less special world.  The line was much shorter where we ended up, but it was still nervous-making.  After about twenty anxious minutes we got our turns in the precious plastic booths, and, yes, they were out of toilet paper.  We ran back to the seeded area and both got to our corrals in time.  As I passed through the gate to enter my corral I heard an official say the gate would close in 30 seconds!  I cut that a little close!

 

I’d frittered away too much energy already, so I spent a few minutes calming myself down.  I looked for an acquaintance from Bend who runs about the same pace as I do and who had qualified for the same corral, but I didn’t find her.  I positioned myself a little ahead of the 3:10 pace group and waited for the start.  I hadn’t spent a lot of time thinking about a goal pace or finish time, but had a hunch I could beat 3:10 if the heat didn’t mess with me too much.   There were three starts.  At 7:50 the wheelchair racers were sent on their way.  At 7:55 the elite racers took off, and the rest of us started at 8:00.  I was in Corral A – which put me very near the front of the crowd.  I was across the start line and running within 30 seconds.  I started my watch and tried to find my pace.

 

The first mile was pretty crowded, and it seemed to me that we were going pretty slowly – maybe a 7:30 pace.  I wanted to go faster, but knew there was no point in trying.  I stayed in my slot and was careful not to trip or step on anybody. We crossed the Chicago River but I didn’t notice – too busy watching the ground right in front of me.  It was too crowded to do any sightseeing.  At the first mile marker I glanced at my watch and saw 6:46. Well, good thing the crowd had held me back and protected me from myself!  I eased up a bit and worked carefully through a couple corners as we headed back across the river and into the Loop.  The crowds of spectators were amazing!  I guess that’s a good thing that comes with warm weather.  There weren’t nearly as many spectators when I ran Chicago in cold, windy conditions in 2006.  At the second mile marker I was pleased to see 13:45 – a 6:59 mile.  We headed north out of the Loop and across the river again.  The long straight section of wide road gave us room to spread out and settle into our own races.  I clicked off a number of comfortable 7-minute miles.  The sun was low enough that buildings and trees kept us in the shade until we reached Lakeshore Drive at about the 7^th mile marker.  I saw Liz’s old friend and waved to her and her sweetie in a sunny section in front of their condo building.   After just a few blocks exposed to the sun I was very happy to turn a corner and get back in the shade.  I was in the shade and comfortable most of the way back into the Loop, and the miles kept passing at a 7:00 pace.  Just before the halfway point we passed the Sears Tower and turned west.  Shade ended as we left the tall buildings.  The temperature was 75 degrees F by the time I hit the half at 1:31:40.

 

The first half had been comfortable and fun, but it was starting to feel like the fun was about to end.  My quads had started complaining a little at 10 miles, and that was not a good sign.  The neighborhoods were interesting, but the heat was working on me and my pace started to slide.  I wasn’t struggling yet, but my legs hurt and I wasn’t very springy as I passed through the Italian neighborhood.  The download from my Garmin says I’d dropped to a 7:10 pace by mile 18.  In Pilsen, the colorful Mexican neighborhood, I saw my acquaintance from Bend.  She asked how I was doing, and I replied that I was more tired than I’d hoped to be.  She said, “Me, too.”  I had dropped to a 7:15 pace and was surprised to pass her.  The discomfort in my legs had leveled off – it wasn’t getting any worse – and that was encouraging.  My elapsed time at 21 miles was very nearly the same as it had been in Portland in 2007.  I realized that I could have a new personal best if I could just hang on and fade less in the last 5 miles than I had in Portland the previous year.  I was feeling better than I’d felt in Portland at that point, so I decided it was possible – despite the heat.

 

After passing under the gate into Chinatown, we headed south and there was a bit of shade on the east side of the street.  I nudged over as far as I could into the shade and focused on technique.  The focus helped and I felt surprisingly strong.  In the middle of Chinatown I heard “Go, Dave” and saw Liz’s sister, Susan.  I knew she planned to be somewhere on the course, but had not expected to see her.  Her encouragement gave me an extra boost.  South of Chinatown there’s a long, empty section next to a freeway.  It’s a little like a sensory-deprivation experiment: very hard for me to stay focused in that section.  After the empty section there’s a little green space as we pass the Illinois Institute of Technology, then we get to make a turn and start back north toward the finish.  I had a bit of brain fade in the freeway section and got excited when I saw a left turn coming up.  I thought it was the turn that marked the southern-most point on the course and enjoyed a moment of personal celebration.  But then I wondered why I couldn’t remember passing by IIT.  About the time I reached the corner I realized I’d celebrated prematurely and IIT was still ahead of me.  IIT offered a bit of shade and a break from concrete, so my disappointment passed quickly.  Shortly I’d passed the 23^rd mile marker and reached the real southernmost point and made the turn onto Michigan Ave. for the long haul north to the finish.  There were a few trees here and there, but most of the final three miles was in the sun.  The little bit of breeze was from the south, so it was a tailwind and blew at about the speed I was running.  It was worse than still air and it was pretty hot.  My pace between the 35K and 40K chip mats averaged 7:38 minutes per mile.  I was definitely feeling the heat.  I had increased my effort about halfway through that 5K – thinking I could hold a higher effort for the final three miles.  I was working harder and going slower – but I didn’t know how much slower because I was consciously ignoring my watch.  I was working hard, but I wasn’t struggling.  I was pleased by that.  With two miles to go I resumed thinking about time.  I could see that I’d faded a lot.  If I wanted a new personal best, I’d have to notch it up another level.  I thought about it a little – I knew it could be dangerous to push too hard in the heat.  I concluded I was OK, but thought it would be prudent to reevaluate when I reached mile 25.  When I reached that point, I was feeling the effort, but didn’t feel any worse than I’d felt in Portland last year.  So I decided to push a little harder still.  It was, I think, about as well as I’ve ever felt so near the end of a marathon.  I was tired and hurting, but not struggling.  I didn’t want to stop.

 

The Chicago Marathon ends with a right turn off Michigan to a small climb up an overpass to mile 26 followed by a left turn and a short downhill to the finish.  I was searching for any sign of that right turn and was excited to see heads bobbing off to the right!  I stepped it up again as I turned the corner and charged up that little overpass as hard as I could.  It’s amazing how tall an overpass can seem!  Finally, though, the road leveled off and the left turn came into view.  I kept pouring it on through the corner and charged at the finish – though “charging” is a relative term at this point.  I was eager to be done.  The clocks showed the time from the start of the elite race – five minutes and something before I crossed the line.  I couldn’t remember what my start delay had been and didn’t want to glance at my watch.  The clock showed 3:13:39 as I crossed the finish but I wasn’t sure I had a new personal best until I stopped my watch and saw 3:08 on my wrist.  The preliminary results on the Chicago Marathon website say I finished in 3:08:22 – 59 seconds faster than my previous best from Portland last year.  I was delighted – and still am!  The status box that pops up when I click on my name (in the searchable results) says I was 685^th overall and 18^th in my age division (M50-54).

I got my medal and turned in my chip.  A nice volunteer handed me a bag of ice to put on my head, and I made my way to the gear check tent.  As I got my bag I heard Liz’s friend, Chris, calling my name.  She’d been in the bleachers at the finish, had seen me go by and was able to track me down.  She led me through the maze back to the bleachers and we waited for Liz.  I’d carried my cell phone with me. It’s a well-travelled phone – it has finished several marathons with me, including Chicago (twice), New York, Boston, and Portland (at least twice).  I was thinking of calling my darling daughter to see if she could check the website to tell me how Liz was doing.  I stepped behind the bleachers to a quieter spot and discovered my daughter had already left a message.  In her message she congratulated her old dad and told me that Liz had passed 35K at 3:22.  My hot brain (with ice hat still in place) took a while to figure out that Liz was not likely to finish with a Boston-qualifying time as she’d hoped to do.  She needed to cross the finish in 4:05:59 to get to go to Boston.  When she came by she was obviously hot and working very hard.  She ended up missing her goal by three minutes and forty-five seconds.  She was disappointed, but I was in awe of her strength, stamina and perseverance!  She’d been out in the heat for an hour longer than I had and she’d kept pushing even when she knew she’d not make her goal time.  In addition to time she lost because of the heat, gastro-intestinal distress sent her into porta-potties three times during the race.  It is disappointing that circumstances slowed her down, but her effort was inspiring to me.  I’m lucky enough to have lungs and legs that can carry me around the course faster, and that saved me from the worst of the heat.  I’m sure my race was a lot easier than hers, and my hat goes off to her for an awesome performance!  She’s amazing, and I’m very lucky to be married to her.

Working on the Average

The weather forecast for Chicago for Sunday is warmer than I’d like: low around 60 and high of 76.  The Chicago Marathon has issued an alert to let us know the conditions will be less than ideal.  I agree.  But I had a run of cold marathons, so a warm one just keeps me close to a good average.

2003 Portland – Nice.

2004 Portland – Nice again.

2004 Albuquerque – Cool at the start, warm by the end.

2005 New York – Warm. Upper 50s at the start, mid 70s at the finish.

2006 Chicago – Cold. 38 degrees at the start with a few rain drops.

2007 Phoenix – Cold. 28 degrees at the start.

2007 Boston – Cold. The Nor’easter!  46 degrees at the start with rain and a kickin’ headwind.

2007 Portland – Perfect temperature!  In the 50s the whole way.

2008 Chicago – Forecast says warm, but way better than last year

My little sample suggests the weather is usually pretty good for the Portland Marathon.  Well, it is usually pretty good.  But I don’t enjoy Portland.  And this year it rained.

Emerging from the Malaise?

My summer was spent in a soggy-feeling slump.  I felt physically depleted a lot of the time, and my poor old brain was pretty useless, too.  I haven’t raced since the 4^th of July, and that was a 5K that left me dragging for weeks afterward.  I used to bounce back right away after a 5K.  It was weird.

The good news is that I think I’ve emerged from the malaise.  Training runs aren’t knocking me back like they did, and I’ve been able to solve a few problems at work.  It would be fun to test myself in a little, local race this weekend.  But, as it happens, my lovely wife and I are flying to Chicago this week to test ourselves in the Chicago Marathon.  I don’t much know what to expect from myself.  It’s liberating in a way.  It might turn out to be a very fun day!

 

Good end to the season – Portland 2007

We were in a pretty nice hotel pretty close to the start/finish for the Portland Marathon.  So I wasn’t surprised to find other runners in the elevator when the doors opened to let me on.  It was still too early to head for the start – we were all on reconnaissance missions to check the weather and decide what to wear.  It was dark out, and there was a bit of a breeze whipping around the corner of the building.  It felt like a pretty good temperature for running, maybe even a bit too warm.  It wasn’t cold enough to require more than a garbage bag overcoat for waiting at the start.  Portland air has a softness that always surprises me – something like the smell of flowers – even in October.   I had on my lightest shorts and lightest top, and decided I was perfectly dressed.  I went back up to the room with nothing to do but wait.  I was ready.

Liz was finishing her preparations.  She would be a spectator, but her preparations were more extensive than mine.  Liz likes to appear in as many places as possible when spectating.  She’d worked out a plan to see me in nine locations.  She’d developed her route when I last ran Portland – in 2004.  But I was hoping to be 45 minutes faster this time, so she knew the timing would be tight in a couple spots.  She had her timing charts, maps and cow bells ready.  It’s a huge treat to have Liz cheering!  She was a marathoner before I was, and she’s resumed training for her own marathons.  In the future she’s likely to be in the race with me, so it might be a long time before I again have the pleasure of looking for her along the sidelines.  Perhaps I’ll be her cheering section one day soon.  For this race, though, we had complimentary roles and we were both ready.

I headed out into the darkness.  The start had been changed to accommodate construction, so I gave myself a few extra minutes to figure it out.  The start area turned out to be better organized than when I’d last run Portland, so the extra time was not needed.  Pace group leaders appeared and each was holding a stick with a balloon attached.  Each balloon was printed with the target finish time for the group.  I was hoping to beat 3:10, so I kept an eye on that balloon.  I spotted a couple familiar faces , Tim and Dru from Redmond.  In races we’ve run together I’ve always finished behind them, so I was surprised to see them quite a ways behind where I planned to line up.  It was explained that it was Tim’s first marathon and they had decided he should start out conservatively.   About 15 minutes before the start it was suddenly getting crowded in the start area.   I made my way to the 3:10 balloon and tried to stay relaxed.  It seemed most of the crowd was as nervous and excited as I was.  After a bit the horn blared and off we went.

The new start had three 90-degree turns in the first four blocks.  Those turns caused a lot of jostling and crowding.  It was still pretty dark out so I was intently focused on not falling underfoot.  After the tortuous turns, we straightened out for a long downhill stretch on Broadway.  At this point I was able to look around for my balloon of choice.  The only balloon I could see was half a block ahead of me.  I knew I’d been slowed through the turns, but the size of the gap surprised me.  I picked it up a bit and started gaining.  It was still too dark to see my GPS/heart-rate-display/watch so I didn’t have a clue what the pace was.  I felt loose and relaxed and it felt good to be cruising, so I figured all was fine.  About this time I saw my lovely wife jumping and cheering on the sidewalk.  I caught the balloon as we reached the bottom of the hill on Broadway, and I could see that I’d been chasing the 3:00 balloon.  Well, I knew that was wrong!  I had no business keeping up with that group, so I eased off a bit as we turned a corner, leveled out and headed into the wind.  The 3:00 balloon slowly pulled away, and I lost sight of it after a couple of miles.  Before it was out of sight, though, I heard cow bells and spotted Liz for the second time on Naito.

After a noticeable climb into the wind there was a hairpin turn at about 3.5 miles and we were heading back downhill and with the wind.  As I neared the bottom of the hill I noticed I was closing again on the 3:00 balloon.  I realized they must be running even pace where I was running even effort.  They pulled away on the uphill and into the wind and I gained it all back on the tailwind-aided downhill.  I still felt great but knew I shouldn’t expect to stay with that balloon.  There was now enough light to see my watch and I was right at my target heart rate.  I did very well at ignoring the 3:00 balloon and running my own program, but found myself staying right behind the 3:00 group.  I started to believe I belonged with the 3:00 group.  I was tucked in with my newly-adopted group when I saw Liz for the third time.

I was still with the group when I saw Liz again just after mile 7.  At about 9 miles there was an aid station and another hairpin turn.  I slowed for water and found the 3:00 group had gapped me a bit.  We were headed back into the wind and I realized how nice it would be to be tucked-in with the group instead of by myself 30 meters behind them.  I increased my effort a little to close the gap.  The wind was really making a difference and I wasn’t closing on the group.  So I pushed a little harder.  I really wanted the shelter of the group.  I was definitely above my target heart rate, but felt it would be worth the effort to catch the group.  Somehow I kept myself in a state of denial as I chased them for a couple miles without closing the gap.  I’d been above my target effort for 15 minutes.  I had been seduced by a balloon!

I came to my senses a little after mile 11 – easing up and letting the balloon pull away as I passed Liz for the fifth time and just before I turned and headed uphill again.  After a few turns and another short downhill, I saw Liz for the sixth time and entered the last, long downwind stretch.  I passed the half marathon chip mat at 1:29:02, and could see the 3:00 group quite a distance ahead of me.  They were a little ahead of pace, but that made sense with the tough section coming up.

The next few miles went by easily and I was feeling very good about the race.  At mile 16 or so the road heads up a short but pretty steep climb to the St. Johns Bridge.  The bridge spans the Willamette River and is the start of my least favorite section of the Portland Marathon.   It’s a 150 foot climb to the center of the bridge (which is lovely by the way).   After a gentle descent to the bluffs on the east side of the river there’s  a steep 100 foot  drop to a hard left turn and a climb right back up to the top of the bluff.

I made it to the top of the bridge just fine and still felt well.  The view was great and the wind was actually refreshing – cooling me off after the effort of the climb.  Starting down, though, I felt the first hint of trouble.  My legs didn’t have the easy, springy feel I expected on the gentle downhill.  My troubles vanished, though, when I heard the cow bells and saw Liz’s bright face at the end of the bridge.  But the subsequent drop, turn and climb back up reminded me I was in trouble.  By mile 19 I was fading fast.

I was paying the price for chasing that darned balloon.  My legs were getting heavier and thicker.  Turnover was becoming more and more difficult.  It cheered me to see Liz again at mile 22, but then I realized she was running alongside me shouting encouragement… and she was keeping up with me pretty easily.  Uh oh.  A gentle downhill should have helped, but it felt like an uphill.  I couldn’t get my legs to turn over.  I was having trouble with arithmetic, too, but my calculations were casting a doubtful cloud over my 3:10 goal.

More and more people were passing me.  There were a few sad folks having an even tougher time than I was, but there was no joy in passing them.  On the climb toward mile 24 a tall, strong looking guy came by.  I realized it was Tim and was momentarily delighted to see how well he was doing in his first marathon.  I told him he was looking great, and he replied that he must look better than he felt.  He lingered alongside me a little, and it looked like he might give in to an urge to slow down.  Happily, though, he snapped out of it and pulled away.  He inspired me and I tried to match his surge.  I couldn’t stay with him, but I had a tiny bit more energy.  When I reached the top of the hill I knew I had only two miles left, and that helped, too.  After one more bridge across the Willamette I saw the sign for mile 25.    With a mile left to go I had given up hope of finishing under 3:10.  It was starting to feel like I might even miss a P.R. (I needed to beat 3:14:48 to get a new personal record).  I realized I needed to get positive.  I rallied my energy with the idea of a new P.R., and that was enough to keep me going.

I quit looking at my watch and just focused on moving forward.  As I approached mile 26 I saw Liz for the ninth time and she was really animated!  I realized she was saying, “You did it!”  I was confused and wasn’t sure what I’d done.  Could I still beat 3:10?  I gave it all I had up the last hill and was delighted to see 3:09:15 when I turned the corner with one block to go.  I heard the announcer call out my name as I approached the finish, and enjoyed hearing him say “53 years young.”  I crossed the mat with a chip time of 3:09:21 and felt relieved and happy.

I found Tim and was happy to hear he’d finished in 3:07.  Dru was right behind me with a 3:10.  Liz was waiting for me at the exit from the finish area.  I hobbled back to the hotel with her and got cleaned up.  We were out of the hotel by check-out time and Liz drove us back to Bend.

I really got my money’s worth from that marathon.  I’d felt the highest highs and the lowest lows.  I’d enjoyed an hour or so of thinking I was going to run a 3:00 marathon.  I’d suffered through a period thinking I’d blown my 3:10 goal.  I’d managed my way through the huge sag.  I had the joy of seeing my lovely wife all over the course, and the extra bounce when she told me I’d made the 3:10 goal.  It was the most emotional race I’ve run.

More worrying about the weather – Chicago 2007

I signed up for the Chicago Marathon in 2007.  I had a hunch that 2007 was going to be a good running year for me.  I’d run my best marathon ever the previous fall in Chicago, and I kept my mileage up through the winter in order to be ready for Boston in April.   I was optimistic that a return to Chicago would give me a good shot at a new P.R.

That optimism faded as race day approached.  I felt fit and ready, but the weather forecast for Chicago was looking grim.  And it got worse each day.  It was really going to be hot.  I was getting worried.  I didn’t want to “waste” my possible P.R. run on a horribly hot day in Chicago.  Appended to the National Weather Service’s scary-hot temperature forecast was a note also predicting “humidity will be unusually high.”  I couldn’t imagine how high humidity would have to get before Midwesterners would call it unusually high!  Worry went off-scale.

I converted my worry into action.  On the Wednesday before the marathon I cancelled our flights and hotel.  Next I checked the weekend forecast for Portland, Oregon (by happy coincidence, the Portland Marathon was being run the same day as Chicago).  The forecast for Portland looked great!  I booked a room.

My wife, Liz, and I drove to Portland Friday afternoon and went directly to the expo to register.  Saturday was a relaxing day in the lovely city with my lovely wife.  Sunday morning was a little warmer than forecast, but still about 30 degrees Fahrenheit cooler than Chicago was that morning.  It was good weather to try for a P.R., but that’s another story.