Mercedes Marathon in Pictures

This week has been crazy and won't settle down until Sunday at the earliest.  So with no further ado, here are (some of the many) pictures from the Mercedes Marathon.  They tell the story as well as any words.

And we're off.

Finish line in sight.

I promise to muster up a true race report soon.  Short story:  great race.

California International Marathon Race Report

Wow.  The past few weeks have been crazy.  I arrived back at my parents' house in Cleveland Sunday and have spent the last 5 days sleeping, watching tv, making Christmas cookies and partying.  What can I say?  I'm on vacation.  I did manage to get in two runs on the treadmill since I've been home, but haven't pushed it too much.  6000 miles of driving have my IT bands tighter than a fat guy in spandex.

Now for CIM.  Where to start?  It's been 2.5 weeks since the race so I think I can write a more objective review.  I have to admit that I was expecting a lot from this race.  It's the most expensive marathon I've run and the largest.  I'd really only heard good things months before the race, so my expectations were pretty high.  Maybe I would have been less disappointed with this race if I'd expected nothing, but as it is I found CIM to be a major letdown.

As you know already, I'd spent 3 days driving west before arriving in Sacramento for the race.  I had one day to recover and was able to loosen up a little by squeezing in a couple light 2 mile runs in the days preceeding the race. Having arrived in town Friday, I was able to hit the expo early and wander around the booths.  While the people there were very friendly, the expo was poorly marked and it wasn't immediately obvious where to go to pick up your bib, shirt, chip etc...  (While waiting at the information stand to ask about race day parking, all 5 people in front of me were asking where to go for packet pick-up.)  That was the first warning sign.

Piercings at Jack in the Box?  Um.  No, thanks.
At least you won't get hungry.

Saturday I checked out Sacramento and drove the course.  (That's where I snapped the lovely photo on the left.)  I'd been warned that despite being advertised as a downhill race there are plenty of hills.  Let's just say I discovered that this was the hilliest race I've ever run.  By far.  Sweet.

That night, I hit up a great Italian restaurant, Paesanos, for some carb loading and had their delicious Cappellini D'Angelo.  The place was crawling with people discussing CIM and I got to chat with a couple of them while I was there.  Always good to get some advice from veterans.

That night, I was kindly hosted by a resident at UC Davis who also happened to be running the race.  This is when the disaster began.  We went to bed around 10pm to get some sleep.  For some reason, I can sleep the night before other major events but the night before a marathon I toss and turn.  Always.  But tonight made all the other "Marathon Eves" look like hibernation.  The neighbors decided to throw a party so I awoke to "Barbie Girl" (with World of Warcraft or something playing in the background) at 11pm.  I'm pretty sure the last time I glanced at the clock is was 2am.  The combination of bad pop music and video games alone is enough to give you nightmares, but the cacophony of noise on the other side of the wall prevented any possibility of sleep.  I think I can safely say I didn't get more than 2 hours of sleep.

My alarm went off at 3:45.  I dragged myself out of bed.  The two of us drove downtown to catch the bus to the start.  I found an amazing parking spot pretty close to the finish line, which is probably the best thing that happened all day.  The morning was damp but not as cold as had been predicted.  The million buses shuttled us the 26 miles to the start where we had over an hour to mill around.  I'd decided to leave my sweatshirt in the car since it hadn't felt too cold with the tall buildings downtown blocking the wind, but now that we had an hour to kill outside I was regretting that decision.  Oh well.  The shivering & adrenaline kept me from getting too cold.  In fairness, I should say that I could have waited on one of the buses but I got in line for a port-a-potty and everyone in front of me seemed to be having problems so I was outside most of the time.

Before the start, I squeezed through the crowds to the 3:40 pace group and settled in.  I wasn't feeling great, but I wouldn't allow myself to think negatively so I kept repeating to myself that I had it in the bag.  The pace leader was really upbeat and encouraging so I focused on that.  When the gun went off I took a deep breath & we crowded through the start.

Miles 1-8:  Calm Before the Storm

For the first 8 miles, I was feeling ok.  The pace group had at least 100 people so I ran on my own for a bit to stay out of the crush.  The leader kept taking the downhills fast which had me a little worried but I tried to trust her experience.  The first half of the marathon is all rolling hills - something I have essentially no experience running - so I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.  As the miles passed, I started having a pain in my right foot.  I discovered on the downhills that my right foot was sliding slightly forward in my shoe and slamming into the laces.  At first it was a mere irritation but by mile 8 my thought process went something like: "<pain> *step* <pain> *step*"  I kept waiting for when the pain would dull into something manageable and focused on the crowds and the runners around me.

At this point, I was rapidly realizing that the water stations were going to be a clusterf*ck the whole race.  Largely because there was a huge crush of people, but also because they were somewhat erratic.  They were sometimes on one side of the road, sometimes both, so you couldn't always tell until you were right alongside. Plus, the 3:40 pace leader was carrying her own water and therefore didn't stop or slow for water stops.  It meant that my pace was all over the map to stay on track.  (I realize now that I should have run my own race.)

Miles 9-14:  Unraveling
My mind wasn't in the game.  At mile 9 I hit "stop" rather than "lap" on my Garmin.  A small detail, perhaps, but it was indicative of a lot more.  I lost half a mile before realizing what I'd done and more doubt flooded into my sleep deprived brain.

On top of that, as the adrenaline from the starting line wore off my exhaustion also began to hit home.  Every time I saw patches of soft, green grass, my mind thought of how nice it would be to lie down for a while.  Each time I caught myself thinking that I'd refocus but I could feel the wheels slipping out from underneath.  My energy level was slipping and I began to feel that malaise associated with hitting the wall.  My legs were dead weight and I felt like I was moving through concrete.

On top of everything else, I started getting incredibly nauseous.  I never have stomach problems but choking down gels or water was an exercise in stubbornness and determination.  Knowing that I was actively bonking, I forced them down and kept moving.

Meanwhile, the pain in my foot was escalating.  The sensation became not only distracting but it was rapidly progressing such that any other thoughts were impossible.  Every time I put any weight on my right foot, a knife tore through my skin.  I tried to not let the pain alter my stride, worried I'd cause another injury, but it was severe enough that a stress fracture became an increasingly real concern.  Now I began to have a heated argument with myself:  keep running and risk serious injury or throw in the towel again and give up on my hopes of Boston this year.

Miles 15-26.2 Game Over

Near the mile 14.4 aid station, the pain won.  I was too tired to fight it anymore and I didn't want to spend the next few months sidelined with a stress fracture.  I moved to the side and tore off my shoe.  The foot didn't look great, but the pain improved significantly with the shoe off.  Luckily, I'd read a Runner's World article months ago about how to tie your shoes differently to minimize problems.  Once the laces were altered, the pain decreased but I'd lost 3 or 4 minutes for re-lacing and knew I couldn't regain that time.

It was over.  Any other race I struggled through, I could remind myself that I knew I could finish. This time it wasn't that I didn't think I could finish, it's that I didn't care.  Convincing myself to keep going was a huge challenge.  I stopped having fun as a marathoner.  The second half of the race was neverending.

CIM Review
Enough of me complaining about me.  Here come my complaints about CIM.

1.  The aid stations.  Wow.  I suck for saying that.  But the water stops were really poorly run.  The only reason I got gels was because I knew which station they were at and I shouted "Gels?!?!" the whole way through.  Even then, at 2 of them I had to grab a gel out of the hand of the only volunteer handing them out because they weren't paying any attention to the runners.  Nice.  To make things worse, Ultima is the beverage offered.  FYI:  Ultima has next to no carbs.  At a marathon.  How did that seem like a good idea to anyone?

2.  The crowds.  I know.  That's pretty douchy.  Sorry.  Normally I'm happy to have anyone cheering, but my expectations were high for a race like this.  And to be fair, there were some really awesome signs and people cheering.  But the vast majority of people weren't cheering.  Or smiling.  As hundreds of people passed in front of them, most of the crowd had their eyes focused on scanning the horizon for that one guy they know.  Once I finished the race I cheered people on around 25.7 and, though I was surrounded by people, I was almost the only one cheering.  When I started shouting & cheering, a couple people briefly joined in.  That's about it.  What's the point of doing these huge races if it's little better than an empty course?

3.  The post-marathon event.  Once I finished, I was famished.  I headed over for food only to realize there was a 30-some minute wait to get food.  Really?!?  Since I'd found such a great parking spot I went to my car first to get a Powerbar.  That way I would have something to eat while waiting for food.  That's a first.  Sad.

I'll leave it at that.  Would I run CIM again?  Probably not.  But now, it's time to think about plans for the coming year.  More on that later.  In the meantime, happy holidays!  I wish you all the best.

Gobble, Gobble

Gobble, gobble!

Today I ran my first Turkey Trot and my little sister ran her first race.  Yay!  The bad news is that it was freezing, windy and raining.  Since she started running only a few weeks ago she asked that we run the 1 mile race (which was untimed), so at least we weren't in the cold rain all that long.

And since I wore my Garmin, I discovered that the course was only 0.89 miles.  Oops.  No matter.  I'm going to pretend I don't know that and eat generously today anyway.

We're great at choosing good backdrops.
At least it was dry.

 The verdict?  We had a blast.  She did great and we found ourselves running alongside a group of M&Ms with a "bag of M&Ms", a Hershey Kiss and 3 women dressed like turkeys.  (There was a costume contest associated with the race.)







3 things I'm thankful for today:
1.  Being able to run.  It keeps me sane, healthy and thus far has prevented multiple homicides.  (Angry or upset?  Go for a run.)

2.  My sister has found her own joy in running.

3.  As of right now, I can breathe.  This is a good thing.  (Once I've finished shoveling Thanksgiving dinner into my mouth, I may no longer be able to say that.  Hurt so good.)

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Pensacola Marathon Race Recap

Shoot.  It's Tuesday.  I said I'd get you this on Monday.  This is way past my bedtime, but I won't have time tomorrow (today?) so here it is:

Saturday

Luckily, not many people on the roads.

I was pretty psyched and drove out to Pensacola without any problems.  I even took a picture of me singing my head off on the drive but the picture turned out worse than my singing.  Coordinating self-portraits while driving is probably a bad idea anyway so you'll have to settle for a my picture of the road (easier to aim) and the beautiful blue sky.

The hotel wasn't super sketchy, although I did debate staying at a hotel down the street advertising $35/night.  The cheap place did look super sketchy so I passed.  (I did, however, spend 10 minutes parked in their parking lot debating how much I cared that it looked unsafe.  Not gonna lie.)  Right after I checked in at my hotel I drove over to the packet pick-up covering some of the course in the process.  I was a little bit surprised to see how hilly it was.  Not just little rolling hills but some significant climbs as well.  Hmm.  Nothing to do about it at this point.

The people at the packet pick-up were very helpful and organized. Piece of cake.  The only downside is that the shirts are that "see-through-white."   So see-through that you can hold them up and not only read the print on the front AND back of the shirt, but could talk to someone standing on the other side with a better field of vision than if you were wearing a burka.  Bummer.  I'm not really into the see-through shirts, but at least you can layer.

Race Day

3 gels pinned to my behind.

After sleeping fitfully, I woke up at 3:55.  The race started at 6:30 and I wanted plenty of time for "digestion" (if you know what I mean), getting ready, checking out of the hotel and driving the 20 minutes to the start.  I woke up right on time, downed my coffee & whole wheat bagel with peanut butter immediately and got everything together.  I did what you're always told not to do and toyed with a new way to carry gels:  I pinned 3 on the back of my shorts (I normally carry them in my armband).  I won't create too much suspense... they made it less than a mile before I took 2 of them off (stabbing myself with the pins in the process) because I could tell they were going to piss me off if I didn't.  Bummer.

Sunrise (long after I got to the race start)

Anyway, back to the story... "digestion" didn't work.  I could not go to the bathroom before I left the hotel.  This seems to be a problem for me when I'm A: away from home and B: have early starts for races.  Not sure which is most responsible, but Sunday was no exception.  I showed up at the starting line a little more than an hour early so I figured I'd warm-up, jump up and down to "warm-up" and therefore *get things moving* so I could hit a port-a-potty before the race.  Luckily, getting there so early meant that I got a killer parking space right near the finish and could jump around without making too many people think I was crazy.  After hitting the port-a-potties twice with no luck, I figured, "who cares?"  This ones just for fun anyway.  If (or rather, when) I have to stop for a potty break, I won't mind losing a minute or two.  So I lined up with everyone else and waited for the gun.

The Race

Miles 1-15 were mostly me trying to reign it in.  I was feeling good and my body kept picking up the pace.  I tend to want to keep everyone else's pace, but the marathon is a personal battle you have to fight on your own.  I also knew that there were way more half marathon runners than full so I didn't want to get carried away by their enthusiasm so early on.  I mostly kept my pace where I wanted it and enjoyed the sights.  This time around (the course was a double loop) the hills were mere speed bumps - they slowed me a little but were soon forgotten.  It was also during this portion of the race that 2 exciting things happened:

1.  They had free Gu/Powerbar gels around mile 6 and 13.5.  I grabbed 2 at each stop.  Sweet!

2.  Despite someone stealing using the public port-a-potty at mile 6, I wasn't experiencing an emergency so I patiently waited until mile 8 rather than stand & wait.  I don't know if it works the same for you, but successful "pit stops" are magical and significantly improve my quality of life.  Let's just say that mile 9 was beautiful.

There was also the bonus that from mile 9-13 I was flying by half-marathoners (and a couple marathoners...  Uh oh!) who went out too fast, didn't train well, or were simply having a bad day.  It's not that I enjoy your misery.  It's simply that we've all been there and it's nice to have a day when you're not that person.

Miles 16-20 were uneventful.  My adrenaline energy had worn off at this point, and we'd left the half marathoners behind.  This means that I was now spending a lot more time alone on the course but there were still 10-20 runners within sight in front of me at any given time.  (Yeah... a little lonely.)  I was no longer struggling to slow down, but I wasn't struggling to hold the pace either.  Everything was feeling pretty good.

Mile 19/20 - The clouds disappeared and the sun came out in full force.  Until now, the weather had been warm but cloudy with very little direct sunlight.  Once the sun peeked out, you could look around and immediately tell it was taking a toll on everyone.  It was around this point that my heart rate started to slowly creep up.  I still had gas left in the tank, but I began to debate the impact that pushing the last 6 miles would have on CIM.  Any time we hit hills my heart rate was jumping into the high 170s and I was getting worried about pushing it too hard.  A little disappointed, I decided to simply keep the pace I'd been running all along (rather than running MP for the last 6-8) and that I'd walk the uphills.  CIM is predominantly downhill, so I didn't want to "practice" on hills I won't be running.  I repeatedly had to remind myself this was a long, slow run for me... not a race.  Going full throttle wasn't going to get me anywhere (figuratively speaking, that is).

So I plodded my way to the finish line.  I felt ok, but started feeling that hot weather type of exhaustion where you just don't want to move unless it's toward an ice bath.  It wasn't dangerously hot out, just the mid-70s, but when you've already run over 20 miles the little temperature changes take a bigger toll.  Miles 21-24 were my slowest, primarily due to walking hills but I still kept my pace averaged around 9:28 for those miles.  Once I hit mile 25 I dropped back until 9:00 miles to coast in to the finish and I still came in under 4 hours.

And yes, I even did a goofy run through the finish line.  I became a maniac, afterall.  Figured I had a good excuse to act like one.  (We'll see when the pictures come back how ridiculous I look.)  Some guy yelled that if I had that much energy crossing the line I shoulda raced harder.  I didn't want to tell him I'm saving my energy for December.  Plus, at this point the extra energy I used to sprint the last 0.2 and high-step it across the finish had taken it's toll and I was gasping for air.  Whatevs.  The finisher pictures don't show what you look like on that side of the line.  That's something we can all be grateful for.

I'm a maniac... next up, massage!

Overall?  It was good for a supported long run, but I'm not sure I'd run it again.

The quick & dirty:

Pros:  Small, but very friendly marathon.  The route is made up of 2 loops - some people don't like that, but I don't mind.  You know what's coming and can settle into a groove.  The first few miles of the loop are pretty and along the Gulf.

Hurt so good.  He's really leaning into it!

Cons:  There are very few spectators, particularly on the second loop once all the half marathon runners have finished.  The course was just ok.  There isn't much to say about most of the scenery... a lot of it was industrial or small residential neighborhoods.  I don't know Pensacola at all, so maybe that's all it has to offer.  Once you finished, there was only one guy doing massages and one guy doing dynamic stretching.  The stretching tent started packing up almost immediately after I finished.  (I ran to my car to dump my gels and switch to flip-flops and by the time I arrived at the tent - maybe 4 hrs and 10 minutes after the start - they'd already stopped taking names for the list.  Really!?!  The bulk of the marathon runners are just crossing or haven't crossed yet.  I'm gonna go out on a limb and say they need your help the most, but whatever.  Not much you can do.)  The massage guy was great, but it would have been nice to have another person or two to help him out.

Once I get the official pictures, I'll post some of the ridiculous ones for you.  Nothing like running pictures to make you humble.  I hope everyone had a good weekend!

She's a Maniac!

First off, I want to thank everyone for the support.  This is a pretty low stress race for me, but support is always welcome.  Especially because I drove some of the course on the way to the packet pick-up and was horrified pleasantly surprised to see that it was all rolling hills.  (In Florida?!?  What?!  Isn't Florida supposed to be super flat?)

I'm actually writing this Saturday night and set it to post automatically... barring any major problems, I should have finished by now and may even be back in NOLA which means that:

(I suspect the only thing we have in common is how much we sweat.)

Yup, you guessed it:  At this point in time I should qualify as a marathon maniac.  I'll get you the race report as soon as I enjoy the post-race festivities, drive back to New Orleans, enter a food coma at the Po-Boy Fest, and sleep it all off.  So probably Monday.  (Appropriate to have a manic Monday, no?)  I hope you all had a great weekend as well!

Towpath Marathon - Race Report

The morning of the race I woke up early.  And by early I mean 2 am.  It seems impossible to get good sleep the night before a race, plus I was nervous because I had an ambitious goal:  qualify for Boston.  I eventually fell back asleep, waking a couple more times before getting up at 5:30.  Ugh.

I got dressed, attached my race number, put my chip on my shoes, finalized my pace band and made breakfast: coffee, bread with peanut butter and a banana.  I don't normally eat that much, but I knew I was going to be arriving at the race 90 minutes early so there was plenty of time to digest.  The race started at the Boston mills Ski Resort, which is accessible only by a couple small 2 lane roads.  I luckily overheard that traffic is terrible the morning of the race when I was picking up my number, so I planned to get there early.  Nobody wants to be stuck in traffic worrying about whether they'll make the start.

I was feeling pretty good that morning.  It was cold, although I knew it was supposed to get hot before the race ended.  Not great, but I was trying not to think about it.  (If I finished fast enough maybe I could beat the heat?)  There were a ton of people who arrived early, so we were sitting in the dark of the ski resort lodge, stretching and talking about other races.  When they announced we should head to the start, I stopped at my car to drop off my warm up pants and sweatshirt, and double checked that I had everything I needed:  Garmin.  Armband with iPod and gels.  Sunglasses.  Check, check, check.

The race started off heading downhill on a two lane road (I took a picture of the starting line after the race which you can see on the left); plenty of room as everyone found their pace and fell into a groove.  We entered the towpath trail about a half mile into the race, and things had spread out enough that I didn't feel too crowded.  I was carefully watching my Garmin to stay on track.  I sometimes find it hard to stick to my pace with the adrenaline pumping at the start of a race.  I tried turning on my iPod for about a mile, but realized that I simply don't like listening to music during races.  (I've always had my iPod with me, but have never used it before.)

We would run South along the trail for around 9 miles before turning around and heading North.  I felt pretty comfortable keeping my pace, but I knew that it was my upper limit and it would be a challenge to stay there for 26 miles.  The first guy to pass me going the other direction passed around mile 7 (their mile 9) and I was still feeling pretty good.  There weren't many people out cheering - the trail is not easily accessible at many points, but there were water/HEED stops every mile or so and the volunteers were well organized.

By the time I hit mile 12 or 13 I was starting to doubt myself.  The mile markers were slightly off from my Garmin, so when I would hit mile 7, for example, my Garmin (which I started when I crossed the mat) would read 7.08 or 7.13.  So I was running faster than pace "just in case" and it was starting to take its toll.  I was still keeping pace ok, but those little voices, "maybe I'm going too fast" and "you'll never keep this up" started to echo.

What didn't help?  Passing the half mark, I started noting a nagging pain in my feet, knees and my right shin.  I never have foot and knee pain <knock on wood> and the shin pain I only get when I'm wearing shoes that are too old.  I'd realized 2 weeks before the marathon that my shoes reached the 500 mile mark, but 2 weeks is not enough time to transition to new shoes.  Bummer.  That wasn't going to stop me, but it certainly wasn't going to make it comfortable.

As I approached mile 16 and 17, I was starting to hurt.  I knew I could finish.  That wasn't the question.  But it became increasingly clear that I wasn't going to be able to qualify without hurting myself, either because of the shoes, the pace being too much or the increasing heat.  So I began to consider my options.  Keep pushing at the same pace and see how far I could make it.  Or back off and save my legs for another day.  I stayed at a 8:20 pace until mile 19.

And then it hit me.  It was a beautiful day, even if a bit warm for a run, and I was in a gorgeous national park. The problem?  I had barely taken a look around to enjoy the scenery.  I could keep pushing the pace until I broke down, or I could literally stop and smell the roses.

So I walked.  That moment was a mix of emotions.  Walking when I'd already stayed on pace for over 19 miles, I knew I wouldn't hit my goal, but I knew that already.  Yet I also realized that I'd been missing the point.  Trail races offer the opportunity to get out of our usual city grind and wander through nature.  They offer a breath of fresh air.  There aren't the big crowds of city events, and that's part of the point.  And I'd been plowing through the race, pushing myself, and missing everything.

After mile 19, I watched my average pace creep up second by second.  At first, I felt disappointment.  But as I started paying more attention to my fellow runners and the beauty around me, I cared less.  Save it for another day.  I started taking regular walk breaks.  Partly because I'd burned out my legs - I didn't have a choice, and partly because I was enjoying myself.

The other runners were amazing.  Everyone was cheering each other on, even when you could tell the encouragement was as much for themselves as for you.  And most managed to keep a smile on their faces, which is as it should be.  We all want to challenge ourselves, and that's a good thing.  And sometimes that extra push is painful.  But, I feel that if you can't come out of the day with a smile on your face, perhaps it wasn't worth it.

So keep smiling.  And remember:  You run because you love it.

Towpath Recap

I'll have a full report later, but things today went... good, but not as planned.  I went out a little too quick and knew by mile 19 that qualifying for Boston wasn't going to happen.  So, rather than get too down, I decided to enjoy the beautiful race.  The trees were all changing color, which I barely noticed during the first half because I was focused on my Garmin.  After mile 19, I decided that if I was going to be out there, I might as well take in the sights and enjoy myself.  So, overall, I didn't hit my goal but the day turned out well.  As for qualifying, there's always next time.