Mesa Turkey Trot 10K – 11/22/12

Mesa, Arizona, USA

Just a quick little writeup this time.  Thanksgiving day dawned bright and sunny with a forecast high in the low 80s – by the 9:00 AM starting time the chill had certainly gone out of the air, and I was glad I’d gone with short sleeves and shorts!  Organization was excellent as always.  My only complaint might be that the PA wasn’t really audible over the hubbub of the crowd at the start; maybe an extra speaker or two along the corral wouldn’t have gone amiss, now that this has grown to be the “biggest turkey trot in Arizona”.

Even though this is a 10K, it’s billed as a family fun run so the field was large and motley.  Apart from the turkey mascot running as a 45 min pacer, there were several people sporting turkey hats, and one guy in a tartan kilt – I guess there were probably Scottsmen at the first Thanksgiving?  There was quite a bit of dodging and rubbing of elbows over the first mile or two, but an overall festive atmosphere.

I’ve been taking it easy on my speed work for months, so I really had to push myself to keep my pace up where it needed to be for my goal of bringing this in under 1 hour.  As we reached the 6 mile mark the timer read 58 something, and knowing that it had taken over a minute to cross the start line I poured on the speed (well, “poured” may be a bit of an overstatement, maybe “trickled”) and squeaked across the finish in 59:48!  Woot!  That’s a PR by 59 seconds!

Afterwards I swung by my gym, which was on the way home, and sat in the Jacuzzi for a while.  What a great morning!

Warrior Dash 5K – 10/20/12

Las Vegas, NV, USA

Jump into the fire.

I’ll come clean – I have lived in Arizona for nearly 30 years and although I’ve driven through Las Vegas a couple times, I have never had a “Vegas vacation” until now.  Of course, since I’ve always found gambling boring and pointless, for me a Vegas vacation mean Cirque du Soleil, Hoover Dam, and my very first mud run!

Pre-race:

Let’s suffice to say that race organizers in general don’t gear publicity towards people who plan to walk in, and hotel staff generally have no clue how far it is to anything on foot.  Luckily I got in early enough on Friday to explore my surroundings a bit.  For those of you who may have Googled your way to this post looking for directions, the course is located in the Lake Las Vegas Resort development east of Henderson, in an open desert area 15 minutes’ walk from the Westin.  30 minutes’ walk from the Luna di Lusso tower where I was staying.  So, a nice warmup distance.

Race:

The 5K course was run in a shallow canyon or trough, out in an undeveloped desert area- lots of dirt and rocks, a little bit of scrub. Spectators could sit at the edge of the dirt parking lot and look down on the last stretch of the race.

With PT my QLs, and my back in general, were beginning to feel better.  Still, my main goal was just to complete all the obstacles without killing myself.  The course was a little different than described on the website, so I can’t use that as a cheat sheet, so these are the highlights, probably out of chronological order.

There was a good long run through the desert and up a hill before the first obstacle – disappointingly we were instructed to run around it because some overenthusiastic person at the leading edge decided to go over the barbed wire instead of under it and knocked the whole thing over.  Here are some highlights from the obstacles that weren’t knocker over….

Mud pit #1 : more like black tar pit!  – it was a pretty heroic (and aerobic!) effort pulling one foot out at a time without leaving the shoe behind, and I had to lean on another racer’s arm because I kept falling over.  I don’t know whether they use some kind of proprietary Warrior Dash sticky mud mixture, but I think there was some black clay in there.

Funky sloping balance beam:  Feeling a bit unsteady, I crossed this one on four points – hands and feet.

The wall: Ah yes, the wall.  You scale it using a rope and climb down the other side.  Not horribly tall, but my weirdly-specific acrophobia kicked in when I got to the top and I hung there having an embarrassing meltdown until some other racers caught up with me.  “Just sit on the top and swing your leg over,” said one gal.  Oh.  Is that all?  Hey, it works!  I was so stupidly ecstatic after this.

Bonfires!  The course ran through several water crossings right before this obstacle; I suspect to get everyone’s shoes nice and soaking in case they decided to go through instead of over.  I get a good head of steam going and leap!  It looks really impressive in the photos.

Finally, crawling through a mud slurry under barbed wire, to make sure you’re good and dirty for the finish photo!  This mud was really coarse and full of gravel, definitely made from local desert dirt.

Post-race:

Yay!  I finished, and I completed all the obstacles, which was my only goal for my first time.  I’m eager to run another Warrior Dash so I can tackle The Wall again, now that I know how to do it without the meltdown.  There was a minor mixup because I’d been mistakenly issued someone else’s bib; once that was straightened out I discovered that my time of 1:01:23 actually put me in the top fifth in the F50-59 age group!  That’s really hard to imagine – there must’ve been a lot of people treating this as more of a stroll than a dash!

After hosing down in the “shower” area (literally a guy with a hose), I availed myself of a veggie burger at the food stand, but eschewed the free beer as it was only 10 in the morning.

Coda: As I was heading back to my hotel, the next waves of racers were queueing up, including a bridal party complete with bride in a strapless gown with train!  That must have been a sight to see going through the mud pits!

Louis Tewanima Footrace 5K – 9/2/12

Shungopavi Village, Hopiland, USA

Don’t worry, be Hopi.

This was a special edition, the 100^th anniversary of Louis Tewanima’s silver medal in the London Olympic Marathon.  I made the long drive up from Phoenix the day before, arriving early evening at Second Mesa along with the rain.  The village is a tiny maze of houses and cars, made more confusing to navigate by the merchant artisans and tourists who had rolled in for the festival weekend.  I eventually located the community center by rolling down my window and asking passersby for directions 2 or 3 times.

Packet pickup was quick & painless, and they even gave me a refund for downgrading from 10K to 5K!  It made me kind of sad because I had bib #1 for the 10K, but with my QL and my back in general being kind of a mess I thought it the wisest move.  Dinner was a spaghetti and Korean food buffet with pie for dessert.   During dinner we’re treated to a talk about Louis Tewanima’s career and the significance of running to Hopi religion & culture.  (The race field is primarily Native American, and also very young.)

Pre-race:

My hotel is just two miles down the road from Shungopavi.  This time I easily find the ball field & start line by following the cars.  The weather is beautiful and clear, the sky scrubbed by the night’s rain.  Miss Hopi is there along with part of her court selling donuts & coffee, and a flute/drum trio is setting up under the awards tent.

The 10K starts at 7:00; apparently there are spotters along the route, because we soon get status announcements about the leading edge of the race, both real and humorous. (I certainly didn’t see any Starbucks along the way!)  Ssome of us wander over to the edge of the mesa to see if we can catch a glimpse of the first runners as they loop back around below (we’re looking down at roughly the three-mile marker).  The leader appears, and man he is way out in front!  The next runner is a good 30 sec behind – these guys are fast!  The announcers start to call for the 5Kers to line up, then they spot the first 10K finisher coming in, everyone cheers – but no, it’s just one of the 5K-ers, warming up.

Race:

And we’re off!  The first part of the race is through the village, along rain-pocked hardpacked dirt road.  I almost trip over one of the village dogs, who decided to join the crowd but has no runner’s etiquette.   “Eskwale!  Eskwale!” shout the spectators as we leave the village and make a turn to the left.  My Garmin says that I’ve once more bolted from the gate in the excitement with a 8:00 pace, which I know I can’t maintain at this altitude (~6000 ft), so I slow down and let the youngsters pass me.  Then we’re over the edge of the mesa, down a steep slope and into the trail portion of the race.  This is quite challenging and fun, keeping your feet while the trail winds up and down,  with the vast sweep of the mesa lands stretching away to the right.  Everyone seems to be having a good time, even the occasional person taking a spill.

Around the halfway point I’m really starting to feel the altitude; my legs are saying “Go go go!” my lungs are saying “No no no!” and my back is saying “Uh guys, was this a good idea?”  I do take a couple walk breaks in the final mile, and everyone walks on the stairclimb back up the side of the mesa.  I crest the top at just about the same spot as everyone was standing earlier, looking down at the 10K leaders, and head down the chute to shouts of “Eskwale!”

Post-race:

After the 5K there’s a 2 miler and a 1 mile fun run.  The latter even has some wheelchair racers – elders in regular wheelchairs being pushed by family – and some kids so tiny they look as if they’ve just started to get the hand of this running thing!

I’m wistfully coveting a medal – they’re a special 100^th anniversary version this year – but not expecting one because of my horrible time of 36:06.  I’m surprised and chuffed when they announce my name for 3^rd place in women’s 50-59!

After hitting the hotel for a shower and a liedown to rest my back, I drive back to the village to try and find the plaza where the butterfly dancing is taking place this weekend.  This time I get lost looking for the plaza and wind up at the community center, where the race volunteers kindly invite me in to have some more Korean food.  And yes, I do finally locate the dance.

This was a small and really friendly race.  I’d like to come back again when my back’s in better shape and also explore some of the surrounding area, the painted desert.

Northland Hospice Run for Life 5K – 6/23/12

Flagstaff, Arizona, USA

We’re having a heat wave.

This was my first race post-Rapa Nui, a little 5K up in Flag to stretch out the legs.  This year was warmer than normal – I usually wear a light windbreaker on my walk from the hotel down to Wheeler Park, but it was totally superfluous this time.  Luckily they had gear check, which I think is the first year they’ve offered that.

As always a nice little run through historic downtown Flagstaff and selected suburbs.  Wouldn’t you know it, the one time I say to myself “I don’t need a bottle for this short distance” is the one time they run out of water due to a heat wave!  The first station was running low when I got there, and at the second station they were out completely, one of the volunteers filling cups from her own Camelback (and ran out just before my turn in line).

Fortunately water station three, serving both the 5K and 10K course, had plenty.  I was pleased that, other than slowing me down a bit on the uphill part of the course, the altitude had little impact on my race.  No wheezing, no walking.  I averaged 10:25 pace for the first two miles, then picked it up on the downhill to ~9:45 for a 32:30 finish.

Maraton Rapa Nui – 6/3/12

Hanga Roa, Easter Island, Chile

Anyway the wind blows.

This was my first time taking a package tour with Marathon Tours – it was a very different experience from my first two marathons, which were medium-to-large and where I didn’t know any of the other runners beforehand.  With a field of only 33 entrants for the full, most of whom I’d been knocking around Santiago and Easter Island with for the previous week, the race had a much cozier feel.

We arrived at the Hanga Roa airport (extra-long runway courtesy of NASA, who used it as an emergency alternate landing site for the shuttle) on Easter Island on Wednesday, and had a couple days touring around seeing the moai.  Also a couple nights sampling local beverages – my favorite was the mango sour, a variation on the pisco sour.  (Runners in their natural habitat seem to consume large quantities of alcohol.)  One of the bus tours took us back into town along the marathon route, and apart from the hairy hill around mile 15 it looked not bad – especially with a long downhill into town for the finish.

Friday morning I did a short shake-down run through town.  At first I was surprised that I didn’t feel the least bit winded on the slopes, before I remembered I was at sea level –duh!  There was also a tri on Friday on the other side of the island, and a trail bike race on Saturday that started from the same spot downtown as the marathon would on Sunday.

Saturday night we have the pasta feed and course briefing from the race director.  He explains that there are no problems on Rapa Nui – because there are no solutions!  The route is simple: keeping running until you reach the ocean, then turn around and come back.  Taking a swim at the beach is optional.  Someone asks whether the road will be closed; I hope they were joking, because it’s basically the island’s only road.  A few people aren’t thrilled with the pasta and head to the pizza place next door after the briefing.

Pre-race:

Around 7:00 the racers start to amble down to the hotel restaurant, with its panoramic view of the ocean breaking against the rocks, grumbling amiably that the late start is messing with their normal raceday routine.  I avoid the scrambled eggs this morning and concentrate on toast with jam and a little sweet coffee.  A few new lei-bedecked arrivals to the island drift in fresh from the plane, clutching their neck pillows and gazing about dazedly at all these people with numbers pinned to their shirts.

Back to our rooms to fiddle around and then loiter in the lobby. The temps have been consistently in the mid-70s and as per usual it rained a bit overnight, but a big wind also whipped up and isn’t showing any signs of abating.  At 9:00, an hour before the official start, a huge storm off the ocean drags a curtain of rain across the island.  Half an hour later it’s gone, and we all walk down the waterfront to the start line.

Race:

Off we go, marathoners, half marathoners, 10 and 5Kers, islanders and mainlanders, kids, contenders, and island dogs with their ears flapping.  From right next to the school soccer field with two big moai looking on, down the wet street dodging the rain-filled potholes, we turn right at the cemetery and loop back through town to the airport, following the route I took Friday morning.  A final left and we’re striking out across the island for the far shore, nine miles away.  The pavement here is much better, and lined with bushes blazed yellow with sweet-pea-like blossoms – some relation to Scotch broom?  We’ve already learned that almost all the flora and fauna now on the island was introduced after European contact.  Open fields of grasses roll away to either side, seed heads glimmering pink in the sunlight, and the occasional band of free-ranging horses can be seen.  The rain is truly gone, and the sun sails behind and out from the fluffy clouds that speed across the sky.  The temperature is fine, warm but not too warm, as the course slowly climbs towards the first summit.

My target pace is 10:30.  Caught up in the excitement, the first few miles I’m averaging closer to 10:00, but decide as long as I’m feeling good here at sea level figure I can dial it back later on the hills.  Around mile 7 the course goes through a eucalyptus plantation, the only wooded area on the island, and I sneak off for a bush pee.  Upon returning to the road I discover that my brand new clip-on pouch is missing – after a few minutes of beating the bushes I say screw it and continue on, minus one GU and a honey stinger waffle.

Up ahead and to the right is the green-robed cinder cone of Maunga Pui, the road climbing to cross its shoulder.  There’s quite a few false summits, and then I’m finally over the top!  There’s a fantastic view of the ocean, and a very steep two-mile downhill to the turnaround.  I wave at S, my roommate, as she passes going the opposite direction, and try not to think too much about how the slope is going to feel on the return trip.  At the bottom there’s a left fork to Anakena Beach and a sudden headwind from the sea – gah!  H, who passed me while I was bushwhacking, is waiting for me at the turnaround.  After a quick stretch, some water, and my one remaining GU, we head back together.  At this point I’m right on track for my target 4:35 finish.

It’s a hard slog back up the hill and I walk often, but I’m cheerful since once at the top it’s all downhill into town.  To my dismay, at the top of the hill – about mile 15 – I run into the headwind that blew this morning’s storm across the island and has been blowing unobstructed the six thousand miles from Australia.  (According to the Weather Underground almanac, it was 20mph at the airport, gusting into the 30’s.)  I can’t harp on this too much because wind is my nemesis and it absolutely got inside my head for the last third of this race.  My pace plummets.

A couple miles out of town I catch up with D, who provides me with a honey stinger and much-needed moral support.  We manage to take it back up to a running pace, except for a stretch paralleling the runway  where we do our best Marcel Marceau walking-into-the-wind impersonation.  He peels off in hopes of finding a loo open at the airport.

The course winds back through town, where there are still police directing traffic at the turns even though they’re 5-10 minutes between runners at this point.  With a huge sense of relief I hit the waterfront road and pass our hotel.  A group of halfers and 10K-ers are sitting on the retaining wall cheering.  Up ahead is the “Llegada” arch and ooh, I’m not quite gonna break 5:00 this time!

Post-race:

What a lot of familiar faces at the finish line!  H beat me in by 6 minutes, and D comes in shortly after me.  S powered through and captured the women’s champion prize, a crown of bright yellow flowers!  At 5:00:49 I’m just about the middle of the pack, so it was a challenging course for everyone.  I get my banana and my gear bag and hang out for a bit before wandering back to the hotel.  Some of the group are going horseback riding tomorrow; for me it’s a day at the beach and some cervezas!

Overall I was very pleased with the Marathon Tours itinerary and level of service.  I was impressed that our tour leader Jacqui walked the full marathon with one of the runners who’d injured his ankle in a drunken dancing incident three nights before.  (I’m kind of sorry and kind of glad I missed that party.)  There was a good mix of structured and free time; the only thing I’d change would be to add another day on the island post-race.

The race was well supported with Gatorade and water at frequent aid stations.  I brought a small bottle that I filled up as needed.  You do have to bring your own food if you want it, and the only official loos on the course are at the school at the start, and a pay toilet at the turnaround.  Race goodies include a good quality hat, shirt, and lightweight windbreaker just right for the weather .  The event’s only elite athlete (who’ll be going on to represent Chile in the triathlon at the Olympics) was right there the midst of everything, which is a change from events where you never even see the elites.

I was a little bummed that I didn’t make my goal time (maybe I should try a flat course next time) but it was still a PR, and an age group win, so I’ll take it!

-Nan

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OHvePiYte-8&feature=youtu.be

Whiskey Row Half Marathon – 5/5/12

Prescott, Arizona, USA

Couldn’t good be good enough?

My times have been steadily improving since Instanbul, including smashing through my HM PR twice, prompting my coach to boost my goal pace for Easter Island and ratchet up my training plan.  This Cinco de Mayo, though, my goal is have fun and don’t kill myself a month out from my marathon.  Whiskey Row is a tough course!

Pre-race:

I don’t get Fridays off anymore, so it’s leave work early, swing by the house for my suitcase and make the 2-hour drive up to Prescott for packet pickup at the Y.  (I’m really pleased with how the Prius C handles The Hill between Black Canyon City and Sunset Point.)  At the mini-expo, a woman is giving pre-race chair massages – what a great idea!  She releases a trigger point in my back that I would’ve hated to run with.  The carb load dinner is in the picnic area out back – it was probably really nice around 5:00 but now the sun’s going down it’s turned into a breezeway so I scarf my bean tostado and rice and head to my hotel, St. Michael’s.  After laying out my stuff I spend some time working on the mess under the ball of my right foot (big ol’blister that tore off half a callus) before turning in for the night.

I wake to the Olympic fanfare (my phone), grab a pop tart, and head downstairs.  The full marathoners are lining up at the start as I head the other way for an awkward 2-mile warmup carrying my gear bag.  The sun has fully risen when I re-join the halfers milling about Courthouse Square.  The announcer jokes that the Phoenicians are all huddled in the sun and the Prescottonians in the shade.

Race:

With a real-life shotgun start, we all head south down Whiskey Row, then loop around and start the first easy uphill on Gurley Street.  In the distance, Thumb Butte shines in the morning light.  I’m trying to stick near my goal HM pace for the first leg, but also really feeling the altitude – so are most of the people around me, judging by all the heavy breathing going on.  A left onto the rolling hills of Hasayampa drive, then a right onto Copper Basin and we’re climbing, climbing, climbing through pine forest.  “Al says – don’t look up now!”

For several miles I’m behind a gal with a long, swinging black braid, but eventually I overtake her.  A Cologne Marathon shirt appears in front of me, then gradually pulls away as the climb gets more intense and I have to take walk breaks.  I wind up pacing a woman doing the Galloway method for most of the rest of the race.

Only a few spectators along the Copper Basin stretch, among them a man handing out bananas.  Mile 6 to the turnaround seems to take for bloody ever!  I take a short stretch break and grab some orange slices, then it’s back down the hill again!

I’m a little inhibited on the downhill this year – it seems crazy steep, and I’m afraid of falling and messing up a knee a month before my marathon!  Here’s where my callus problem starts to come into play – I keep feeling a twinge shoot up from the ball of my foot up through my leg.  (Afterwards I’ll find out that the moleskin had come loose and slid up the side of my foot.)   The good news is that the water stations seem much closer together on the downhill.  There’s banana man again; I just don’t know what I’d do with the peel!

Hitting Hasayampa Drive I start to meet the tail end of the 10K-ers heading out – one walker is singing and playing a ukulele, while his companion looks very unhappy.  About one mile out from the finish I pass a guy wearing a full-body tri suit and singing along with his iPod.  Once again the final block, a stealth hill, is grueling.  Tri guy passes me, and I force my legs to get back into running mode, and cross the finish.

Official time:  2:18:10 – not a HM PR, but about 13 min faster than last year on this course!

Post-race:

I grab some goodies, have my photo taken with a big tacky sombrero and an inflatable saguaro, and head back to the St.Michael’s to rinse off.  Afterwards I inhale a big plate of huevos rancheros at the hotel’s breakfast counter while talking to a guy who does sculpture work for Hollywood films and just came off production for the new Star Trek movie.  The afternoon is spent shopping and hanging out at the block party at the finish line.

Thanks to the hills, my quads hate me for the next week.

Phoenix Firefly 5K – 4/14/12

Phoenix, Arizona, USA

Shine little glow worm.

The day before this race a weird weather system blew through, dropping the temperature 30 degrees down into the 60s!  The packet included two Velcro bands with flashing LEDs and some flyers for the Red Cross, but oddly no info on the race!  Fortunately they emailed the basic info, and parking in the gov’t district of downtown Phoenix turned out to be plentiful and free on Saturday evening.

Quite a few people brought extra light-up accessories, including one guy with light-up racing stripes down both arm and legs.  There were also tutus, grass skirts, glowing mohawks… I feel underdressed, with my one blinking safety light and the race LEDs made into a hatband.

This was a really popular race – they extended the signup period due to demand – so there was quite a bit of crowding and jostling at the start.  We spread out along Adams Street, blinking and twinkling in the night.  There must be a bakery somewhere in the neighborhood; there’s a strong smell of rising bread.  Just before we hit the art district the course makes a U-ey and heads west on Washington.

When I looked at the course map online it didn’t register that it was an out-and-back course, but here come the frontrunners, among them the guy with the racing stripes!  Since it’s dark I haven’t really been checking my Garmin, just ticking along at a comfortable pace but pushing just a little.  I did a 7 mile run this morning as part of my marathon training, so though a PR would be nice tonight I’m not going to kill myself to get it.

On the return, I can see the flash of the finish line photographer a mile off.  There’s the smell of bread again, and a guy playing uke and singing.  At the three mile mark I’m feeling pretty good and step on the gas to cover the home stretch!

The recovery table is ‘way down the chute, almost all the way to the lunch wagons, and I have to ask a volunteer where it is.  After water & a banana I buy a veggie Indian taco from one of the wagons, visit the Red Cross tent, then go check on my time.

Official time:  28:41, a PR by 90 sec!

Mountain to Fountain 15K – 3/11/12

Fountain Hills, Arizona, USA

When I get to the bottom I go back to the top.

I wasn’t sure at first about doing two races one weekend after another, but after a discouraging uphill race in Woodside, a downhill one seemed like just the thing to lift my spirits!  The Mountain to Fountain is a nearly straight shot 15K from McDowell Mountain Park down to the eponymous fountain in the town of Fountain Hills.

Pre-race:

I woke up from a dream where I was seriously angry at someone for stealing the Bat-signal (which sounded just like my alarm clock).  I opt for a breakfast bar instead of a pop tart this time – still too darn sweet for this early in the morning.  It’s a short drive up the Beeline Highway to Fountain Hills, and easy to find parking on the street.  On the bus to the start I sit next to a woman who coincidentally used to live in Woodside!  She also ran part of the course earlier and points out some things to look out for on the way.

The start is at a picnic area with a couple of ramadas and a trailhead for a nice little desert trail that some people are warming up on.  I join them after checking my gear bag, mostly to take the chill off.

Race:

The race starts with a short uphill grade out of the picnic area, before we start our descent along the main road.  When I signed up for the race I thought that the first part would be trail, but it’s paved road all the way.  There’s the usual juggling for position; I think I’m going to be behind a woman in a sparkly purple skirt most of the way, but I quickly pass her as we get onto the open road.  From here on I’m just enjoying the scenery and the novel sensation of running a sub-10:00 pace with little effort.  Springtime is in full bloom and the road is lined with yellow brittlebush, blue lupine and the occasional orange penstemon.

At Mile 4 we pass through the park gate and turn right onto McDowell Mountain Road.  A l-o-o-ong line of vehicles, loaded with boats, bikes, and what have you, are patiently waiting for us to make the crossing.  Looks like everyone made the same decision to get out and enjoy this beautiful day!  And then, suddenly – it’s the dreaded Mile 7 hill!  Oh noes!  This is what my seatmate warned me about on the way out: a mile-long hill just as you’re starting to get tired, and seems to last for bloody ever.  I haven’t walked so far this race though, and I don’t walk now, although I drag to a pretty slow run before heading over the top.

I can see the fountain in the distance straight ahead now – that means it’s 9 o’clock!  More cheer teams appear as the course winds its way into town and I motor it in to the finish.

Official time:  1:30:04.

Post-race:

The recovery area is a nice patch of grassy park overlooking the fountain, where you can get lots of standard post-race goodies and, if you’re willing to stand in another line, a can of Flagstaff microbrew and a slice of pizza from a local restaurant.  (I save my beer for later since I’m driving.)  I stick around long enough to learn that I’m not going to win any prizes (including the demi-random case-of-beer giveaways) and head out.  Next time I think I might stick around for a proper breakfast at one of the patio restaurants; they all seemed to be doing a good business and smelled wonderful.

King’s Mountain 5 Miles – 3/3/12

Woodside, California, USA

Cry Baby Cry.

So I happened to be out in the Bay Area, and thought I’d squeeze in a little fun run that wasn’t too far from my hotel.  I’d done a couple short runs in San Francisco during the week along Market Street and the Embarcadero, and noticed that my calves were pretty stiff.  I spent the day before the race at a convention, riding the BART, and at another convention in the evening.

Pre-race:

The race starts late enough, and my hotel serves breakfast early enough, that I’m able to use my free buffet ticket.  I go easy, with just a slice of French toast, some scrambled eggs, and half a cup each of coffee & orange juice.  My rental car’s sat nav (which I’m never going to sneer at again), unerringly guides me the convoluted way to Hiddart Park, where a smiling ranger directs me to the parking lot. 

People mill about the start line, in a small meadow surrounded by lichen-festooned trees.  There’s a general consensus that it’s toasty warm in the sun, but biting cold as soon as you step into the shade.  The race director climbs onto a boulder to give us the race briefing, brandishing the rubber chicken that is the finisher’s trophy for the half marathon.  We sing “America the Beautiful”, and send the halfers on their way with whoops and hollers.  (This is a very small race, with no chip timing because none is needed.)  A few minutes later, the five-milers are off!

Race:

We start off along a nice forest trail, soft leaf litter underfoot and dense forest canopy overhead.  It’s pretty cool; I’m wearing my capris and long-sleeved shirt, and decided to hold onto my sweatshirt even though it’s a bit heavy for running.  I’m doing fine for about a mile, when suddenly my lower calves start to turn into wood.  Like the race briefing said, it’s up, up, and more up – at a steep grade – and I’m feeling it.  I’m forced to slow to a walk and almost in tears as the others pass me, and I can barely manage a shuffling run on the rare level patches.  I consider turning back, afraid I might be injuring myself, but then decide eff it, I’ll walk the whole damn thing if I have to. 

The front-packers on the return are pouring past me now.  I’m happy for the excuse to pull off to the side on the narrow switchbacks and stretch.  At one point another slow runner drops back a bit to provide moral support.  And then – yay – there’s a short level stretch and I’m at the gate for the turnaround!

Whatever’s going on with my calves, it’s not affecting my downhill any because I am flyin!  My main concern now is not wiping out in the leaves on these hairpin turns.  I pass some people that passed me earlier, and then there’s a long stretch where I don’t see any other racers, only a handful of people out enjoying the park.  I cross a familiar brook, then there’s the meadow, and a short uphill grade to the finish!  Official time: 57:57.

Post-race:

According to my Garmin, that was 4.6 miles, not 5, but the canopy could’ve messed up the satellites, and they didn’t claim this course was IATF certified anyway.  I grab some snacks at the picnic tables before heading to my car.

I’m still unsure what caused my “stiffness” problem.  Since I had it before the race (and it lingered afterwards) my guess is that it was a pre-existing problem that just got aggravated by the challenging course.  I’d missed a few weeks of BodyFlow (the closest thing my gym has to real yoga), I spent the week sitting in those awful convention-hall chairs where my feet don’t quite sit flat on the ground, and I’d been sleeping cold because the radiator in my old hotel wasn’t quite up to the task. 

At any rate, I’m glad I finished the race and didn’t throw in the towel when I wanted to.  A bad finish is better than no finish any day.

Lost Dutchman Half Marathon – 2/19/12

Apache Junction, Arizona, USA

Get up and do it again, amen.

This race was something of a milestone for me.  A year ago it was my very first marathon (and so far my favorite).  I didn’t train properly and ran into IT-band issues that had me hobbling along gimpily for about 3 miles in the middle.  That’s what inspired me to join a track club and take up customized training with an actual coach.  A year later, I’m back for the HM.

Friday:

Another week where my back is feeling tight and full of knots.  There’s been a lot of low-level stress at work, so no surprise.  I swing by Roadrunner Sports to pick up my packet and do some “grocery shopping”, which takes for bloody ever because there are two people at the head of the line making elaborate returns.  I pick up some Gus and a few Honey Stinger waffles – something I’m testing out on my training runs.  In the evening I have a massage session where my therapist advises me to ice my knee because I have definite IT-band problems going on there.  Uh oh, déjà vu all over again!.

Saturday:

Short run this morning, same time as the HM will start tomorrow – time to suss out what outfit I’ll be wearing.  The weather’s been trying to decide all week whether it’s going to be hot or cold for the race, and it looks like pleasantly mild, so I’ll be going with the shorts & short-sleeved shirt and my traditional rainbow calf warmers.

Oh, did I mention it was my birthday on Wednesday?  I have maybe-a-bit-too-heavy a dinner with leftover chocolate lava cake, and hit the sack.  Weirdly, I don’t wake up during the night at all.

Pre-race:

It’s a little bit spooky driving out to the Rodeo Grounds in AJ in the pre-dawn darkness.  The Full starts way out in Gold Canyon, so I’m not familiar with this route in.  The parking lot is just beginning to fill, and yellow school buses are waiting to shuttle us the short distance to Prospector Park.

It’s obvious now that there’s a significant temperature drop between my house in Mesa and the outskirts of AJ – even with my sweats on over my running clothes I’m chilly!  I join a group huddled by the restroom block, which provides a bit of a windbreak.  One gal says she’s heard the course is hilly – having just come off the Sedona HM, I assure her it’s relatively flat except for a an uphill slope at the turnaround.

Eventually the sun comes up, and I have to ditch my sweats at the bag check though I keep a pair of gloves.  There’s a single corral for all the racers, with a few pace markers alongside.  The speakers at the front are playing – smooth jazz?  A gal next to me says that she’s afraid of losing Pandora and running out of music.  Personally I’m glad I’m not that dependent on my tunes.  Totally without fanfare the starter’s gun goes off, and we’re on our way!

Race:

Down the chute and out of the park, and the runners around me express dismay at the first “hill”, an overpass that we’ll also have to take at the very end of the race.  The first leg is a straight shot down Lost Dutchman Blvd, straight into the sun rising over the Superstition Mountains.  I check in with my Garmin and pull it in a little; in the early excitement I’ve dropped to a 9:xx pace, and I know I can’t sustain that for 13 miles.  My strategy is going to be to stay near 10:05 or so as long as I can and ease off as needed; with the lower altitude my overall goal is to best my time at Sedona.

The half marathon is an out-and-back along the final quarter of the full marathon, meaning that when I last ran this course I was dazed and not quite mentally there.  That’s my excuse for not remembering the stealth hills along this route: long, gradual grades that aren’t obvious to the eye and leave you wondering “why am I slowing down?”

At Mile 2.5 we turn south and are now running the border between the eccentric mansions of east AJ and the open desert of the Superstition wilderness.  The light is just amazing, and now that I’m moving I’m warm enough.  A couple guys behind me joke about buying the horse advertised for sale and riding it the rest of the way.  Outside of the aid stations there’s not a lot of people along the way, which is kind of nice – just a peaceful desert morning with the birds singing.  I’m hitting the even-numbered aid stations, all of whom are very good about yelling out who has the water and who the electrolytes.

Now for the long haul, heading east on Broadway up the one really noticeable grade.  The leaders are starting to pass on their way back from the turnaround, to the cheers of those of us still heading out.  My pace is still good; if my right knee starts to feel questionable I dial it back a little or focus on my form.  I grab an orange GU at the mile 6 aid station – the half mile to the turnaround seems to last forever, but I make it, ditch my gloves, and start the downhill run.  Same as last year, someone is playing inspirational movie music at the top.  Meanwhile, a woman in her slippers shuffles out to the curb to pick up her newspaper.  Good morning!

The Mile 8 aid station has so many different goodies that I wind up spilling water all over myself, but that’s OK – it’s a great morning for a run!  I run on the broad dirt shoulder when it’s available, and spend some time hopscotching with a few people doing the run/walk method.  A few miles from the finish I hit the wall – literally.  There’s an arch straddling the street, painted to look like a brick wall – last year, by the time I got here it had blown over!  It’s all downhill from here, and my feet are flying as I wind through the back of the 10K pack.  At mile 12 I glance at my Garmin, do a quick calculation, and realize that I’m going to smash my 2-week-old PR again!  Over the overpass, down the chute (“Good finish!  Good socks!”), three different race clocks for the three distances – I whoop with joy as I cross the tracking plate!

Official time: 2:10:08!  A PR by another 8-1/2 minutes!  Woo hoo!

Post-race:

Lost Dutchman puts on quite a spread for the runners, including breakfast burritos.  This year the prospector and his mule are still here, but I skip the photo op because my body heat totally evaporated as soon as I stopped moving, and I just want to get out of the wind to someplace warm.

After I get coffee, home, and showered, I text my coach with my time.  This time he calls me back to express his amazement.  He also lets me off my Tuesday track workout, because I am pooped.  (Speaking of which, this race is also a milestone being my first HM where I didn’t need to use the portaloo midrace.)  Over the past 13 months, counting from the 2011 P.F.Chang Rock-n-Roll Arizona, I’ve improved my HM time by 23-1/2 minutes!  And I owe it to following my coach’s training plan, so thanks, Coach Dave!