Friday, September 9, 2011
The DART Blue Ridge Relay Run: semi-live!
Here we all are at the start! Kurt Graves, Dave Moore, Stephanie Sawyer, Chris Brown, Dave Fischli, Dave Munger, Chad Randolph, Rodney Graham, Marc Hirschfield, and Mark Ippolito
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
XTERRA Fisher Farm Park 10 Mile Trail Race Recap
By Charles A. Willimon, aka Chas
This past Sunday was an exercise in spontaneity for me. It was the day before Labor Day, and XTERRA was holding the finale of their 3 race trail running series at Fisher Farm Park in Davidson, NC, which happens to be 10 minutes from my house. I had seen this event on the calendar in several different places, but among my fairly active running community, it wasn’t really showing up on anyone’s radar. I registered for the event only 2 days in advance, which is pretty last minute for someone like me. Therefore, I had no real plan to train specifically for it.
The race was a nice departure from my comfort zone. There were 5 mile and 10 mile events from which to choose. Having just raced in a 5 mile road race a couple weeks prior, I registered for the 10 miler. Besides, I had designated Sundays as my dedicated long run day, and I wanted to get at least 10 miles in to keep up with my marathon training schedule. I figured that 10 miles at a hard race pace would be as good for my fitness as 14 or so at an easy pace. I would turn out to be right. Also, this was my first real trail racing experience. I had run many workout runs on the Davidson College cross-country trails, but those trails are nice, wide, plush, well maintained fine gravel trails with just a few rolling hills, and minimal twisting and winding. Here at Fisher Farm, we would be running on the hard-packed red clay dirt of the mountain biking trails, with lots of profound elevation changes, drop-offs, tree roots, and a predominantly single-track course.
I usually like to have a pace and total race time in mind when competing in road races, and I usually have plenty of time to set some goals, but I was a fish out of water in this race. First, the terrain was such that I figured it would add at least 30-45 seconds to my minute/mile pace. Second, 10 miles is an odd distance for me. I feel I can pace myself pretty comfortably for a half-marathon, and I can run a 10k at a hard pace from the gate and finish strong. These are two different approaches I have for two very different distances—and 10 miles is smack-dab in the middle of them.
On race morning, I showed up at Fisher Farm Park very early. As often happens with me, I was the first runner on site. Volunteers were setting up the finish arch and setting out clipboards for race-day registration. Even though it was 6:40am, and packet pick-up was to start at 7am, the nice folks at XTERRA waved me over and checked me off so I could pick up my goody-bag. Inside, along with the usual promotional fliers, there was an XTERRA pint glass, a nice technical running shirt, and a couple of GU gels. The goodies almost made up for the race fee alone. Shortly after I arrived, fellow DARTer Todd Hartung drove up. His participation was one of the factors that convinced me to get off my rear and run this race. Todd’s training schedule was such that this race would be quite a taper down for him, but his race calendar was a lot more packed than mine.
As dawn broke, it turned into a beautiful morning at Fisher Farm. The open meadow just past the parking lot had a thin layer of fog that was slowly retreating. The temperature was still cool enough to give me goose pimples, but I knew that would not last. After chatting with Todd about our respective training schedules and upcoming runs, I took a few easy laps around the meadow, more out of boredom than the need to warm up. Other runners started following my lead and doing the same. After about a mile of slow warm-up run, I munched down some GU chomps and did some strides and dynamic stretches. Tim, the race coordinator from XTERRA, ran the event like a well oiled machine. He explained the route and the spacing process several times over the PA system as the clock approached the start time of 8:30. The route was to follow a 0.45 mile loop around the open meadow for spacing purposes, and then the length of the combined green circle and blue square mountain bike trails with about 1/8 mile worth of the advanced black diamond course just to throw in some extra technicality. The five mile racers would complete one lap and then turn back into the open area for the last 100 feet to finish, while the 10 milers would do two full laps of the trails. There were water stops at mile 2.8 (which also was mile 7.8), and 5.2, right before the second lap would begin.
Todd and I found starting spots close to the start line. At precisely 8:30, Tim blew the starting horn and set off into the clearing on his mountain bike as a trail blazer. Here is where I committed one of history’s classic blunders. No, I did not start a land war in Asia…but I did shoot out of the gate at way too hard a pace for a long distance race. Out of the field of nearly 200 runners, I strode around the meadow and into the woods in 4th position. I knew from my first 100 yards that my pace was too fast, but my own hubris kept me from slowing down too much. The first half mile of the trails was generally downhill, but there were plenty of ups, downs, loose rocks, and tree branches. At my given pace, I felt at times like I was in more of a controlled fall than a downhill run. I kept the 3 front runners in view for the first 1.5 miles, but it was clear that at least 2 of them were pulling away. I could notice from the tight switchbacks on the course that I was at the head of a small pack of maybe 20 runners, and the rest of the field was farther back out of my view. I tried to maintain my pace for as long as I could, and prolong the inevitable fade from the front of this pack.
Shortly before mile two, the track took us into the challenging black diamond section of the trails. I scampered up some rocky hills to keep within reach of the speedsters, and I turned a corner to find a rather dramatic drop-off that was pretty much a hop from a boulder. It was too late to slow down, so I thought my most sincere mountain goat thoughts and hopped right into the path. An especially brazen shirtless runner in orange shorts and neon green shoes flew nimbly by me on this drop and set out towards the front runners. I was just happy to make it down without incident…this time.
With Orange-Shorts out in front of me, I knew I was in 5th position overall—still a lot farther ahead than where I am used to being in a group this size. However, I could feel the breath from the small pack of runners at my heels. Most were just waiting for a convenient time to squeeze by me on the crowded single-track. One of the front runners had fallen back within reach, and I swerved around him to open up some space ahead of me. Many runners behind me did the same. At about 2.5 miles, the pack began to disperse. 3 very fast looking ladies passed me in rapid succession. They appeared to be racing as a group and keeping pace with one another very well. A handful of men passed me shortly thereafter. At this point, I had to remind myself that some of these runners were probably racing the 5 mile event. There was no use in trying to keep ahead of them.
Just before the 3rd mile was a water station. I have never been good at grabbing water during a race. I snatched a cup, managed about half a sip, and then tossed the rest as near to the garbage bag as I could. For all the good it did me, I probably should not have bothered.
I was relieved to no longer have a small pack of runners chasing me, and I enjoyed nearly a mile of setting my own pace, even though I could sense a tall figure gaining ground from behind. At about mile 3.5, I was passed by all 6 feet, 4 inches of Todd Hartung, who was very polite as he nimbly squeezed by me on the closely wooded trail. I was not surprised to have Todd pass me; he is a very efficient and versatile runner for someone with such a broad-shouldered frame. “Tear it up, Todd!” I cheered to him. He encouraged me to keep up with him, and I did for quite a while. At the 4th mile, the winding trails gave way to a spacious straightaway. Todd and I each in turn overtook one of the men who had passed me a couple of miles back.
What goes down must go up. The early drops in elevation along the course meant that there would be some pretty painful climbs before we started our second lap. I kept pace with Todd, and even closed on him a little, but he began to pull away from me as we started climbing the winding hill up towards the trail exit/entrance. The climb was tough, so I focused on Todd ahead of me and tried to forget the fact that I would need o complete this climb again in 40 minutes or so. I kept Todd in view as far as the end of the first lap (mile 5.2). There I took a 20-step walk break at the water stop to make sure I got a whole cup down. There were a couple of other runners closing in, so I decided not to dawdle and I plunged back into the woods for a second round of trails.
Like the first lap, my second go-around began with some faster-than-comfortable rapid descents on tired legs. Having run one lap of the trails, I knew how to pace myself and what to expect. I also knew that there were a lot more people behind me than there were in front of me, and I was determined to keep it that way. The difficult black diamond portion of the lap loop definitely slowed my pace on this lap. As gingerly as I tried to handle the big boulder drop-off, I ended up taking a spill and scraping the fleshy part of my shin. I was up and on my feet again in no more than a split second, and the adrenaline kept me from any distracting pain, but I was sure my shin would be stinging later.
There was no further sign of Todd ahead of me, so I focused on the approaching footfalls from behind. A younger runner in a black shirt and red shorts was closing on me, or so I could tell from my sideways glances on the trail’s many switchbacks. When I reached the mid-lap water stop, I did not want to slow down for want of keeping my adrenaline up. As a result, my last water take was about as unproductive as my first. At 8 miles, Black Shirt closed to right behind me. He still had gas in his tank, and I was waning, so I figured he would fly by me right away. He certainly had plenty of opportunities for an easy pass. Instead, he stayed behind me and kept me within arm’s reach. Maybe he was more tired than I thought…or maybe I was keeping a faster pace than I had anticipated at this late stage in the race. His being there certainly drove me to push harder. It was almost a mile later before Black Shirt passed me and darted ahead.
There were others who were within reach of catching up to me, but I was determined not to lose any more positions in this race. From here on out, the track was uphill and very technical, as it had been at the end of the first lap. I dug into the hills and tried to milk every breath for what it was worth. While I could not get a good look at my next pursuer, I was pretty sure I was putting distance between me and him (or her). No one would pass me from here on out. As I emerged from the wooded trails a final time and made a hard left toward the finish arch, I noticed my fiancée on the sideline cheering me on. Since I did not know she would be showing up, it was a huge boon to my energy. I caught her hand briefly as I made my final sprint through the finish line. Todd was there at the finish to congratulate me on a good run. Final time: 1:20:56. Average overall pace: 8:05 minutes per mile.
I was pleased with my time and pace, especially considering my lack of experience with a real trail race. My time was good enough to earn me a medal for second place in my age group. Todd finished the race very strongly. His 1:18:09 time allowed him a first place medal by a nice margin in his age group, so we represented DART very strongly that day. Thankfully, Todd and I are in different age groups. The black shirted runner who passed before mile 9 had made a nice finish and passed Todd in the last quarter mile of the race…much to Todd’s chagrin. Todd and I both remarked on how well he must have paced himself from the start. As we hung around to listen to Tim present all of the awards, I noticed that the sure-footed mountain goat in the orange shorts was the overall winner in the 10 mile event. I did not feel so bad having been passed by him in such an acrobatic manner. More power to him!
Since I am writing this recap a couple of days after the race, I can say that there are three take-home messages I gleaned from the event. 1) I need to pace myself appropriately for distance and terrain, or I will pay for it on the back end. 2) Trail running teaches me—through soreness—about muscle groups I never knew I had. Also, a scraped up shin for my part, and a turned ankle for Todd at mile 9 are reminders of the unpredictability of the trail. 3) Most important of all: trail running is fun! I still love to road race, but it’s exhilarating to get out of town, get dirty, and run through the woods on variable surfaces. I will be running more trail races very soon. Up next on my calendar is the Andrew Lovedale Access 2 Success 5k on the Davidson College cross country trails. Should be a breeze!
This past Sunday was an exercise in spontaneity for me. It was the day before Labor Day, and XTERRA was holding the finale of their 3 race trail running series at Fisher Farm Park in Davidson, NC, which happens to be 10 minutes from my house. I had seen this event on the calendar in several different places, but among my fairly active running community, it wasn’t really showing up on anyone’s radar. I registered for the event only 2 days in advance, which is pretty last minute for someone like me. Therefore, I had no real plan to train specifically for it.
 |
| Fisher Farm |
I usually like to have a pace and total race time in mind when competing in road races, and I usually have plenty of time to set some goals, but I was a fish out of water in this race. First, the terrain was such that I figured it would add at least 30-45 seconds to my minute/mile pace. Second, 10 miles is an odd distance for me. I feel I can pace myself pretty comfortably for a half-marathon, and I can run a 10k at a hard pace from the gate and finish strong. These are two different approaches I have for two very different distances—and 10 miles is smack-dab in the middle of them.
On race morning, I showed up at Fisher Farm Park very early. As often happens with me, I was the first runner on site. Volunteers were setting up the finish arch and setting out clipboards for race-day registration. Even though it was 6:40am, and packet pick-up was to start at 7am, the nice folks at XTERRA waved me over and checked me off so I could pick up my goody-bag. Inside, along with the usual promotional fliers, there was an XTERRA pint glass, a nice technical running shirt, and a couple of GU gels. The goodies almost made up for the race fee alone. Shortly after I arrived, fellow DARTer Todd Hartung drove up. His participation was one of the factors that convinced me to get off my rear and run this race. Todd’s training schedule was such that this race would be quite a taper down for him, but his race calendar was a lot more packed than mine.
As dawn broke, it turned into a beautiful morning at Fisher Farm. The open meadow just past the parking lot had a thin layer of fog that was slowly retreating. The temperature was still cool enough to give me goose pimples, but I knew that would not last. After chatting with Todd about our respective training schedules and upcoming runs, I took a few easy laps around the meadow, more out of boredom than the need to warm up. Other runners started following my lead and doing the same. After about a mile of slow warm-up run, I munched down some GU chomps and did some strides and dynamic stretches. Tim, the race coordinator from XTERRA, ran the event like a well oiled machine. He explained the route and the spacing process several times over the PA system as the clock approached the start time of 8:30. The route was to follow a 0.45 mile loop around the open meadow for spacing purposes, and then the length of the combined green circle and blue square mountain bike trails with about 1/8 mile worth of the advanced black diamond course just to throw in some extra technicality. The five mile racers would complete one lap and then turn back into the open area for the last 100 feet to finish, while the 10 milers would do two full laps of the trails. There were water stops at mile 2.8 (which also was mile 7.8), and 5.2, right before the second lap would begin.
Todd and I found starting spots close to the start line. At precisely 8:30, Tim blew the starting horn and set off into the clearing on his mountain bike as a trail blazer. Here is where I committed one of history’s classic blunders. No, I did not start a land war in Asia…but I did shoot out of the gate at way too hard a pace for a long distance race. Out of the field of nearly 200 runners, I strode around the meadow and into the woods in 4th position. I knew from my first 100 yards that my pace was too fast, but my own hubris kept me from slowing down too much. The first half mile of the trails was generally downhill, but there were plenty of ups, downs, loose rocks, and tree branches. At my given pace, I felt at times like I was in more of a controlled fall than a downhill run. I kept the 3 front runners in view for the first 1.5 miles, but it was clear that at least 2 of them were pulling away. I could notice from the tight switchbacks on the course that I was at the head of a small pack of maybe 20 runners, and the rest of the field was farther back out of my view. I tried to maintain my pace for as long as I could, and prolong the inevitable fade from the front of this pack.
Shortly before mile two, the track took us into the challenging black diamond section of the trails. I scampered up some rocky hills to keep within reach of the speedsters, and I turned a corner to find a rather dramatic drop-off that was pretty much a hop from a boulder. It was too late to slow down, so I thought my most sincere mountain goat thoughts and hopped right into the path. An especially brazen shirtless runner in orange shorts and neon green shoes flew nimbly by me on this drop and set out towards the front runners. I was just happy to make it down without incident…this time.
With Orange-Shorts out in front of me, I knew I was in 5th position overall—still a lot farther ahead than where I am used to being in a group this size. However, I could feel the breath from the small pack of runners at my heels. Most were just waiting for a convenient time to squeeze by me on the crowded single-track. One of the front runners had fallen back within reach, and I swerved around him to open up some space ahead of me. Many runners behind me did the same. At about 2.5 miles, the pack began to disperse. 3 very fast looking ladies passed me in rapid succession. They appeared to be racing as a group and keeping pace with one another very well. A handful of men passed me shortly thereafter. At this point, I had to remind myself that some of these runners were probably racing the 5 mile event. There was no use in trying to keep ahead of them.
Just before the 3rd mile was a water station. I have never been good at grabbing water during a race. I snatched a cup, managed about half a sip, and then tossed the rest as near to the garbage bag as I could. For all the good it did me, I probably should not have bothered.
I was relieved to no longer have a small pack of runners chasing me, and I enjoyed nearly a mile of setting my own pace, even though I could sense a tall figure gaining ground from behind. At about mile 3.5, I was passed by all 6 feet, 4 inches of Todd Hartung, who was very polite as he nimbly squeezed by me on the closely wooded trail. I was not surprised to have Todd pass me; he is a very efficient and versatile runner for someone with such a broad-shouldered frame. “Tear it up, Todd!” I cheered to him. He encouraged me to keep up with him, and I did for quite a while. At the 4th mile, the winding trails gave way to a spacious straightaway. Todd and I each in turn overtook one of the men who had passed me a couple of miles back.
What goes down must go up. The early drops in elevation along the course meant that there would be some pretty painful climbs before we started our second lap. I kept pace with Todd, and even closed on him a little, but he began to pull away from me as we started climbing the winding hill up towards the trail exit/entrance. The climb was tough, so I focused on Todd ahead of me and tried to forget the fact that I would need o complete this climb again in 40 minutes or so. I kept Todd in view as far as the end of the first lap (mile 5.2). There I took a 20-step walk break at the water stop to make sure I got a whole cup down. There were a couple of other runners closing in, so I decided not to dawdle and I plunged back into the woods for a second round of trails.
Like the first lap, my second go-around began with some faster-than-comfortable rapid descents on tired legs. Having run one lap of the trails, I knew how to pace myself and what to expect. I also knew that there were a lot more people behind me than there were in front of me, and I was determined to keep it that way. The difficult black diamond portion of the lap loop definitely slowed my pace on this lap. As gingerly as I tried to handle the big boulder drop-off, I ended up taking a spill and scraping the fleshy part of my shin. I was up and on my feet again in no more than a split second, and the adrenaline kept me from any distracting pain, but I was sure my shin would be stinging later.
 |
| The wages of trail running |
There were others who were within reach of catching up to me, but I was determined not to lose any more positions in this race. From here on out, the track was uphill and very technical, as it had been at the end of the first lap. I dug into the hills and tried to milk every breath for what it was worth. While I could not get a good look at my next pursuer, I was pretty sure I was putting distance between me and him (or her). No one would pass me from here on out. As I emerged from the wooded trails a final time and made a hard left toward the finish arch, I noticed my fiancée on the sideline cheering me on. Since I did not know she would be showing up, it was a huge boon to my energy. I caught her hand briefly as I made my final sprint through the finish line. Todd was there at the finish to congratulate me on a good run. Final time: 1:20:56. Average overall pace: 8:05 minutes per mile.
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| Chas at the finish |
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| Chas (L) and Todd (R) |
Monday, September 5, 2011
Hood to Coast 2011 or How I Became A Big Kahuna
by DARTer Allen Strickland, as found on his blog.
Back in January, the night after the Charleston Half Marathon, I went to Windjammers to hang out with Adam Mayes and friends. There I met a bunch of the Big Kahunas and one of their leaders, Chris ‘Coach’ Spano. Each and every one of them told me that Hood to Coast was an incredible experience. It sounded just like the Blue Ridge Relay to me until one of the Kahunas that had run both races told me “Hood to Coast is to the Blue Ridge Relay what the Super Bowl is to Pop Warner football”. A bit of hyperbole, sure, but I was sold nonetheless. Where do I sign? I told Coach Spano I wanted in and he told me he’d let me know if he had any openings.
A few months later, Coach had openings. After a lot of email exchanges, some flight reservations, and some money sent via online banking, I was a Big Kahuna. Here’s the story of my 2011 Hood to Coast experience. Grab your soda and popcorn, you’re going to be here a while.
Wednesday
Early Wednesday morning, I picked up Coach and we headed to the airport – we had separate flights but virtually identical timelines. If all went well, we’d be arriving in Portland within 20 minutes of each other. All went well, Coach and I arrived in Portland at nearly the same time, and we shot over to Alamo to grab our rental van. Coach asked the guy at the counter if we could get a van with a luggage rack on top – this was a necessary component in order to secure the Big Kahuna totem pole on top of the van. A girl at the counter interrupted, piping in to say, “Nope. No luggage racks. None of our vans have luggage racks.”
So the first snag of the trip was upon us, but what choice did we have? Coach and I walked outside to acquire our luggage-rackless van. But as we stepped on the lot, the first van we spotted did indeed have a luggage rack, as did the other van on the lot, as did 2 more that were pulling out. Every Alamo rental van within sight had a luggage rack. How very shocking in this day and age to find a cocksure person in America that is blatantly wrong. We grabbed our van, complete with luggage rack, and headed out.
After a quick lunch at Uncle Vinny’s (not to be confused with your cousin Vinny) and a trip to Fred Meyer (grocery store chain) for a wine run (Coach likes his wine nearly as much as he likes to run), we were back at the airport to pick up Dustin, aka D-Train, and Jessa, aka Mustang.
Now’s as good a time as any to explain nicknames. Coach assigns each Big Kahuna a nickname, not unlike this scene from Reservoir Dogs. He dubbed me Tracker. Over the course of the week I heard various explanations, but my favorites were “…because you ran track at Carolina and you track people and run them down”. Some of the other Kahuna nicknames – Ice (Kathy Rink, because she’s from Detroit, a hockey hotbed. Get it? Ice Rink.), Sandman, G-Dog, Howatzer (sic, as this gentleman’s last name is Howat), Black Jack (I was expecting Jack to be a black guy, but he wasn’t – apparently this has to do with hair color), Shazam, Ghost (Mike Moran – for multiple reasons but his nickname is the best of the bunch, visually), Money, Hammer, Elektra, Braveheart, Big D (never understood this one – this was a small girl named Laree?), Cajun, Maverick, Colonel (former Army Ranger), etc. By week’s end, I knew most of the other runners only by these aliases.
But I digress. Back to Wednesday. Coach and I picked up D-train and Mustang and then headed over to a little sushi joint to have dinner with Money who is a full-time Portland resident. After dinner, we ran Money home where we picked up a few supplies for the race – all part of Coach and Sandman’s master plan – these 2 guys run the logistics of this thing with military precision, which is exactly what you need in a race like this.
After dinner, we drove to Seaside, Oregon, the coast in Hood to Coast, where our coastal rental house resided. The idea is to stay near the finish line, and more importantly, near the post-race party. We could see the massive scramble going on to erect the finish-area tent city by Saturday.
That night, I took advantage of having a king-sized bed all to myself. I knew I wouldn’t have this luxury on Thursday when we’d have 20-some folks sharing one house. (The Big Kahunas field two 12-member teams, one competitive sub-masters (over 30-years-old) team and one just-for-fun, dubbed The Spring Break team. I was assigned to the competitive team.) After a day of non-stop running around, I was exhausted and crashed hard.
Thursday
Coach, D-train, Mustang and I went on a little shake-out run. Coach informed us that several Big Kahunas always went on a ceremonial run the first full day in Seaside. He suggested we take things easy and “not crack an 8″. I kept my mouth shut when we ran the third mile of 5.5 in 7:51.
Coach was busy all day fielding calls from folks as they landed in Portland. He directed traffic, navigating people through a minefield of logistics as flights were late, cancelled, etc. He adeptly guided everybody to join recently-landed teammates to ride together in one of our rental vans.
But he still found time to join several of us for lunch. We shot over to the beautiful Cannon beach where we ate at Mo’s (no, not the taco joint). We ate outside so we could bask in the beauty of the Oregon coast. I snapped this photo of Haystack Rock from the deck:
I broke one of the cardinal rules of racing – don’t eat anything out of the ordinary. I ordered clam chowder – quite the risky race-eve meal. But I was on the Oregon coast – how could I not try some fresh seafood? The gamble paid off – the clam chowder was delicious.
Later that night, back at the house, a fear of mine became reality. What is it about me that attracts snorers? Asheville, Peachtree, now Hood to Coast – every time I share a room for a race, I find myself kept awake by snoring. We had 4 guys in our room, one of whom started snoring the second the lights went out. I’m a light sleeper – it’s virtually impossible for me to sleep when someone’s snoring. And somebody in this room sounded like they were trying to start a lawn mower every 2 seconds or so. Eventually there was a lull in the cutting of the z’s and I drifted off, only to be awakened again shortly when the snoring resumed. I think I might have slept 2 hours, and that’s a generous estimate.
Friday
The competitive team had our vans loaded up and headed towards Mt. Hood by 5:30 a.m. Although sleep deprived, I was amped and ready to race, even though it would be hours before I would run.
As we neared the mountain, we, along with what seemed like every other team in the race, stopped in a Safeway parking lot and started decorating our vans. It was here that the smack talking began. I heard Coach yell “Big Kahunas are here! Prepare to become road kill!”, or something akin to this, several times. I snapped this pic:
With the decorations applied, we left the Safeway toward our destination, Mt. Hood, where the race would begin (the Hood in Hood to Coast). The closer we got, the more excited I got.
On the drive up, the race became real for me when I caught breathtaking glimpses of Mt. Hood beyond the treeline. And once we got within a few miles of the mountain, we started seeing runners streaming down the road. I was a little taken aback by how many folks were already walking, on leg 1! Many folks that ‘run’ Hood to Coast are not actually runners – they muddle through the running bit so they can participate in the post-race party.
By the time we pulled into the parking lot at the base of Mt. Hood, I was downright wired and oh-so-very-anxious to run. How I envied Sandman, our first runner. Hundreds of vans were parking as thousands of people milled about. This is one of the big differences between Hood to Coast and Blue Ridge – the Blue Ridge Relay starts in a little parking lot with only a handful of teams at a time. Hood to Coast begins with a huge festival atmosphere, with hundreds of people on site. This event was no longer some abstract thing, it was now real, alive, and the excitement, palpable, ran through the parking lot.
Ubiquitous vendors handed out free stuff galore. Jordan will be glad to hear that Nuun was on hand to give out out free samples (I drank like 4 shots worth as I felt dehydrated). I ate a few delicious Clif bar samples and snagged some free shoe laces. I soaked up the experience and took this photo of Mt. Hood, looming above us:
Teams mingled and folks everywhere snapped photos. Many people took team photos, like this one of the Big Kahunas’ Spring Break team:
Finally it was our turn to start as the MC called out “The Big Kahunas” and we let out a battle cry while Sandman made his way into the corral. Seconds later he was racing down the side of a mountain. The rest of us jumped in our vans and drove down – straight down – this leg is rated “very hard” due to its sharp 5.6 mile descent down the mountain – to the first exchange zone, screaming for Sandman as we drove past.
At the first exchange zone, Sandman handed the baton ( a flexible plastic strip that doubles as a bracelet) to Gasman (David, a gastroenterologist lest you were wondering about the nickname) who took off as we continued to cheer loudly.
We shot ahead to exchange #6 (another Safeway parking lot) where our van’s first runner, Ice (aka Kathy Rink) would be getting the baton. This was the first spot where teams would have both their vans in the same lot and it was a complete madhouse. God how I pitied the random local who showed up to buy some milk and was confronted with thousands of runners jammed into one spot.
We still had a few hours to kill so we grabbed groceries and other supplies and then we loitered around in the parking lot. Ice, Howatzer, and I found a nice shady spot and plopped down. We chatted with a pleasant older couple who turned out to be Swedish runners sponsored by Nike. We found it humorous that they bad-mouthed Nike for giving them crappy shoes and watches. Gift horse! Mouth! Don’t look!
I got more and more anxious as my time to run grew near. I was also frustrated as the temperature soared – wasn’t it supposed to be cool in Oregon? I found out later that this was one of the hottest days of the year. By noon, it was in the 80′s and climbing.
As the time neared when our runner, Braveheart (aka Art), should be approaching, we lined up on the street to cheer him in. Watching runners coming in, I cheered furiously when I spotted Bart Yasso. He only runs a few select races a year these days since he’s had to battle Lime Disease. If I wasn’t already motivated enough, I became even more inspired at the site of Bart sprinting it in. I screamed “Go Bart!” when Howatzer turned to me and asked, “You know that guy?”
“Yeah, man. That’s Bart Yasso.”
“Oh. I did his workout last week. Go Bart!”
Moments later, Braveheart came through and handed off to Ice. Now our race began in earnest – van 2 had begun. From this point on, the race became a flurry of activity as we rushed to beat our runner to the next exchange zone. This may sound easy but it can actually prove to be quite difficult, especially after the Hood to Coast powers that be decided to add some 250 teams to an already huge 1000 team field. Nearly every exchange zone featured traffic jams of vans backed up. We would pull into line, let our next runner out of the van with another to carry the stopwatch and clipboard (used to record the official split times and to keep track of our overall time) and they would run to the exchange zone while the van was stuck in line.
The faster the team, the more problematic this proved to be. The Nike/Bowerman team had several occasions where their runner beat their van to the exchange zone. On at least 1 occasion, when the Nike runner arrived at the exchange zone only to discover that the person he was to exchange to was not there yet, he continued on and ran the next leg in addition to his. This proved to be quite costly as the price for running out of order is a one hour penalty. Ouch – this cost Nike the win as the Knoxville Track Club (many of you will remember the ultra team that won Blue Ridge last year was comprised of Knoxville Track Club members) eventually won, thanks to the penalties.
Leg 10 “Moderate”
I’ll spare you the stream of consciousness minutiae of the entire race and fast forward to my first leg, leg 10. Hammer, the fastest runner on the team, would be handing off to me. We really had to hoof it in the van to stay ahead of him, but luckily he was running a 7 mile leg. It was nearly 3:30 in the afternoon and I was so wired by this point that my heart was beating like a hummingbird’s. As we neared the exchange zone, Howatzer, with the clipboard, and I hopped out of the van and jogged over.
As I would be running leg 10, 5 miles completely on the Springwater trail, I expected to be under shade for the majority of the run. By this time, the temperature had skyrocketed into the 90′s, one of the hottest days of the year. I threw on my visor in case I hit some sunny stretches. I nervously ran a couple of strides as I waited for Hammer.
I didn’t have to wait long. Weaving in and out of slower runners, Hammer came blazing up to the exchange zone and I took off to try and come close to matching his speed – a reflex from the old track days. Coach had been emphasizing the hand off. “This is a race. We won’t be doing blind 4 x 100 exchanges but we will be doing 4 x 800 controlled hand offs.” Hammer and I had a relatively smooth exchange and finally, I was racing.
As shocking as this may be to most of the regular followers of this blog, I went out fast, very fast, faster than I have in any race in a long, long time. A tenth of a mile in, I looked down at my Garmin and the pace read 4:42. Oops. “Dude! Slow the @#$! down! What is your problem?!?” I screamed inwardly at myself. I throttled back but I was well past a quarter mile before I slowed to over 6-minute per mile. By then, the damage was already done and the lactic acid timebomb had been tripped. The countdown to crash and burn had begun.
I hit the first mile in 6:15 and knew that with this heat and distance (not to mention the fact that I still had 2 more legs to run) I was still running too fast. I tried to settle into about 6:30 pace, but I was already beginning to struggle.
There are so many ‘slow’ (slower) people in this race that an illusion of speed gets created. Throughout the entire race, I felt like I was running much faster than I actually was. I blew past so many people that I thought I must be running 6:30′s or faster, but every time I checked my watch, the pace was significantly slower than it felt. Mile 2, 6:45. Mile 3, 6:58. “For chrissakes Allen, keep it under 7′s!” No such luck – I had a reservation on the pain train and the wheels were already falling off.
The stifling heat didn’t help. And so much for shade – there was virtually none to be found on the trail. To hell with tangents – when I saw even the smallest section of shade, I made a beeline for it, no matter if it was on the opposite side of the pathway – it was at least 10 degrees cooler in the shade and it felt heavenly to run through it.
The only thing that saved me was that I was completely accustomed to this. Most of my training runs over the last couple of months had taken place on the University trails – in the late afternoons, on black-top asphalt, in 90+ degree temps. I was trained for this – this was what I did daily. If there was some Portland Allen out here – some guy with my exact ability who had put in the same training mileage as me but in the usually cool temps of the northwest – I would drop him in this heat (unless, of course, he was smarter than me and hadn’t taken off like a bat out of hell).
My last 2 miles were 7:04 and 7:18 respectively. I came in about 2 minutes slower than my predicted time. Which was actually fortunate for my van mates who had just arrived when I rolled in. Had I run my predicted time, I would have gotten there and had to wait for our next runner to make it to the exchange zone. Maybe I subconsciously deduced this and therefore slowed down. Yeah, that’s what happened (sarcasm, yeah, that’ll work).
I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful to see someone as I was to see G-Dog. I handed off the baton and jumped back into the van. I had 36 road kills. I was road killed 3 times. I explained it in the van like this, “I beat everyone I should have beaten and lost to everyone I should have lost to. The 3 people that passed me, blazed past me – I couldn’t have beaten them on my best day. They were a couple of young bucks. Well, actually, a couple of young bucks and a doe.”
Leg 22 “Hard”
At a little after 11:00 that night, I started my second leg. Leg 22 was nearly a 7-miler with the first 2 miles straight uphill and the next 5ish down. I felt good on the climb and I had learned my lesson on the first leg so I started out oh-so-very-much-slower, keeping the pace reasonable for the elevation, averaging 7:45 (which seemed sooo much faster yet again as I was passing a bunch of folks). When I creasted the apex, I took off, or rather felt like I took off. I could have sworn I was running sub-6′s, but no such luck as mile 3 was 6:24, then I ran 6:48, 6:52, and 6:44 respectively. I was angered every time my watch beeped at the mile mark and I looked at it – I felt like I was sprinting! Here’s the Garmin elevation chart:
My road kill numbers were identical to the first leg; 36 road kills, 3 times being road kill. Bizarre.
Leg 34 “Easy”
I basically felt done after my second leg as I knew my third leg would be my easiest. But in the words of the brilliant Christi Cranford, “They’re all hard if you run ‘em hard.”
My final leg was only 3.5 miles long. Barring complete disaster, I’d be finished running in less than half an hour. Despite the sleep deprivation, I felt rejuvenated as the sun was just peeking over the horizon. Let’s do this.
Hammer, just as he had in our previous 2 exchanges, came in blowing by other runners. I grabbed the baton as he screamed at me, “Go kid, go!” He insists on calling me kid even though I’m probably 15 years older than him, but it’s fine – I kinda like being called kid.
I took off, but under control. “Just like racing a 5k”, I told myself. There were very few runners left to pass at this point, but lots of walkers. A slew of people were participating in the “Portland to Coast” walk, the walking version of our same race. Again, I got a false sense of speed whenever I passed someone. 7-minute pace feels like 5-minute pace when you pass someone walking 20-minute miles.
Conditions were perfect. I felt like I was sprinting, but my first mile was only 6:39. The van passed me and Hammer leaned out of the window and screamed, “252 is right behind you and coming! Go kid, speed up!” 252 was the team number of the Bandidos, a team we’d been trading spots with since the beginning. We’d pass them, then they’d pass us, back and forth all day long.
I tried to speed up but my legs vehemently objected. 252′s girl zipped by. A few seconds later I passed a guy who said, “Come on, you can get her. Catch her.” I believed him – his little speech was very motivating. I don’t know if Knute Rockne or Vince Lombardi could have motivated me more. I sped up.
But the legs just weren’t there. The earlier 12 miles had taken their toll. I ran on auto-pilot. I got dropped faster than a fantasy football player on IR (I had to work in a fantasy football reference somewhere) and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do but watch her pull away. At least she was pretty. I handed the baton off to G-Dog and I was done.
We made our way to the final exchange zone where Howatzer would take the baton for the final leg. He’d be finishing on the beach. Things nearly got nasty when the volunteers here seemed just a little too Nazi-esque, continually asking the runners to stay off the pavement, even though there was no one around, with only a few vans parked here (we had finally outrun most teams and therefore beaten the congestion). I for one was a little cranky as I was going on 48 hours now with less than 3 hours of sleep and had to bite my tongue not to mouth off to the volunteers. After all, it was super nice of them to give up their Saturday morning to be here and help out, even if some of them did seem to be enjoying the petty power just a little too much.
G-Dog finished his leg, handing off to Howatzer. We hopped into the van and headed back to Seaside for the finish. We parked at our house and jogged down to the finish line to meet up with the rest of our team. There we chatted and swapped war stories from the race until someone spotted Howatzer on the boardwalk and the post-race MC announced, “Here comes the Big Kahunas!” We all cheered wildly. With our race now complete, we gathered for the following team photo:
Post-Race
While the Hood to Coast race is great, the post-race is epic. After getting the above photo made, we went back to the house and caught some much needed rest. I slept at least twice as long on this day as I had 2 nights earlier.
A little before 5 that afternoon, we made our way back to the beach for the awards ceremony. We had finished in 22:06, good for third place in the sub-masters. I was told that we only beat the fourth place team by 30 seconds – thank god for the 4 x 800 handoffs!
I enjoyed a few Widmer (brewed locally in Portland – I like to try the local beer when on vacation) beers, but not too many as they were $6 apiece. I was content to just sit around and soak up the afterglow of the race. And there were lots of sights to keep me entertained, like this team:
Several of us walked to a nearby pizza joint and grabbed a few pies before coming back and settling in for the spectacular fireworks extravaganza. It was the 30th anniversary of Hood to Coast so they threw quite a party as a band rocked a lot of 80′s cover tunes in front of thousands of dancing runners. It was a blast but I was utterly spent by 11 or so when I walked back and crashed hard – no amount of snoring could keep me up on this night.
The next few days are a blur as a combination of sleep deprivation, race fatigue, alcohol, and probably early onset Alzheimer’s make everything run together in my mind.
Sunday, during the daytime hours after the race, those of us still around hit some of the other nearby beautiful beaches:
The heavy partying went down on Sunday night when what was left of the gang – a lot of folks had to fly back earlier – hit the Seaside bar scene. After an incredible dinner at the house where Coach grilled up some delicious steaks, we headed into town.
The plan was to go to Girtles, apparently the site of some great parties in the past. But when we got there, Girtles was no more, having been replaced by a seafood restaurant. Instead, off to Shilo’s Inn we headed – we had run by the house of the team Mojo that morning and they screamed to us as we passed, “Party at Shilo’s tonight!” So we did.
I wish I had some photos of the party to post here. Some incredible ones were taken. But I think they all must have been destroyed since quite a few were rather incriminating. You know, the kind that keep you from ever running for public office. An all-girl Portland to Coast team befriended me and applied some of their team’s temporary tattoos along various strategic spots on my body. I really wish I had a photo of this taking place. While I probably wouldn’t post such a picture here (some of my family might read this blog!) I would like the photo evidence of the event unfolding. Various Big Kahunas saw the tattoos the next day so at least there’s that.
By Monday, we were down to Coach, D-train, Maverick, and myself as everyone else was headed home. I was pretty much a zombie after the crazy night before. We wandered around Seaside for a bit, stopping to eat lunch at the Big Kahuna Pub and Grill – I mean we pretty much had to eat there before leaving, right? I asked our waitress, “Which came first, this place or Pulp Fiction?” She admitted that the movie came first but her boss swore that he didn’t know about the movie when he opened the joint. His sign says otherwise. But I will admit, it was one tasty burger.
In the afternoon, we drove over to Astoria, site of the nearest theater showing Rise of the Planet of the Apes which Coach wanted to see. I didn’t fall asleep in the theater which was a minor miracle.
That evening we bought seafood and Coach and Shazam cooked up some spectacular shrimp scampi. At the age of 45, I finally learned to de-vein shrimp.
By Tuesday, the troops dwindled even more so that only Coach, Shazam, and myself were left. We drove to Holy Ground – Eugene, Oregon, the site of the University of Oregon and famed Heyward Field. Unfortunately, they were working on the track, site of next year’s US Olympic Trials, so we couldn’t actually run on it, but we were able to walk around and snap these photos:
And that was it, Hood to Coast. Mark Oregon off the list of states that I’ve raced in. My road to Boston ran through Oregon.
This weekend I do the relay thing yet again, this time in the Blue Ridge Relay. I will see many of you there! Until then…
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| So many views of Mt. Hood, like this one snapped with my cell phone, awaited me in Oregon. |
Back in January, the night after the Charleston Half Marathon, I went to Windjammers to hang out with Adam Mayes and friends. There I met a bunch of the Big Kahunas and one of their leaders, Chris ‘Coach’ Spano. Each and every one of them told me that Hood to Coast was an incredible experience. It sounded just like the Blue Ridge Relay to me until one of the Kahunas that had run both races told me “Hood to Coast is to the Blue Ridge Relay what the Super Bowl is to Pop Warner football”. A bit of hyperbole, sure, but I was sold nonetheless. Where do I sign? I told Coach Spano I wanted in and he told me he’d let me know if he had any openings.
A few months later, Coach had openings. After a lot of email exchanges, some flight reservations, and some money sent via online banking, I was a Big Kahuna. Here’s the story of my 2011 Hood to Coast experience. Grab your soda and popcorn, you’re going to be here a while.
Wednesday
Early Wednesday morning, I picked up Coach and we headed to the airport – we had separate flights but virtually identical timelines. If all went well, we’d be arriving in Portland within 20 minutes of each other. All went well, Coach and I arrived in Portland at nearly the same time, and we shot over to Alamo to grab our rental van. Coach asked the guy at the counter if we could get a van with a luggage rack on top – this was a necessary component in order to secure the Big Kahuna totem pole on top of the van. A girl at the counter interrupted, piping in to say, “Nope. No luggage racks. None of our vans have luggage racks.”
So the first snag of the trip was upon us, but what choice did we have? Coach and I walked outside to acquire our luggage-rackless van. But as we stepped on the lot, the first van we spotted did indeed have a luggage rack, as did the other van on the lot, as did 2 more that were pulling out. Every Alamo rental van within sight had a luggage rack. How very shocking in this day and age to find a cocksure person in America that is blatantly wrong. We grabbed our van, complete with luggage rack, and headed out.
After a quick lunch at Uncle Vinny’s (not to be confused with your cousin Vinny) and a trip to Fred Meyer (grocery store chain) for a wine run (Coach likes his wine nearly as much as he likes to run), we were back at the airport to pick up Dustin, aka D-Train, and Jessa, aka Mustang.
Now’s as good a time as any to explain nicknames. Coach assigns each Big Kahuna a nickname, not unlike this scene from Reservoir Dogs. He dubbed me Tracker. Over the course of the week I heard various explanations, but my favorites were “…because you ran track at Carolina and you track people and run them down”. Some of the other Kahuna nicknames – Ice (Kathy Rink, because she’s from Detroit, a hockey hotbed. Get it? Ice Rink.), Sandman, G-Dog, Howatzer (sic, as this gentleman’s last name is Howat), Black Jack (I was expecting Jack to be a black guy, but he wasn’t – apparently this has to do with hair color), Shazam, Ghost (Mike Moran – for multiple reasons but his nickname is the best of the bunch, visually), Money, Hammer, Elektra, Braveheart, Big D (never understood this one – this was a small girl named Laree?), Cajun, Maverick, Colonel (former Army Ranger), etc. By week’s end, I knew most of the other runners only by these aliases.
But I digress. Back to Wednesday. Coach and I picked up D-train and Mustang and then headed over to a little sushi joint to have dinner with Money who is a full-time Portland resident. After dinner, we ran Money home where we picked up a few supplies for the race – all part of Coach and Sandman’s master plan – these 2 guys run the logistics of this thing with military precision, which is exactly what you need in a race like this.
After dinner, we drove to Seaside, Oregon, the coast in Hood to Coast, where our coastal rental house resided. The idea is to stay near the finish line, and more importantly, near the post-race party. We could see the massive scramble going on to erect the finish-area tent city by Saturday.
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| The temporary home of the Big Kahunas. |
Thursday
Coach, D-train, Mustang and I went on a little shake-out run. Coach informed us that several Big Kahunas always went on a ceremonial run the first full day in Seaside. He suggested we take things easy and “not crack an 8″. I kept my mouth shut when we ran the third mile of 5.5 in 7:51.
Coach was busy all day fielding calls from folks as they landed in Portland. He directed traffic, navigating people through a minefield of logistics as flights were late, cancelled, etc. He adeptly guided everybody to join recently-landed teammates to ride together in one of our rental vans.
But he still found time to join several of us for lunch. We shot over to the beautiful Cannon beach where we ate at Mo’s (no, not the taco joint). We ate outside so we could bask in the beauty of the Oregon coast. I snapped this photo of Haystack Rock from the deck:
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| Surreal postcard-esque beauty as seen from the deck of Mo's. |
Later that night, back at the house, a fear of mine became reality. What is it about me that attracts snorers? Asheville, Peachtree, now Hood to Coast – every time I share a room for a race, I find myself kept awake by snoring. We had 4 guys in our room, one of whom started snoring the second the lights went out. I’m a light sleeper – it’s virtually impossible for me to sleep when someone’s snoring. And somebody in this room sounded like they were trying to start a lawn mower every 2 seconds or so. Eventually there was a lull in the cutting of the z’s and I drifted off, only to be awakened again shortly when the snoring resumed. I think I might have slept 2 hours, and that’s a generous estimate.
Friday
The competitive team had our vans loaded up and headed towards Mt. Hood by 5:30 a.m. Although sleep deprived, I was amped and ready to race, even though it would be hours before I would run.
As we neared the mountain, we, along with what seemed like every other team in the race, stopped in a Safeway parking lot and started decorating our vans. It was here that the smack talking began. I heard Coach yell “Big Kahunas are here! Prepare to become road kill!”, or something akin to this, several times. I snapped this pic:
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| Hammer (you may know him as Mark, the manager of the Dilworth Charlotte Running Company) lashes down the Big Kahuna totem pole. |
On the drive up, the race became real for me when I caught breathtaking glimpses of Mt. Hood beyond the treeline. And once we got within a few miles of the mountain, we started seeing runners streaming down the road. I was a little taken aback by how many folks were already walking, on leg 1! Many folks that ‘run’ Hood to Coast are not actually runners – they muddle through the running bit so they can participate in the post-race party.
By the time we pulled into the parking lot at the base of Mt. Hood, I was downright wired and oh-so-very-anxious to run. How I envied Sandman, our first runner. Hundreds of vans were parking as thousands of people milled about. This is one of the big differences between Hood to Coast and Blue Ridge – the Blue Ridge Relay starts in a little parking lot with only a handful of teams at a time. Hood to Coast begins with a huge festival atmosphere, with hundreds of people on site. This event was no longer some abstract thing, it was now real, alive, and the excitement, palpable, ran through the parking lot.
Ubiquitous vendors handed out free stuff galore. Jordan will be glad to hear that Nuun was on hand to give out out free samples (I drank like 4 shots worth as I felt dehydrated). I ate a few delicious Clif bar samples and snagged some free shoe laces. I soaked up the experience and took this photo of Mt. Hood, looming above us:
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| The view of Mt. Hood from the parking lot at the start. |
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| Big Kahunas "Spring Break" team ready to rock and roll. |
At the first exchange zone, Sandman handed the baton ( a flexible plastic strip that doubles as a bracelet) to Gasman (David, a gastroenterologist lest you were wondering about the nickname) who took off as we continued to cheer loudly.
We shot ahead to exchange #6 (another Safeway parking lot) where our van’s first runner, Ice (aka Kathy Rink) would be getting the baton. This was the first spot where teams would have both their vans in the same lot and it was a complete madhouse. God how I pitied the random local who showed up to buy some milk and was confronted with thousands of runners jammed into one spot.
We still had a few hours to kill so we grabbed groceries and other supplies and then we loitered around in the parking lot. Ice, Howatzer, and I found a nice shady spot and plopped down. We chatted with a pleasant older couple who turned out to be Swedish runners sponsored by Nike. We found it humorous that they bad-mouthed Nike for giving them crappy shoes and watches. Gift horse! Mouth! Don’t look!
I got more and more anxious as my time to run grew near. I was also frustrated as the temperature soared – wasn’t it supposed to be cool in Oregon? I found out later that this was one of the hottest days of the year. By noon, it was in the 80′s and climbing.
As the time neared when our runner, Braveheart (aka Art), should be approaching, we lined up on the street to cheer him in. Watching runners coming in, I cheered furiously when I spotted Bart Yasso. He only runs a few select races a year these days since he’s had to battle Lime Disease. If I wasn’t already motivated enough, I became even more inspired at the site of Bart sprinting it in. I screamed “Go Bart!” when Howatzer turned to me and asked, “You know that guy?”
“Yeah, man. That’s Bart Yasso.”
“Oh. I did his workout last week. Go Bart!”
Moments later, Braveheart came through and handed off to Ice. Now our race began in earnest – van 2 had begun. From this point on, the race became a flurry of activity as we rushed to beat our runner to the next exchange zone. This may sound easy but it can actually prove to be quite difficult, especially after the Hood to Coast powers that be decided to add some 250 teams to an already huge 1000 team field. Nearly every exchange zone featured traffic jams of vans backed up. We would pull into line, let our next runner out of the van with another to carry the stopwatch and clipboard (used to record the official split times and to keep track of our overall time) and they would run to the exchange zone while the van was stuck in line.
The faster the team, the more problematic this proved to be. The Nike/Bowerman team had several occasions where their runner beat their van to the exchange zone. On at least 1 occasion, when the Nike runner arrived at the exchange zone only to discover that the person he was to exchange to was not there yet, he continued on and ran the next leg in addition to his. This proved to be quite costly as the price for running out of order is a one hour penalty. Ouch – this cost Nike the win as the Knoxville Track Club (many of you will remember the ultra team that won Blue Ridge last year was comprised of Knoxville Track Club members) eventually won, thanks to the penalties.
Leg 10 “Moderate”
I’ll spare you the stream of consciousness minutiae of the entire race and fast forward to my first leg, leg 10. Hammer, the fastest runner on the team, would be handing off to me. We really had to hoof it in the van to stay ahead of him, but luckily he was running a 7 mile leg. It was nearly 3:30 in the afternoon and I was so wired by this point that my heart was beating like a hummingbird’s. As we neared the exchange zone, Howatzer, with the clipboard, and I hopped out of the van and jogged over.
As I would be running leg 10, 5 miles completely on the Springwater trail, I expected to be under shade for the majority of the run. By this time, the temperature had skyrocketed into the 90′s, one of the hottest days of the year. I threw on my visor in case I hit some sunny stretches. I nervously ran a couple of strides as I waited for Hammer.
I didn’t have to wait long. Weaving in and out of slower runners, Hammer came blazing up to the exchange zone and I took off to try and come close to matching his speed – a reflex from the old track days. Coach had been emphasizing the hand off. “This is a race. We won’t be doing blind 4 x 100 exchanges but we will be doing 4 x 800 controlled hand offs.” Hammer and I had a relatively smooth exchange and finally, I was racing.
As shocking as this may be to most of the regular followers of this blog, I went out fast, very fast, faster than I have in any race in a long, long time. A tenth of a mile in, I looked down at my Garmin and the pace read 4:42. Oops. “Dude! Slow the @#$! down! What is your problem?!?” I screamed inwardly at myself. I throttled back but I was well past a quarter mile before I slowed to over 6-minute per mile. By then, the damage was already done and the lactic acid timebomb had been tripped. The countdown to crash and burn had begun.
I hit the first mile in 6:15 and knew that with this heat and distance (not to mention the fact that I still had 2 more legs to run) I was still running too fast. I tried to settle into about 6:30 pace, but I was already beginning to struggle.
There are so many ‘slow’ (slower) people in this race that an illusion of speed gets created. Throughout the entire race, I felt like I was running much faster than I actually was. I blew past so many people that I thought I must be running 6:30′s or faster, but every time I checked my watch, the pace was significantly slower than it felt. Mile 2, 6:45. Mile 3, 6:58. “For chrissakes Allen, keep it under 7′s!” No such luck – I had a reservation on the pain train and the wheels were already falling off.
The stifling heat didn’t help. And so much for shade – there was virtually none to be found on the trail. To hell with tangents – when I saw even the smallest section of shade, I made a beeline for it, no matter if it was on the opposite side of the pathway – it was at least 10 degrees cooler in the shade and it felt heavenly to run through it.
The only thing that saved me was that I was completely accustomed to this. Most of my training runs over the last couple of months had taken place on the University trails – in the late afternoons, on black-top asphalt, in 90+ degree temps. I was trained for this – this was what I did daily. If there was some Portland Allen out here – some guy with my exact ability who had put in the same training mileage as me but in the usually cool temps of the northwest – I would drop him in this heat (unless, of course, he was smarter than me and hadn’t taken off like a bat out of hell).
My last 2 miles were 7:04 and 7:18 respectively. I came in about 2 minutes slower than my predicted time. Which was actually fortunate for my van mates who had just arrived when I rolled in. Had I run my predicted time, I would have gotten there and had to wait for our next runner to make it to the exchange zone. Maybe I subconsciously deduced this and therefore slowed down. Yeah, that’s what happened (sarcasm, yeah, that’ll work).
I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful to see someone as I was to see G-Dog. I handed off the baton and jumped back into the van. I had 36 road kills. I was road killed 3 times. I explained it in the van like this, “I beat everyone I should have beaten and lost to everyone I should have lost to. The 3 people that passed me, blazed past me – I couldn’t have beaten them on my best day. They were a couple of young bucks. Well, actually, a couple of young bucks and a doe.”
Leg 22 “Hard”
At a little after 11:00 that night, I started my second leg. Leg 22 was nearly a 7-miler with the first 2 miles straight uphill and the next 5ish down. I felt good on the climb and I had learned my lesson on the first leg so I started out oh-so-very-much-slower, keeping the pace reasonable for the elevation, averaging 7:45 (which seemed sooo much faster yet again as I was passing a bunch of folks). When I creasted the apex, I took off, or rather felt like I took off. I could have sworn I was running sub-6′s, but no such luck as mile 3 was 6:24, then I ran 6:48, 6:52, and 6:44 respectively. I was angered every time my watch beeped at the mile mark and I looked at it – I felt like I was sprinting! Here’s the Garmin elevation chart:
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| Very similar to the Cooper River elevation profile. Why was I so much faster there? |
Leg 34 “Easy”
I basically felt done after my second leg as I knew my third leg would be my easiest. But in the words of the brilliant Christi Cranford, “They’re all hard if you run ‘em hard.”
My final leg was only 3.5 miles long. Barring complete disaster, I’d be finished running in less than half an hour. Despite the sleep deprivation, I felt rejuvenated as the sun was just peeking over the horizon. Let’s do this.
Hammer, just as he had in our previous 2 exchanges, came in blowing by other runners. I grabbed the baton as he screamed at me, “Go kid, go!” He insists on calling me kid even though I’m probably 15 years older than him, but it’s fine – I kinda like being called kid.
I took off, but under control. “Just like racing a 5k”, I told myself. There were very few runners left to pass at this point, but lots of walkers. A slew of people were participating in the “Portland to Coast” walk, the walking version of our same race. Again, I got a false sense of speed whenever I passed someone. 7-minute pace feels like 5-minute pace when you pass someone walking 20-minute miles.
Conditions were perfect. I felt like I was sprinting, but my first mile was only 6:39. The van passed me and Hammer leaned out of the window and screamed, “252 is right behind you and coming! Go kid, speed up!” 252 was the team number of the Bandidos, a team we’d been trading spots with since the beginning. We’d pass them, then they’d pass us, back and forth all day long.
I tried to speed up but my legs vehemently objected. 252′s girl zipped by. A few seconds later I passed a guy who said, “Come on, you can get her. Catch her.” I believed him – his little speech was very motivating. I don’t know if Knute Rockne or Vince Lombardi could have motivated me more. I sped up.
But the legs just weren’t there. The earlier 12 miles had taken their toll. I ran on auto-pilot. I got dropped faster than a fantasy football player on IR (I had to work in a fantasy football reference somewhere) and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do but watch her pull away. At least she was pretty. I handed the baton off to G-Dog and I was done.
We made our way to the final exchange zone where Howatzer would take the baton for the final leg. He’d be finishing on the beach. Things nearly got nasty when the volunteers here seemed just a little too Nazi-esque, continually asking the runners to stay off the pavement, even though there was no one around, with only a few vans parked here (we had finally outrun most teams and therefore beaten the congestion). I for one was a little cranky as I was going on 48 hours now with less than 3 hours of sleep and had to bite my tongue not to mouth off to the volunteers. After all, it was super nice of them to give up their Saturday morning to be here and help out, even if some of them did seem to be enjoying the petty power just a little too much.
G-Dog finished his leg, handing off to Howatzer. We hopped into the van and headed back to Seaside for the finish. We parked at our house and jogged down to the finish line to meet up with the rest of our team. There we chatted and swapped war stories from the race until someone spotted Howatzer on the boardwalk and the post-race MC announced, “Here comes the Big Kahunas!” We all cheered wildly. With our race now complete, we gathered for the following team photo:
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| You would think the photographer would tell me that I was leaning off to the side, but no such luck. I'll show him by not buying a copy of the photo. |
While the Hood to Coast race is great, the post-race is epic. After getting the above photo made, we went back to the house and caught some much needed rest. I slept at least twice as long on this day as I had 2 nights earlier.
A little before 5 that afternoon, we made our way back to the beach for the awards ceremony. We had finished in 22:06, good for third place in the sub-masters. I was told that we only beat the fourth place team by 30 seconds – thank god for the 4 x 800 handoffs!
I enjoyed a few Widmer (brewed locally in Portland – I like to try the local beer when on vacation) beers, but not too many as they were $6 apiece. I was content to just sit around and soak up the afterglow of the race. And there were lots of sights to keep me entertained, like this team:
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| This team had a picture of Yoda on their van with the caption, "Road kill you are". How very clever of them. I was digging Darth Vader enough to join the dark side. |
The next few days are a blur as a combination of sleep deprivation, race fatigue, alcohol, and probably early onset Alzheimer’s make everything run together in my mind.
Sunday, during the daytime hours after the race, those of us still around hit some of the other nearby beautiful beaches:
The heavy partying went down on Sunday night when what was left of the gang – a lot of folks had to fly back earlier – hit the Seaside bar scene. After an incredible dinner at the house where Coach grilled up some delicious steaks, we headed into town.
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| The gang thoroughly enjoys Coach's delicious, grilled-to-order steaks. |
I wish I had some photos of the party to post here. Some incredible ones were taken. But I think they all must have been destroyed since quite a few were rather incriminating. You know, the kind that keep you from ever running for public office. An all-girl Portland to Coast team befriended me and applied some of their team’s temporary tattoos along various strategic spots on my body. I really wish I had a photo of this taking place. While I probably wouldn’t post such a picture here (some of my family might read this blog!) I would like the photo evidence of the event unfolding. Various Big Kahunas saw the tattoos the next day so at least there’s that.
By Monday, we were down to Coach, D-train, Maverick, and myself as everyone else was headed home. I was pretty much a zombie after the crazy night before. We wandered around Seaside for a bit, stopping to eat lunch at the Big Kahuna Pub and Grill – I mean we pretty much had to eat there before leaving, right? I asked our waitress, “Which came first, this place or Pulp Fiction?” She admitted that the movie came first but her boss swore that he didn’t know about the movie when he opened the joint. His sign says otherwise. But I will admit, it was one tasty burger.
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| Which came first, Pulp Fiction or this restaurant? |
That evening we bought seafood and Coach and Shazam cooked up some spectacular shrimp scampi. At the age of 45, I finally learned to de-vein shrimp.
By Tuesday, the troops dwindled even more so that only Coach, Shazam, and myself were left. We drove to Holy Ground – Eugene, Oregon, the site of the University of Oregon and famed Heyward Field. Unfortunately, they were working on the track, site of next year’s US Olympic Trials, so we couldn’t actually run on it, but we were able to walk around and snap these photos:
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| Self-explanatory. |
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| Statue of legendary track coach and co-founder of Nike, Bill Bowerman. |
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| Pre! |
This weekend I do the relay thing yet again, this time in the Blue Ridge Relay. I will see many of you there! Until then…
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Run for Green Half-Marathon Preview on Labor Day
This is a casual run, but it will cover the entire 13.1-mile course, so runners should be prepared for a challenge. While there will be water stops, you might want to bring your own as well. We will be running on public roads and paths, but there is no police escort or road closure, so take care! Most of all, it should be a fun morning with great company. No need to RSVP, just show up Monday morning. Hope to see you there!
Click here for a map of the course.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Race Recap: 2011 Kannapolis Nutrithon
by Charles A. Willimon
On August 20th, the Kannapolis Rotary and many other area sponsors of all sizes held their second annual Nutrithon. This race had three events: a 5k run, 8k run, and a duathlon (5k run, 25k bike ride, 3k run). Having run several 5ks and 10ks, and preferring the 10k distance, I registered for the 8k. I had a couple of factors to help give me an edge in approaching this race. First, the 8k course kept mainly to the area of Kannapolis in which I teach school, so I knew the route well. Second, I had been spending the last few months training for my first marathon with several seasoned DART runners who inadvertently had me stepping up my game week by week.
Two weeks before the race, I went out to preview the course and run at my target pace. Still being not too long off an injury, I decided to set my goal at 37:30 for an average pace of 7:30 minutes per mile. The preview gave me a great summary of what to expect: two fast miles in the beginning, a fairly challenging hill in the third mile, and a flat, straight last two miles. I started out the preview at closer to my 5k pace, and I paid for it after the third mile. It was all I could do to keep up with my projected splits after that. Average pace on the practice run: 7:29 (and sucking wind).
Race day came and I felt informed and prepared. The race was to start and end in front of the main building at the new North Carolina Research Campus that now stands where the old Cannon textile mill (for which Kannapolis is named) once stood. It was a great day for running; there was nice cloud cover, and the air was still cool from some rain earlier in the morning. I was the first runner on site—a product of my stubborn punctuality—which afforded me a lot of walking around and loosening up time. Here, I should mention that I was operating on five hours' worth of sleep. Being a part-time musician on the side, I played a gig the night before the race and did not arrive home until after midnight. Hopefully, the race would be over before the sleep deprivation set in.
Among the other early arrivals were some runners with whom I ultimately would interact during the race. There was Mike (from Charlotte Running Club), Phillip, Carly, Jean, and another lean, game-faced runner who I will call John Doe. Sorry, John Doe, but I never got your name! I could tell even before runners started warming up that these early arrivals were to be my primary competition.
I timed my race preparation to the minute. At 15 minutes prior to the start, I downed a gel with a cup of water and started some dynamic stretching. I got some strange looks as I was doing some tangle-footed drills I had gleaned from a workout with (two-time Olympian) Anthony Famiglietti to open up my hips and set my balance in order. At 5 minutes prior, I worked in a half-dozen strides to get the rest of the cobwebs out. As I walked to the starting line, I noticed I was the only DARTer in the field of about 45 racers for the 8k. Naturally, I politely worked my way to the front of the pack, toeing the start line. Mike, Phillip, Jean, Carly, and John Doe were all either shoulder to shoulder with me, or right behind me. Yep, these were the ones who came to compete, alright.
At the starting gun, Mike and John Doe tore ahead at what appeared to be a sub-5:00 initial pace. I knew I would watch them for a mile or so, and they would disappear for good after that. In the first 200 yards, Phillip passed me with long legs and a long stride. I had half a mind to try and keep Phillip’s pace, but I was already running faster than I had planned for the beginning of the race, so I let him go and kept him in view...at least for a little while. Around the first half-mile, Carly crept up on me and passed me. I had seen Carly last spring at a 5k, and kept pace with her for a little more than two miles during that race, but she eventually pulled away. This day, she was looking faster than last spring, so I let her go uncontested as well. This would prove to be a wise decision. As we left the Research Campus property, crested a short hill along the Loop Road, and then turned right onto the surface streets. From here, there was a steep downhill for about 600 yards leading to the Baker Creek Greenway. My Garmin sounded off the first mile as I entered the greenway. I paced 6:41 for the first mile. While I felt I could have gone faster, I reminded myself to save up for the hill I would see after about another mile.
The wide, smooth greenway was shaded by a nice canopy of trees, and the sounds of a babbling creek were a nice compliment to the cadence of shoes on asphalt. As I was locking in to a good pace and letting the mind relax a little, I heard a “WOOOOOO,” from somewhere not too far behind me. “WOOOOOO,” the booming voice yelled, “I’m comin’ to get ya, DART! WOOOOOO!” As I said, I was the only DARTer at this race—at least the only one wearing a DART singlet—so I assumed this boisterous taunt was directed at me. I resisted the urge to glance back at my pursuer and focused on maintaining my pace in the low 7’s. I still cannot tell you what he looked like, because he never did catch up with me. At 1.5 miles, Jean came shoulder-to-shoulder with me. “Use me,” she shouted, “and I’ll use you!” I should mention that Jean was at least twenty years my senior, so I was determined not to let her break ahead of me. Before we left the greenway, a short sprinkling of raindrops gave us some nice refreshment. There was a water station just before the two mile mark. Feeling good, I passed on the water, but Jean screamed for a cup and scared the volunteers half to death in doing so. Mile two chimed off (at a 7:05 pace) just before we stepped off the greenway and back onto the Loop Road.
The first half of mile three was the hill for which I had been saving my energy. The initial slope was the steepest, so I dug in and pumped my arms. Jean certainly felt the effects of the hill right away. She dropped in behind me, single-file, but she stayed right on my heels for the length of the hill. After we crested the hill, we took a sharp turn on Allen Street for a block and then a left on Ridge Road to start a long straightaway. Mile three went by at a 7:34 pace, which was a lot better than I had planned considering the elevation gain. At this point, I was nearly a minute ahead of my goal pace.
Judging from the sound of her breathing, Jean was still fairly close behind me, and she had fans on the sidewalk in this neighborhood. They shouted, “C’mon, Jean, catch this person!” I smiled to myself, but I still did not glance back. Ridge Road was relatively flat, with a gradual downhill after another half mile or so, but this lull in the race was fairly uneventful. After intersecting the Loop Road yet again—it’s called “Loop Road” for a reason—we did a 180 around a short block and got on to Main Street, headed back the way we came parallel to Ridge Road. The aforementioned gradual downhill was now a gradual uphill. Here, Mile four chimed off, for which I managed a respectable 7:21 pace. After another 500 yards or so, the domed top of the main building at the NC Research Campus came into view, so I had a nice visual of my destination. At this point, I stole my first backward glance. Jean was about 25 seconds behind me, and it looked as if the gap was widening. Behind her, there were no other runners in view. I knew the rest of the race was going to be solitary. I still had gas in the tank, so I focused on gradually lengthening my stride and opening the throttle to avoid getting too complacent and slowing down.
Mile five sounded off at a 7:29 pace, but I had yet to round the corner back into the campus for the final straightaway. Since 8k is a hair under five miles, this particular race was long by about a tenth of a mile. Upon turning into the campus, I came into some other foot traffic from the 5k race, which started five minutes after the 8k and ended at the same line. I dodged around a couple of 5k’ers and settled into a sprinting stride for the last .08 miles, which I took at a 5:49 pace. My official time was 36:40, which was nearly a minute ahead of my goal, and sufficient for a PR pace of 7:13 for an 8k. This was enough of a victory for me, but my results granted me first place in my age group as well, so I got to bring home a little hardware. Jean finished about 45 seconds behind me, which earned her second place overall for females. Carly had taken the first spot in that category with a time that flirted with 33 minutes. Boy, was I glad I did not try to keep pace with her! Carly had overtaken Phillip, who finished in the mid 34 minute range, but Mike and John Doe blew the top of the event. Mike won the overall race at a blistering 28:32, and John Doe clocked in at 30:38. John Doe’s goal was to break 30 minutes, which I am sure he would have done if the race were closer to eight true kilometers.
I was surprised by the amount of swag offered by the NC Research campus, Dole Foods, and CMC Northeast for such a seemingly small event. Being a third grade teacher, I loaded my goodie bag full of dozens of giveaways for my classroom, and I enjoyed a very fulfilling pancake breakfast provided by the Kannapolis Rotary. The clouds broke and gave way to bright sunshine as I collected my medal and made my way back to the car, anticipating a much need nap. Overall, I was very pleased with this race, and I think I might just put in on my race calendar for next year. Hopefully, some other DARTers will come along and help me represent!
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Race Recap: The Springmaid Splash 10K by Dave Munger
(Originally posted on Mungerruns)
The Springmaid Splash is not your typical race. For one thing, it's the shortest race I've ever needed to stop and walk in. For another, it involves four knee-deep river crossings. There are half-mile stretches where the trail is completely covered with mud. At 58:30 for a 9:26 average pace, it's the slowest I've ever completed a 10K race.
But given the challenging trail conditions, I'm quite happy with my performance in the race, and most importantly, I had an absolute blast.
The race is held at the Springmaid Mountain Resort, an idyllic little piece of the Blue Ridge Mountains that seems to move at a slower pace than the world around it. I drove up with a group of runners that included Todd Hartung, Chad Randolph, Chris Alexander, Eric Reiner, Emily Hansen, Sarah Keen, and Marisa Wheeler. Despite the early 5:20 a.m. departure and the two-hour drive, everyone was in great spirits and looking forward to the run.
You have to park a half-mile from the starting line, but there was a great system of buses to take us to the start, where we quickly picked up our race materials and checked our bags. There were only six porta-potties for about 500 runners, but fortunately being a guy it was easy for me to pee in the woods before the race started.
We only had time for a quarter-mile warm-up jog to the starting line, in a big grass field mown to about 6 inches long. While this might seem a bit rough, it was actually pretty much the best running surface we'd have all day. After a blessedly short speech with a warning to stay on the trail, we were off.
I had looked up an elevation profile of the course before the race and I knew about the four river crossings, but other than that I had very little idea of what to expect. Most of the runners were doing a 5K, but we all ran together for the first mile or so, so as you might guess it was fairly crowded. After about a quarter-mile, the grassy field narrowed and we were all running along a single-lane gravel road. Every 50 yards or so, there was a giant mud patch the width of the road, and there was little to do but run straight through the ankle-deep goo. A woman wearing a fairly flimsy-looking pair of sandals twisted her ankle and fell to the ground in front of me. I decided there wasn't much point in stopping for her; there seemed to be plenty of race officials around and we weren't much more than a half-mile from the start.
Then we got to the first river crossing. I've forded rivers during hikes, but never in a race, and I wasn't exactly sure how to approach it. Generally when you're hiking, you take a lot of care not to fall down since you don't want the stuff in your pack to get wet. I decided to take a cue from the other runners, who seemed to just plunge in and high-step across. The water reached to about mid-calf and wasn't cold, but it definitely slowed you down. Several runners passed me, but eventually I made it to the other side and resumed running without incident. The second crossing followed shortly thereafter, and was a bit deeper, nearly knee-high. I made it through and tried to maintain a reasonable pace.
But what exactly was a reasonable pace? For my first mile, on flat but rough terrain, I managed an 8:06 pace. That's slower than my planned marathon pace and much slower than my 10K PR pace of 7:09 per mile. For mile two, we began to head uphill. At first the hill was quite manageable, but gradually it got steeper. I resisted the urge to walk, and kept going as best as I could. Finally we crested the first hill and started heading down again. But I knew from the elevation profile I had seen that a bigger hill was yet to come. Elevation gain for Mile 2: 226 feet. Pace: 9:23.
In Mile 3, it turned out, there were two major hills, a hundred-footer and the first part of a 300-footer. Both of these hills had stretches steeper than anything in Mile 2, and I slowed to a walk for the steepest stretches. As soon as things leveled out a bit, however, I was able to leap back to a run and despite the 276-foot gain in Mile 3, my pace only slowed to 11:16.
Mile 4 started with the last of the big hill, then plunged steeply downward. The trail was heavily rutted and given the sweat dripping down my glasses, it was hard for me to see in places. I did the best I could, but a couple people passed me on this section, including a woman who seemed to be running insanely fast for these conditions. Mile 4 stats: 142 feet up, 279 feet down, 9:27 pace.
Mile 5 had even more climbing, but also more ferocious downhill sections. The speedy downhill woman actually slipped and fell about 20 yards in front of me, then somehow got back up and kept running. Somewhere in this section, Chris Alexander passed me, but I managed to keep him in my sights. He was running up every hill, while I walked the steepest sections and then ran as soon as things leveled off a bit, and this meant he never got too far ahead of me. Mile 5 stats: 153 feet up, 231 down, 9:28 pace.
Finally, Mile 6. It started with a muddy descent back down towards the river. The footing was terrible, but it was worse if you tried to slow down. I was concerned my feet would slide out from under me, so I just ran as fast as I could. Somehow I made it to the bottom of the hill and the third river crossing. I had passed a few guys (including Chris) in this section, but a couple passed me back during the crossing. On the level section after the crossing, I passed one of the guys again. We reached the final crossing and somehow I managed to make it across without getting passed. I saw a couple runners struggling ahead of me, and I still seemed to have gas in the tank, so I passed them, trying to look as strong as possible as I did. Mile 6 stats: 0 feet up, 122 feet down, 8:19 pace.
The last 0.2 miles ended up being .34 according to my Garmin, but they were on fairly good trails or mown grass. I focused on good form and made sure no one passed me as I strode through the finish line. Todd, Eric, and Sarah had already finished and congratulated me soon after I crossed the line. Chris was only about 30 seconds behind me, and Chad followed shortly after that. Emily followed soon after, and Melissa, who had run the 5K, was already done.
My time was good for 72nd place out of roughly 200 10Kers (the official results haven't been posted yet). Generally I do better relative to the field, but I think the challenging nature of this course scared away less-die-hard runners, so this was a very tough field of runners. As an indication of how tough the field was, Sarah was the only runner in our group to get an age-group award. Great job, Sarah! Here's the whole group of us post-race:
All in all, this race was a lot of fun. The trail was always challenging, but always runnable (or walkable as the case may be). I'd definitely run it again.
The Springmaid Splash is not your typical race. For one thing, it's the shortest race I've ever needed to stop and walk in. For another, it involves four knee-deep river crossings. There are half-mile stretches where the trail is completely covered with mud. At 58:30 for a 9:26 average pace, it's the slowest I've ever completed a 10K race.
But given the challenging trail conditions, I'm quite happy with my performance in the race, and most importantly, I had an absolute blast.
The race is held at the Springmaid Mountain Resort, an idyllic little piece of the Blue Ridge Mountains that seems to move at a slower pace than the world around it. I drove up with a group of runners that included Todd Hartung, Chad Randolph, Chris Alexander, Eric Reiner, Emily Hansen, Sarah Keen, and Marisa Wheeler. Despite the early 5:20 a.m. departure and the two-hour drive, everyone was in great spirits and looking forward to the run.
You have to park a half-mile from the starting line, but there was a great system of buses to take us to the start, where we quickly picked up our race materials and checked our bags. There were only six porta-potties for about 500 runners, but fortunately being a guy it was easy for me to pee in the woods before the race started.
We only had time for a quarter-mile warm-up jog to the starting line, in a big grass field mown to about 6 inches long. While this might seem a bit rough, it was actually pretty much the best running surface we'd have all day. After a blessedly short speech with a warning to stay on the trail, we were off.
I had looked up an elevation profile of the course before the race and I knew about the four river crossings, but other than that I had very little idea of what to expect. Most of the runners were doing a 5K, but we all ran together for the first mile or so, so as you might guess it was fairly crowded. After about a quarter-mile, the grassy field narrowed and we were all running along a single-lane gravel road. Every 50 yards or so, there was a giant mud patch the width of the road, and there was little to do but run straight through the ankle-deep goo. A woman wearing a fairly flimsy-looking pair of sandals twisted her ankle and fell to the ground in front of me. I decided there wasn't much point in stopping for her; there seemed to be plenty of race officials around and we weren't much more than a half-mile from the start.
Then we got to the first river crossing. I've forded rivers during hikes, but never in a race, and I wasn't exactly sure how to approach it. Generally when you're hiking, you take a lot of care not to fall down since you don't want the stuff in your pack to get wet. I decided to take a cue from the other runners, who seemed to just plunge in and high-step across. The water reached to about mid-calf and wasn't cold, but it definitely slowed you down. Several runners passed me, but eventually I made it to the other side and resumed running without incident. The second crossing followed shortly thereafter, and was a bit deeper, nearly knee-high. I made it through and tried to maintain a reasonable pace.
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| A river crossing from the 2007 race |
But what exactly was a reasonable pace? For my first mile, on flat but rough terrain, I managed an 8:06 pace. That's slower than my planned marathon pace and much slower than my 10K PR pace of 7:09 per mile. For mile two, we began to head uphill. At first the hill was quite manageable, but gradually it got steeper. I resisted the urge to walk, and kept going as best as I could. Finally we crested the first hill and started heading down again. But I knew from the elevation profile I had seen that a bigger hill was yet to come. Elevation gain for Mile 2: 226 feet. Pace: 9:23.
In Mile 3, it turned out, there were two major hills, a hundred-footer and the first part of a 300-footer. Both of these hills had stretches steeper than anything in Mile 2, and I slowed to a walk for the steepest stretches. As soon as things leveled out a bit, however, I was able to leap back to a run and despite the 276-foot gain in Mile 3, my pace only slowed to 11:16.
Mile 4 started with the last of the big hill, then plunged steeply downward. The trail was heavily rutted and given the sweat dripping down my glasses, it was hard for me to see in places. I did the best I could, but a couple people passed me on this section, including a woman who seemed to be running insanely fast for these conditions. Mile 4 stats: 142 feet up, 279 feet down, 9:27 pace.
Mile 5 had even more climbing, but also more ferocious downhill sections. The speedy downhill woman actually slipped and fell about 20 yards in front of me, then somehow got back up and kept running. Somewhere in this section, Chris Alexander passed me, but I managed to keep him in my sights. He was running up every hill, while I walked the steepest sections and then ran as soon as things leveled off a bit, and this meant he never got too far ahead of me. Mile 5 stats: 153 feet up, 231 down, 9:28 pace.
Finally, Mile 6. It started with a muddy descent back down towards the river. The footing was terrible, but it was worse if you tried to slow down. I was concerned my feet would slide out from under me, so I just ran as fast as I could. Somehow I made it to the bottom of the hill and the third river crossing. I had passed a few guys (including Chris) in this section, but a couple passed me back during the crossing. On the level section after the crossing, I passed one of the guys again. We reached the final crossing and somehow I managed to make it across without getting passed. I saw a couple runners struggling ahead of me, and I still seemed to have gas in the tank, so I passed them, trying to look as strong as possible as I did. Mile 6 stats: 0 feet up, 122 feet down, 8:19 pace.
The last 0.2 miles ended up being .34 according to my Garmin, but they were on fairly good trails or mown grass. I focused on good form and made sure no one passed me as I strode through the finish line. Todd, Eric, and Sarah had already finished and congratulated me soon after I crossed the line. Chris was only about 30 seconds behind me, and Chad followed shortly after that. Emily followed soon after, and Melissa, who had run the 5K, was already done.
My time was good for 72nd place out of roughly 200 10Kers (the official results haven't been posted yet). Generally I do better relative to the field, but I think the challenging nature of this course scared away less-die-hard runners, so this was a very tough field of runners. As an indication of how tough the field was, Sarah was the only runner in our group to get an age-group award. Great job, Sarah! Here's the whole group of us post-race:
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| Left to right: Sarah, Marisa, Emily, Chad, Me, Eric, Todd, and Chris |
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
The Basics: Running while on vacation
Originally posted on Science-Based Running, as written by our very own Dave Munger.
I apologize for the lack of posting this past week, but I have an excuse: I’ve been doing the “research” for this post! I’m in the middle of a two-week vacation in Hawaii, but I’ve also been trying to keep up with my marathon training schedule, which had me slated to do 49 miles last week and 63 this week.
I think I’ve now done enough running in unfamiliar places that I can offer some tips for others who have the same problem: How do you stick to a training regimen while you’re away from home? If you have any additional tips, I encourage you to add them in the comments section below. I’ll try to respond to your comments, but since I’m, you know, on vacation, it might take me a while to get to it.
I’ve found that I can get some excellent runs in while traveling, but it does require a little planning, patience, and flexibility. Here’s how I do it:
Here are some more tips for planning a good route while on vacation:
I apologize for the lack of posting this past week, but I have an excuse: I’ve been doing the “research” for this post! I’m in the middle of a two-week vacation in Hawaii, but I’ve also been trying to keep up with my marathon training schedule, which had me slated to do 49 miles last week and 63 this week.
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| Don't feel too sorry for me |
I’ve found that I can get some excellent runs in while traveling, but it does require a little planning, patience, and flexibility. Here’s how I do it:
- Take extra gear. You never know when you’ll have access to laundry facilities, so it’s better to be over-prepared. Fortunately, most running gear is pretty light, so it doesn’t take a lot of room in your suitcase.
- If you’re traveling with a group, figure out a time to run that won’t interfere with your group’s plans. I have found that most vacationers don’t like to get up very early, so I set an alarm and finish my run before everyone else’s day has started. If you’re traveling with small children, you could run during their afternoon nap or in the evening after they’ve gone to bed.
- Don’t worry if you miss a day or two of running. Remember, this is a vacation! If you have to miss a day, try to skip an “easy” day and keep up with your more challenging long/fast runs.
- Don’t party too hard. This doesn’t mean not drinking at all, but you might consider filling every other glass with water instead of an alcoholic beverage. Or do your late-night carousing the evenings before easier runs.
- Spend a few minutes before your run to plan out your route. I’ve found the WalkRunJog iPhone app can be helpful for this; it allows you to input your location and planned distance, then gives you nearby routes other runners have used. One problem with the app, however, is that it seems to be used primarily by other travelers who are as clueless as you are about the local running conditions. In a trip to San Francisco last year, for example, many routes went straight up or down extremely steep hills, or along streets with tons of stoplights. (I’ve added some more tips about planning your route to the end of the article.)
- For longer runs, consider a route that takes you back to your home base once or more: You’re less likely to get lost in an unfamiliar place, and you can restock with fuel or water. You’ll also know what to expect during the second or third loop and will be able to pace yourself better.
- Don’t forget to use sunscreen. Just because you never get burnt during your shady morning run back home doesn’t mean you won’t get scorched on a 12-miler on the beach at noon.
- Adjust your expectations. You may be running at a higher elevation, in warmer temperatures, or on hillier or rougher terrain than you’re used to. Start slowly and build your pace as you become accustomed to the new conditions. Similarly, you might want to do a shorter run the first day in a new location and build to longer runs. For example, this week I moved my 18-miler up a day, so that I could do it on my last day in now-familiar Kauai instead of a new vacation rental on the island of Hawaii. I’ll start slowly again in this new spot.
- Stay alert. I always leave my iPod at home when I go on vacation; this helps me pay more attention to my surroundings, both for safety and to more fully experience the wonderful location where I’m running.
- Consider carrying a phone and a credit card so you can call a cab if you get lost.
- Have fun! It’s a vacation, remember?
Here are some more tips for planning a good route while on vacation:
- Pay attention to the surroundings of your lodging when you arrive. Where are the sidewalks? What roads have nice, wide shoulders? Where are other people running?
- Consider asking about good running routes in your hotel or at a local running store.
- If you have internet access, try using Gmaps Pedometer or MapMyRun to plot out your run before you head out.
- Make sure your route is simple enough that you’ll actually be able to remember it while you’re out on the road. You might sketch out a map on a slip of paper or write down the names of the roads you’ll be turning on.
- Don’t forget to take advantage of the local scenery, even if it means your route isn’t ideal. In San Francisco, I made a point of running to the top of some of the city’s famous hills, even though I knew I wouldn’t be able to maintain my pace as I climbed the long staircases it took to get there.
- Don’t be afraid to take a detour. On my 18-mile run in Kauai, I noticed a road heading off towards an old sugar mill, and decided to head down it to get a closer look. It was fascinating seeing this bit of Hawaii history (there are no more active sugar plantations in Hawaii), and I was able to adjust my route later to account for the extra mileage.
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