Boston Weekend

I was in the kitchen at Terry and Sue's enjoying the annual potluck that their running club has on Boston Marathon weekend when a guy I met said something totally cool. The conversation went like this:

Him: So what are you planning to run at Boston this year?
Me : I've been having issues, not able to train like I wanted so I'm not taking it all that seriously.
Him: You never know, being well-rested and all, this could be your best Boston.
Me : You don't understand, I took pretty much the entire month of March off from running due to an injury. I'm really not ready for it.
Him: I didn't say it would be your fastest, just your best.

Well he was right. After doing Boston three times, this certainly was my best Boston...so far. I think the fact that there was no pressure this time around, just a long run Monday morning for fun, allowed me to relax, try a few new things, and most importantly really enjoy the weekend!

Friday
After checking into our hotel, we immediately hit the T for the subway ride to Jamaica Plains. Destination: Sam Adams brewery for a tour. On the walk to the subway I called up Jeff, a friend from the HC striders who was also in town for the run. He and his wife Terry were game for what turned out to be a very short tour, followed by the more important free tasting. The woman who gave the tour told us of Jim Koch's quest for the perfect glass to serve his beer in (an interesting story, but take the tour to get it). She then let us know that a bar/cafe nearby named Doyle's has a special for those who take the tour: Order a Sam Adam's and keep the glass. As luck would have it, we were hungry for lunch and made the walk on over.

After hopping on the T for a quick rest back at the hotel, it was time to head to Hynes and pick pick up my packet. We were met there by my old high school friend (another Terry), grabbed our packet and headed over to the North End for dinner at Terramia's. Dinner was fun with seven of us seated around the table enjoying each other's company and some great food and wine. After dinner, Tammy and I stopped at one of the many pastry shops in the North End (no, not Mike's) and took dessert back to the hotel.

Then, for some strange reason that neither Tammy nor I can figure out, we stayed up until midnight watching Shanghai Kid on HBO??!!

Saturday
Things were a bit rushed at the expo Friday night so we went back Saturday morning for some serious grazing and freebie-loading: Free socks, free hat, free poster, free sticker, free pace chart wristband, etc. I also bought a few gu's for Monday's run.

After a late checkout and lunch we again hopped the T, this time to the suburbs where Terry and Sue lived. Terry and Sue are great hosts and it has been a tradition to stay with them whenever Tammy or I are running Boston.

As I mentioned, Saturday night is the big CSU potluck; serious carbs. Lots of pasta, a few beers, and even some home made bread. Earlier in the afternoon I went out to jog a few miles, got lost a bit, and ended up going five. I think this would have upset me if I were worried about how I would run on Monday. Not this time. Not me.

Sunday
Only a crazy person would golf a full eighteen holes the day before the Boston Marathon. Yup, we did it. Okay, it was Monster Mini-Golf so maybe that's not so crazy. The place was great. They had a DJ and a disco ball and played music for the 'target demographic' (code for 'folks my age'). On the way back we stopped off at a sporting goods store. Gonna' need a watch Monday and the one I had was wearing out. After wearing the ladies triathlon for years now, I finally crossed back over and now wear a men's watch when I run. The bigger numbers help with my 'target demographic' and the visual problems we start to have.

Sunday night was another cornucopia o' carbs. Yum!

Monday
Some folks have to board a bus at 6am and sit around in the 'athletes village (gulag?)' for a few hours. We get to sleep late and take the back roads to the start, getting there about 45 minutes before the gun goes off. Perfect. Speaking of perfect, the weather was about all one could ask for when doing a long run.

Tammy and Sue would be along the course at about mile 14 in the town of Wellesley. From there Tammy got some great photos of the leaders for both the men and the women. As the lead pack of the men came by on the far side of the road, Tammy upped the zoom to get them. Without warning, Ryan Hall appears on the same side of the road as Tammy, leading to an awesome closeup shot of his bib.

































Some time later, the mere mortals arrived. First was Terry, on his way to another sub-3 finish, being 'shoved off' by Sue. Then Vin, looking strong and focused. And finally me, with half a popsicle, asking if they have any more frozen treats.

I must digress for just a minute here and talk about marathoning and stomachs. If you've been watching or running a marathon, then you've seen the bright green signs of stomach distress (or worse) late in the races. Typically when marathoning your stomach is 'on-edge' and many runners have to be careful about what, if anything, they consume while running. I'd always just gone along with the crowd on that one...until bonking hard at Boston in 2008. After that I enacted the "No Snack Left Behind" act. This act has made quite a difference for me. I learned that my gift when it comes to marathoning is not my legs, but my stomach. My marathons are now on the verge of being calorie-positive. On this outing I had too many orange slices to count, half a banana, a fig newton, a popsicle (pictured), a handful of jelly beans, a twizzler, and four packs of gu. I was also momentarily tempted to grab a breakfast sandwich at one point but thought that might be a bit over the top, even for me. I was gulping gatorade frequently to wash all this stuff down which was something else I'd been careful of in the past.

I ran the first 16 at an uncomfortable pace...uncomfortably slow. I was holding back due to concerns about my lack of training. However once I reached the Newton Hills, I pressed hard, averaging just under 7 minutes per mile for the last 10 miles of the course. I was very pleased with how things held up on that stretch. This gave me a second half split that was 7 minutes faster than the first. Obviously, with the benefit of hindsight, I know I could have started faster.

I learned a lot from this year's Boston. I learned that G2 will not cause me to poopy my shorts (something I'd feared) but rather will keep my hamstrings from cramping on the back side of heartbreak hill (a problem I had both previous Boston runs). I also learned to loosen up a bit before the race and enjoy the weekend. Although this time it was due to circumstances beyond my control, next time it will be part of the routine. And finally, I'm now a believer in that cliche about it being "better to go into a marathon undertrained than overtrained". I had such a good time, I might even do Boston again!

New York Marathon

If you were only going to run one marathon in your life, this would be the one to run. And indeed, many of the runners at the New York Marathon are running their first, and perhaps only marathon of their life. But even with 40% of the runners being first-timers, the dropout rate is tiny. That's testimony to the fact that the course is beautiful, and the fan support is second to none.

The race morning started with the chartered bus we were on getting pulled out of a traffic jam where the road closure starts and escorted by a police car through the closed roads to the start. Nice. As I got off the bus I asked the bus driver how he pulled it off and he said casually, "Oh, I know the cops". Yeah, we were getting the VIP treatment on this stay, first at Vin's sister's, and now on the way to the race!

We checked our sweats and headed for the corrals. After a couple of volunteers sent us the wrong way we finally found our corral and were ready for the foot tour of New York to begin. We had the "orange" start which was definitely the best. Orange is situated on the top level of the bridge and a start that is maybe 300 meters ahead of the "blue" start which held the elite men. This meant if we got far enough over to the right, Vin and I would see the elites blow by shortly after the start. As the race began I saw the trucks with their cameras rolling along in the lanes across from us and I jumped up onto a concrete divider for a better view. It was over in a matter of seconds as the world-class runners disappeared into Brooklyn.

After coming off the bridge and out of the wind, I peeled off the sweatshirt I was wearing and one of the fans along the side yelled, "Over here, please!" and thanked me as I tossed it at her. The temperature was in the low 40's which isn't bad for running a marathon, but a bit chilly for watching.

Somewhere around mile 4 I see a kid with a banana on the other side of the road and make a beeline for it. I'd brought a clif bar to eat before the race, but it was checked with my sweats. My last marathon had me bonking badly and this time around I would run with a motto of "no snack left behind" (well, except for that clif bar). I learned a little bit about eating and running: I learned half a banana at mile 4 is actually pretty good and won't hurt you at all. Break off the piece with your hand instead of taking a bite, and one of the runners nearby will gladly take the rest. I also learned about 8 miles later that those chewy granola breakfast bars are a really, really bad idea. Not only do they take forever to chew, making breathing difficult, but they dry your mouth out.

After stopping at mile 12 to use the porta-potty, I came through the halfway point at just under 1:29. I was feeling pretty good. I'd gone out hard enough that breaking three hours wasn't out of the question, but it was going to take a pretty decent second half. I decided to really focus hard on running well up to mile 20 and then reassess. Mile 16 is the Queensboro bridge and although some said the bridge would be tough, I really got into the view and the fact that the only sound I heard was the pounding of shoes and breathing of the runners around me. Toward the end of the bridge a race official told us that Paula had just finished.

As I got off the bridge into Manhattan and headed up First Avenue I was still focusing hard and maintaining pace. The crowds along this section were the greatest; supportive and entertaining at the same time.

For me, running a marathon hard basically involves spending a few hours waiting for the other shoe to drop. You just never know when or if it will happen. Things can go literally from 'great' to 'complete debacle' in minutes. There are a lot of cliches about marathoning, but the one about the halfway point coming at mile 20 seems to nail it. At mile 20 things started to get hard, but they always do somewhere around there and my pace slowed a bit. Thankfully, it wasn't the drop of the proverbial shoe...yet.

Mile 23 is that long gradual uphill that everyone had warned me about and it was pretty tough. As the rollers in the park commenced I wondered if I could make up some time on the downhills, but as I hit the first one my wait for that shoe was finally over. My hamstring started cramping and I had to shorten up my stride. I now found myself hoping for uphills to get some relief. Still, it was a joy to be in central park and on the home stretch of one of the best runs I've had the pleasure to do.

Up until now, I'd only cramped in a marathon twice before. Both were in Boston, both brought on by the Newton Hills. I'd learned a technique that worked pretty well there by accident. The first time I ran Boston, a friend gave me a squeeze bottle and I drank the whole thing. I noticed when I started running again that my hamstrings loosened up. I realized it was probably the sodium in the drink and the second time it happened I walked through the aid stations gulping gatorade. So faced with a similar situation here in New York, I repeated the process I'd come up with, stopping that the aid station at mile 24 long enough to drink an entire cup of gatorade and then heading on. The benefit of the gatorade is short-lived, lasting almost to the next aid station where I then repeat the process.

At mile 25 when I stopped to drink, the volunteer started yelling at me, "Come on! You've got it in you!" (visions of that gatorade commercial came to mind where the guy is face down in front of the finish line: Is it in you?). He seemed very excited when I started running again. Like he really did care if I ran again rather than gave up. No wonder almost nobody DNF's here.

Somewhere around mile 26 the effect wore off again but there's no aid station at mile 26 since only an idiot would stop with just 0.2 miles left! Say hello to the idiot. The cramping got bad enough that I had to stop and stretch...with the finish so close I could see the seconds ticking off the clock.

At the finish, they believe in making you walk to help your recovery, but I think they take it a bit too far. Having a bib with the number 5249, and seeing the first sweat truck that indicates bibs 55000-56000 is a bit demoralizing, but 50 trucks and a mile later (literally!) I finally reached my sweats and sat down to put them on. It was sunny and pleasant in the park and I, like many of the folks around me, found it hard to get back up. An agitated volunteer came by yelling at us, "Come on, you act like you just went ten miles or something. Keep moving! Get out of the park!". Well any authority that might have come with that 'official' jacket he was wearing was quickly lost with a statement like that. Finally, he gave up and left and we were able to bask in that post-marathon endorphin glow. We sat around in sun, enjoying a great day in Central Park, eating our snacks and chatting about running with statements like,"Ten miles? Was he serious?"

If you're interested: photos on brightroom

Urban Backpacking

Last weekend was one of the most unique backpacking trips I've ever been on...if you can call it that. We caught the ferry in Tiburon and headed over to Angel Island for an overnight stay. Imagine being in the middle of the San Francisco Bay Area and having an island practically all to yourself.
The week before this had been cold and rainy followed by some serious wind but the wind died down Friday night and left us with fantastic weather and the clearest skies I've even seen. We enjoyed a lunch on Sam's sunny patio and then headed on to the ferry for the brief ride over to the island.

The hike to the camp site was about a mile, maybe less. GPS Joe, who had led us out of the Sierras during some serious snow one year while others were stranded, had left his Garmin at home. We quickly became disoriented, but luckily Steve knew how to read a non-topo map and told us to just keep the water on our right and eventually we'd hit the site. Not bad orienteering for a guy packing a woman's tent!

At the site we quickly set up camp. For some of us, this task went quite a bit quicker than for others. Strategy for a quick setup: Grab that plastic tablecloth from the back yard table. Bring it along and string it to a tree. Then lay down on it, look pathetic and ask if someone wouldn't mind sharing their tent.Here, Vin "works it". Could you resist those puppy dog eyes? Me neither.

After setting up camp we took a jog up to the top of the island or what is called 'Mt Livermore'. Tom, the experienced sailor in the group, treated us to his knowledge of the bay's geography and gave the view two thumbs way up!

A quick jog back to camp and it was 'arts and crafts' hour. The evening craft assignment: "Build a model of the SF skyline you see in front of you using just the materials at hand." Nice work!

As the sun went down Vin and Steve broke out the guitars, and treated us to sets ranging from bluegrass to beatles. We found ourselves singing along to all of them, even when we didn't know the words. Sometimes we made up lyrics, sometimes Joe downloaded them on his blackberry from lyrics.com (try that in the Sierras!). Perhaps you've heard some of the bootleg recordings that have been part of an email-based 'viral marketing' campaign. Sadly, we're still not signed.

I suppose if I were to change anything, it would be to make next year's trip last a bit longer. I'm already looking forward to it. Until then, I'll watch that video Tom took. It's almost like being there...

Modern Art

Ever since I was first exposed to his works, I've always really enjoyed the art of Joan Miro. Now I want to let you know that kevin, my 5 year old, to the best of my knowledge has not seen any of Miro's works. But here's an interesting comparison.

First above me here is "Miro meeting Rita Hayworth".

Now below I give you "Kevin meets R2D2".

Now I know what you're thinking: "These robots look more like harlequins!" Yeah, you're right. I never heard Miro discusss that work, but I wonder if his harlequins have "pokey things with shooters" too.

Weekend in Chicago

I spent the weekend in Chicago with a great friend, and the guy that got me into running a long long time ago. It was 24 years ago when I did my first marathon with Mike in Madison Wi. Fast forward to 2006 and both of us are married with three kids. He lives in Denver and I in San Jose. We met at O'Hare and stayed at Blakes which was about as ideal a location as you could have for what we were in town for: A short walk to the start of the Chicago Marathon.

Saturday's expo was a special treat, as we came face to face with a legend. Dick Beardsley not only signed both our bibs, but chatted, and graciously posed for pictures. In a remarkable coincidence, Mike had brought his copy of "Duel in the Sun" to exchange with me for a copy of "The Perfect Mile" but unfortunately it was back at the hotel.

Mike and I both hoped it wouldn't rain the next day as we didn't want the ink to run on what was a very special souvenir.

Another interesting booth provided you with your weight, body fat, metabolic rate, etc. etc. I found it interesting that my metabolic age is 12. Interesting because it matches pretty closely several independent assessments of my maturity level provided by friends during backpacking trips and rides back from races over the years.

A friend of mine had emailed me a link to a story on how to eat before a marathon. Seems there were two schools of thought: "Big meal at lunch" and "Big meal at dinner". Mike and I debated the matter but couldn't come to a conclusion. Not wanting to leave anything to chance, we sided with both and headed out to lunch. Although carbs are essential for fueling up for a big run, sometimes they're hard to find. I'm sure that there are a few buried under all that cheese!

For dinner Tammy's cousin Olivia and her fiancee Jonathan took us to a great little Italian restaurant. They guaranteed we would get a table without waiting, as there'd be no runners packing the place. Very impressive considering there were 36,000 runners looking for carbs that night, and most probably were hoping for pasta. We arrived and were immediately seated. The food and the atmosphere were both great. Mike and I had a great time. No I'm not going to share the 'secret' location so don't ask. Olivia and Jonathan were great hosts!

It rained during the night, but stopped by the time we had to leave our hotel for the start. Still, the temperature had dropped significantly (all three banks I passed along the course during the run said 38 degrees). A mist hung in the air, partially obscuring the top of the Sears Tower. We each found our way to our corrals, and shivered and stretched while waiting for the start. That same mist would be an issue for Cheruiyot in one of the strangest ends to a marathon I'll ever not see. About 5 minutes before the start, the elites come out of their heated tents and trot to the start. Some of the most fit athletes in the world. Man what a sight!

Now back to world of the mere mortals: Normally, deciding what pace to run would be a no-brainer. And had my training panned out as I'd hoped, I would know exactly how to run. But I'd come down with a pretty bad case of achilles tendinitis and taken four weeks completely off of running. After one week back, the tendon started squeaking again and I decided that the remaining four weeks of training would all be 'just miles'. No speed, no LT, and a race to get a datapoint was at was simply out of the question. I really had no idea what I'd be able to manage that morning.

I decided to find the 3:10 pace group. It was led by a pretty good group of guys. One of them told me exactly what they got in exchange for leading the group, verifying my hunch that people lead these groups as an act of kindness. All three of the leaders were sub-2:40 marathoners. By mile 4 they were still 'finding' a 3:10 and bit ahead of pace. Probably never ran a mile over 7 miutes in their life! When they slowed, I slowed too, but not as much. I settled into a pace that felt about right for the time being. My plan was to try and run 7:05's up to the half and then see what I had left. The wind was gusty and unpredictable. My plan was modified slightly whenever we'd turn into the wind. There, I'd just run as fast as the shoulder I was hiding behind. I think its a natural reaction to speed up just a bit when you 'feel' someone on your shoulder and I was dragged along.

About a third of the way through we're once again treated to a view of the Sears Tower in the low-lying clouds. I think back to the night before where it was lit up all pink at the top as part of National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I think about how strong my sister is right now. She's quite an inspiration to me, and to many others I'm sure.

At mile 16 I hear the first of many, "You're almost there!" shouts, and a couple miles later I see the first 'impromptu aid station' with tequila and limes. The fans were great. I was really surprised to see so many out on such a blustery morning. Oh, and how funny it was late in the race to hear a group of cheerleaders all probably born after the Bon Jovi song they modified, belting out "You're almost there, whoa-ho livin' on a prayer, take my hand you'll make it I swear!"

Turning up Michigan Ave. for the home stretch was tough as we ran directly into the wind. By now the runners had thinned and most were running slower than the overall pace so I just had to tough it out on my own. No more shoulders to hide behind. Just before the right turn into Grant Park, a gust swirls and I actually stumble a bit (no kidding). My knee stiffens and almost locks. I get a bit scared and decide not to 'kick it' for the last 600m but I do pick it up once the pain subsides.

The 'engineering geek' in me likes to plot the splits for each marathon. Overall I was pretty happy with the results. I think I got mentally weak at 20. I'm such a puppy in that last 10k. Physically I was done somewhere in the 25th mile and I think part of that was what I'd lost during the time off. It was looking like a pretty negative split up until that 20th mile when the puppy in me came out. In the end it was about even with the second half being only seconds faster than the first. Looking back, I think this was exactly the same race I ran in San Francisco a year ago. Only this time, no two-minute stop in the porta-potty at mile 11! I guess Bill Rodgers is right: "More marathons are won or lost in the porta-toilets than they are at the marathon".

In the massage tent I hear about the end of the 'race' which happened an hour earlier. Running a big marathon is a great experience, but you always wish you'd seen what happened at the finish. After seeing the video, maybe not this time. Ouch!

Back at Hotel Blake I find out there's only one ice machine and its on the 12th floor. I hope for forgiveness from the runners staying there who may need it for injuries, as I load up on enough to fill our bathroom sink and ice down some beers.

Mike and I stop by the business suite on our way out of the hotel. Online we check the results. I tell Mike that I beat Dean Karnazes by half an hour. He tells me that this was Dean's 36th marathon in as many days. Hey, can I be blamed if the guy doesn't know how to taper? We browse for others we know. DP runs well. Tim "Marathon Jesus" (see marathonfoto.com for the source of that nickname) runs his trademark evenly-paced race. Mammen smokes his first 10k in 39:10 and has the closest 'sub-3 near miss' yet.

That afternoon Mike and I are back at O'Hare waiting for our flights and talking about the weekend. I'm sure we'll be getting together again. For another 'destination marathon', or will it be that 100 mile trek along the iditarod , or something even more remote??

For now I'm focusing on re-hydrating. One thing's for sure: I'll be back to Chicago again!

I'm not kidding

So today I'm upstairs and Kevin (5 years old) yells from downstairs, "Dad, I just figured out something really cool. I can take my shirt off like a pair of pants! Want to see?" Nobody could say no to that. Pretty cool Kevin.