Friday, November 30, 2007

Chill Out, People.

I have a relatively long commute, and road rage seems to be getting all too common. This morning I found it before even leaving my neighborhood! The road which leaves our little development bends sharply left just before T-ing into a much busier street. Toward the end of this bend, a right-hand turning lane branches off of the main lane, so there are 2 lanes at the stop. Because of the bend in the road, it’s easy to lane change by simply not turning the wheel as hard through the bend. I’m sure most folks do this. Actually following the painted lines exactly makes for a more awkward lane change.

Well, I’m going through the bend, approaching the stop to turn right, and as I start entering the turn lane, I notice in my rear view mirror another car coming up quickly and it starts moving right as soon as there’s pavement to do so. I realize this person will actually try to scoot by me if I don’t get all the way over soon. So I do. As I stop I notice the woman in the car come up behind me and give me the universal hands-in-the-air WTF symbol. I return it. I mean, WTF, I’m just trying to make a right hand turn. Nothing wrong with that!

Well, we both turn right onto a busier road with a 40 mph speed limit, but people commonly go much faster. I get up to about 45-50 mph, and this woman starts really tailgating me! You can probably guess my reaction. My speed becomes proportional to the distance between our cars. The closer she gets to my bumper, the slower I go. And she gets VERY close. Pretty soon I’m going 35-40 and I set my cruise control. She continues to tailgate me for the next 2 miles. This is not a happy person.

I, on the other hand, manage to stay unemotional about it. Probably because I’m listening to a late 1960s vintage Yes album, with Jon Anderson’s voice flitting about within my head. Peace, love, man!

Eventually this road T’s into another road, again with a turn lane opening up on the right. I stay left so I can turn left. She takes the right lane when it opens up and zooms by me. As expected, she gives me a very dirty look as she goes by. I blow her a kiss! Once ahead of me she swerves into the left lane, and then, about 50 feet before the stop sign, she stops her car! I end up stopping more abruptly than I expected to. She delays there only long enough for her, “So there!” or somesuch statement to be made, and then she quickly resumes driving. She turns left and goes flying through Kemptown (a 30 mph zone) at something approaching 60 mph. I hope she didn’t kill anyone getting where she was going.

Our society’s really getting f’d up. Too many people getting way too stressed. Chill out, people.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

LaSalle Banks Chicago Marathon - 1997 Report

I'll include this here for historical purposes. A lot of time has passed...


As for my race, I have no mixed feelings: every time I think of the race I get a silly looking grin on my face. I ran with a my friend, Brad, who lives in Evanston. We were basically shooting for 4:30, with the idea that we'd start very slow, then settle into a 9:50 to 10 min pace up until about 18 miles or so, and then just see how we felt at that point. Neither of us had ever done a marathon, so our primary goal was just to finish. Brad and I had very different tactics as far as energy replenishment is concerned, and I'm convinced it made a big difference. Brad took no food with him; he counted on seeing his wife or sister at the 5 and 10 mile marks and receiving power bars from them. I, on the other hand, followed the advice of some of the runners in the Chicago Marathon Forum and safety pinned 3 Gu's and a small Power Bar to my shorts. Well, everything went according to plan up until mile 5--but then no sign of Brad's wife or sister (they got off at the wrong el stop!) We kept on pace, I ate a Gu, and I offered Brad one. But, being about the pickiest eater in the world, Brad refused because it was berry flavored! He also refused my Power Bar because it was wild berry!
As the miles went by, we were really enjoying the race--the fans, the runners, the weather--it was great! Mile 10 came along and still no sign of Brad's wife or sister. I kept eating, Brad didn't. (We both did a good job of drinking at every station.) Around mile 16 or so, I could tell Brad was starting to work hard. Up to this point most of our miles were between 9:30 and 10:00. Finally, at mile 18 by that Chinese dragon, Brad's sister appears out of nowhere with a Power Bar for each of us. If she didn't show up then, I really wonder if Brad would have finished. Anyway, we continue and gradually slowed a bit (I don't think we had anymore sub 10 miles after 19). I was getting gradually more sore, but Brad was really starting to labor. At Comiskey Park I really got rejuvinated--more food and the band there just started a rocking version of Helter Skelter. I forgot about how I felt and just let emotion carry me for about five minutes. I was enjoying myself!
During the last 10k, I occasionally felt some really weird twinges in some of my upper leg muscles. I was worried something was going to really spasm, but nothing serious ever happened. Other than that and the expected stiffness at this point, I really still felt pretty good. At about mile 22 Brad fell back a bit, but he kept fighting and about a mile later we were running together again. During that time in between I ran with Hal Higdon and the small group that seemed to be right with him. By mile 24 Brad had fallen back again, and I eventually got ahead of Hal.
The tunnel under McCormick Place was a bit nervewracking to me. I kept my sunglasses on the whole time and was practically blind. OK, so that was stupid. I don't think the thought of taking them off ever even crossed my mind. I was with Hal's group at that time--a bit to his left.
The last 2 miles were the hardest work for me--about 10:20 or 10:30 pace, I think. However, I did manage to rip off a "blistering" 8:00 minute pace for the final .2 miles! I must have felt a dozen twinges in my upper legs during that little kick, but no damage. Officials clocked me at 4:30:11, my marathon proof has me at 4:30:07, but my watch says 4:26:07 (I started it at the startline). Brad finished unofficially at just over 4:30, officially over 4:34. He was forced to walk for about the last mile.
The calf injury which had plagued me twice during training was simply not an issue, even though it was my biggest worry going into the race. Post race soreness was pretty intense, but three days later I started to feel good again. I ran 4.5 miles each on the following Thursday and Friday. Strangely, my knees have felt better since the race than in the prior 2 months!
That's my take on the race. I did the Chicago Marathon, and I couldn't be happier! Tomorrow I run again!

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Marine Corps Marathon 2007 Report




The following was written a couple of weeks ago...




Marine Corps Marathon
October 28, 2007

Well, last Sunday sure was a wonderful day for a marathon! I met up with fellow runner Crista Horn, Crista’s cousin Jenny and her friend Kristin just beforehand at the UPS baggage check. We joined the masses at the starting line and Crista, Jenny and I merged in near the 4-hour pace group – that was the goal time for all 3 of us. Just a couple minutes later and we were off!

The race was fantastic! The course was historic and beautiful, the fans and Marines were ubiquitous (token SAT word) and awesome, and the run itself was great! The three of us stayed together almost the entire race which made it so much more fun! Jenny had a knack for wriggling ahead through the other racers (it helps to be petite sometimes!) so she often lead the way and set our pace.

The course starts by the Pentagon and runs north into Rosalyn, where the first significant hill goes up along Lee Highway to a turnaround that points you back down Spout Run and to GW Parkway. Then it was across the bridge and into Georgetown! Heading north we entered one of my favorite parts of the course leading up to and around the Georgetown Reservoir. Plenty of knotty old trees lined the streets, providing ample shade. At this point my legs were feeling good and the early-morning chill was fading. Heading down from the reservoir we clocked a blistering 8:24 for mile 7!

After passing a few more landmarks like the Watergate Hotel and the Kennedy Center, we suddenly found ourselves running alongside the Lincoln Memorial and were entering the National Mall! As monuments passed by on our right and the White House on our left, throngs of people cheered us on from both sides! We heard applause, shouts of encouragement, kids pounding on small hand-held drums or tambourines, and cowbells – lots of cowbells! We joked that what we really needed was “More Cowbell!” In the midst of all this clamor we’d try to identify familiar faces passing by in the crowd – No easy task! Crista and I were both hoping to find family around mile 12. Although my wife and kids spotted me, I missed them completely! Crista’s entourage, however, suddenly materialized on our right and she got to say hi to her fans and grab a quick kiss from her daughter, Lucy, riding atop her husband Dave’s shoulders.

And in a blink they were gone and we were again following the human luge run to turn right in front of Capitol Hill. Fans crowded in on the left; fans crowded in on the right. We were in the zone and continued on! Our half marathon split: 1:59:58.

The course led back down the opposite side of the Mall. We passed the Washington Monument again, then the World War II Memorial although I missed it completely (but a must see if you’ve never visited it before, especially at night!), then the Tidal Basin. One last monument, the Jefferson Memorial, and we began the infamous, zen-inducing run down to Hains Point and back. Now we were starting to work harder and deal with more pain. Crista began to feel a bit queasy. But we kept up the pace and admired that freaky, inground statue at the point for half a moment. After leaving Hains Point we headed up a short ramp and suddenly I heard my name! There were my wife and oldest kids, Raeann and Lincoln! I called back to them and waved. It was so great to see them at that point!

Next up, the 14th street bridge. The very long 14th street bridge! Eventually we made it to Crystal City and the crowds there were again fantastic! We continued to follow Jenny’s lead southward, and I could have sworn she had picked up the pace for us again. We reached the 22nd mile marker at the Crystal City turnaround. As I hit the lap button on my Ironman watch I was really expecting to see something like another 8:40 split, but to my dismay it was 9:09. What felt like a fast mile was dead on our required pace. Not a good sign. The pain in my muscles and legs was increasing…

We ran on, and the pain increased. It didn’t seem to me like they were fading (any more than me) but somewhere between 22 and 23 miles, Crista and Jenny told me I could go on ahead. I didn’t really have the energy to say, “You gotta be kidding!” On so many of our Sunday long training runs I felt great at the end and could really finish strong, but I knew I didn’t have that kind of kick left in me anymore. For about a minute I wasn’t sure what to do, and I’m not sure if I said anything. At first I thought I’d just shoulder the lead for a change – Jenny had really done a lot of work by taking the lead for much of the race. After a short while like that I decided that, dammit, if I’m gonna have any sort of finishing kick, I need to do it now! I picked up the pace a tiny bit – as much as my legs could. I recall hearing Crista’s voice maybe a minute or two later, behind me a bit, but that was it. I felt bad that I hadn’t said good bye or wished them good luck for the finish, but I was too spent to even turn and wave.

As I returned to the Pentagon, I was reminded of the book Into Thin Air, by Jon Krakauer, which is about a couple of Mt. Everest climbing expeditions that ended in tragedy. Krakauer was a member of one of those expeditions and an experienced mountain climber (unlike some of the rich expedition clients). At 30,000 and some odd feet, climbers were getting split up and dropping like flies. Altitude-induced dysphoria made basic reasoning difficult for some, impossible for others. I felt just a bit like Krakauer as I ran through a little loop in the Pentagon parking lot, tired, trying to think straight, and in pain (on top of everything else my right groin was strangely starting to cramp up on me), but still functioning well enough to know that I’d finish. But around me, oh man, it was getting ugly! Walking wounded everywhere! Some runners merely walked, while many others were along the side of the road trying to stretch out cramped muscles or doubled over facing the ground. Some looked like they’d collapsed or just plain given up. Some bodies weren’t going to make it down off this mountain! Getting back up onto route 110 near mile 25, it seemed like very few runners were still running!

With a mile or so to go I knew my shot at going sub 4 was fading away. I still felt good cardio-wise and breathing-wise, but no matter how much I implored my leg muscles to go faster, they refused. I maintained pace as well as I possibly could, i.e., not very well!

Well, I eventually rounded that final corner and kicked up the last hill leading to Iwo Jima. I lunged across the finish at 4:00:50 and tried to stand upright while waiting for Crista and Jenny to come across the finish maybe 2 minutes later. We had finally made it!!!

Moving Marathon Messages

Moving Marathon Messages

This year for the first time the Marine Corps Marathon (www.marinemarathon.com) is providing “inspirational bibs” as part of race packet pick-up. These optional bibs – which have blank space on them to write your message – can be worn in addition to the regular race bib for motivation or to encourage spectators to cheer for the runner. Basically, your back becomes a mobile sign.

Although I’m not certain that I want to be wearing an extra bib for 26.2 miles, I do like having this opportunity to interact with everyone. Ah, but what to say? There are sooo many possibilities, and just a little postcard window in which to express it! Should I be somewhat self-serving and make sure I include my name so that hundreds of complete strangers can cheer for me by name? Perhaps “Go Ron!” or the more elementary, “Run! Ron! Run!”? That would be cool, but then there’s something about it that makes me just a tad uncomfortable. Too much limelight.

Then it occurred to me that maybe my message could be directed more for the other runners than for the crowd. I like the thought of coming up with something that might motivate my fellow runners. So I started brainstorming:

Because I Can!
Define Yourself.
Be. Do. Live!
Catch me!

Or I could lean more towards the humorous side:

Hop Onboard!
To the Bagels!
Taxi!!!
Iwo Jima or Bust!

Heck, maybe I should rent out the space on my back for advertising! “www.ronzhawaiifund.com”

Well, recently while I was still mired in this state of catch-phrase indecision, I went for a Sunday morning 20-miler with Mary Zielinski’s group down along the C&O Canal. It was a beautiful day for a run – a nice break from the summer heat – and after the 18th mile we started picking up the pace a bit, then a bit more, and then a bit more yet. Enough so that a few days later Mike Marino alluded to our “Where’s the fire finish” in an e-mail. I found that descriptor rather comical, and soon realized that I had another entry in the humorous category for my race day bib: Where’s the Fire?

Then it hit me. Sure, it’s funny on the surface, but on another level there’s something deeply profound about it, too. Where’s the fire? It’s within. We’re running a long ways here, folks, and most of us are driven by some kind of fire buried deep within our soul.

For some of us the fire is a deeply competitive spirit, whether that means motivation to win or place, beat a specific time goal, or simply find out what our own body can possibly accomplish. Others are heated by a more emotional fire. Maybe we run in memory of a loved one lost to cancer. Or we run to fight off hereditary heart disease and achieve fitness. Maybe we run for a brother or sister in Iraq. Or for a parent with Altzheimer’s. Maybe we run for a daughter with autism.

Whatever the source of fuel, that fire burns hot on race day. So, with apologies to Mike for taking his idea and running with it (so to speak), I’ll ask you what I plan to ask my 30,000 fellow runners on October 28.

Where’s the Fire?

Here We Are!

Welcome to Ron's Paces!

For my very first blog I figure I ought to explain a few things. (To whom? I keep wondering, but presumably this will someday be read by SOMEBODY!)

1. I've created this blog so that I have an organized place to record some of my thoughts (whether they're worth reading or not), post them so that others could read them if they're actually interested, and hopefully encourage myself to write a little more often.

2. Ron's Paces? Okay, Ronspace was already taken, so I went plural and made it 2 words. I run; hence the direct reference to running. Of course, those who know me well may consider Ron spaces to be most appropriate. Just ask my wife about my driving or where I've misplaced my daughter! So, anyway Ron's Paces is it! Welcome!

3. Who the hell am I? Ron Robisch. I'm married and have 3 kids, a dog and a cat. More on all of them as we go. We live in Maryland, but I'm originally from Chicago. Good enough for now?

That's it.