Wineglass Marathon - 10 October 2011

Wineglass Marathon – A Tragic Comedy in Three Acts

Act 1

Scene 1 - Breathe Deep, the Gathering Gloom

[Olive Garden Italian Restaurant, Horseheads, New York. Gusty winds under a darkening, foreboding sky…]

You’re kidding me, right? Horseheads? How does a town get a name like Horseheads? Early settlers came and found a bunch of them without any horsebodies attached? Or perhaps in the town’s early history the dominant family (the local equivalent to the Kennedy’s) was noted for their hereditary long noses and audibly Neanderthal eating habits?

Regardless of the name and despite the weather, our intrepid cast of characters began gathering this Marathon’s Eve for introductions, reunions, and some serious carbo-loading! Many of us have known each other for years without ever having met, thanks to the Marine Corps Marathon Forum and Facebook. Joining my family we had Charlotte and her husband, Bill, from Vermont, Jett from near Toronto, Len from Philly, Phillip from North Carolina joined by his wife and a few friends, Jeremiah and his wife from northern Virginia, and Ramesh – who probably gets the award for travelling farther than anyone else for this race. Ramesh had just arrived the day before from India!

Of course, it’s always the people who are missing that are the major topic of conversation at dinner! That would be Nita (from Texas) and Carl (from Middletown, PA). Running the Wineglass Marathon on Sunday wasn’t enough for these two. In fact, I think it may have been more of a peer-pressure induced afterthought to their weekend’s main event: The Megatransect Challenge. Started on Saturday, and preferably finished on Saturday, the Megatransect is similar in distance to a marathon, but that’s about where any similarities end. It is an annual race that apparently involves running, trudging and otherwise slogging one’s way up and over some 22,500-foot high peak in central Pennsyvania. Trails are invisible, and racers fight mountain lions amid a quagmire of rock and mud on their way to the oxygen-deprived summit, whereupon they are struck squarely on the head by race officials with a 5-lb. sledgehammer before being unceremoniously shoved over the back-side of said mountain where they can enjoy the second, more-grueling half of the race involving blood-sucking leaches, rabid black bears, and several of Tolkien’s orcs from Mordor. The race is, of course, only conducted during torrential rainfalls in frigid temperatures.

Or at least that’s the impression of this race that I got. I may have gotten the sledgehammer part wrong. It seems far more likely that the sledgehammer stage may actually have occurred prior to runners actually signing up for the event!

So during our wonderful dinner at Olive Garden , Charlotte would occasionally jump in with a text update newsflash from Nita at the Megatransect:

· Nita has finished! She apologizes for taking so long to text, but she had to borrow someone else’s phone because she broke her iPhone when the alligator bit her on the ass. She says the race was even more brutal than last year (yes, she actually came back for more!) Took nearly 9 hours to finish! Carl still on the course…

· Nearly 12 hours after the start, Carl is still out there! Somewhere. National Weather Service warns of a Category III hurricane on its way. Sweepers being sent out onto the course to save the lost souls before dark…

· Coast Guard rescues in progress. FEMA notified but a little slow to respond. Carl, apparently, had been trapped under a fallen boulder of white Tuscarora sandstone and was forced to gnaw off his right arm below the shoulder to escape!

So, it appears our friends would be running a little late to Corning. But for those of us at the Olive Garden, let’s just say that the Portobello-stuffed ravioli was to die for! We sipped our beverages of choice and snapped a few pictures before heading for home for a good night’s sleep.

Scene 2. Wakey! Wakey!

[Early Sunday morning, grey skies above, with rain pelting the shivering runners who gather amid the myriad port-a-potties near the start line of the Wineglass Marathon.]

“You made it!” Just arriving on the scene with my lovely wife, Andrea, I immediately heard my name and there was none other than the former BAM (Bad Ass Marine) herself, Nita! Holy crap, and here was Carl, too! Other than a small scar on his head from the tree falling on him after being struck by lightning, he amazingly looked none the worse for wear. Apparently, the overnight procedure to surgically re-attach his right arm was a success!

Jett and Ramesh were there, too, and we all said our quick hello’s. We might have had more time to socialize, but with recent course changes there was now a ¼-mile walk from the parking lot to the starting area. Right as an announcer started shoo-ing the runners to the start line, the rain started again. It would not stop for another, oh, 3 hours or so!

I reluctantly took of my fleece pullover and my long-sleeve shirt and handed them over to my Sherpa – er, I mean wife – but I retained possession of my trusty Niagara Falls Maid of the Mist rain poncho. So, with nothing but that to go with my shorts and t-shirt, I lined up at the start. No sign of my friend, Phillip, though. Damn! I planned on using him as my pacer. Now I felt orphaned.

Nearby was a little 3:35 sign held up by one of the official race pacers. Like an orphaned baby duckling who imprints on the first human it sees, I imprinted on the 3:35 pacer. I would run with my family. Mile after mile, through rain and wind, surrounded by my duckling siblings, I would run. Nothing would separate me from my family. Quack!

Ok, so maybe I was in over my head (my fastest marathon was a 3:46), but I figured that I’d probably be going their pace anyway if I’d have found Phillip. It was about 42 degrees F and raining steadily at the race’s start. I pulled off my poncho, and we were off!

Act II.

Scene 1. The Early Miles

[Wet, city streets of downtown Bath]

The decision to run with the 3:35’ers turned out to be a good one. The early miles went well, I warmed up quickly, and the roughly 8:10 pace was not hard too maintain. I stayed tight with the group figuring that any sheltering from the wind that they gave me was good.

The course is point-to-point with a net downhill, but for the most part it’s flat. We start rattling off the miles. The slight hill in mile 5 was hardly noticeable. I focus on my mommy, I mean pacer, who was generally about 10 feet ahead of me in our flock. And we ran. [Mile splits from my GPS: 1 – 8:08, 2 – 8:02, 3 – 8:20, 4 – 8:13, 5 – 8:10, 6 – 8:08, 7 – 8:08, 8 – 8:08, 9 – 8:15; Average pace 8:10]

Scene 2. Mid-Race Delusions of Grandeur

[Mainly country roads, occasionally interrupted by the small towns Savona and Campbell. A steady, drenching rain continues…]

Ducks are supposed to like water, right? Well, despite that, and despite the fact that my webbed feet are already soaking wet, I still try to side-step the ubiquitous puddles whenever possible. Maybe it’s just some kind of moral victory. Unfortunately, for every 5 puddles you successfully get around or hop over, there’s one that you don’t see in time and land right smack-dab in the middle of! Funny how when one foot hits a puddle it’s often the other shoe that gets wettest!

As the miles go by I gain in cautious optimism. Every additional mile where I keep that 8:10 pace means another 10 seconds of cushion that I may need later to get under 3:40. All the while I’m still feeling good enough that I feel like I could surge ahead if I needed to. I think back to a workout from 10 days ago in the streets of Frederick. It was an awesome tempo run with my friends in the Frederick Steeplechasers. On that night I managed to hang with some of the faster runners, ticking off several miles in succession in the 7 to 8 minute pace range. At times it felt like we were really flying. In my wildest delusions of grandeur, I picture myself around mile 21 and channeling my way back to that night, suddenly picking up the pace into the mid-7’s and remarkably cutting a couple more minutes of time at the end of the marathon, landing me under 3:31.

Why 3:31? Because for this race, for this season really, I have a small and quickly closing window of opportunity where a 3:30:59 or faster would technically be a BQ. A Boston Qualifying time! Not that that would matter, really, because it would qualify me for the 2012 Boston Marathon only, and that race is already sold out. But it’s the principle that counts. When I turned 40 I set a major, pie-in-the-sky goal: to BQ while still in my age group. Not to run in Boston, but to run a Boston qualifying race. I’m actually going to be 45 and in a new age group by April of 2012, but I would have run that qualifying time while 44 and still in the original age group. And while a sub 3:31 would qualify me for 2012, it wouldn’t for 2013 (despite the fact that any marathon’s result can be used for like 18 months.) No, apparently it’s too easy to get into Boston these days. They’ve made the qualifying standards stricter. For 2013 I’ll need sub 3:25.

I’m a stupid duck. So I’m wet and cold, but maintaining a nice pace with my flock and pondering what might be. [Mile 10 – 8:06, 11 – 8:09, 12 – 8:13]

Meanwhile, my hands and forearms start freezing up pretty good. The cold itself doesn’t bother me really (perhaps I was numb?), but I was starting to lose that basic cup-grabbing motor skill. Fingers worked reluctantly and only in unison. Every 2 miles I come to another aid station and am challenged with grabbing another cup of Gatorade from the (absolutely wonderful!) race volunteers.

And then it happens. I approach an aid station and my fellow ducklings in front of me manage to get every last cup being held by the volunteers. I pass the volunteers and every one of them is empty-handed! But then comes the table where they’re getting all the cups from in the first place. And there are dozens of cups on the table, pre-filled. Great! While running by I reach down for my electrolyte-laced cup of liquid energy.

Ah, but my hand! Like an angry Godzilla walking the streets of Tokyo and swiping cars and buses off an elevated expressway with the swinging of his scaly arm, so too flies the Gatorade off the table! My thumb jams into a cup, knocking it over. My fingers takes out a couple more. Cups fly! Gatorade splashes! And I remain an empty-handed radiation-mutated giant lizard who thinks he’s a duck on the run!

But the miles do pass! We go through the halfway point in 1:47 and then enter Campbell, where I find my family for the first time! Andrea, Lincoln, Raeann, Skylar, and Steve & Polly are a welcome sight indeed! I do some high-fiving and then I’m gone. We make a couple of turns and we’re running on a country road once again. [13 – 8:09, 14 – 8:15, 15 – 8:12, 16 – 8:12, 17 – 8:08, 18 – 8:11, 19 – 8:10; Average pace still 8:10]

Scene 3. End Game

[Wet roads approaching and entering Corning. Still raining…]

This is where I started to implode back in 2008 when I last ran Wineglass. But this time it’s mile 20 and I’m holding steady and still close to Mommy Duck! I see Andrea and the kids a few times over the last several miles as we pass throught the town of Painted Post (obviously the envy of the other local towns, where posts remain disgracefully unpainted!), and I’m happy to know that I probably don’t look as bad as I did in ’08 at this point. I am, however, losing that reserve I’d been saving for a surge. I hang with my flock for a little while longer, through about mile 22, but then I fall back maybe 10 yards. Aerobically I’m doing pretty well, but my muscles and joints are hitting that unresponsive stage; they are starting to refuse to do what I tell them to.

I fight as well as I can and manage to stay close behind the 3:35 pacer for another couple of miles. But for miles 25 and 26, every step becomes more and more difficult. I’m grateful to finally get to the bridge over the River Chemung because I know at that point there’s only a half mile to go. I sort of pick up the pace a tiny bit as I turn the final corner onto Market Street, trying to look good for crowd of people near the finish.

Trying to look good at the finish! Ha! That’s a laugh! Who am I trying to kid? I’m staggering home, wet from sweat and rain, skin clammy and pale white. I appear to have a gunshot wound to the chest, where the blood from my rubbed-raw nipple has left a bright red streak all the way down to my waist. The neurons in my leg muscles are firing in strange ways, causing little spasms here and there which my aching joints are ill-equipped to counteract, leaving me jerking back and forth, stiff-limbed. I’m groaning and my eyes are probably rolling up inside my head. I swear I must have looked like an extra right off the set of Zombieland!

But, hey, I finished. And with a pretty damn good time, to boot! 3:38:12 -- that’s a PR by over 8 minutes! I get my beautiful medal, reunite with my family, and then, “Hey, there’s Phillip!” Yeah, that figures. The race is over and now I’ve found him! As I expected, he nailed this race too and was down in the 3:31 range! He was actually one of my fellow ducklings for a while at the start, but I never saw him. [Mile 20 – 8:14, 21 – 8:11, 22 – 8:20, 23 – 8:27, 24 – 8:22, 25 – 8:52, 26 – 9:00, final bit – 8:31 pace. Overall GPS pace = 8:15. 312^th place overall out of 1447; 50^th out of 129 in my age group.]

After some great chicken noodle soup and then some hot chocolate, we hit the road, with marathon #6 now under my belt!

[Um, there is no Act III. Sorry!]

Summer D - Week 2

It was a hot one (low 90s) for tonight's second summer decathlon event, but we had a great time anyway. I took all 3 of my kids plus one of Lincoln's best friends, Alec. The kid's barely 12 and has run a 20:25 5K already!

Tonights event: the 800M. They ran it in 5 heats, from slowest to fastest. Raeann went in a slow heat and did quite well despite the heat and any real running in the past few weeks. Lincoln went out in the middle heat and did awesome! He's 11 and is really starting to cover some ground with his strides as he gets bigger. He recently ran a 3:33 800M in school. Given the heat tonight, he was going to be happy with anything in the 3:30s. He kicked it in in 3:34. He looked good all the way through!

I ran in the second to last heat, along with Lincoln's friend Alec. He shot ahead right at the start and I never really saw him after that. I've run the 800M each of the last 3 years, getting times ranging from 2:41 to 2:42. (Big range, huh?) Given the really lousy mile I ran last week and the high temps tonight, I was bracing for something over 2:50. I was genuinely afraid of how bad it might be tonight. Well, no worries as it turned out. I took the first 100 fast, as I had wanted, taking advantage of the fact that I was one of the few wearing spikes in my heat, and then I settled into a steady pace. At 200M is usually where I feel horrible when I run this distance. Tonight, not so bad. I stayed steady through the first lap, and I was pleasantly pleased to find that my lap split was right where I was hoping it might be -- 80 or 81 seconds. I knew I should be able to do that for the first lap, but I figured that then I'd be pretty well spent. But the nice thing was that I didn't feel spent! I tried to hold my pace through the next turn, then tried to pick it up. Well, although I wasn't dead, I also wasn't quite running as fast as the first lap. Going into the final turn I started my kick, passing a woman that I'd been shadowing up until then. There was a huge gap from there to the next runner, but I cut that gap in half during the homestretch, putting a little distance behind me, too. Finished in 2:45. Maybe a few seconds off my PR, but it felt strong, and I had a little bit left at the end. I could have started my kick earlier and maybe shaved a little more time. I'm getting back to where I want to be!

Alec ran a sweet 2:40, BTW!

After the final heat of the 800 came the kids run. And Skylar just tore up the track! I'm convinced she may have the most talent in the family.

Then came the relays! We got into teams of 3 (based on our 800 times to even things out) and then ran relays where each runner on each team ran a 1200, then an 800, and then a 400, in that order. My son ran the workout too, which was really cool for me. As it worked out, I was our team's first runner and Lincoln was his team's first, so we toed the line together. He's not shy about trash talking either! Well, I won the first battle by beating him soundly in the 1200 (I had our team in 2nd out of 8 teams at that point). By the time my turn came around again for the 800, he had a good 50 yard head start on me. I eventually caught up to him, ran very briefly with him, and then kicked ahead. For the final leg, the 400, he had a similar head start. I ran it hard and gained on him - and he knew I was back there - but with only 1 lap to work with I couldn't make up the gap. I burned a good 1:21 for that last lap, but he still had me by a few seconds. Of course, then I really heard it from him about how he beat me in the end! We followed that up with Italian ice at Rita's. Fun times! I'm really looking forward to the next few years of sharing running with him.

Second to Last

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’ve never been much of a distance runner. At least, I wasn’t born with much natural aptitude for it. Back in high school I ran track and cross country, but that probably deserves some qualifying remarks. I was a jumper in track. Long jump, triple jump, high jump. Maybe got in a sprint relay every now and then. As such, the workouts involved being in the pits more than being on the track. I was better at building sand castles than running 400s.

To compliment track I joined cross country for my junior and senior years, and that’s where my natural running ability surfaced. Or rather the lack thereof. Every practice, every meet, I was the last one in on our team. And ours was one of the weakest teams in the conference. At most any other school, I probably would never have seen varsity. I always ran hard; tried to improve, but my place never changed much. Perhaps the defining moment for me came at the annual Niles West Indian Raider Invitational – the largest meet in Illinois. 299 varsity boys running. I finished 298th.

Through the years I continued running, but sporadically. Run for a few weeks and then I’d get too busy, or too lazy, and then I’d stop for a month or two. In 2006 I gained some focus and decided to commit to running regularly. At first I just wanted to get in shape, but soon I wanted to really find out how fast I could be if I really trained at it. Could I move up the running hierarchy; step up a couple of rungs and actually compete with a class of runners that I could never before be competitive with?

I think I’ve actually managed that to a small extent over the last few years.
But last week I raced the 1600M as part of the Frederick Steeplechasers’ annual Summer Decathlon. After an inconsistent spring and a few other issues, I can’t really say that I was expecting much. And with a 6:35 time that’s pretty much what I got…not much. A few days later I checked out the age-weighted results for the race and found myself, out of 25 male runners, second to last.

That’s a depressing result, but it’s given me something to focus on, something to point to and say, “Fuck no, not that!” Does it mean that I really won’t ever escape my genetic limitations? Will I always be condemned to running at the back of the pack of my peers? The result doesn’t depress me and leave me hopeless; it pisses me off! Ok, so I’ve re-visited this special little place – second to last – once again after all these years. But now I’m ready to leave and I AIN’T EVER COMING BACK!

Bushwhacker Adventure Running Race

“Two paths diverged in the wood and I –
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference!”

- Robert Frost

Well now, there it is. Gazing to my left through the trees, sweat, and fatigue, I finally saw it. A wooden, 3-slat fence running roughly parallel to my direction of travel. Over the crunching of my footsteps on dead leaves, I heard it distinctly laughing at me. It ran east, which is more than I could say for myself at this point. I was trudging, ambling, shuffling, not really running. One thought ran through my mind, “I’m screwed!”

My own private, little odyssey had begun just 10 minutes or so earlier. My old friend, Al, and I had been running together in the Bushwhacker Adventure Running Race, a roughly 10-mile, point-to-point race along the Bull Run – Occoquan Trail in northern Virginia. It’s called Bushwhacker for good reason. Rather than requiring runners to follow the same trail from beginning to end, the race hands its runners a detailed, colorful topographical map at the start and invites runners to find their own way to the finish. In other words: to bushwhack at will!

And things had started off just swimmingly! Drawing upon our experience from a year ago, Al and I were much more prepared for the race’s initial chaos. We dove into the woods at the right spot; hit the right trails; bushwhacked successfully. By the first checkpoint (of 3 total that runners must hit in order) we were running 18th & 19th out of about 80 who started. We were owning this race! We held our places through the second checkpoint, too, and were still in pretty good shape as we hit checkpoint 3, even though our main bushwhack in that leg was a bit more, um, scenic than we would have liked!

But Alan and I were now in the middle of our largest, most ambitious bushwhack. Well, Al was probably nearing the end of it. I, however, now feared that I had somehow circled my way back to the beginning! It was that fence that had me concerned. We had left the Blue Trail yet again, in favor of this “shortcut”. While the main trail headed southeast before turning northeast, forming a wide V of about ¾ of a mile in length, we instead shot the hypotenuse. Or tried to. Shot myself in the foot is more like it. According to The Plan, our jump-off point from the trail would be where a fence turned up into the woods. We’d follow along it for a few hundred yards before turning more easterly, down into and out of a gully, before climbing uphill to meet back up with the Blue Trail. It was only 2 inches on the map, how hard could it be? That was The Plan.

The Plan, however, did not account for us missing that fence entirely. The Plan did not have us diving uncertainly into the trees after crossing a dirt road that confirmed for us that we had, indeed, passed our desired fence already. And The Plan did not have me being gassed enough at this point that I’d fall hopelessly behind Al. Things were not going according to Plan! For a short while I Marco Polo’d my way after Al. But as his voice faded away ahead of me, I steadily descended into a boreal version of Dante’s Inferno!

In the 1st ring of Hell were branches, lower and lower they swiped at my head as I tried to duck. This was Dante’s Limbo, or I was doing the limbo, not sure which. Finally, the branched were too low and I was in the middle of a thicket. Branches everywhere, slowing my descent. Charging through, I entered the next ring of Hell and found…spider webs! On my arms, in my hair, yuk! Fighting my way out, I next hit the trial of thorns! Vines wrapped my arms, my legs, and thorns pierced my skin, trying to hold me back as I forced onward. Hopping over a fallen log or two, I had a chance to look around. I no longer had any clue what the right way was. I was then stunned to see that I now found myself in a maze of fallen logs all around me. They were everywhere, like some great Oliphaunt had just come traipsing through, knocking over all the trees. Many of these logs were at waist level, and there was no good path out! Having committed the sin of wandering aimlessly, I was now punished by having to cross a land where direction was meaningless. I had the same, slow traverse no matter which way I went. I climbed out, figuring that I must have reached Dante’s 9th ring of Hell by now! Half expecting to round the next bend in the gully to see a 3-headed Satan, with antlers in lieu of horns, chomping on a chipmunk, a wood elf, and another hapless trail runner, I moved onward through the gully. Virgil, get me outta here! Ahhhhh!

Snapping out of it, I reassessed. Where am I? Dunno. Where’s Al? Dunno. Which way do I need to go? Dunno.

But then I heard a faint voice. It was the amateur astronomer in me. It said, “Pssst! Hey, Bonehead! Over here. Look up!”

Ah, yes. The sun! Figuring that at this hour it must be approaching due south, I put the sun to my right and headed east at a jog. Soon thereafter, I was looking at that darn fence! Whether I had doubled back or had made progress, I didn’t know. And it didn’t really matter, I needed to go east. With renewed confidence that maybe I could still avoid having the race officials send out a search party to find me, I ran. Then I found a trail! Yee-haw! Not the Blue Trail, but heading south on this trail I soon got back to the Blue Trail, the runner’s yellow brick road!

It turns out that I had rejoined the Blue way down the line, beyond where we had intended to hit it, and this left me with less than a mile to go. Summoning up whatever energy I had left, I ran! By the finish I was completely spent – the hills on this course really are killers – but I had actually still managed a decent time despite my excursions, 1:48:59, nearly 2 minutes faster than in 2009. Not bad, all things considered!

In two years, the Bushwhacker Adventure Running Race has quickly become my favorite race; it really is an adventure! However, it is with sadness that I recently learned that the race organizers, EX2 Adventures, are not able to bring the race back for 2011. They just haven’t gotten enough participation to prevent losing money. ‘Tis a shame. I plan on pestering them to bring it back, though, but we’ll hopefully leave Dante out of it!

November Elections

Allow me to introduce myself. I represent The Commute Is Too Damn Long Party. People are driving 4 hours a day and 20 hours a week and some to a 3rd job. Woman can’t afford the time to care for their children, drivin’ while their children eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner. My main job is to provide an end to road construction, removal of speed cameras, and open lanes of traffic. This is politics as usual. Playin’ the silly game, but that’s not going to happen. The Commute Is Too Damn Long movement, the people I’m here to represent, don’t have the time to drive to work! They’re being laid off right now as I speak! They’re drivin’ breakfast, lunch, and dinner!... Listen! Someone’s horn just honked! Did you hear it? Gotta listen like me. Let’s talk about the issue – people can’t afford the time to sit in traffic! Stop!...The Commute Is Too Damn Long!

Ryan Hall

A day or two ago Ryan Hall made his decision. He’s backing out of running the Chicago Marathon on October 10th (http://newsblogs.chicagotribune.com/sports_globetrotting/2010/09/us-star-hall-withdraws-from-chicago-marathon.html) . It’s certainly not the first time an elite running backed out of an event, but I think in this case the reason is pretty lame.

On September 19^th he had a (relatively) poor performance in a half marathon in Philadelphia; instead of winning or dominating, he finished 14^th. His time there was actually slower than what he normally runs for the first ½ of a full marathon. So his performance that day was disappointing, and I can sympathize with that. Furthermore, Hall says that he’s had a rough couple of months. I can sympathize with that, too.

``I was very excited to run the Bank of America Chicago Marathon but my workouts haven't been good. I'm very much a guy that when I show up at the starting line, I believe everything is possible, and I go after things with my whole heart, so if I'm not ready to go, I'm not going to show up and have a performance that doesn't reflect that.''

He had a poor race and his workouts haven’t been good. So he’s not running Chicago. No injuries mentioned. No illness. His workouts haven’t been good.

I’m sorry. Don’t we all have bad workouts? And when one of us frets about it, don’t the rest of us come to the rescue with a steady, confident chorus of “It’s okay.” “We all have bad runs and get weary of the training.” “That’s what the taper is for! When you toe the starting line you’ll be rested and ready to run your best.” “Have faith in your training, you’ve done the work!”

That last one brings in the irony. Here’s a guy that for years has been famous for his deeply religious convictions. His FAITH in God. And here he seems to have lost faith in himself.

Granted his marathon goals differ from the rest of us, but the marathon training process is similar. The hardships are very similar. How many of you will decide on Oct 20^th that, “You know what, my workouts have been poor and I’m not running well, so I’m sure I won’t run well in the Marine Corps Marathon, so I’m not going to try.”

I can tell you that I’ll be at the head of a very long cyber line of runners on this forum ready to chime in with, “What the heck are you talking about? You’ve got to run it! NO QUITTING!”

He says that when he’s shows up at the starting line, he believes everything is possible, and he goes after things with my whole heart. Sounds to me like he believes everything is possible only when he knows that it’s probable. Quitter.

RRCA Club Challenge 10 Miler (2/28/10)

The RRCA (Road Runner Clubs of America) Club Challenge 10 Miler is a hilly and usually frigid race at Howard County Community College geared primarily toward clubs in Maryland and DC. Its format is similar to a cross country meet, where the place of the top runners from each team count toward their team’s score, and the lowest team total wins. On the men’s side, the top 12 runners from each team would count; for the women, 6. There was also a Co-ed category that combined both. Typically, 10 or 11 clubs in the area are represented at this race including, of course, the Frederick Steeplechasers. We are one of the smaller clubs and as a result are pretty much outclassed by the larger clubs from Baltimore, Howard County and Montgomery County. Last year we finished 7th across the boards.

This would be my 3rd crack at this race, and my main goal was to match or beat the PR that I set there last year: 76:48. However, thanks to a bad cold over the last two weeks I wasn’t entirely sure that I was quite healthy enough for that yet. My less stringent goal was then to try and stay under 8 minute miles throughout.

Weather conditions were pretty typical for this race: cloudy, breezy with temps around freezing. I even saw a snowflake or 2 at the beginning. I got in a quick ½ mile warm-up before the masses started herding their way to the start, and then we were on our way!

The first two miles are significantly downhill. Last year I ran that first mile in 7:10, and was chastised by my friend, Crista (who ran with me then as well as for this race), for running her into the ground way too early that race. So we tempered the start a bit, and this time our first mile split was a more rational 7:29. Slower than last year, but I hoped that would help later.

The next few miles were similar to last year, all in the 7:40s and 7:50s. My feeling was gradually returning to my hands and arms, but unfortunately the remnants of my cold were causing me to leave a trail of phlegm behind me that, had I gotten lost, I could followed to find my way back to the starting line.

Mile 6 is a difficult mile – last year it was my slowest – with significant uphills. These hills slowed me down once again: 8:14. Unlike last year, however, I wasn’t able to pick up much speed after that, and for the rest of the race I ran 8:00 to 8:10 minute miles and eventually fell behind Crista, who seemed to be getting stronger and stronger.

I kicked fairly well with about a ½ mile to go, and managed to pass a few people, but finished in 79:22, well behind last year’s race. I was the 15th male Steep, so my place didn’t count other than maybe I displaced a runner from another team (our men moved up to 6th place this year). I’m glad I came in under 80, but I walk away from this one with some lingering doubts about where I am and where I can get to as a runner. Am I reaching a plateau? Will I continue improving in the marathon as I have in the past? Or is my age going to start slowing me down? Can I get down to 3:40 on May 2?

Then again, maybe having a cold recently slowed me down or reduced my endurance a little. If so, it’s hard to say by how much. At any rate, I’ve got to get healthy again and continue to train well. I’ll really know where I’m at when I run that marathon!

Lewis Memorial 10-Miler Race Report - 1/23/10

We had great weather Sunday morning for the annual John Lewis Memorial 10 Miler in the hilly outskirts of Frederick, Maryland. Although the temperature was right around freezing, with sunny skies and basically no wind I was quite comfortable at the starting line wearing shorts, a racing singlet, and my brand spankin’ new arm warmers (courtesy of the kind folks at If the Shoe Fits). In fact, as the race wore on, I bet many of the runners realized that they were over-dressed.

This race is very low-key and budget-friendly, being free for Frederick Steeplechaser members and just $5 for anyone else silly enough to run this course. No shirts, no awards (except for person who finishes with a time closest to their predicted time – no watches allowed!), and maybe 40 or 50 runners altogether. Since most were fellow club members, I really enjoyed the chance to see a lot of familiar faces and run amongst friends.

Soon we began and were climbing the first steep hill even before the echoes of the race starter’s “Go!” had reached our ears. Seriously, you run about 30 feet and the have to crane your neck upward to see where you’re going. No messing around with this course, you just dive right in!

The course really divides nicely into 3 sections. The first 3 miles have killer, lumpy hills; from miles 3 to 7 you get a merciful reprieve; and then for the last 3 miles they’re back with a vengeance.

During the first section I ran amid a group of 4 or 5 runners that would repeatedly pass each other, depending on how we each tackled the hills. I would generally lose ground on the uphills and then gain it back on the downhills. By the second section of the course I had settled into a good pace alongside a friend of mine, Terrance, who typically finishes just ahead of me in our age group. I was hoping to simply stay with him as long as possible.

That plan worked great until the hills returned, and then I slowly lost ground to Terrance. Miles 8 and 9 were really tough, and on some of the uphills it was all I could do to just keep moving one foot in front of the other. I was happy when I came across the mile 9 marker – knowing that not only was I getting close to the finish, but also that some decent descent awaited me at the very end. If it weren’t for the 2 or 3 frickin’ mountains in between I’d have been just fine!

Well, I eventually got through those obstacles and flew down the final hill to the finish, with my shoes feeling like they were about ready to explode into pieces like an Incredible Hulk t-shirt from the force of my toes coming out the front! I finished in 82:20, nearly 2 minutes slower than my pre-race prediction, but given the nature of the course I was pretty satisfied anyway. I gave it a good, hard effort and for the most part felt that I ran strong. I enjoyed the weather and the company, and maybe best of all I was not really hampered in the least by my knee! A few weeks ago it was slowing me down significantly at times. I think this race has set me up well for a run at my 76:49 PR at the RRCA Club Challenge 10 (Go Steeps!) at the end of next month.

Finally, it’s worth noting that the post-race spread is fantastic! Club members bring in all sorts of goodies to eat, from baked goods to homemade soup to bagels and fruit. Plus, we had Muscle Milk reps there handing out free samples! Chocolate Malt and Strawberry were both yummy!

Who's next? Who's left?

So Tiger Woods has apparently proven to be as big of a slimeball as any other infamous athlete, politician or celebrity. Another shining star that's fallen so far. He joins rank with the likes of Kobe Bryant, Michael Vick, Bill Clinton, Barry Bonds, Rod Blagojevich, Roger Clemens, Jon Goselin, Brittany Spears, Sammy Sosa... The list goes on and on and on.

It's a shame. Not just in Tiger's case; that this golfer who had such a positive reputation is no longer the positive role model that he was. But that he's just the disgraced celebrity du jour. So many have fallen that now it's the remaining positive role models that are the exception, not the norm. Who's left for our kids to look up to? To be the star that they'd like to emulate?

Well, Peyton Manning's still there. Barack Obama. Derek Jeter, I suppose. Lance Armstrong. Oprah? I wonder, if I read this blog in 5 years will these people still stand tall?

It's a shame that there are so few of the relatively clean ones left. Is it really THAT hard to remain decent once you're in the public eye? Is it that hard to follow the law? Is it that hard to remain faithful? To say no to temptation?

Or maybe it's just that now everything is so easily turned into public knowledge. If it weren't for cell phones and texting, maybe we wouldn't all know about Tiger's indescretions. Everyone would still love him. Maybe my childhood heroes were just as faulty. Maybe Walter Payton wasn't really Sweetness. Who knows?

Whatever the case, our kids will probably be best served if they find their heroes closer to home. Police officers, firefighters, soldiers, aunts, uncles, big brothers or sisters. Parents. We may not hit home runs or score touchdowns, but maybe we can avoid at least some of the ugly mess to which our public idols seem to be prone.

Sure, Tiger, you're only human. We're all only human. Let's not use that as a cop out. Humans have choices. Humans make choices.

I heard a quote today from the movie Solaris that has stuck with me: There are no answers, only choices.

Choose wisely, my friends. Choose wisely.

If Shakespeare Was an Aging Marathoner

Chronic knee problems recently led me to an orthopedic doctor's examining table. As you can see, the resulting diagnosis of a torn meniscus has left me in a quandary...

If Shakespear Was an Aging Marathoner
(Ronlet's Soliloquy)

To cut or not to cut: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The pangs and Ow! Ow!'s of outrageous torsion,
Or to take arms against a knee of troubles,
And by op’rating end them?
To cut: to scope;No more; and by a scope to say we end
The knee-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That joint is heir to, 'tis an inflammation
Of whose pain I'd be rid. To cut, to scope;
To jog: perchance to run: ay, there's the rub;
For in that slice of knife what runs may come
When we have suffered through arthritic toil,
Must give us pause: there's the prospect
To de-fray cartilage by so long knife;
For who would bear the pops and tweaks of mine,
Marathoner's gimp, the sore man's hobbled gait,
The pangs of patellar grate, the knee's decay,
The consequence of off-days and the spurns
Of fellow runners, ahead of me they wait,
When he himself might his knee wellness make
With an incision? Who would fartleks bear,
To grunt and sweat during a weary run,
But that the dread of something after knife,
The undiscover'd country from whose paths
Some runners return, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those aches we have
Than run with others that we know not of?
Thus new science does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of my meniscus
Tho’ sicklied o'er with the tear of running fraught,
And re-built knees of great strength and speed
With this regard their footfalls turn awry;
I choose the lame reaction.

One Costume to Rule Them All...

So Lincoln's off to school with his Lord Sauron costume (from Lord of the Rings) for their costume party today. Unfortunately, I think the school frowns on bringing realistic looking weapons to school, so the medieval mace that we've built and painted will have to stay home. But really, what's Lord Sauron without his bone-crushing mace? Just a guy with a ring.

It's been about 25 years...

...since I ran my PR in the mile as a senior in high school. 6:13. Amongst track runners, cross country runners or soccer players, running over 6 minutes for a mile ain't much to write home about. I pretty much sucked at distance running back then (comparatively), and I really only ran the mile all out a few times. I remember always wanting to drop that mile time to below 6 minutes, but 6:13 was the best I could do. Over the years I've had breaking that PR on my mind, but have never been able to get there. Last summer I had the fitness, but a sprained ankle a week before the mile caused me to run just 6:37.

Tonight was the last night of the Frederick Steeplechasers Summer Decathlon. Tonight's event? You guessed it, the mile. Goal #1 - break 6:13 and PR. Goal #2 - Sub 6.

I ran in the fast heat and for the first lap I tried to key on a friend of mine who expected to run around 5:50. I was aiming for 1:30 laps to get me to 6 minutes. The first lap was smooth but perhaps a bit fast, I thought. Finishing the lap I hear 1:22, so yup, too fast. I eased up a little and let my friend get further ahead. Then I tried to stay steady. Lap 2 split - 3:00. Right on target, but I was concerned because that meant my 2nd lap was a 1:38. The third lap was tough and I remained steady. Another 1:38, meaning I'd have to rip off another 1:22 to get back to 6. I surged, then kept accelerating from about 300 yards out.

There are times in these races when you feel like you just want to stop. There's a fear that you will. With 300 yards to go I was beyond that, and kicking with everything I had. Although alone most of the way (behind all the fast runners that REALLY belong in the fast heat), I ran hard. I knew this was my shot at getting that PR and maybe sub 6.

Well, I cross the finish in 6:08. PR by 5 seconds! 1:30 for the 4th lap. Now 42 years old, I can run a mile faster now than when running track in high school!!! And so far this year I've PR'd in the mile, 10 mile, and marathon.

But honestly, I really still want to go sub 6.

Autism Speaks 5K - July 4th, 2009

Okay, I just sat here for 3 minutes trying to figure where I should start with this post, and I still don't really know. The race and walk on the morning of the 4th was the culmination of so much activity that I don't really know where to begin.


But here's what I do know. I know we've been on the receiving end of some of the most wonderful support from family and friends that anyone could ever hope for. I know that we, Andrea, Raeann, Lincoln, Skylar and I, are so thankful for that support!


Andrea and I were forced to divide and conquer on Saturday morning: I drove to Frederick with Raeann and my long-time friend Brad (whose family stayed with us for the weekend) at 6am to meet up with her friend from the Frederick Chamber Singers, Timmy. The two of them, along with another friend, Lizzey, would later be singing the Star Spangled Banner before the race. From there we drove down to Potomac where we would meet up with Andrea, Tanya (Brad's wife) and all the kids.


In Potomac, we also met up with Lizzey and her family, the Frederick Steeplechaser contingent of Raeann's Runners, and numerous other friends, co-workers, and relatives. All told we had about 30 people there as part of Raeann's Runners!


Before a race, time moves VERY fast, especially when you're trying to find people, handing out t-shirts, and making sure you're kids have their bibs pinned on and timing chips strapped on their shoes. Before I knew it, the anthem was moments away!


Lizzey, Timmy, and Raeann did a wonderful job singing our national anthem! I only wish the microphone had been held not so close to Raeann, because her voice was much louder as a result, and it made it tough to hear Lizzey and Timmy.


Well, they finished and then we were all off for the starting line. I tried to get up front where I figured the other Steeps would be, but I didn't end up seeing anyone I knew during the race. Oh, well. It was an absolutely beautiful morning for a race, and I headed up the first hill not worrying too much about how the race would go. I went out comfortably fast, but not real sure how fast because one of the things that I'd forgotten on Saturday was to put on my runner's GPS watch.


I hit the Mile 1 mark at about 7:40. I figured that maybe it took me 10-15 seconds to get to the starting line once the race started, so that meant a 7:25 mile. Fine. At Mile 2 the clock read about 15:10, so that was a 7:30 mile. Fine. The last mile is a bit more hilly, and I was not quite able to maintain the same pace - dropping to something more like an 8:00 minute pace -- but the last 1/4 mile is a nice downhill and I finished with a 23:12, which is about a minute faster than I ran the race last year. So I was cool with that!


After a quick water bottle and pizza, I doubled back onto the course and soon found Lincoln joggin into the homestretch. I joined him and soon he was really kicking for the finish! His buddy, Ben, followed close behind, and several minutes behind them came Ben's brother, Josh! At 7 years young, he was finishing his first 5K in grand fashion!


Once again I doubled back, and about a 1/2 mile back I came upon the wave of violet that was Raeann's entourage! Raeann, Timmy, and Rae's cousin Lexi walked together, followed closely by Andrea pushing Skylar in the stroller, and then followed not as closely by Andrea's sister, Chris, and cousin Emma. The kids were having a great time, getting into the cheering as much as the vocal fans were! As we all approached the finish, the 14-year olds took off and ran to the finish! The 9th annual Autism Speaks 5K was in the books!


It was wonderful to meet so many people at the race: our dear friends Renee & Nenad and Brad & Tanya; Lizzey's family; my co-worker Ted and his girlfriend Jen (both of whom placed in their age groups, I think!); Raeann's Runners veteran from last year, Tony; all the Steeps (Tim, Rick, Brenda, Steve); Aunt Chris and cousins Lexi and Emma, Chris from the Marine Corps Marathon forum; race director Susan Pereles; Andrea's co-worker Elyse; Susan, Alexander & Brian!


For those that couldn't join us today or missed us there (so sorry, Kat!), we missed you and hope you can join us next year!


Thanks to you all for the help, emotional support, donations, good vibes, and friendship!


With Love,

Andrea, Ron, Raeann, Lincoln & Skylar

Summer Decathlon in the Rain

I'm clocking in a little late here, but had a nice night at the track, despite a rain delay and much concern that the festivites would get canceled. First up were the little kiddies in the 200 M dash. That's a long way for a 3 yr old, but Skylar hung with the older kids great and finished the 200 in about 64 seconds! She was utterly adorable out there, running free, elbows straight like only a toddler knows how, and a huge smile on her face flanked by dimples!

Next up: Lincoln. Though he was tired from basketball camp today, he still brought home a 5 second PR by beating last summer's time. I think he finished in about 48 seconds.
I ran with the big dogs in the last, fast heat, though whether I really belonged there might have been iffy. With the rain and monitoring 2 kids, I didn't warm up completely as I might have liked. But I got off to nice, quick start anyway. By the straightaway, though, it was clear that a few of the young guys were too fast for too long. I finished 5th of 6 with a 28.88s. This beats last year's time by almost a second, and I think I could still improve it a little with some more focused training.

The "workout" session after the main event tonight was a predict-your-finish 5k. I didn't give it much thought and put down 23:00. I was rather surprised to find that I ran smoothly so soon after the 200. My pace was steady throughout and I had a nice dogfight with another guy over the last 3 laps. I took over in the last straightaway, though, and got him by a few seconds. 23:23 - and 3rd place in getting close to my prediction! But the real story was my son. He was beat from basketball, beat from the 200 sprint, but wanted to give the 5k a shot anyway. I figured he'd jog a couple laps and get tired a walk for a while before retiring. He'd never gone more than 2 miles before. I told him to just go for as long as he felt like it and not worry about doing the full distance. I knew he was beat.

I'll tell you what, that boy ran and ran and ran! We all started together, so I got to cheer him on a few times while lapping him. He just kept on going! Half way through I could tell he was psyched that he'd even done that much. With 2 laps to go I was screaming my fool head off for him! He was steady throughout and even finished with a kick to pass another kid. 34:15 PR for Lincoln!!!

Happy Fathers' Day!

I did an awesome trail run today with 15 other Fathers, Mothers and Others from the Steeplechasers. We tackled the Catoctin Mountain blue trail, which is the same trail that the Catoctin 50K is run on. Hilly, rocky, and on this morning VERY muddy! It was a blast! Most of us did 10 miles (a few others did 13), then we had a huge cookout at one of the runners' house (Mike O'Grady's) which was on the mountain about 50 feet from the nearest trailhead. What an awesome place to live! My wife and daughters came up for the cookout (brats, burgers, pasta salid, fruit salad, sweets, and plenty of beverages) and then we went on a short hike with all the kids to a nearby pond where the littlest ones got a kick out of tossing rocks into the water. Great morning, great run, great company, great food! It just doesn't get any better than this!
Happy Father's Day, my fellow fathers!

Bushwacker Adventure Run

After having run trails for several years, this morning I actually ran in my first trail run race, the Bushwacker Adventure Running Race, which is hosted by ex2.Adventures.com. The course is point to point, running from Hemlock Overlook Regional Park to Fountainhead Regional Park in northern Virginia. Most of the race can be run by following the Bull Run - Occoquan Trail (Blue Blazes) along the Occoquan Reservoir; however, what makes this special is one simple change: runners, feel free to choose your own path (ie., bushwack). All runners were supplied with a detailed, accurate and colorful topo map of the course, and we were encouraged to bring a compass.

Put simply, THIS RACE WAS AWESOME!!! Our family met up with longtime friends Karen and Alan along with their kids at the start, and Al and I ran the race together (well, 90% of the way at least).

Although I'd spent some time reviewing the trail map online, and then studied the supplied map as much as possible, everything went haywire 20 seconds after the start! It was at that point that the other 100 or so runners suddenly started going in about 100 different directions! Everyone ditched the main path for some immediate off-trail running, and in no-time I had no idea where I really was, or worse, which way I needed to go! Runners were everywhere, hopping over fallen tree trunks and dipping under low-hanging limbs, dodging this way then that. Al and I roughly stayed together, and perhaps he had a better idea of what we were doing, but as far as I was concerned it was just a giant case of the blind leading the blind!

So that's how we start, and within about a quarter mile we have a tiny creek to cross -- easy to jump normally, but the banks were quite steep. And then there's the mud. Earlier in the week it rained. A lot. Like a few inches worth. Nicer weather in the last couple of days left me thinking that MAYBE it wouldn't be terribly muddy after all. But then, out of nowhere, from about 4am to 6am we get showers. So, everything's wet. And muddy.

So back to this stupid creek. Al carefully steps down the nearside bank, hop over, and scampers up the other side. No biggie. I follow suit. I start down the bank, and immediately both feet slide out from under me in the mud. My ass hits next, mud squishing its way up the legs of my shorts, and I'm off! I zoom right on down the bank, stopping only when my feet hit the next change in the topography, which is the 4" deep shoe-sucking mud and water. I curse under my breathe (I don't remember this, but I simply must have!), hop over the rest of the water and start up the other side. And my feet now slide out from under me going the other way! I'm quickly on my hands and knees, digging my fingernails into the side of the bank, to desperately cling my way out of this quagmire.

So that was the first 3 minutes of the race.

Eventually, I resume running, holding a map that is no longer particularly readable thanks to its protective coating of mud. I follow Al and in him I trust. I'm frazzled, slimey, and lost. And we run. After a few more minutes of chaos, we find our way onto an actual trail. I had no clue what trail, but Al thought it was the one we wanted, and, as it turned out, it was. Great. Another 1/4 mile up the trail is where we actually planned to start a bushwack to cut a corner. The Horseshoe Trail bent right, and we went left. Oh, boy. Here goes nothin'!

This would be the first of many optimistically-mileage-cutting bushwacks that we would attempt, and I would become rather amazed to find that by and large, they worked! The first bushwack cut out a nice chunk of trail. Soon we were back on the Blue path! Hey, this was fun!

From here the details get a little blurry. We cut tiny corners on the trails frequently; pretty much anytime you could see the trail bending up ahead, you'd be looking for a quicker way to get there. And occasionally we took calculated risks and bushwacked for real. We hit the first of 3 checkpoints (you had to check in at each, in order) quickly, and the pace for the first 3 miles must have been a good one. Pace while trail running is a relative thing, of course. I just know we ran it pretty fast.

One of the other bigger bushwacks came right after the 2nd checkpoint, and it was not intentional. We're running along the trail, and woman fan claps and encourages us as we go by her. A few seconds later and the trail we were on dumped us into a parking lot, with no real indication of where the blue trail is! We pick a direction and go. We're again running all over the place, no one else is with us, and eventually we hit another trail. We charge down it and it brings us back to blue!

The best bushwack came during the longest stage of the race, between the 2nd and 3rd checkpoints. The blue trail had mile markers on it, and we knew we wanted to ditch the trail at around mile 13.75. We get roughly there and turn left and downhill. Were zooming along in this fashion, again dodging low hanging branches and such, when suddenly we find ourselves crossing a marsh! There's standing water, a few inches deep, all around us and also some different vegetation, low-lying plants with huge leaves. We go charging right through and I impulsively start singing the Charlie Daniels Band's Legen of Wooley Swamp:

Well, if you ever go back into Wooley Swamp,
Well, you better not go at night.
There's things out there in the middle of them woods
That make a strong man die from fright.
Things that crawl and things that fly
And things that creep around on the ground.
And they say the ghost of Lucius Clay gets up and he walks
around.

Feet soaked, water splashing, everything stinking, and right there ahead of us running from right to left are a few relatively dry-footed racers! We storm our way out of the swamp and rejoin the runners! This was kicking butt!

Alas, we still had several miles to go, and the plentiful hills were taking their toll on me. A couple of weeks ago I was ready for this, but unfortunately in the mean time I'd had a bad cold and had a sore neck and then sore back. The net effect was that I hadn't run much in the last two weeks.

Oh, well, I knew this would probably happen. I started cutting back to a walk and many of the uphills. Al was kind enough to stick with me for quite a while, even though he felt fairly good. With about a mile to go, Al had gotten far enough ahead of me that he went ahead to the finish. My last mile was pretty strong still, but I did lose maybe another minute or so when I suddenly found myself not on the trail and without a clue as to how I lost it! Two guys followed me, and together we found our way back to the blue trail.

A little farther and we could hear music...that was the finish! I picked it up a little more for the end and soon we were punching our chips at the finish! I finished in 1:50:51, in 10th place in my age group (19 had pre-registered in my age group; so about 50th percentile). Al finished a few minutes ahead and in 8th in our age group. We reunited with family and enjoyed the feast laid out at the finish. Tons of pizza, drinks and snacks. They had so much extra that we ended up walking away with a complete sausage pizza!

They had plenty of giveaways, but neither of us happened to win. Overall, the race was well organized and the course was incredible! This was such a fun experience! It was challenging not only in terms of all the hills and all of the bushwacking, but also because the trail was all muddy. The center of the trail was mostly muck, and we'd run along the sides more. If at all possible, I'm sure we'll be returning next year -- and this time maybe Andrea will run it, too!

Inaugural Illinois Marathon - Race Report

Champaign/Urbana, Illinois
April 11, 2009

As I stood patiently, coldly (in shorts and a t-shirt on this 36-degree morning), listening to a beautiful rendition of the Star Spangled Banner sung by The Other Guys choral group, one thought dominated my mind. Now that I’m finally first in line for the porta-potty, do I go in and pee during our national anthem? Or do I wait and risk a late start to the race? Though I was leaning toward the latter anyway, my dilemma was thankfully resolved by my predecessor who took enough time that the song was finished before I had the chance to go in.

Ah, but I was not yet out of the woods! Seconds later I’m inside, half panicked that the race is about to start without me (which really doesn’t help the process, by the way), all ready to take care of business, and I hear through those thick blue-plastic walls around me, “Now please bow your heads as Father MacReynolds leads us in the benediction prayer.” Oh, no!!! It seemed to me that the potential desecration of the first act was exceeded only by the blasphemy of the second!

But I was alone in that potty. No one would know except me. And maybe God. The race was just seconds away. I’m sorry, dear Reader, but I must admit it. I peed through the benediction.

I finally stepped out and back into the cold, relieved to find that the Inaugural Illinois Marathon had not yet started. I wiggled my way onto the street and spied the 3:40 pace sign, and then glanced skyward nervously, waiting for the bolt of lightning to strike me down. To my right were the University of Illinois’ generically-named basketball and football stadiums, Assembly Hall and Memorial Stadium. Ahead, spanning First Street in a huge arc, were the ladders from 2 fire trucks: one fire truck from Urbana on the east side of the street and one from Champaign on the west side of the street. In the middle where the ladders met was a huge American flag. Very cool start line!

My plan for the race was to start easy for the first mile or so and then find the 3:40 (8:23 per mile) pace group and try to hang with them for as long as possible, and if I was still with them and had something left with 5 miles to go, I’d pick it up then. This would be my 4th marathon, with my best previous time coming in last fall’s Wineglass Marathon (3:53:48). I knew that running a 3:40 was perhaps overly optimistic.

The first mile followed First Street north to Green Street and what’s considered Campustown at U of I. Just prior to reaching Green we passed by my niece, Tessa’s, apartment. My oldest brother, Gary, and his family had also come down for the weekend, and the whole group – Andrea and the kids plus Gary’s family – were outside to cheer me on at the Mile 1 mark. After high-fiving several of them I was gone and heading through Campustown.

Early on, though my forearms and fingers were going numb, the running was easy. I checked my pace after about a mile and a half, and I was cruising at around 8:10. Cool. I was sure the 3:40 group was probably behind me, so I eased up just a bit. I figured I’d take it easy until they caught me. Mile 2 brought us back through the heart of my alma mater’s campus. On the right: aged Altgeld Hall, home to the Math Department and a bell tower that I can still remember playing the theme to the Flintstones on Fridays when I was an undergrad. On the left, the major engineering buildings: huge brick and stone structures home to so many of the classes that I probably should have attended with better regularity. Then the Illini Union on the right; that’s where our team of five freshmen from my dorm won the all-campus bowling intramurals by blowing out the boisterously cocky frat champs. Ah, THOSE were my glory days! Mile 1- 8:11. Mile 2- 8:13.

But I digress. There’s a race to run! The course starts out flat for the first few miles and levels out after that. By about Mile 5 or so I’ve finally eased up long enough that the pace group catches up to me, and I merge with them. It’s neat to run with a pacer for a couple of reasons. First, I think it’s always fun to run in a large group of people. There’s plenty of conversation to provide distraction. The other benefit is that with the pacer carrying a “3:40 Pace” sign, the fans tend to really start cheering when a pace group goes by. “Yeah for the 3:40 pacers!!!” Always nice to hear some cheering! Mile 3- 8:17. Mile 4- 8:14. Mile 5- 8:31.

Miles 4 through 9 were through residential neighborhoods in Urbana, and the fan support here was sensational! Lots of people and lots of noise – much more than I would have expected from a marathon of this size.

During the 6th mile we ran through Meadowbrook Park, which was basically a prairie with some trees along the borders. As came around one bend in the path, however, I saw something that quite shocked me and had me wondering briefly if the hallucinations of the later stages of the race were already kicking in. For rising out of the grassland ahead of me was a young, attractive woman without a stitch of clothing! Never mind that her skin was green, this chick was nekkid! Talk about instantaneous inspiration! Well, she froze up and we all just continued on our merry way along the path, passing right by her backside (which was quite nice I might add). This sculpture by artist Peter Fagan was no classic Madonna with excessive plumpness, she was actually quite lithe – could have been a runner!

Oh, well, we carried on. By Mile 10 we were returning to campus and I was feeling quite comfortable with our pace. Mile 6- 8:40. Mile 7- 8:17. Mile 8- 8:28. Mile 9- 8:24. Mile 10- 8:26.

We crossed back through campus and then moved on to the residential sections of Champaign. Again, the crowd support was really strong. The miles were beginning to take their toll on my legs and feet, but I carried on fine. Then for some inexplicable reason, the 3:40 group started picking up the pace! As far as I was concerned we had been going a little faster than we should have all along, and therefore we’d banked some time, so why on earth were we suddenly accelerating 13 miles into the race? I checked my GPS watch several times and each time we were at a sub-8 minute pace! I intentionally let myself drop to the back of the pack, figuring there was no need stay at the front at this pace. I was a bit worried even so. Mile 11- 8:17. Mile 12- 8:19. Mile 13-8:14. Mile 14- 8:03. Mile 15- 8:04.

And for good reason. The torrid pace continued, and I started fell back more. I knew I’d regret it if I kept going at that pace, and maybe I’d regret things as it was anyway. Miles 16-19 were still solid and on target, but by 20 I was steadily falling further behind the pace group. And that’s where things stood as I began the 2nd race. (Anyone who’s run a marathon knows there are 2 races in a marathon: the first one is to 20 miles, and then the second race starts.) Mile 16- 8:12. Mile 17- 8:28. Mile 18- 8:11. Mile 19- 8:22. Mile 20- 8:32.

Running more or less solo at this point, my legs were now carrying the weight of the previous 20 miles. Muscles at my hips groaned with every forward stride, and my knees ached as they absorbed the continuous pounding. Calves and quads grew tighter and protested the stridelength that I wanted to maintain. I become oblivious to much of what was around me; I ran past nice homes and peaceful parks with lots of people cheering, but I really couldn’t process any of it mentally. No details stuck. I was becoming a bipedal vegetable, and wasn’t so sure how long the bipedal part would apply! Miles 21 and 22 were tough, but I did have a couple of bright spots during this stretch, however. I saw an old cross country friend of mine from high school, Dan, on the side of the road cheering me on! Soon thereafter I came upon the rest of my mobile cheering section, including my nephew, Ethan, and son, Lincoln, who both ran onto the road and joined me for a few seconds. Somewhat reinvigorated, I plodded forward and tried to slow the rate of my velocity’s decay. Mile 21- 8:30. Mile 22-9:06. Mile 23-8:48.

The final few miles were back on campus, and this was actually the one time when I thought the crowd support was lacking. Being Easter weekend, much of the student population must have gone home. The steady pickup in the last miles that I had hoped for wasn’t going to happen. All I could do was hang on and keep moving toward Memorial Stadium, which finally loomed ahead in the distance. I finally started moving a little faster once again as I made the final turn and was about to enter the stadium. Down a painful dip, into the dark tunnel, and then suddenly the lights were back on as I ran out onto the stadium’s artificial turf in front of a huge crowd in the stands!

I’m very old school when it comes to arguments about grass vs. artificial turf, but I’ll tell you what, after 26 miles of punishing pavement that turf felt like I was running on pillows! I kicked it in, running first from one endzone to the other along a sideline, then turning into the other endzone and running toward the goalpost, and then finally sprinting back upfield to the 50-yard line and the finish! Getting to finish inside the stadium was awesome! Mile 24- 9:33. Mile 25- 9:54. Mile 26- 9:59

My official finish time was 3:46:22 (8:38 pace per mile), a personal best by over 7 minutes! I finished in 410th place overall out of 1619 finishers (top 26%); 351st among the 1106 men (top 32%), and 66th out of 173 men in the 40-44 age group (top 39%). My half marathon split time was exactly 1:50:00 (right on pace!), which itself is a personal best for me in the half. I checked my GPS and, as usual, there’s a bit of discrepancy in distance run thanks to the fact that we don’t run the shortest route possible the whole way. My GPS had me at 26.47 miles and an 8:33 overall pace. Whatever the distance, I was ready for a celebratory pizza!

PHOTO SLIDESHOW HERE: http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v377/robisch/Running/Illinois%20Marathon%202009/?albumview=slideshow