I have said this before and I'm saying it again. Distance runners amaze me...and this time, I'm including myself among them. No, I have not grown a big head.

I ran the San Francisco Half Marathon yesterday. My first official "event" since last December 7th, when I wrapped up the 12 Months/12 Marathons thing in Santa Barbara. I've been signed up for a three other races so far this year but, for varied reasons have bagged on them. I was signed up for the full marathon yesterday, but because of a nagging heel spur did not feel adequately trained to do 26. So, last minute, I switched to the half.

Went to lay out my "stuff" the night before...including my Big G singlet. It's the uniform of my beloved, goofy running club, Goon Squad Runners, in Boston. It's an XL. Turns out, after not running for months, I'd put on a few. Sadly, the Big G was not going along on this ride. I have ordered a new Big G singlet. It's black. Black's slimming, right?

I went in hopeful of rekindling some of the fire I needed to pull myself through last year's challenge. I've been trying to reconnect with why I want to be a distance runner, for the last couple of months.

It was a chilly morning in San Francisco. The weather experts tell us this is the coldest summer in the City for nearly forty years. The shuttle bus to the start at Spreckles Lake in Golden Gate Park dropped us off at about 6:50. Start was set for 8:15. I spent much of that time in porta-potty lines. I learned a long time ago that the first thing to do in the race start area is to get in the potty line. Then, when you come out, get back into the line, and do it all again. Standing next to them shielded me from the icy wind, too.

I have done the full marathon in San Francisco three times, so it's a course I'm not unfamiliar with. That said, how I forgot about the hill that is Golden Gate Park from Ocean Beach to Stanyan Street, I will never know. For a better look, check this elevation chart for the first seven miles.

It didn't take long for the near non-stop climbing to take its toll. Checked my Garmin on numerous occasions, and discovered each time that my heart certainly was getting a workout. My normal is about 155 during training runs, except when doing speed work and hill repeats. Seems as though it was close to 170 for most of these 13.1 miles.

Coming out of the tunnel at the east end of the park, and stepping into the Haight, I breathed my first sigh of relief. From here on it's mostly flat with a couple of awesome declines. I can honestly say the first time I felt good yesterday was near-tumbling down Haight Street toward Divisadero. The second time was a few blocks farther on, crossing Market, heading downhill into the Mission.

At this point it was all about just doing it. My heel spur had paid a return visit at about mile five, and nagged all the way to the end. I was thankful I was not running in my VFF's, as my heel needed the padding of my hefty Brooks Beasts.

I wore my iPod this race, but didn't use it. I didn't want to add any more time to my finish by stopping to insert the earbuds or select the tracks. I just wanted it to be over. So, I had a lot of time to think. I noticed the other runners. I was feeling the pain of the marathoners I was passing. They were at mile 20...I was at 10. I hurt for them...but was well aware of the conversations they were probably having in their heads at that time. Trying to keep themselves going, and pulling it off. I told myself to just shut up. Afterall, I'm a Goon!!!

My favorite marathoners have always been the one's who've done their first...and STILL decide to do another. My second favorites, are those who've never gone that far and have decided to give it a shot. Yesterday reminded me what a challenge distance running is. When I blissfully finished my 13.1, in a sluggish 2:36 (one of my slowest ever), I tried for a moment to remember what it was I liked about going twice that far...thirty times over the last nine years. I can not remember.

It was about this time that I realized that Greek dude who did the distance from Marathon to Athens, kicking off this whole craze, only did it once...and died at the end. I've gone the distance thirty times...and am signed up to run Athens this year. And, he's the legend? WTH?

I'm not sure I found any answers yesterday to how or why I should keep doing this. But running beneath the "Finish" banner again did feel like hooking back up with a dear, dear friend.

Gotta run!

I love the running community and I love partying with them! We have everything! We have our health and everything else is an extra blessing.
 
I was blessed to finish the USATF Mountain Series and became a Mountain Goat along with fellow Goons Taz and Thunder God. It was an experience and accomplishment that I will never forget.
 
Mountain racing is not easy. It is very humbling. It is also crazy, aggravating, challenging, hot, humid, buggy, involves very heavy breathing, along with muscle torture. It is also full of laughter, good friends, new friends, great parties and the toughest runners in New England.
 
In my previous race report I talked about the first three mountain races, Northfield, Wachusett Mountain and Pack Monadnock Mountain. The final three races were Cranmore, Loon and Mt. Ascutney.
 
Out of all six races I found Cranmore and Loon to be the toughest. At Cranmore, you had to run up the mountain and then back down twice! On the down hill you needed to keep yourself under control because if not, you would end up like Bloody Bob. Yes fellow Goons, I was on my first loop running a steep down hill and all of the sudden I hear this guy screaming, “I CAN’T STOP, GET OUT OF THE WAY!” This guy comes screaming past me out of control and then goes into flight and lands. I stopped to help him and put water over his wounds on his head and arms. Bloody Bob ended up finishing the race but had to get bandaged up first. This guy has some true Goon talents.
 
The next day after Cranmore I got an email from Thunder God stating that he had to walk sideways because his quads were hurting so bad. Great stuff and he was not kidding. My quads were talking to me three days after Cranmore.
 
I found Loon to be just as tough as Cranmore. The course was torture. You ran up the mountain for about a mile, and then you ran down, then back up, then down, and back up to the top. When I saw the gondolas at the top I thought I was done. Wrong! You had to run back down a black diamond, and then take a hairpin turn to look at a black diamond that you had to climb back up.
 
Once up and over I thought I was going to be at the finish. Wrong! You had to run back down another steep decline and then when you got to the bottom you finished on a very steep grade kind of like the finish of Mt. Washington. My only problem with this course is that I really needed to be wearing trail shoes. I had to be very careful on the steep down hills because the shoes I was wearing were for road running and had no traction. I learned my lesson for next year.
 
The final race was Mt. Ascutney. This course is like a mini Mt. Washington and is approximately 4 miles. I was very excited because I knew when I finished that I would become a Mountain Goat plus Scott Mason (Flash) was also running and what Scott did not know is that he was going to be inducted into the Goon Squad later that day.
 
It was damn hot at the start and the course begins with an instant climb. Flash and I ran together for most of the race. He would pass me, and then I would pass him. This went on for most of the race. I was lucky enough to squeak past him by a few second at the finish but had to pay the price. Flash made me run down the mountain with him, pure torture on the quads. He wasn’t even an official Goon and was all ready out of control like a true Goon! It was good to be a Goat and Flash and I had a great time running down the mountain and later at the party. Post race party was a great ending to the Mountain Series. Beers, friends and inducting Flash into the Goon Squad.
 
I think the official Silver Bullet Goon Limo will be rolling to all Mountain Races next year and I hope to have it packed with Goons who want to be Goats.
 
Keep positive, keep running, and keep having fun. I was practicing my Goat call with Goatie at track but she still does the best Baa…Baa…
 
Final Overall Results USATF Mountain Series
 
Taz                     2nd Place
Thunder God       10th Place
Doctor Death:-/   50th Place
 
Doc D:-/

Sometimes the tail wags the dog when it comes to picking which races to run in.  In this case, the Marathon Sports 5 Mile Race offered the promise of a sweet Brooks tech t-shirt for a limited number of entrants, plenty of motivation for me to try my first race at a distance in between 5K and half-marathon.  In addition to the shirt, the race promised a mix of surfaces and a good chance to test myself on what was described as a “moderately difficult” course.  It didn’t disappoint.

The race started at Weston High School and I have to say Marathon Sports did a great job in terms of directing people to the multiple parking lots, which can be a headache and cause of stress at many other races.  Set up on the school’s large grassy fields was a mini race expo and a large number of port-o-potties very close to the start line, also very much appreciated.  Not much to speak of in terms of booths at the expo, though the people at the Brooks booth were very helpful and eager to talk.  Otherwise it was a very easy process to pick up my number and shirt and I was soon toeing the line to start.

The race started rather unconventionally for a “road” race.  Taking me back to my high school cross country days, the race started on a grassy field with a bunch start.  With no chip timing, it was important to get close to the start line to not lose too much time.  There was a big mix of very competitive looking runners and more “recreational” runners, with the BAA team doing its best to position itself at the front of the pack, even though I am informed by Mrs. Yeti that none of them did particularly well.  A slight downhill out of the gate led to a quick start punctuated by nearly running into a metal gate post and the entire field running smack into a wooden barricade where we were supposed to turn left.  Those two incidents proved to be the only hiccups on the course.

As promised, the course featured a mix of rolling hills, decent downhill sections, and long flats, mostly on pavement for the better part of the course.  None of the hills was especially difficult, but the course had an unrelenting sense to it with few opportunities to really settle into a rhythm on the flats.  There were also a decent number of turns on the course.  Having race volunteers calling out splits at each mile was great but the water stops could have been slightly better staffed I think.  

Winding through the streets of the neighborhood around the school, we eventually looped back towards the school itself, this time detouring around back to a grassy section covering a little over a quarter mile.  I can’t say I loved this section, not being a big fan of running on grass because I feel like it saps my energy.  Grass turned into a very short trail section, which proved fairly rocky, before transitioning onto the school’s track, which had a modern artificial surface, for the last 300 meters of the race.  Spurred on by a couple Race Menu team members shouting “Go get ‘em Big G!” I kicked in for a time of 36:02, basically running roughly even 7 minute miles for the first 3 miles then 7:30s for the last two.  I’ll take the setting of a new PR any day, even if it’s a default PR.  

Really my only niggle with the race was the lack of water and other refreshments right at the finish line area, but they were right around the corner and I basically just missed it by going in a different direction from the finish line.  Overall, a great race experience, made even more memorable because it was my first race representing the Goon Squad, and one I hope to repeat next year!

The borrowed bike

I flew down to Atlanta Monday night on a business trip.  I’m training for a 100 mile mountain bike race in less than two weeks.  I wanted to ride so I asked my friend Shawn to loan me a bike and ride with me.  He said he was too busy but I could borrow his bike.  So – cool – I pack my shoes and pedals.  

It turns out he’s working a job really close to Buckhead – so I go over and pick it up Tuesday morning.  Shawn is one of my vast network of virtual running friends.  He used to host the Trilogy Running Podcast with his brother Jason and I paced him into the med tent at the Atlanta ING Marathon in the spring of ’09.  

I worked all day Tuesday and got back to the hotel around 6:30.  I’m going to get my ride in Dammit! Daylight was fading so I changed into my bike stuff. I didn’t have a helmet so I just went with the hippie helmet – the bandana – so I looked like an awkward old pirate on a borrowed bike.  The hotel valets were fascinated as I spun my pedals on and pumped up the tires to go.  

With no helmet I was a bit terrified by the Atlanta traffic and decide to head across the back roads from Buckhead towards Vinings to see if I could make it to the Silver Comet rail trail.  After 45 minutes with the sun going down I managed to get out to Cobb parkway in Vinings by the Chattahoochee State Park and the old IBM complex.  This is cool because I used to have an office over there.  But was running out of daylight and I was probably 10 or 11 miles out with all the stop lights and wrong turns and hills.  It was time to turn around.

I turned around and started down this long hill on Cobb parkway.  I was feeling more comfortable on the bike and going a bazillion miles an hour and, yup, I nail a pot-hole at the bottom of the hill and hear that noise we all hate to hear.  Flat back tire.  I’m a reasonably competent adult, so I fished around in the seat pack and Shawn didn’t have a patch kit, but he did have the tire levers, an extra tube and one of those emergency CO2 compressed air tire filler upper thingys.  Cool, I can do this.

I got the wheel off; swapped out the tube, no muss no fuss.  Now it’s Atlanta and 95+ degrees out so I was at this point covered in sweat and grease.  I put the Co2 thingy on and uh oh…spent cartridge!
So, here I am 10 miles from the hotel, flat tire, no phone, all I’ve got is my room key, $2 and an American Express card.  

What to do?  Can’t go to a gas station because bike tube valves have the other kind of stem on them and the gas station pumps won’t fit, that plus they typically only get up to 45 pounds where your bike tire needs 100 or so.  Looks like I’m walking.  Do the math – if you walk fast you can go 3 miles an hour.  Time for a long walk.
Next problem – can’t walk in road bike shoes, they have cleats on them and you just can’t walk on the road with them.  So I take my shoes off and start pushing Shawn’s broken bike.  After a little bit a biker comes don the road, and I yell “Got a pump?”, “No, Sorry!” he yells back without even slowing down.  A-Hole biker.   

This is where the story turns into the parable of the Good Samaritan.  I’m sure he had something really important to do, much more important than a four-hour walk in stocking feet.  I kept trudging.

Near the top of the next hill a runner passes me from behind and I don’t hear him coming and he scares me out of my tight little padded shorts by saying “Hey, how are you doing?” I jump, but I rejoin “I’d be better if I had a pump”.  He stops, takes the ear-buds out and inquires as to my situation.  I fill him in and he says, “Well I just live around the corner, let me run home and I’ll give you a ride.”

No kidding – that’s how we runners are.  I meet this total stranger out on the road and he takes me back to his house, loads up the bike and drives me back to Buckhead.  So, thank you Michael, my new Atlanta running friend.  Think about whether you’d help a greasy pirate pushing a broken bike down the road in his socks! You’d better, because it might be me!

The Pirate’s revenge…
The next day I call Shawn with the bad news.  He’s a good sport and we have a good laugh.  While I have him on the phone I say, “Hey, let’s go for a run when I bring the bike back in the morning.”  He resists saying he has to start at 5:30 and he hasn’t run in six weeks…blah, blah, blah.  I convince him that we’ll do an easy 4 miles and I’ll meet him at 4:15 AM.  Yeah, that’s how I roll.  He agrees.  

The last time I ran with Shawn was his first marathon.  I paced him into the med tent.  He probably should have known better than to run with me again.

I met him at 4:15 AM.  Gave him his busted bike back. We went out on a conversational pace in the Atlanta pre-dawn.  We ran through the affluent, wooded neighborhoods of Buckhead.  It is very hilly, but quite nice before the heat of the sun and before the cars come out.  

At 40 minutes out we turn around and start jogging back.  We are chatting away.  Eventually we realize we don’t know where we are anymore.  Shawn is stressed that he’s not going to make it back for work.  40 minutes pass and we are running up and down, reading road signs in the dark, and retracing our steps.  By the time we find the wrong turn we took it’s been well over an hour.  I ran Shawn over a mile in the wrong direction!

By the time we got back to the school, Shawn’s Garmin read 7+ miles and it was 5:30.  I bet he won’t ever run with me again.  Maybe he’ll forget in another 12 months.  I left Shawn all sweaty and dehydrated to suffer through his long day with dead legs.  I left him his busted bike.  I went to Starbucks to fuel up for my day!

Mad Dog