Sweet Sixteen

My running streak came to a halt when I spent a large part of the day riding a bus to the gulf of Kavala, Greece. I think the longest I have run continuously during any streak was six days. This time, the streak is a not-very-impressive 16, but a sweet sixteen nonetheless.

The hotel lies just steps from its private beach. A beach that under better weather conditions would be a dream. As it happened, the weather did change for the better the last two days there. Now, I have never been a fan of beach running, even when the sand is well packed. Alas, the highway fronting the hotel was WAY too busy and the cars just flew by. Not ideal. Definitely not ideal for an easy sixer.

I donned my retired classic response adidas and headed to the deserted beach. Deserted because it was cloudy and raining lightly. I start what I thought was running and slugged for a couple of minutes before checking my snail pace. It was a mind boggling 13:40ish pace. The sand is really lose and my feet sink almost to ankle level. My calves are protesting. I quickly readjust my goal of running six miles and hope to complete four. I reach the end of the beach and turn. As I am heading back to my starting point, I see a paved access road. I decide to follow it and thoughts of doing hill repeats are more appealing exponentially by the second. I ‘crest’ the access road and see that it changes into a dirt road that goes under the aforementioned highway. I follow it.

Now I am on the other side of the highway and the dirt road with its sexy curves is calling me. The only problem is that the road is ascending and my pace does not get faster than 10 mpm. Man am I slow or what? I question the sanity of setting a sub 3:10 marathon as a goal. I am having a hard time ‘running’ 10-minute miles for crying out loud. How am I going to sustain 7:15s… for 26.2 miles. Am I setting myself up for disaster? Maybe. So it goes.

I continue running in light rain and the views are rather beautiful. I run through some vineyards and my mind takes me back to the ONE marathon I want to run more than any other, and that is the marathon du Medoc. I actually was going to run it last year and did register, but had to cancel my plans due to my 'forced' sabbatical. So it goes.

I smell the salty ocean air, more like I gasp the saltiness, as I pass yet another vineyard. My infatuation with wine and olive oil would make a place like this a dream vacation home. The road is made up of fractured rock; it is no longer covered by lose sand like at the beginning of the trail. At one point, I can discern where the backhoe scraped though the weathered but still strong rock. I see a puddle that covers the width of the road and I sidestep it but manage to sink my right foot and it is now completely wet. On the way back I would sink my left foot for good measure. I am not worried about potential blisters for the obvious reason: it’s only a sixer.

I continue through more of the same and reach the end of the mountain road and turn right on another highway that appears to be less traveled. My Garmin ™ says 2.6 miles. I run on the lean shoulder against traffic for just over half a mile and I am rewarded with stunning views of a medium size village with mountains and the blue ocean in the background. I turn at, you guessed it, another vineyard.

I am now back on the mountain road and my legs are a bit more springy. They are moving with more ease. Yet, I am barely under 8 minute pace and doubts continue to linger in my mind about a sub 3:10. No matter. I am having the time of my life. The rain has stopped. But, I am doing the rain dance, or so it seems for I find myself skipping here and hopping there. This is to avoid a boulder, or a miniature creek, or a toad – or is it a frog?

The ocean is in clear view and memories of my runs in the Santa Monica Mountains come to mind. And I cry. Yes, you read right. I cry. But it is tears of joy. Slow ones. Pearly ones. I am having a climatic run and I am enjoying it one hundred percent. [I would say 110%, but I am not mathematically challenged :-P] I reach the bottom of the road and head toward the busy highway. I run for a short stretch on the shoulder while several vehicles zoom by me, including a couple of semis. No matter. I have just had one of the best running experiences of my life.

This run is only comparable only to those days when I would run as a child for the sake of getting to the other side of the street; for the sake of tagging a friend; for the sake of kicking a ball; hell, for the sake of running. Yes folks, that was running in its pure, unadulterated form. No Beantown dreams. No, just a smile on my then chubby face because somewhere, somehow I knew running was a gift. A gift only US can truly appreciate.

I finished my run in a less than stellar time. But, really… who cares? Life is good. So it goes.

ChiCOWgo and Army 10 - 2004

In early June '04, my Command contacted me to see if I was interested in being part of a team that would participate in the Army 10 miler, because I was part of a team the previous year. In 2003 I happened to be the fastest runner in my team, not a good thing. I ran a 69:43, just a few seconds off my PR. This year, I told the COL organizing the running teams, I would shoot for a low 68, maybe even break it. I started training for this race about 12 weeks prior.

My training was going so well I even dreamed of running significantly faster than the low 68 I had ‘committed.’ I was running 24 miles per week, divided into three or four runs. Most of these runs were quality, which means they were either repeats, tempo or long. The core of this training was a four mile tempo. I progressively improved from an average of 6:53/mile to a 6:29/mile. However, soon after the 6:29 'peak,' my training would turn sour. The time I ran the tempo run in 6:29, my breathing, my form, my mind, were all one; everything was in sync. I should note that the last mile in these tempo runs was always difficult, but not during 'the' peak. BUT, one should peak in a RACE, and NOT in training as I did.

The week after my peak, I was barely able to average 6:51/mile… for ONLY three miles, mind you; I was so out of breath I could not complete the fourth mile. The next two weeks would see marginal improvements. My last tempo run was the week of the Chicago marathon. This time I was able to run the full four miles, and at 6:45 pace, with three miles of w/u and three miles of c/d for 10 miles.

Two days after this 10 miler, I had a very stiff back, painful really. I ran a couple of days later, and I was running lob-sided. Once my back warmed up I was able to run at a decent ‘tempo’ pace. I had hope after all. On Saturday October 11, the day before the Chicago Marathon, I ran a 5K; however, I believe it was not accurate, so I am not sure I should consider the 19:45 time a PR; my back hardly bothered me. The following day I lined up w/ some 33K runners from around the globe.

This was going to be my 26th marathon. Having ran slow times, for me, the last two ‘thons (4:43 and 4:12) I wanted to run around 3:30. I knew I had the speed, but I did not have the training. My longest run consisted of one 15 miler. So I approached this race as a training run for my upcoming 10 miler.

I started slow, 8:20s, for the first three miles. I settled into a comfortable 8 minute or so pace. The day before, I had tried this new energy drink, Monster, and I believe it was causing me to have stomach gurgling; I hoped I did not have to stop, or worse yet that I’d have an accident. Also, from time to time whenever I’d land a certain way, I’d feel pain on my lower back... sciatica, argh! Please don’t let it get bad enough where I’ll have to stop. Half marathon time 1:45:XX, right on target.

The lack of long runs would get me though. And at 14 I started feeling tired. BUT, I remembered reading that speeding up during a race often helped the feeling of fatigue. So I picked up the pace, 7:43, oops, a bit too fast. I slow it down a notch. I would run the next few miles in the 7:50s. At 25 I picked it up one more notch, 7:35. Mile 26, 7:21. Last 0.2 were ran in 83 seconds (my fastest 0.2 ever). Final time of 3:27:13, and second only to St. George where the course drops 2500 feet, and where I ran an obviously gravity-aided 3:14:28 [this was before I ran a 3:12 in St. George and a 3:17:56 in Boston].

I was quite pleased with this result, but I was afraid I had left too much in this race. I ran an easy three two days later. No injuries seemed to be present. Three days later I attempted speed-work; probably not a good idea, since I barely managed to run 4X400 @ 90 seconds with one minute recovery, and I did feel some pain in my quads and hamstrings. Did not attempt a tempo run until one week before the Army 10. Although, it wasn’t a tempo run, I had to take a break after 10 minutes, and another one five minutes later. I was getting worried I would not recover in time to run the 67:30 I believed I could run.

The day before race day, I ran an easy four. Let the chips fall where they may. No time for regrets or reflections.

Race day I woke up to rain on Sunday morning, more like a drizzle. I jogged the mile to the hotel where we were going to meet. My legs felt light and springy. Our group then walked a few blocks to the Pentagon. Luckily, the bag turn-in was on the way, but it was rather chaotic. Jogged to the start line for it was getting close to race time. As I was approaching the corrals, the National Anthem started playing. Stopped and took it all in. I made it to my corral just 15 minutes before. I jumped the concrete k-rail to try to run some strides. It was kind of crowded so my strides were 40 meters long. I did three of them. I was nervous but felt ready; as ready as I could be.

The race starts five minutes late. I take off with a bunch of runners wearing green bibs. First mile comes surprisingly fast and my watch reads 6:45, perfect. To this point the effort seems easy, too easy I think. I would miss the next mile marker. I press the split button and it reads 13:42, oops I slowed down. I now have to make up 12 seconds. In this two-mile stretch running continues to be smooth, with my breathing becoming labored during a couple of mild inclines (this would happen in ALL positive inclines). Right around this time I hear this guy playing the clarinet; he’s playing something patriotic and he’s keeping a good tune… while running. The next split reads 6:06 - don’t I wish! A tall and buff marine, carrying a rucksack, and a medium size flag, passes me [take that DANCON]. He is running strong and effortlessly; i guesstimate he is running 6:30s. I immediately HATE him.

The following split would confirm the fourth mile marker was misplaced, 7:30. So now I am 18 or 19 seconds off my target time. Time to pick it up. I start passing runners consistently. Mile 6, 6:44, good, I am feeling a bit tired but my breathing is okay. I miss the Mile 7 marker. Not a big deal. Miles 7 and 8, 13:28, or 6:44 pace, only 14 seconds behind. It’s now or never. I pick up the effort but this bridge has an incline that my legs are feeling. Even though the effort was more than the previous eight miles I only clock a 6:40. I feel strong during this last mile; I pass some roadkill… I make the turn into the underpass, the finish banner is visible. This guy and I go for it… we’re running neck and neck, we’re practically sprinting, yet my legs still feel strong. We cross the finish line together; I commend him for his efforts. My final chip time is 67:25.

I am quite happy; I met my goal. The cool weather certainly helped. My team did not figure in the awards, but there’s always next time, perhaps break 66 for me???. Or... break 3:10 in CIM come December 02, 2007? Which will it be? Stay tuned!

Inspiration and Sundry

Today I was to run 9 miles easy. My plan was to run at 7 pm, roughly two hrs after supper. As I am about to exit my room, the sky is falling and I decide to bag the run. I then started reading a couple of posts from The Salty One and got to read her Boston Report and after reading it, I was left with no option but to get off my big butt and run the niner I had on the menu, for I was so inspired I felt I could tear the asphalt into gravel.

I left at 8:30pm and I ran them in just under 8 mpm pace. Not terribly fast. So what's the big deal you ask? Lemme 'splain. I ran 40 miles three weeks ago, 18 two weeks ago, and only 4 last week. My weeks are from Sunday-to-Saturday. So far I have ran 27 miles and with this renewed inspiration I should hit 48 this week. Not bad, huh? I know, I know. This a recipe for disaster, but after reading Salty's gut-wrenching report, that is the least I can do. Next week, my weekly volume should hover in the 50s.

Now for the sundry part. I have been considering going back to school for some time. Having worked in the Civil Engineering field was fine until I moved into the Project Management area. I like solving problems; no, let me re-phrase that: I LOVE solving problems. BUT, I guess being a PM for a Public Agency was not the ideal place for me to be. So I quit one year before I was to go on my 'forced' sabbatical with the Army.

The good thing about my job with the Army is that my office is in the Hospital and I get to interact with Doctors. I am sure you know where this is going. Once I get back to the States I will be going back to school, complete the necessary pre-reqs and apply to Med School. That's right I want to become an MD. A running MD at that.

And.... if I get injured from the rather quick ramp-up, my office is right next to the Physical Therapist, who happens to be my friend ;o)

Cheers!

DANCON - May 13, 2007

The march Director announces that there are 30 nations participating and over 2000 Soldiers. DANCON stands for Danish Contingency and the march is obviously sponsored by the Danish. Funny thing is that he makes his final instructions in English. The march is set to start at 0830.

I had previously agreed to march/jog with SGT D, but this was before I knew how carrying 25 lbs of extra weight meant; this on top of the combat boots that tend to make my ankles roll.

The march begins and we have a couple of hundred Soldiers in front of us. We start jogging on the right flank. It’s difficult passing people. We march on. We hit the main road. It’s black top, thankfully. We try jogging again but my heartbeat goes haywire. The temps are in the high 80s, in the shade mind you. I realize the heat and the extra weight will cause havoc on me if I attempt to follow our plan. He is young and wants to take off. I tell him to go on; I expect to reel him back; I use the experience of having run 35 marathons. Ahh, but this march is an entirely different beast altogether.

So he takes off and I am left by myself as the only US Soldier in the near vicinity. I am surrounded by Italians, Germans, Swedish, French, and other nationals. Up ahead, two Italians are handing candy out to the local children. The road is a mild descent and I am clicking 9:10 klips. If I can hold this pace I will break 4 hours. A far cry from what the eventual winner will do, 2:17. That’s right, the winner averaged 8:45 mpm!!! Humbling to the nth degree.


I manage to keep a steady pace and not too many Soldiers pass me. At the 6 Km marker a fellow CPT catches up to me and chats for the next three Ks. We reach the first aid-station and I grab two water bottles (500 ml) and head down a mild descent. I lose the Captain. The road is unimproved and I already feel the blisters burning the bottom of my feet. The friction between my feet and the boot is increased three-fold.

Have you danced with the Devil lately?
Have you marched with the devil lately?
Have you marched with blisters lately?

Two female Soldiers pass me. It hurts my male ego, but I accept the fact that they’re the better Soldiers. I rationalize that they’re full time Soldiers and I am just a part-timer. I wonder how we would match each other in a marathon.

No worries. I march on. The road is in poor condition. It’s hard to have a good footing. Then we hit Km 13 and the start of the only significant ascent. And what an ascent it is. It is quite steep and the disrepair of the road makes it more difficult. It will be roughly 2.5 kilometers of constant climb. Several Soldiers choose to take breathers by the shade. I keep on marching hoping to get over the climb, the sooner, the better. I pass more Soldiers. My heartbeat is in the 170s. The climb is not for the faint of heart. My lungs scream, kind of like in a 5K race. My ipod provides me invaluable company. I wish I had pain-killers, to make the soul forget what the body is going through. I want to separate the two entities. [take that Decartes]

Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name…

We're beaten and blown by the wind
Blown by the wind



The views remind me of the Santa Monica Mountains. I get a little nostalgic. I reach the apex of the loop-course. The descent is awaiting me. I dread it because I know my blisters are getting worse by the minute. I wish I can use the pull of gravity to make up time lost in the climb. Several Soldiers pass me. It is quite humbling. The road seems to flatten. My ankles have rolled several times, but luckily none have resulted in sprains. At Km 17 my left ankle rolls once more, but this time I cannot keep my balance and I tumble to the ground. A Swedish and a German help me get up. They ask if I have been drinking water. It is apparent that they think I dropped due to heat stress. I tell them I am fine. And I am. I only bruised my hands and an already bruised ego.

I march on. 8.2 Klips to go. I keep repeating this mantra: pain is nothing [tm]. The music helps sooth the pain; it even seems to disappear. I pass another km marker. More Soldiers pass me. It's becoming the norm rather than the exception. We reach a village where black water is coming from practically every house; the foul odors are hard to bear. I breath in through my mouth. Children ask us for candy I surmise. I am not sure if they're speaking Albanian or Serbian.

I reach Km 21, and I know I am not too far from the finish. The road is even worse here. There are several puddles and I am forced to walk around them. I march on.

I am closing in on Km 24, and this female Soldier passes me. Damn. I am really losing steam, not that I had any. There is this made up bridge. After I cross it, there are only 1.2 kms to go. I decide to jog this last section. My feet are burning, my shoulders are sore. No matter. I go for it. No guts no glory. Pain is nothing, I remind my soul.

I pass the entrance to the Danish Camp. I can smell the finish. I make one turn. Another turn. Where the heck is the finish? Finally, there it is. I cross it with my watch saying 4:10, or 16 mpm pace. I am not done though; I still have to make way to the registration table where I will get my medal (military) and my certificate of completion. The end is so anticlimactic. No crowds to cheer you in. I then head to the medical tent where they will treat the dozen or so blisters. Ah, if I could only have a couple of brewskies. SGT D finished in 3:23, second US Soldier finisher and 47 minutes ahead of me. I sincerely congratulate him on a job well done. I head to our van to drop my backpack. I am so sore, and my feet are in so much pain it's hard to take a single step. My only consolation is that a fabulous Danish brunch is awaiting me.



Cheers.

Why do you run? & RAW format

Why do YOU run? Do you run for yourself? I'd like to say that I run to feel alive. Sounds poetic doesn't it? I can't say that I enjoy it when I am hammering that last mile in a 5K and my legs are hurting and my lungs are burning, but one must admit that pain is proof that one exists, that one lives.

I, I'm still alive
Hey I, but, I'm still alive
Hey I, boy, I'm still alive
Hey I, I, I, I'm still alive, yeah

While I do believe that is the reason I run, the REAL reason I run is to keep unnecessary calories away. After all, I love pastries and beer :-)

Interestingly, Reebok came out with the 'Run Easy' campaign, brought to my attention courtesy of Sempre Libera, and I must admit I made premature comments on her blog. Then I googled for more info and I ran into this article in USA Today and the campaign made more sense. Now, I am sure the creators never thought they would end up insulting serious/dedicated runners. I also had forgotten about ADIDAS (my shoe of choice) owning Reebok. What an irony. It's almost like Good vs. Evil. Day and Night.

On a totally different note, while following some links I ran (no pun intended) into this guy, Luis Montemayor, who includes a tutorial to convert RAW images into highly creative pictures. Being the amateur photographer, I found them quite easy to follow. Now, I can't wait 'til I get back to Los Angeles and experiment with my Nikon D50. I highly recommend it.

P.S. The photo shows two german beers. They're non-alcoholic because I am in detox and am not allowed to drink. Just kidding! :-) BUT, what is true is that I am not allowed to have alcoholic drinks :-(

Cheers!

Speedwork for a Dork

I had not ran since Saturday. The tight piriformis led to a tight hamstring which led to knee pain. At least that is my story and I am sticking with it. I was also feeling in a rut so I decided to give the legs a rest. A well needed rest.

I warmed up for two miles and headed to the 1/4-mile amorphous-shaped track. The goal was to hit repeats at 90 secs or thereabouts. The day was rather warm, 75 degrees. I started prudently with a 92. I like taking 60 sec rests in between the repeats. Then I ran the following times: 89, 88, 88, 89, 88, 86, 86. From this data I will shoot for 88 secs for 400 repeats, and 3:08 for 800s. It was nice to set the legs free after not doing any structured speeddork in over 16 months.

I cooled down with two miles. Went to the gym and did 10 pull ups. Afterwards, I was craving an IPA, Sierra Nevada. 5.5 more months. I love beer... and beer loves me :o)

Tomorrow I have 9 on the menu.

Cheers.

Te Dejo Madrid

Back in April 2005 I went to Madrid with the intention of, what else?, running the marathon. I ran well, negative splits and a 3:31 time. The day before I went to 'El Prado' and the Thyessen. I have always enjoyed the Thyessen and its impressionist art... it's a quaint, small museum.

The day after the 'thon I felt pretty good so I made my way to the Reina Sofia, to view arguably Picasso's masterpiece: La Guernica. I spent close to 30 minutes admiring this work of art.

While I had seen it in previous visits, it still made an impact on me. Little did I know that I was going to be more *impressed* with a Mexican exposition that was being held there. Of note was two tires that had Aztec inspired carvings. Then as I am about to walk away, I see this block of concrete, lying on the floor. I thought to myself, hmmm - WTF, how is that art? I get closer to the 3X5 card describing the 'work of art.' *It* actually had a fetus inside. I was mesmerized...I am sure the artist was aiming for the shock value rather than the artistic value, but what do I know? I wonder how the US would react to something like this. Read this article, if you know Spanish :o)

The Race

I tend to find excuses to travel abroad. Signing up for the Madrid Marathon seemed like a good idea, considering I had failed to qualify for Beantown by two minutes. Unfortunately, I had not had a decent base going into this race, much less decent training; I had ran hardly any from the beginning of the year, due to a multitude of upper-respiratory infections, until 6 weeks before the M; and then it was an average of close to 30 miles a week. The training, if it can be called that, included two runs of fifteen miles and one of seventeen. What scared me the most was the 17 miler [at the Boston Marathon - yes I bandited part of the course] which I ran just five-and-a-half days before Madrid; I actually ran the last five miles at faster than my intended marathon pace (7:35) and this gave me hope I could break 3:30. But then I ran four miles on Thursday morning (4/21) and tried to run the last three at 8 minute pace and while I was able to do it, it felt TOO hard. Did I leave too much in the 17 miler? Oh well. I would find out soon enough.

I left for Madrid later that afternoon with a brief layover at CDG. I arrived in Madrid at 3 pm local time. Took the subway to my hostal and took a shower. It was now 5 pm and decided to go pick up my *dorsal* or bib number. The expo was about 2 miles from the hostal and decided to walk there. Part of the marathon actually went by portions of my walk to the expo, and let me tell you, there were some rather challenging hills. Not good.

What I found at the expo was nothing spectacular. They charged 7 euro, but it was free for runners. In the runner’s bag, there was the official T, an FM radio and a singlet. Also, the organizers use single-use timing chips – wonderful idea IMO; if a runner owns a chip, he gets 5 euro discounted off the entry fee.

I had dinner and went to bed at 10 pm. I did not wake up until noon the next day. Slept for 14 hours!!!! I honestly do not remember when the last time I slept more than 8 hours. Obviously, I felt refreshed.

The pasta lunch was held on Saturday from 2 to 4:30 pm. It was free for the runner and one guest. Anyone else would have to pay only 3 euro. Nice. The pasta was simple; nothing fancy but it was enough to carbo-load. Oh and the beer was very cold and tasty; it was so good I had four pints ;-).

The start was for 9:30 and my hostal was located about a mile from the start so I felt 8 am was a nice time to wake up on Sunday morning (4/24). I slept for about 6 hours but felt good from having slept so much the previous night. Jet lag? What is jet lag?

The weather was supposed to be overcast and in the high 50s. But when I came out, wearing a singlet, the sky was clear and in the 50s. So I assumed it would get hotter as the day progressed. Not a good thing since I perform miserably when hot. So sub-3:30 did not look good.

I lined up with the 3:45 group. Again, I did not think I could run sub 3:30 but I still dreamed that if everything went to perfection I could eventually catch up to the 3:30 group. It was quite crowded even though there were only nine thousand runners, with men outnumbering women 8:1.

The gun went off and millions of confetti dropped from the sky. It would take me over two minutes to cross the first mats. Right away I knew I would have trouble passing runners, especially on the turns; this course has one too many turns. However, I also knew that races tend to thin out by the mid-way point and I was going to make my move then. Yeah, right.

The first couple of klips are on a moderate uphill and I barely average 5:30s and I my singlet is already moist; I take it off (I think I was the only runner sans shirt. IMO, Europeans tend to overdress - and what’s up with the bicycling-type shorts?). I guess a sub-3:40 is more doable and I am okay with that; that is, if I can do it.

I run the first 5k in 26:59, so much for the intended 25 minute 5Ks. Here I grab a 12oz bottle of water. Now, I am not used to drinking from a bottle during training so it took me a couple of aid stations to get used to it. I found myself carrying the bottle for a while and it just did not feel right. Once I figure something that worked for me, my gait felt more comfortable.

At around 10 miles, I was averaging about 8:20 and my mind started to falter. In the last few ‘thons, this has been the rule rather than the exception. I began to doubt if I could even complete the darn distance. I began to dread me being there. thankfully, it would not last long. I began to focus on the race and chugged along. Right before the 20K mark, we ran on a narrow local street that is paved with cobbles. This and the fact that the cobbles are wet, coupled with the sharp descent make for difficult running. To make things worse, the spectators are crowding too much into the road and I feel like I am going to crash into them anytime now. However, the crowds proved to be a moral booster. I begin to lengthen my stride; I begin to gain confidence in my ability to complete this distance. I crossed the half in 1:48:22. Not bad. 3:37 pace, that is if I can hold on. The weather is holding in the high 50s and it is now overcast.

I would hold on even though the wind seemed to be on my face at all times. In fact I got faster at the sixth 5K. I ran it in 23:20!!! Then the rolling hills would bring me back to reality and brought my 5K splits in the 25-minute range.

At the 37K-point a kid remarked to her Mom: look Mom, he’s naked! To which she responded, that’s because he’s warm.

All along the crowds have been supportive and call to us: campeones – venga campeones (champions, bring it on champions). I am feeling quite good but I know the last 5K is all uphill; or at least that’s what the elevation profile shows. It was uphill alright, and it was difficult for I was tired. I did manage to run the eight 5K in just under 25 minutes. I go around another glorieta [traffic circle]and the finish line is straight ahead. There are four arches and I get a bit confused for I don’t know which one marks the finish line. I cross 42K and only have 195 meters to go. Less than half a lap I tell myself but it seems closer to a mile. I cross one arch but I need to cross two more. Damn these are the longest 195 meters I have ever run. As I crossed the mat I stop my watch and it reads 3:31:38. A 4:44 negative split!!! I am really tired but I am quite happy with my performance and I seem to be okay. I am a little disoriented though.

I walk over and get a bag full of goodies. I head over to pick up my Adidas gift for wearing Adidas shoes. It’s a cell-phone holder. Not bad for being free. I then have a large piece of watermelon and it tastes delicious. I also have a beer but this time it tastes quite bitter and pass on a second serving. I eat a banana and start heading home. The mile walk will do me some good. As I am walking I realized I did not get a medal. Oh well. Not a big deal. I have 28 medals already :-). I arrived at the hostal and took a shower. Sprayed my legs with cold water. Later on, while going through the goodie bag, I find a metal rectangle or trophy. I got a similar design when I ran Barcelona. So the Spanish give these instead of medals… interesting.

The following morning I would wake up with no signs of soreness. I have never felt this good. Was it the 17 miler so close to the race? Was it the cold water? I don’t know. I will continue to experiment. I felt so good I actually spent four hours walking in the Reina Sofia Museum that afternoon.

5K splits: 26:59, 25:22, 24:59, 25:16, 24:33, 23:20, 25:16, 24:59
2.195K – 10:53

From the race stats, I passed about 150 runners the first half and I passed
over 1500 in the second half. Boy, did it feel good to pass so many
people :-)

A Very Significant Emotional Moment

Because my running life here is rather boring, I will tell you something that happened to me Tuesday last. I had to go and help out giving humanitarian aid to the local population. Because the villages were rather remote, we were flown in helicopters. The flights went pretty smooth, except when we were about to land back *home*. The pilots circled around with some significant banking and I guess it was then that I dropped a *sensitive item* that contained 15 golden nuggets. I never heard it drop because I was wearing earplugs.

I exited the aircraft not knowing I was missing something. However, later on I was invited to go to dinner to a local restaurant. It was then that I realized IT was missing. My face must have looked ashen, even though I am olive skinned. I knew I was in deep sh*t. I had just experienced a VSEM, or very significant emotional moment.

I had to file a report and what not. Luckily, it was found in the aircraft later that night. Regardless, it made for a sleepless night. A night that had me thinking about running ads. Go figure.

One of the ads that I created has 50-cent performing 'Born to Run' by Bruce Springsteen, with a hip-hop tune in the background, of course. The ad is in black-and-white. There are two runners, one male and one female, cruising the streets of NYC. Chatting without a worry in their minds. They pass a huge billboard with the SHOE and its brand clearly in color. As they're running, the shoes are highlighted in a neon color. They stop and face the camera. I was born to run he says. So was I, she says. Were you born to run? They both ask in unison. The ad closes with the billboard and a question: Are you a runner?

Les Miserables, or should I say: Le Miserable

Last night I was reminiscing about my first trip to Turkey a few years back. The trip was not planned well. I hadn’t even booked a hotel. All I had was a guidebook; I believe it was let’s go turkey. I boarded my connecting flight at JFK. I had one of those midsection seats. There was this rather obese guy, 'D,' seating in an aisle seat close to the left window; I snickered when he requested an extension to his seat belt.

Later on, as we are getting ready to deplane, I happen to stand behind ‘D’ and he starts a conversation. His tone gave him away as being gay [ not that there is anyhting wrong with that ], but then again I have met other guys who sound gay, but are straight. But I digress. He asks me where am I staying. I tell him that I don’t have a place yet, and that I will use my guidebook to find a hotel. He says, oh – you should try the hotel where I am staying. I say – sure, why not. So we share a cab. That year, the Turkish Lira had just been devalued and everything was ridiculously cheap. The ride from the IST to town was $8 and I offered D $4. He would not take them.

We arrive at the hotel and he talks the attendant to give ME the same rate he was getting: $20 for a single room. He takes me to the roof of the hotel where breakfast is served daily and I marvel at the spectacular view of the blue Mosque. D tells me that he has to take a shower and that if I want to visit the Grand Bazzar, and I say sure. We are within walking distance so we walk. He greets almost every vendor we encounter. Everyone seems to know D. We then make our way to Taksim where we ride this seemingly ancient ‘subway.’ Earlier, D had given me a small bottle of Dakkar cologne. All along he is buying me snacks, and I am thinking: oh sh*t, I think this guy is hitting on me. So I find a way to let him know that I am straight, or as Ted Danson in his Sam character would say: “I like babes and babes like me.” [not in those words] He looked disappointed but he took it well.

D tells me that he is meeting a local friend that night and that if I am interested in tagging along. I say sure, why not. His friend arrives with his girlfriend in a brand new Jetta, and takes us to this café overlooking the Bosphorus. We had tea (cay). Then he takes us to this really fancy Turkish restaurant [I tried finding it the second time I found myself in Istanbul with no luck]. As I mentioned before, the prices due to the recent devaluation were ridiculously low. I had a great time with D. He would leave the next morning.

I spent two more days in Istanbul where I visited the standard touristy places. Then I had planned on making my way south to Selçuk. I took a boat ride into the Asian part of Turkey. There I took a one-hour bus ride into what my guidebook described as a nice place to spend a day or two, Bursa. I did not find anything worthwhile there; I wish I had skipped it and just continued my trip south.

The following day I take a bus to Selçuk with a planned stop in Izmir. It is worth noting that Turkish buses are quite comfortable. They serve you soda and a liquid to sanitize your hands. It’s quite an enjoyable experience.

The bus arrives in Selçuk and I look for a hostal in the near vicinity. I find the “All Blacks Hostal." I thought it was rather racist to give a hostal that ‘name’ but little did I know that the owner had spent significant time in New Zealand and was an avid fan of its national rugby team which wear all-black uniforms. The owner even had a ‘kiwi’ accent. He was very nice. Charged me $6 for a room.

A whole bunch of backpackers arrived a few moments later. Most of them where from Canada and had made it there from Greece. They had spent close to 24 hours in a ferry. Ouch. I remember having a conversation with this really attractive girl about what else but running. We agreed to go out the next morning for a run. Sadly, I did not have the heart to wake her up and did not run.

That night the owner asked us if we were interested in going to this typical restaurant a couple of miles from his place. We all said yes. There we had pides (pizza-like snacks), flavored tobacco in one of them water pipes, and beer. We all pitched in and it came out to $5.

The next day, I was given a ride to the Ephesus ruins, still considered one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. It was beautiful; it was magnificent. As I finished crossing the ‘park’ I decide I want to go visit a house where the Virgin Mary and Saint John are purported to have lived. It was a paved road and it took me well over an hour. It was rather interesting.

Then it was time for me to go to Bodrum, which is supposed to be the party capital of Turkey. However, I did not take into account that I was going in the WINTER, hello there. Suffice it to say that the town was empty. I did get to run about four miles, my one and only run in the past three months. It would not have been a big deal if I had not signed up to run the Paris Marathon in a couple of weeks. It is a nice town nonetheless.

I then flew to Ankara for a day. Alas, there was not much to see in Ankara. Luckily, I was only there for a day.

The following day I took a bus to Goreme, in the Cappadocia region. I should note that not too many people speak English and it was quite difficult communicating with people. Without the guidebook I would have been lost.

Goreme was fabulous. The caves, the formations, the open air museum, the underground cities, they were all amazing.

I then went back to Ankara for I had to fly to Vienna on my way to Prague.

In Prague, I almost had a nervous breakdown. For whatever reason I choose not to book a hotel at the airport, costly mistake. Another mistake was that I did not have a Prague guidebook with me. While waiting for the bus to take me to the subway, I strike a conversation with this teenager. I ask him if it would be possible to spend the night at his parent’s house. He looked at me as if I was deranged. And I don’t blame him. Who in his right mind would ask such a request? Not too many I am sure. So as the bus motors away, I have this incredible urge to cry. Me? Cry? For what? A few minutes later I recovered and while looking at the subway map I remember one of the exits led to a hostal recommended in the guidebook I had purchased but failed to carry with me [and the reason was that the trip to Prague was a last-minute decision on my part; I bought my plane ticket in Istanbul]. As luck would have it I found the hostal, 20 Euro a night. I had a wonderful time the three days I spent in Prague. Beer is actually cheaper than soda.

Again, I made another unplanned change to my trip when I found out it would cost me more to ride the express train to Paris, than if I purchased a ticket with KLM stopping in Amsterdam and then CDG, returning to Prague. Of course I had no intention to fly back to Prague for I had a flight to catch from CDG to the States a day after the 'thon.

Having been in Amsterdam a couple of times before helped tremendously as I did not need a guidebook. I booked the Tulip Inn hotel at this last-minute reservations place; the hotel offred probably the best full breakfast I have ever had. While there, I went to the Anne Frank House Museum. Revisited the Van Gogh Museum, walked the channels, had a brownie, or two, or three :o) strolled past the red light district. I also had probably the best Falafel I have ever had, go figure.

Then it was time for me to go to one my favorite cities in the world: Paris. I had signed up to run its marathon but failed to train. I knew I was in for a long day but I felt I could still run it under four hours. The two days before the 'thon I went to Musee Picasso [First time I had seen an exhibition byHockney], Musee Rodin, Musee D'orsay, Musee Pompidue [ Fell in love with Rothko and modern art in general] and of course the Louvre.

The day was perfect for a marathon, the course was not technically difficult, but it was probably one of the worst marathons I have ever ‘run.’ Aside from the lack of training, knee pain hit me early in the race, at roughly two miles. I ran, more like hobbled, manipulated my stride, stretched, skipped, to no avail. I crossed the finish line in 4:08 and visibly in pain. I was one miserable dude. But as Forrest would say: stupid is as stupid does.

If you made it this far, my hat goes off to you.

A

NYCM Lottery

On a whim, I decided to apply for the lottery. I felt that if I got in, great, even if I couldn't make it; I could always defer. Alas, it was not meant to be. I filled out the required info in the first pop-up, hit 'continue' and I got this message: 'An unknown system exception has occurred.'

I know it's silly, but sometimes I let unexpected events decide for me. This is one of them. It's like rolling dice. Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. I guess I'll be visiting NYC some other time. San Francisco, here I come. :o)

Oh, and instead of picking Tucson as my BQ attempt, I have decided to give CIM a try. Ironically, they are both held the same day: December 2nd.

Cheers!

The Four Pillars of Running

Training: Explore what works for you. Each individual requires tweaking with Daniels, Lydiard, the FIRST program, Galloway, you name it. Increase mileage slowly, to prevent injuries. Someone recommended not to do speed work until I had ran 10,000 miles! Do I agree with that person? Yes and no. The ambiguity of my answer is that it depends on the individual. What works for Paul Tergat WILL not work for me [genetics]. However, what works for someone of similar talent [or lack of talent for that matter] just MAY work for me. The bottom line, be conservative and at the same time don’t be afraid to try something new. Caveat: do know your abilities [see below]

Know Thyself: No, this is not a philosophical statement, but rather a simple concept to know what works for you. In my case, I have been known to train too hard and THAT has led to injuries and setbacks. Now I can safely say that I know myself, and I know what works for me. For example, I know that rotating THREE pairs of running shoes has held SOME injuries at bay.

In the past, 40 mpw seemed to be the magic boundary; once I ran more than 40 mpw, I seemed to get injured. In hindsight, the 40 miles were run too hard. Now, I try to run three quality runs and the rest of the mileage is purely aerobic. Ironically, I am currently suffering from knee tendonitis. Simply put, listen to your body; it’s okay to rest from time to time.

Fueling/Hydration: Self explanatory.

Enjoyment: If you don’t enjoy what you’re doing, then why do it?

Patriots' Day 2007

This satellite Boston marathon was to start at the same time as the men’s elite back in Boston. It started a few seconds behind but it was pretty nice nonetheless. The Star Spangled Banner was played. Two Apache helicopters flew over us and all 40 or so runners were ready to go.

The course was one small loop of about 1.1 miles, and four identical larger loops each measuring 6.1 miles and which included the infamous MOAH . This race was not in my plans. It was my intent to run half and call it a day, but I was pressured into running the whole thing. Now I use the term running very loosely because I knew I would walk the MOAH every single time. I knew it would cost me at least 90 seconds each time, but the enrgy conserved was much more than worth it.

I started slow, about 8:30 pace. This place is quite hilly and the course was brutal. My goal was just to use it as a long training run, particularly knowing well in advance that it was .8 miles short of a certified marathon. The first 8 miles were more like a warm-up; i knew I was in business ;-)

I was probably in 15th place when we approached MOAH for the first time. Two or three runners run it and passed me at the same time. I pay no attention, for I respect the distance, even when is short. The weather was in the low 50s with winds 10-15 mph and gust up to 22 mph. It was not bad at all. While the headwinds were a bit tough, I ran through them at the same perceived effort I had been running.

It is worth mentioning that I had always wondered how being well hydrated would feel like. I have tried in years past to drink enough the eve and morning of the race without much success. I have always felt a bit of tiredness during the early stages of ‘thons. Of course, it has not helped that I usually have three to four drinks the evening prior. So how could I ensure to be well hydrated? A thought crossed my mind [it doesn’t happen too often ;-P] what if I have a lactated ringer’s solution IV (1L)? So I had one three hours before the start of the race. And, drum roll, never have I felt better. The last two loops were run in 8 mpm pace. And the perceived effort running this course is about 30 secs slower. Oh and the elevation is 1800 feet above MSL. With the exception of knee pain for about two miles (12-14) I felt stronger as the race went on. Sure I felt fatigued after 22 or so. But I was able to pick it up the last .5 miles. I finished third over all in a time of 3:30:45, or 8:17 pace.

Once again, the day after the race (today) found me feeling fine. I will be doing some easy runs for the next couple of weeks and then start building up the volume.

A NYC Trip Down Memory Lane

After mentioning to Uptown Girl about how I went to NYC for eight straight years, all most during the month of November, it ‘forced’ me to go down memory lane.

1997: I had been bitten by the bug of running a marathon, even though I had only run one race before, and it had been a total disaster for me. I had been running semi-consistently – read: 5 miles, three times a week. To test myself I decided to run 18 miles and see if I could complete the race. I think up to then, the longest I had run was nine miles or so. While the 18 miles were not easy, they were not hard either. I knew I could do one of those what-you-ma-call-them. What marathon did I choose? Certainly not Los Angeles … Boston ? I didn’t even know one was run there. It was NYC. Why? You ask. Because I was infatuated with tall buildings (still am).

The NYCM happened to land during the weekend of my BD. So I booked a flight and made reservations at the Hilton-Millennium hotel. I went to the City that never sleeps with one goal in mind: to run the darn marathon and to see one of the greatest cities in the world. BUT, I went unprepared; I went without doing ANY research. Stupid is as stupid does.

I managed to find out that the marathon expo is taking place across from Columbus Circle , so I make my way there, walking mind you. It took me almost two hours to get there. Can you see a pattern? I get there and the expo is HUGE. I make my way to registration and I am told the race has been sold-out for weeks, that the race is so popular that the NYRRC has to hold a lottery. Could my naiveté have been more obvious?

So I walk disappointed through the expo. I stop by the Disney marathon which was still in its infancy. Mickey is there as well as the then 100 m WR holder: Maurice Greene. I see the medal they give out and I instantly fall in love with it and I know I want one. The race is being held in two months and I fill out a registration form on the spot. They make me pay an additional $15 because they require me to be a member of USATF. No worries. [I ended up running a 4:02:3X. Not bad for a debut marathon, but I walked way too much.]

My flight was departing at 6pm and I head to the 42nd Station to catch the A-train for Rockaway. Not knowing how many times the NY-MTA changes schedules, I spend an hour seeing A-trains fly by me w/o stopping. Then I see a flyer stating that the A-train to JFK does not stop there. Argh, I fret I will miss my plane.

As I am about to head to the ‘right’ station I see this guy wearing a Mylar blanket and a medal. I ask him for his time and he says 4:XX proudly with a grin. Darn, I want to run the NYCM more than ever.

1998: Three of my friends and I decide to make a trip to the east coast in early spring. We visit DC, NYC and Bahston. NYC was a blur for we only spent two days. We did get to go to the top of the Statue of Liberty. i don't remember if I applied or not to the lottery.

1999: I go to NYC during the summer, just for the heck of it. I attend happy hour at TGIFs in Times Square . Have three draft beers and some appetizers, all within an hour. I am buzzing and head towards Central Park . My dream had been ‘till then to run in Central Park . So I run in jeans and a polo shirt. It must of have been quite the sight. I am sure people thought I was crazy. I must have ran 3 miles at about 8 mpm pace.

I also get to visit the restaurant on top of one of the Twin Towers . I keep a rectangular match box, with the skyline and a blue background. I still have that match box.

I also enter the lottery and actually get in. I decide to stay in Secaucus to save dinero. That decision almost did not pay off as I frantically searched for a bus route that would take me to NYC and then catch the train to the NYC Library; I was so stressed; thankfully, I made it to the busses okay.

This will be the only time I would run the whole distance. The next four times I would walk for significant periods of time, while wanting to quit every single time. I remember how cold I was and how much I hated it waiting in Staten Island for the start. Three hours there and with the bitter cold winds made it ugly. I did get to chat with a couple of Mexican Nationals, one who would run with me for the first eight miles.

I finished in a not-too shabby time of 3:47:25. Oh and two runners pushed me during the race, how rude? Oh and the end was just so windy and cold. Walking that mile to get out of CP was just added torture to an already tough day. I also had to catch a plane at 10 pm.

2000: Do not get into the lottery. Decide not to go to NYC and go to SF instead.

2001: Do not get into lottery, but get contacted about volunteering to run it with a disable athlete at no cost to me. I happily agree. I get to visit ground-Zero and the sight is unforgettable.

I get to ride with the Achilles buses and meet Saul Mendoza and five-time winner of the Los Angeles marathon, wheelchair division. I ended up ‘helping’ out two wheelchair athletes and complete the ‘thon in just over four hours. There is no official record that I ran the race as I did it as a volunteer. I think it was 4:03 and change. I am in pain because I ran the Marine Corps Marathon the week before. The irony does not escape me that I ran two marathons back-to-back in cities where terrorists changed the American way of life. America has not been the same since; 9/11 is forever engraved in our very souls.

This was also the year that I found the Chirping Chicken the best chicken in the world; I make sure I eat there at least once every time I am in NYC.

2002: Applied and got into the lottery. Best race yet with a 3:40:39. First time I take the SI Ferry to the start. Much, much better than the busses. I don't understand why locals don't use this service. Particularly because of the fact that those busses do not stop for bathroom breaks, and they do not have facilities in them!

2003: This year would be known as the P-Diddy Marathon, or as it was advertised: Puff Diddy runs the City. I had a very rough time and HE passes me somewhere inside the Queensborough Bridge. I managed to find some grit and make my way to a better-than-expected 4:01:46 beating P. Diddy on the way.

I passed him right about 20 miles. He was constantly grabbing his calves. Poor thing.

2004: I religiously applied once again and get in, AGAIN. I have dinner at Tavern on The Green to celebrate my BD.

This is by far the most painful of them all. I swear I will stop running the NYCM. It seems so masochistic of me to come back again and again. Finish in 3:42:19. But the time does not really tell the mental struggle I went through. Suffice it to say, it was more than tough. It was here that I decided to get serious with my marathon training. It was time to fulfill my endurance potential.

2005: I break down and apply but do not get in. Still, I find my way to NYC for marathon weekend. It has become a tradition to celebrate my BD here. I celebrate my BD at some burger joint that was recommended in an article I read; its name escapes me, but the burger is HUGE and quite tasty.

I end up cheering runners nonetheless and I have a ball. It was nice to be on the other side, but my feet itched to be hitting the blacktop.

2006: Again, I apply BUT when I find out that I will not be able to be there I send an email to NYRRC and ask them to withdraw my application. They oblige. I spend my BD in Heidelburg, Germany.

2007: Right now I am on the fence as I don’t know if it’s worth applying since I don’t even know if I will be able to be there. Besides, the fee alone is enough to scare me away. I’ll wait until the end of this month to make my decision.

The 'Mother of All Hills'

One of my 'friends' wants to do a so called marathon. I refrain from calling it a 'real' 'thon because I suspect it to be short by at least a mile. The guy has not run more than 9 miles at a time, so I suggested to him that he needs a LONG run to get a taste of the distance, even if it's not a real marathon and it's only 25 miles.

Now, the course where this wanna be marathon is taking place is monstrous. It's four loops and change. Each loop includes a hill that, in my mind, is the mother of all hills (MOAH). It is about 1/3 0.21 [see what I mean, thought it was 50% longer; I run it at 11 to 12 mpm ace and my legs and lungs are spent when I summit it] of a mile and it's STEEP.

For the long training run I have suggested we do a short loop (~4 miles), 'THE' loop, where I point out that we WILL walk the MOAH, then another short loop, and 'THE" loop where once again we will be walking the MOAH.

The run went better than I expected. He was real tired for the last three miles but he survived with a just over 9 mpm pace. We ran 17.5 miles according to my Garmin 205. Not too shabby.

I have also agreed to do a 15.5 march with him where each of us will carry a minimum of 22 lbs and the route has a significant gain in elevation. I am hoping to jog parts of it. This march will take place in May.

Oh and the 25 mile race will take place on Patriot's Day.

Challenge

That's it. It is time for me to challenge myself once more in running. This time I intend on ramping up the mileage to 40ish mpw for the next two months. Then I am hoping to stay healthy and hover in the 55 mpw average for 5 months before I try to run sub-3:11 in what an acquaintance calls the stupidest distance on earth: the 'thon. That's right, you read it here first :-) I am also aiming at breaking 19 mikes in the 5K.

The plan is to mix Lydiard with the FIRST program and see what the outcome is. Stay tuned faithful reader(s). I know Mom, I won't forget to take out the trash. JK :-)

For Whom the Bells Toll

I found myself in the eternal city a fifth time where I was to tackle their marathon a second time. Having a decent base (30 mpw) but only three medium-long runs (two 15s and one 16) suggested a sub-3:30 time. Of course, having averaged 3:21 in three marathons last year, I wanted to run sub 3:25. Good thing I have experience in these journeys and I settled for the more conservative goal.

The race starts promptly at 9 and it takes me a tad over a minute to cross the starting line. I am running quite easily, almost TOO easily. Again, my experience dictated I keep this easy pace, but I am being passed by tons of people including the 3:30 pacers. I let them go and decide to reel them in slowly but surely. First klip is run in 5:52… ooops, that is too darn slow. The 3:30s (they have blue balloons) have gained about 200 meters and I know I have to pick up my snail pace. I seem to keep them within sight and slowly reel them in. My pace seems more labored than the sub-five minute klips and I worry a bit since it is way too early to feel that way.

The chip is wrapped around my ankle with a Velcro strap and the fact that I tightened it too much causes it to chafe my ankle. I ponder where I should stop and remove it. I do it right after the 5KM mat (25:31). I also take care of business. I lose about 35 seconds; no worries. I place the chip in my shorts’ pocket. I do wonder if the chip will transmit to the receiver as I cross the following mats.

I seem to start getting into a rhythm BUT I can’t seem to gain much ground on the blue balloons and I really question the sanity of trying to achieve my modest goal. This portion of the course happens to be rather boring, but it becomes somewhat interesting right after the 16Km where we pass by the Vatican.

European races give water and electrolyte solutions every 5 kms, and the tables get quite crowded. The cups the organizers used were made of plastic, which made it quite difficult to fold and drink without making a mess. The volunteers were few and runners had to reach into the tables to grab the fluids which made it seem more chaotic. In between water stations, they provide sponge stations, which IMO is great, particularly during warm days.

I reach the halfway mark in 1:44:59, barely on schedule. Will I have enough ‘enjundia’ [energy] to run negative splits. Not the way I am feeling. I am hopeful though. I plod on. I concentrate on my gait for it has turned into the marathon shuffle. It seems to help. The course remains boring until we hit the 32 Km marker. 10 klips to go, or roughly an hour left. I can do this, I know I can. My secondary goal was not to walk and so far so good. Next I hear tolling bells and I wonder for whom are they ringing. The 5 minute klips are harder to sustain. I know it will be very close to run the sub 3:30 and quickly I am losing hope. I convince myself that anything in the low 3:30s will not be so bad.

We are now through the most scenic section of the course where I will run pass the Trevi Fountain, the Piazza Novona, and head back to the Colosseum and the Roman Forum. It seems a lot harder to run on cobblestones.

Finally, I reach the 40Km marker and I know that at the very least I will complete this race without walking. My watch reads 3:19:29 and my foggy brain manages to do the math and I pick up the pace so that I can make up 30 seconds in the last stretch. I just hope I will not cramp up. I am passing several runners. I realize that my chip is still in my shorts and that I may not have an official time if the receivers have not picked it up so I take it out. I round the Colosseum and I am but 192 meters away. I will break 3:30 chip time, now I gun to break 3:31 ‘real time.’ My legs feel strong and as I cross the finish line I lower the hand that is carrying the chip so that I will have an official time. My watch is stopped with the chronometer reading 3:29:47, or 8:00.54 mpm. I barely achieved a negative split of eleven seconds but I will gladly take it.

The next day found me sightseeing without any muscle soreness whatsoever. A good sign; a good sign indeed. This time the bells did not toll for me.

Apocalypto

I watched this movie last night. It was a very kinetic movie; my kind of movie. In as much as I'd like to take the Mayan culture as my own, I cannot. One may find traces of their greatness on my skin but that's just about it.

But I digress, as I often do. The movie was extremely interesting as it is seen from the eyes of a Caucasian... not that there is anything wrong with that. The truth is I am not as familiar with the Maya as I should be. I always complained about my fellow MECHA students for claiming to be part of 'la raza' and they did not know the most basic facts about the Mexica... so NOW I will do as much research as the web offers to become acquainted with a timeless culture.

Thinking about the Maya in general, and Mexico in particular, makes me yearn to go back and have some pozole, birria, carne en su jugo, or heck even tacos...

Ohhh, anxiety is setting in as my own Apocalypses will happen but 11 days from now: the Rome marathon. I wonder what my 30 mpw and lack of long runs will produce. Stay tuned... not that anybody reads this blog.

Wake up

I have not posted in a while and today I felt inspired, so here it goes:

Wake up, wake up
Sweet flower of mine
Wake up, wake up
Open your petals to time…

Wake up, wake up
Sweet flower of Seine
Wake up, wake up
And see the sun shine…

Run to the G, June 18th

Saturday June 17th
So it’s been five weeks of almost no running. True, I did run 40 miles in a span of nine days somewhere in the middle of those five weeks, I also feel out-of-shape.

While walking in Federation square I notice a tent with asics on it and that prompts me to think that there will be a race, possibly tomorrow morning. I need to find this out pronto. My hope is that the race is early enough so that I can make my flight, scheduled for noon.

There are three races planned for tomorrow with the start conveniently located about 400 meters from where I am staying. I have to show up early to sign up for the half which starts at 7:30. The cost is 60 AU. The cost is steep considering the fact that a T-shirt is not included, but it’s not like I need one.

Sunday, June 18th
I turn in my reg. form and decide to walk back to my hotel for another half-hour.

The horn sounds and we’re off. I have lined up within the first five rows. I do not expect too many people to be fast. Boy, will I be proven wrong. Since my lungs were definitely out of shape the first klip was taxing at 4:16. Up to this point I was still hanging on to the 1:30 pacer. But not for long. The pace seemed closer to 5K pace and I consciously slow down. Next klip is timed in 4:30. Now, I will be more than happy if I can keep up this pace. This would guarantee me a sub-1:35 finish. Up ‘till now we have ran in the park, with very little need for traffic control. I cover the following klip in 4:16 and it comes as a surprise. Hmmm, I really need to bring the pace down if I want to finish this darn half mary.

I finally feel I am running half-mary pace. But the eighth klip is actually uphill and I cover it in 4:52. No problem, I say to myself. I can still make the sub 1:35, or can I? The race is actually two loops so whatever I am covering, I will see once more. I pass the halfway point in 47:45 or 15 seconds behind schedule. I feel fatigued; I now know I will not achieve the sub 1:35, so I set my goal for sub 1:37; all I need is 4:40 klips and I’ll be there. The 4:40s seem comfortable. BUT just as I round the 16K the half-maries and some of the 5-keyers merge. I have no option but to slow down even more. I struggle to pass the slower 5-keyers. Luckily the races diverge and I find myself running alone. I should mention that in most races I have done, I seldom get passed by women; this is not to say that I am a better runner than women but to highlight that maybe female American recreational runners do not run to their full potential. In this race I was passed by FIVE women; either I faded badly or they were the better runners.

After about one plus klip of solo running, the races merge AGAIN, for crying out-loud. The problem now is that the bike-trail we’re running is too freaking narrow and some 5-keyers are running with strollers. I have to go to the side and run on the grass. I am fully expended and can barely run five-minute kilometers. It must have been a terrible sight. I, the one who always musters energy to finish strong am struggling to finish. My mind wants to push it but my legs say no way Jose. I finish in 1:38:10, and a 2:40 positive split. Oh well; tomorrow will be another day. There will be another chance to redeem myself.

Flying Bacon - May 2006

This 'thon was to be the third one in six weeks with Boston being the meat of the sandwich.

Having ran Boston HARD three weeks prior dictated I take the Pig as a ‘fun’ run, especially when one considers all the warnings about the hilly course. I should note that I have problems with hydration but if I am well hydrated and the day is cool, I tend to have a good race. In Boston, while the weather was cool, I did not feel properly hydrated and felt fatigued throughout the race. In fact, my calves were about to cramp several times from 10-to-21 miles, which forced me to take the hills conservatively and I often found myself tweaking with my gait to see if the impending cramps would not materialize. I tried to maintain pace as hard as my body could and still ended up with a 3:40 + split and a 3:18.

The week of the marathon was difficult in that I felt burned out from running. I found myself NOT wanting to run. I ended up running two ten-mile runs. I sandwiched three and four-mile runs at MP in those 10-milers and found myself feeling miserable. The effort felt closer to 5K and I had a real hard time breathing; this only made me less confident in my somewhat conservative goal of sub-3:30.

During my flight to Indy, I seriously considered switching to the half, but I wanted the bigger medal :-). So my plan was to stay with the 3:30 pace group for as long as possible.

Race Day: I really dislike getting to races early; I just want to show up and get going, so I left the hotel at 5:35 making it to the start with 10 minutes to spare. The 8-minute sign was just behind me.

The cannon booms and we’re off. It takes just over 30 seconds to cross the start. The first mile goes by fairly quickly and the effort seems just about right, 8:09. The first aid station is to my left and cannot make my way over so I skip it thinking the organizers have tables set up on the right. Wrong! So I make my way to the left expecting the tables to be there on the following aid station. Fortunately it was there but when I reach to grab a cup, another runner beats me to it. Not a good sign. I do manage to grab another cup. Mile 2, 7:41, misplaced marker??? I am running with the 3:30 pace group and feeling strong in spite of the fact that I only managed to sleep for maybe two hours the night before. We’re going across a bridge and I look over to the right and see a spectacular sky, with a gorgeous pink splattered all over.

As I make my way towards the next aid station, a female running just in front of me slows down more than I expect and clips me with her heel right on my left shin. It is painful and I have to hobble for several strides. Another bad sign? I would miss the next two mile-markers.

A set of technical hills begins around the five-mile mark. I slow down to grab a cup of gatorade, which tastes awful ;-[, and I fall behind the 330s. The tap water is just not palatable, it has too much chlorine. My stomach is gurgling and I think I have to go potty :-(. I try to ignore my stomach hoping it will go away. I plod on. These three miles are run in 24:08. I keep on climbing. Mile 7, 8:18 and toughest of the hills. Since I am still running ‘easy’ the hills do not seem as difficult as I thought they were going to be, which IMO is good. Mile 8, 8:06, and the downhills are about to begin.

For most of this time I feel a slight head wind. I hope that this same wind will be on my back on the long stretch home. My stomach keeps gurgling and I know I HAVE to make a pit stop; I just hope I can find an empty porta-potty. I make my way to one and I beat this other runner to it. It must not have taken me more than one minute but when I come out, obviously, the 330s where nowhere in sight. I knew I could reel them in, the question was how fast. I decided to run what felt like 7:30s. The major hills being behind me made it that much easier. Mile 9, 8:51. Mile 10, 7:27. Mile 11, 7:26. Mile 12, 7:32. I was feeling pretty good, especially because I was passing several runners, including those in the relay. Mile 13, 7:45, and I am still being gapped by the 330s. Now, I was thinking that if I felt good at the half, I’d try to hit 7:50s for the second half. So at 14, I decide to make my move and pass the 330s, 7:48.

Mile 15, 7:44, I begin to ponder if I can hold 7:45s. Mile 16, 7:31, great, I bank some time in case I need to slow down the pace. Mile 17, 7:38. Mile 18, 7:30, previously I had lost a gel in the process of taking off my gloves and I end up grabbing two packs; I think they were crucial to my never hitting the wall. Mile 19, 7:25, wow, can I average 7:40s on the second half? I re-revise my plan. Mile 20, 7:39, cool, I am still feeling strong, the tail wind helps a great deal. Only 10K to go. Mile 21, 7:25. Mile 22, 7:30, at this point I wonder if I can hold this pace and finish under 3:25. Mile 22, 7:39, I can now see the church steeple and I hope that I reach it quickly. The problem with some landmarks, and when one is having a rotten day, is that they seem to be farther than they are. Lucky me, I am having a great day and reach Mile 23 in 7:31. I know feel sub 3:25 is in the bag, but can I finish sub 3:24? Mile 24, 7:39, I am beginning to feel tired but know that there are only 16 minutes or so left. Mile 25, 7:50, WTF? No way could I have slowed down that much, especially when I know how to gauge my pace fairly well. No matter, I will push the last 1.2 miles. I am getting closer to the Reds Stadium and can savor the finish line. I pray I do not crash into some spectators who cross the course. I round the underpass and I really gun for the finish. Mile 26, 6:47, hmm, yeah, another miss-placed marker. Last .2 in 1:22, woo hoo, and a 3:22:45 chip time. Life cannot get any better. ;-)

According to the timing company I ran the last mile in 6:33. I am pretty sure the 25 mile-marker was off at least .05, maybe .06 of a mile. I think I was maybe running slightly sub 7 minute pace that last mile but not 6:33. Makes me wonder if the course was short... hmmm.

Could I have run a better time? Certainly, but I do not regret the way I ran it. I ran an almost 6-minute negative split and it shows on the fast recovery. The day after the race found me with no soreness whatsoever.

Patriots' Day 2006

Boston 2006 was to be my ‘coming of age.’ I really wanted to qualify for Boston at Boston; this meant I had to run a sub 3:16. In spite of my minimalistic training, 40 mpw average, I felt I was ready for I had done three quality runs each week with several long runs of 18 miles or longer.

The weather on Patriot’s day turned out to be ideal, and thus, I could not blame a possible bad performance on it. Yes, the asphalt was the stage and I was the main actor. Corny, I know; the 'benefits' of a substandard education.

I made it to my assigned corral with barely 2+ minutes to spare. My legs felt okay, and more importantly I was confident. We take off and the first mile comes at a not too fast 7:41, which is more than acceptable to me since I want to avoid starting too fast. In the next few miles several faster runners would pass me which did not bother me at all; I knew this would happen, after all this is not your typical marathon.

I go through the next three miles in the mid 7:10s and I ma pleased for I am running easy, just the way the first few miles of a marathon should feel like. The next four miles would be just under 7:30 with the same perceived effort and I suddenly became concerned. I tried to pick it up and the following mile comes in at the expected pace, although the effort was greater. At this point my calves began to feel as though they were about to cramp. I was obviously dehydrated. The four beers the evening before did not help. The feeling of the onset of cramps would come and go for the next several miles. Mile 12 comes and I am looking forward to the Wellesley girls section. The three previous times I have ran this race I have never dared to stop and kiss any of the coeds. This time was different. I saw one holding a “kiss me” sign and I stopped and went over to kiss her on the cheek. It did not downed on me that the salty taste of her cheek meant that one, or more, runner(s) had made kissed her before me. Oh well. I must say that this stop gave me a huge adrenaline boost and I ran this mile in 7:23. Great, I am slightly ahead of my goal.

Now, I must say I had planned on banking one to two minutes in the first 16 miles, give them back the next five miles and finish strong with 7:25s the rest of the way. But we all now how planning turns out in running. I will venture to guess only a small minority meet or exceed their expectations in a goal marathon.

So I hit the half-way point just 45 secs ahead of my sub 3:16. Not too bad. The real problem is that I am beginning to feel tired. Again, I suspect I was not well hydrated prior to the race. As I hit the beginning of mile 17, the Newton hills begin and my calves, once again, began to cramp. I had told a close friend that anything over 3:20 would be a failure so I decided to ‘run’ the next five miles easy. I figure if I kept a tad under 8 mpm pace I would make it close enough. Mile 17 is 7:51 and I am pleased and continue with the shuffling gait. I am actually surprised it was ‘that fast.’ I surely felt like a slug. The other times I ran this race, I always found myself walking at different spots in the hills. Not this time. I was determined to not walk a single step. I run Mile 18 in 7:58. I am still ‘running’ conservatively, yet I feel tired. The next mile passes in 7:37. Wow, where did this one come from? It must be a net loss in elevation. I get to 20 miles in just under 2:30; if I had felt stronger I would have made a run for a sub 45 for the remainder of the race. But I didn’t and besides, I did not want to jeopardize my ‘back-up’ goal of sub-3:20. Mile 21, the one with heartbreak hill, comes as the slowest mile in 8:09.

The next five miles are downhill and should not be a problem for me to run them in sub 8 mpm. In spite of the downhills, they are difficult and my heartrate is a bit higher than I’d hoped. The one good sign was that I was ‘banking’ a few seconds here and there. My mind was so foggy that I didn’t realize I could actually break 3:18. In fact, I had given up on breaking 3:19 altogether; I was just hoping to run in the low 3:19s.

I now see the Citgo sign and it could not seem farther away than it does. I get to the 25-mile marker and notice this woman in black shorts is running a strong race and try to stay with her. We turn, and there is this mild incline and I try to drop her, but she stays with me. We make another turn, this time onto Boylton Street and we both can see the finish banner. Mile 26 is a rewarding 7:32 and she is pulling ahead of me. Darn it! I did not want to push it this late in the race. But the testosterone kicks in and I push it one last bit and manage to barely stay ahead of her. I begin to lift my arms sideways, mimicking an airplane and they feel so tired. I cross the finish line in a chip time of just under 3:18, thanks to the black-shorts woman; had it not been for her I would have taken it easy and finish a tad over 3:18.

I worked hard for this race and not having met my goal sure makes me feel disappointed. But I am pleased with my run because I left everything on the black top; I gave it my very best effort that Monday afternoon; I gave it my all… and that race was respectfully dedicated to the memory of my Mom.

Next up: Flying Pig in two weeks.

Rome Marathon - Vini, Vidi, Vinci

I had hopes of staying in the city center but lo and behold, when I tried to book a hotel recommended by a friend, it was full. So I ended up staying in a B&B about 5K south of the EUR FERMI station and whose owners are really wonderful people.

I signed up for this race back in October but had trouble with my credit card. Back then the fee was only 25 euro, a bargain. The fee went up to 40 in January 1st, and to 50 later on. When I went to retrieve my bib number I wondered which fee they would make me pay. They honored the 25 Euro! I was then given a coupon to pick up my book-bag (rather nice) which contained some goodies and a t-shirt.

Lets fast forward to race day. Maurizio (owner of the B&B) gave me a ride to the Eur Palasport station and I took the metro (Line B) to the circo massimo station. The station happens to be about a K from the start. There were lines for the portas and I ended up taking care of business and using the last of the toilet paper.

The way the organizers seeded runners was in four corrals. Corral A was for elites, B for bibs under 3000, C for bibs 3001-6000 and D for the remainder of the runners. While waiting for the start I realized I had not placed band-aids on my nipples. Ouch. However, some lady had left a case of vaseline and I used it sparingly.

The Plan: Originally, I had devised a first half at 8 mpm and a second half at 7:30 mpm. But then I second-guessed my plan thinking that it would be too tough. So I came up with a second plan, to run sub 3:20. BUT when I saw the rather large group of runners in front of me I discarded it and decided to run for fun.

THE RACE

The 3:45 pacers are to my right. The race starts and it takes me about 1:03 to cross the start. We are right next to the Colosseum on Via Dei Fori Imperiali. The amazing sight makes me feel special. We run around the Campidigio on cobblestones. The pace seems pedestrian. It’s rather warm and I am already sweating. I ‘run’ the first klip in 5:45, way off the sub 3:20 pace but it’s rather enjoyable for I am taking in the sights and sound... and odors... and I am gald I threw away the sub 3:20 goal. I bisect the circo massimo and the foro romano. Then I run along the river. I hit the 5K marker and my watch reads 25:20. I have managed to make some time. I then make my way towards St. Peter’s Basilica and around the Vatican Museum while passing the St. Angelo Castle. 10K in 49:24. The aid station were enough for us middle of the packers but I was afraid not enough for those at the back of the pack. The tables were labeled: aqua, salts and solids. I did not figure the salts out until 15K where I took my first gatorad... that’s right salts=gatorade. But I am getting ahead of myself. From the 10K marker to the 25K marker the course was rather boring and I struggled to keep focused. Right after the 10K I spotted the 3:30 pacers and gave chase. I did not catch them until the 13K marker where I had to run on the sidewalk to pass their wall made of runners. Two Ks later I had to make a dehydration stop and they caught me. But I promptly left them behind. 15K in 1:13:08. I reach the halfway point feeling rather fresh in 1:42:58.

I wonder if picking it up will not hurt my time three weeks later in Boston, especially since my hamstrings feel a bit tight. I decide for a mild pick-up. The 25K mark comes in at 2:01:36. Not bad but it is getting harder to focus. Then around the 27th K the course gets more interesting as I go through the piazza novona and then the torre argentina. But I am struggling, mentally not physically, after all I have had my best training yet out of all my 32 marathons; but the mental strain is quite palpable. The next sight is the piazza del popolo right before 30K (2:25:50). Now, my only objective is to finish. I figure 5 minute Ks will bring me home at a decent time, hopefully sub 3:26 for even simple calculations are not so simple.

During this stretch one italian runner literally zooms by me at sub 6 mpm screaming ‘il presidente’ to which another italian responds by what I imagine is the english equivalent of a four-letter word. It was entertaining nonetheless. I keep on what is now shuffling. Amazingly I am still maintaining sub 5 min Ks as I pass the Spanish Steps, the Trevi Fountain and the piazza venezia.

Then I reach the colosseum as I run right next to the circo massimo once again. Before this stretch my feet had been hurting but I think the cobblestones massaged my feet making them feel better, or was it psychosomatic? (35K in 2:50:20). Seven Ks remaining and I know I am close to ‘home.’ This part was rough in that it’s and out-and-back section and seeing faster runners on the other side weakens the spirit and the left knee is aching. The mild head wind is not helping either, but I know I will have it on my back when I reach the home stretch. I get to the s. paolo church and it is only four-point-two Ks left and I manage somewhat of a decent gait. I am now running 4:30 Ks. I see the 40K marker (3:14:24). I am feeling stronger by the minute. The colosseo is just in front of me. There is this short but technical incline; I power past it almost without effort. I really pick it up now. An inflated arch is right around the colosseo and I think it is the finish line. The joke is on me. I look at my watch and see that only 7+ minutes have gone by since the 40K mark, I realize I still have over 400 meters to go, ouch. In spite of this I manage to keep a good form. I extend my arms in the form of an airplane. A big smile on my face springs to life. This time the inflated arch I am looking at marks the finish line. I cross it in 3:24:10 by my watch and the chip (which was in my bib number). The official clock reads 3:25:13.

I am happy to have finished a marathon ran on historical grounds of roman proportions :-). I will cherish this medal more than any other medal because it is a work of art. A renowned Italian artist actually designed the medal.

Next in line is the 110th Boston Marathon where I will chase a sub 3:16 goal.