LA Marathon: From Walking Wounded to Winner

The weeks between the Sedona Marathon and Los AngelesMarathon should have been focused simply around an abbreviated training schedule but instead became a lesson in unintended consequences.

On a sunny Saturday morning I took my young cairn terrier Kelty with me for what should have been a short run through one my favorite hiking (and running) spots, Water Dog Park in Belmont. I try to take Kelty here about once a month as it provides tons of great smells for him,  challenging hills, interesting technical trails and sweeping views of the South Bay. Kelty’s been through basic obedience training and was very good at sticking by my side when walking off-leash in this park. We hit the park and took off at a run, six legs moving in stride, and then hit the switchbacks that take you up towards the back of the Hallmark Drive neighborhoods. Kelty fell a little behind but I looked back before taking each switchback to ensure he was making each turn. However, about half-way up he wasn’t behind me. I stopped and called him and heard him scurrying  and barking. I called him again but figured he had heard a rabbit or bird and was taking chase. However, when I reached the prior switchback he was not there, nor on the one below or anywhere on the trail below or above. I listened for him but now he had grown silent – not even the jingling of his collar could be heard. Uh oh.

I kept calling him, looking and listening for him and running up and down the trail in hopes of any sign of where he had gone. After twenty minutes with no sign, I began to panic. I called Reesa and she rushed down to the park to help me look. After twenty more minutes, we still hadn’t heard him. Not good. A few other walkers and runners went by and none had seen or heard a small dog either.

This was very worrisome as the woods and bushes in Water Dog Park get very thick the moment you get off the trail and if he had chased a rabbit far off trail the chances of finding him; and he finding his way back to me were slim. And a fact I tried to keep in the back of my mind was that Water Dog Park is also home to coyotes and mountain lions.

Kelty had disappeared just one switchback behind me and so I knew from where he must have disappeared into the bushes. Time was not on my side and so I decided I needed to go further off-road.  In my running shorts and technical tee, no gloves, no long sleeves and just a phone, I started stomping and pushing my way through the bushes where I surmised he most likely left the trail. I wished I had had a machete as working my way through the bushes was incredibly tough going. I went straight, or as straight ahead as I could, for five minutes calling Kelty then stopping and listening. No sound. So I pushed on. Looking back the bushes were as thick behind me as ahead. I could easily get lost in here, just as Kelty had. Five more minutes passed calling and listening and then there it was. The sound of jangling dog tags. I frantically tried to pinpoint the direction of the sound. I smashed bushes to the west, the sound waned. I switched to East, better but still faint. I pushed further south away from the trail, better still. I pushed even further south, lost my footing and went down in a heap snapping branches, snagging my shirt on thorns and scraping up my legs. But better, the jingle was right ahead. I grabbed a large branch and pulled it hard and behind was a small clearing and down on all fours looking back at me with a mix of worry and shame was Kelty. He knew he had done wrong.

I worked my way through the bushes the rest of the way to him and pulled him into my arms hugging him tightly while saying to myself for the millionth time that morning that I would never take him off leash again. After we both calmed down and greeted each other, I called Reesa to give her the good news and then turned around to see which way would be the easiest back to the trail. Uh oh. Which way was the trail? In every direction the bushes were thick. I was pretty sure I knew how to go North and that the trail would be found that way. After pushing through about 50 feet of bushes, I could find no trail. Was it left or right from here? I couldn’t see the clearing either direction and no one was on the trail this morning. And then someone was. A group of hikers went by and their sound pointed me out. I fought back the branches with one arm while cradling Kelty in the other protecting him from the snap back of each branch as we moved finally out to the clearing and back on the trail. Whew.

I took Kelty home, ensured he wasn’t hurt then took to the shower and to applying first aid to all my scrapes and cuts. There were a lot of them but I felt they were a small price to pay for getting Kelty back and I certainly deserved it for putting him at risk like that, I told myself.

The following day was back to normal and I went on a long training run in Pacifica. The following Monday I flew off to the east coast for work. As I sat in my seat on the five hour flight, I noticed a few of my cuts, especially on the backs of my legs were getting itchy and seemed to be oozing a bit. I didn’t think much of it until I got off the flight and the backs of my pant legs were completely soaked with it. I got to the hotel and took off my pants and found both my legs, from ankle to upper thigh were red, covered in welts and several were actively oozing clear yellowish liquid. What the heck? I felt fine the day before.

As the week wore on, it got progressively worse. More oozing, strong itching and growing redness were taking over my legs. Poison oak had struck me hard. I flew back home mid-week and immediately went to the doctor who said it was one of the worst cases she had ever seen and immediately prescribed antihistamines and a steroid cream. I got into a routine of nightly oatmeal baths and wore long underwear under all my clothes to keep my garments from rubbing the wounds and keep any ooze from ruining my suits. This went on for more than a month before getting significantly better. And of course I kept accidentally reinfecting myself which prolonged the affects.

Through all of this I had to find time to train and of course tolerate that training. Three weeks in, it was time for the requisite 20 miler before the marathon and it’s hard to find a course that isn’t near or through the woods. And as I had learned, once you have a bad poison oak attack you are overly sensitive to it for the rest of your life. So for the long run I covered every inch of my body and after it was over rubbed Tecnu all over my body. The run was okay, not too uncomfortable. It was sitting, walking and generally just going about everyday life that was worse.

A couple weeks prior to the LA Marathon, I was thoroughly frustrated with the weeks of poison oak attacks and was having a particularly bad day when, while exiting my car, I accidentally caught my thumb in the door as it closed. I jerked my thumb free and let out a primal scream of pain. It immediately turned dark purple filled with blood beneath the nail and swelled up to twice it’s normal size. The pain was worse than a bone break for sure. I immediately elevated it, doused it in cold water and reached for the iPad to research what to do. Oh boy, this was going to be another fun recovery.

So when it came time to travel to LA for the Marathon, here I was dousing my legs (and now my arms) in steroid cream, popping antihistamines and tenderly trying to make sure I didn’t bang my thumb. Heck of a way to prepare for a marathon.

Obviously I didn’t have any expectations for this marathon except to finish. We arrived at our hotel in Santa Monica around rush hour on Friday, which provided a quick reminder of why I don’t live in the LA area any more. We avoided the freeways of course but it still took over an hour to go twelve miles. When we arrived the Fairmont Hotel was a great oasis. Our room overlooked the pool and ocean but you couldn’t tell because the fog had rolled in. We rested in the room and planned for a nice day visiting family and friends, picking up my race bib downtown and shopping for a spell on the Third Street Promenade. Saturday evening we met up with our fellow LA Marathoner friends at a killer Mexican tapas restaurant in Santa Monica, Mercado. They served the freshest, most inventive dishes I had ever had in the Mexican genre. Everyone went crazy for the roasted cactus and the incredible desserts.

The following morning, I took the bus from Santa Monica (the finish line for the race) to Dodger Stadium where I again met up with my fellow racers. Yan, whom I had met through TNT in the Bay Area had moved to Brentwood so was the local in our group. Kent grew up in Brentwood and so was using the trip to see family, while the rest of us were looking forward to the tour. Having lived in LA while in graduate school at USC, I knew the town pretty well and knew the course would hit all the hot spots. After leaving Dodger Stadium, it wound South to downtown, past Olvera Street with its little Mexico City feel, and through various neighborhoods on its way to Hollywood. We got a taste of both Hollywood Blvd and Sunset Blvd and a short jaunt down Rodeo Drive in Beverly Hills. Through the first 16 miles Kent and I ran together and had a great time. We were reminiscing about things we had done in LA while living here, noticing what had changed and being surprised by a few things you don’t see when you are driving around trying to stay focused on traffic. Once of the things I will always love most about LA was very apparent during this race  - the oh-so friendly people. We said hi to many other runners and tons of spectators. Everyone was so supportive, encouraging and helpful along the way.

At one point I jokingly asked those running around us, “So how long is a marathon anyways?” and got several helpful replies as well as more than a few chuckles.

I was feeling fantastic throughout the race. It had been cool at the start and mostly overcast throughout which made for perfect conditions. Around mile 17 we headed into the grounds of the West LA Veterans Hospital which is home to one of the oldest, still standing buildings in LA. I hadn’t visited this huge park-like location before and was checking everything out and before we had left, noticed Kent was no longer with me. After seeing his family and pausing briefly for a hug and photos, we lost sight of each other as he, I later found out, had started to feel the effects of the distance and pace we were sharing.

In Brentwood I was surrounded by other runners holding a similar pace, so I stuck with them as we entered the 20s. I still felt great which is unusual for me this late in a marathon, and when we passed the 25 mile marker, I knew today was going to be a great day. My nutrition plan was working perfectly, I had the right gear, the right shoes and definitely the right mindset. I felt good enough in fact that I decided to pick it up for the last mile. Rarely do I have the energy and stamina for this but LA was different. So did a woman near me apparently as we jockeyed for the lead back and forth over the final mile and straight up the finishing shoot. I crossed the line at 3:39. It was a hard finishing sprint and I felt its effects as I cooled down in the finishers area. But the overwhelming feeling I had – all day in fact – was joy. This was a great race. And the poison oak and smashed thumb barely even registered in my mind.

After stretching and cheering on other racers I met up with the rest of our group at a classic Irish Pub in Santa Monica wear we toasted a fantastic course, great day and the sense of accomplishment with, what else, Guinness.  Man, I love running.

Is My Aura Glowing? Sedona Marathon 2013

With a tough, mentally challenging but at the same time rewarding year of running in 2012, it was time to start 2013 with new experiences and in the process I think I found my second favorite place in the world.

If 2012 was all about speed and a goal unattained, I felt 2013 should be about healing. Seemed appropriate then when my good friend John called up to say he had just registered for the marathon in Sedona, Arizona and wanted to know if I would join him. I’d wanted to go to Sedona since my wife and I hiked the Grand Canyon. On the bus trip to the biggest hole in the United States (outside of Washington, D.C.) we passed the byway to Sedona and everyone chuckled about having their aura read, mystic vortexes in the mountains and the wacky artists that populate the place. It sounded like a cross between Santa Fe and Haight-Ashbury. I had also heard it was home to some of the most renowned spas and rock formations in the world.

To make the trip more memorable we decided it shouldn’t be about the run but a chance to bring our wives and make it a vacation – with a short 3-4 hour Sunday morning interlude. Boy was this a good decision.

Reesa and I had spent the holidays with family and our work years had started off fast and furious so a break from the action in early February sounded like a great decision. We booked bungalows at The Enchantment Resort & Spa, not knowing much about the place other than its excellent reviews on TripAdvisor.

As for training, I had taken it easy after Santa Barbara and was running for myself, not the miles. I worked up to 16 because I felt like it, not because I had to. I had also started the year by focusing on reconnecting with the SMS running club and making running more social. When it was time for a 20-miler, I went back to my mainstay – San Francisco to Tiburon and on an absolutely gorgeous January morning 10 of us took in its incredible sites and a fabulous breakfast out of the patio behind Sam’s watching the sun rise over The City.  

It was a good omen.

My wife and I flew to Phoenix that weekend then had a wonderful organic breakfast at The Farm at South Mountain. The place is less than two miles from the airport and literally is in the middle of a farm. It was a perfect setting on a beautiful sunny day.

Heading North from Phoenix about 90 miles up we hit the same scenic byway we had seen that weekend with the hike team but this time we took the turn and literally no more than five minutes later I got a sense of what was in store for the weekend. Looking North towards some pretty standard Arizona desert mountains a crack appeared at the top and behind it was a rich red stone as we turned the corner further that crack turned into a valley ringed with rich reds and oranges that created a valley unlike any I had ever seen. I lost count how many times I said, “wow,” and “amazing.” I drove slow (which is a big deal for me, as those who have carpooled with me will tell you) looking for the best, any, place to pull over, step outside and take it all in.

Sedona’s red hills were everywhere we looked and created incredible formations. Now I know why so many people come here.

We hit the town and nearly ran out of town looking for the resort. Good thing we kept driving because it was past the town, down deep in a red rock valley nestled up against the hillside. Constructed in a deep red adobe, the resort blended in beautifully with the canyon and there were views of the mountains everywhere you looked.

Saturday we took simple hikes around the valley and visited the center of town. If you go, know that the attractions here are the nature, not the town. There’s enough town to sell gear to all the hikers, curios to take home to the curious relatives and galleries to show off what it seems everyone does for a living here – make art inspired by the surroundings. I mean no disrespect to the native economy; even Rodeo Drive would land a distant second to these mountains.

On race day morning, John and I drove from our resort up to the race start which sat on a plateau overlooking the incredible mountains. As the sun began to rise we saw hot air balloons in the distance gliding over the scenery making for some incredible pictures. The temperature was nearly perfect. Desert mornings, especially this time of year, can be very nippy but with no clouds in the sky and the sun rising quickly it was in the mid 40s by race time. We shed our layers, left them in the car and headed to the start. 

How’s this for an envious beginning: The start was a downhill slope overlooking the canyon so that everyone lined up to race could look straight ahead and see over everyone’s heads and above the Welcome banner to see the sun turning sandstone every shade from red to brown. If a gun hadn’t gone off, I might still be standing there staring in awe.

If there’s any downside to all this natural beauty it’s that there’s no flat in Sedona – anywhere. Certainly not for 26.2 miles. So the marathon was a constant up and down. No climbs were significant but the race starts at 4,000 feet and you go up and down every mile or so gaining 500 feet at a time.

The course is an out and back through the same canyon where our resort was located. It starts out on paved roads and about seven miles in switches to red dirt trails, which felt great on the feet and knees. John and I started off at different paces so we lost sight of each other after about three miles. No more than two more miles in and I found myself side by side with Pete a professor of Forestry at Northern Arizona University, in Flagstaff. He had driven down that morning to run the race and turned out to be nearly my exact pace. We shared life and running stories for the next 15 miles. I’m sure he got sick of me ogling the mountains and constantly muttering, “just incredible” but if he did, he kept it to himself.

There’s a big reason I run with friends – the miles go by so much faster and easier. This was certainly the case that day. Normally in a race with so many ups and downs of this magnitude each subsequent climb would drain you for the next. But we held pace.

The race was very close to our resort and our wives simply had to walk about a third of a mile to the fork in the road to see us at around mile nineteen. As we rounded the bend, there they were and not just waiting. They had been drafted into the volunteer water stop and were cheering for everyone. I like to think they cheered a little louder when we went by. I’m pretty sure I was the only one to get a big hug. :)

Shortly after seeing Reesa, another hill came and I started feeling the miles. It was warming up as well but I don’t think that was as much of a factor as the 20-plus miles that were now behind me. During the next downhill, I slowed considerably wanting to maximize the recovery but that might have been a bad idea as the next hill was more than a mile long and I didn’t have it. Pete, and his fresher legs left me, which didn’t help and I found myself walking a bit towards the top of the hill. The course leveled off again with less than a mile to go then turned into the small village. I looked up ahead and there was the finish – up yet another hill.

Knowing I was close, I poured on what little energy I had left and finished strong. Okay, semi-strong. But felt great. In fact, I felt amazing. Not because I wasn’t tired but because I had regained what I had lost in 2012 – the love for running. Nothing beats the feeling of crossing the finish line after a hard effort and I remembered that this time. It was an incredible day, in an incredible place. I feel like it healed me.

Thanks, Sedona. 

Santa Barbara Marathon 2012 - A Homecoming Marred

My first real college experience was UC Santa Barbara so running the marathon here was set to be special treat. It wasn’t for several reasons. First and foremost, it’s taken me a long while to return to this running blog because 2012 was a year I messed with my mental state about running. Second, Santa Barbara mapped the race around its best features – gotta fix that. Third, a revised nutrition plan failed.

I’m someone who thrives best when I have a goal and, as many of you know, a marathon alone isn’t good enough a goal anymore. So at the end of 2011, I set out to make 2012 the year of the personal record. And not just besting my Arizona Rock & Roll time of 3:17 but to break an elusive mark –3 hours. I asked a friend and former New Balance Running Team member to coach me. He set out a realistic plan mixed with long runs, speed work at the track and lots of hill work. It was a reasonable plan and one that helped me with speed for sure. If you’ve read my blogs from the earlier runs in 2012, I struggled all year to see the benefits of that training come earlier than planned and messed up my race plans a couple times. The goal event for that race plan was this one – Santa Barbara.

All my training runs since the ET Midnight Marathon had been good – sort of. Work travel had picked up in the latter half of the year and that had some effect on how much I was training. I was also forced to resign as a TNT coach due to work travel – I simply wasn’t able to be there often enough for the participants. Having been a coach since 2007 and a member of this incredible charity organization since 2003, this was a very hard decision for me. I feared I would lose touch with many of my friends – and sadly, I did.

Shortly after leaving the program, however, I was still staying in touch with a few TNT coaches, mentors and captains. One of the coaches told me about a new book he had read on endurance sports nutrition that drew the conclusion, backed by significant research, that endurance drinks and gels provided no greater endurance or energy effects during sustained activities (including marathons). It suggested that athletes using water and natural foods, like raisins and such would achieve greater performance than those succumbing to the marketing from Gatorade and its brethren. So I read the book (or at least the first several chapters) and decided to heed its advice in prep for this race and during it. I tested this new plan first at a half marathon inSanta Cruz, California where it seemed to work perfectly. Thanks to the extra speed work I was able to finish this race in 1:21, sustaining a strong sub-7 pace the whole way and achieving a negative split. This was a huge accomplishment for me as I rarely accomplished a negative split in a race of this length and the pace I held gave me great confidence I could hold this pace for longer – maybe even the full marathon, which would get me my 3 hour finish. My time at this race was good enough for third in my age group but sadly the race was just under a mile short of 13.1 so no PR. But the new nutrition plan had worked. I had good energy the whole way with just water and raisins.

With my success in the half I felt ready for Santa Barbara but noticed something else about my training that I really didn’t like. I wasn’t enjoying it. For me, running is a passion, stress reliever and motivation. I hate the days I don’t get a run in most of the time. Lately, however, I was hating getting up to go run. I knew the training would help me achieve my goal if I just did the work but I was finding that I wasn’t meeting the speed goals in my training runs and it was demotivating. As the race got closer, the pace needed in speed work and the pace needed to be sustained in long runs got lower. On the track I was meeting my goals but on the long runs I wasn’t. I don’t think this was physical – I simply wasn’t enjoying running any more. It had become work, rather than passion; rote instead of joy. It had become so much so that outside of my 20-mile run in Marin County, which is impossible not to enjoy, I just didn’t feel like being out there. On top of that I was finishing these runs far more tired than I felt I should be. Was it the pace? Was it the new nutrition plan? Was it the business travel? I think it was all of the above.

By the week before the marathon, I simply wanted it all to be over.

It was early morning the Friday before the marathon and I woke up in a strange bed. My friend and work colleague John Rymer and his son, Zach, the lead baseball writer for BleacherReport were carpooling  down to Santa Barbara to do the marathon with me and I had taken BART over to John’s home the night before. After waking in his guest bedroom, it was time to wash up quickly and quietly so we could get on the road early that morning for the 5 hour drive. We decided to head down Friday so we could spend some time with a company client and cloud computing leader, Rightscale at their headquarters. John hadn’t met them before and I was overdue for a refresher on the leading cloud-first DevOps management vendor.

We arrived in Santa Barbara to cool overcast skies, a good omen for the race. My wife and friends from the SMS running club came down later that day and we met up that night at a fantastic restaurant for the pre-meal well-wishing and hopes-sharing for race day. The following day we spent downtown walking State Street, visiting the beach and just relaxing and enjoying this great city. It had been 27 years since I had walked State Street yet it was still the heart of Santa Barbara. The street is filled with fashion shops, head shops, surf shops and the odd sandwich shop. We passed by the movie theater where I first saw Back to the Future, a fond early college memory. We didn’t make it over to the campus of UC Santa Barbara or over to Isla Vista or Goleta beach which were popular college hang outs. I figured I would see them all during the marathon. I was wrong.

I tend not to look at a marathon race course before race day. I prefer to be surprised by the scenery. I look over the elevation profile, however. Not an issue in Santa Barbara. On race day I wondered whether the marathon should be renamed the Santa Barbara suburbs marathon instead. We saw several outlying neighborhoods of Santa Barbara, skirted the university, passed through the town of Goleta but missed the campus, IV, State Street and everything else that makes Santa Barbara what it is. The finish was along the ocean, which was perhaps the main saving grace.  Or maybe it was just my mood.

Sadly, for me, Santa Barbara was supposed to be the fulfillment event of all my year-long training to break three hours. I wasn’t even close. After feeling strong through the first half, my new nutrition plan of water, raisins and a Cliff Bar at the start were failing me. My long run experiences of not being able to handle the pace, proved true as I slowed substantially in the second half. I had resigned to myself that 3 hours was likely out of reach even before I started the race but had said I would go out at the pace that felt good and listen to my body. My mind told my body, about 18 miles in, that today wasn’t the day and that if Santa Barbara would go as anything it would be the end of a year of training that, frankly, I just didn’t enjoy. At the end of the day I didn’t even try to break 3 hours. I instead, simple wanted to get it over with. It didn’t help that my hopes of visiting the campus, running down the bar-filled streets of IV and triumphantly flying down a downtown street would be squashed by an anticlimactic course.

To me, that was just icing on the cake. I was more relieved than happy when I crossed the finish line. It was a tough finish. I was much in need of nutrition. The new plan had slowly depleted me of what I needed and made the final five miles agony – a far contrast from the half just a month earlier.

It’s disappointing because a marathon should finish with an incredible sense of accomplishment. All my marathons prior to 2012 had been exactly that. My conclusion about 2012 was that pursuing an unrealistic goal (I know that now) took the love of running from me, instead turning it into a job. Sadly it was a job I really didn’t like.

That day was tough for everyone. It was hotter than expected and the lack of scenery seemed to sap John, Zach and others as well. We took our solace in a warm shower, great Mexican food on State Street and Guinness. If anything, the ending was perfect.

ET Midnight Marathon Lit Up the Sky

Back in 2009 I first heard about The ET Midnight Marathon, this wacky marathon being held in the Nevada Desert at midnight along the notorious Extraterrestrial Highway -- the spot in the US that has the most reported UFO sightings. It was held at midnight each year, during a full moon cycle. It was strange, geeky and challenging all at once. How could I say no. Well it took me three years to find room for it on my running calendar and it lived up to all the expectations.  

I convinced my work colleague and fellow marathon fanatic, John Rymer, into joining me. We flew into Las Vegas Saturday morning and were immediately hit by the summer heat that was pushing past 100 degrees. This would normally be a warning sign that a marathon on this day was a very bad idea. But for anyone who has lived in the desert you know that temperatures can swing wildly from day to night. And Rachel, Nevada, which is in the high desert, above 4000 feet, the temperature there can be up to 15 degrees cooler. That meant 100 mid-day in Vegas and sub-70 degrees come race time. 

After getting lunch at Sammy Hagar's Cabo Wabo Cantina and watching the thrilling Men's 10,000 meter Olympic final from London, we headed over to the expo which was filled with similarly crazy people - about 600 or so -- who also wanted to run in alien territory. The majority of participants were there for the 10K or half marathon but about 150 hearty souls signed up for the full marathon and about ten more for the 51K. You can't have just a 50K when running alongside Area 51, after all. 

We went back to our room to get a short nap, dress our chairs, eat a little dinner and relax before the 2.5 hour bus ride from Las Vegas to Rachel. Since the race is at midnight and no lighting is provided, everyone is required to wear reflective material, a headlamp and glow sticks. That's the minimum. Plenty of people went over the top, of course. 

When we got to the bus stop at the Hard Rock Cafe, John and I both had alien heads bobbing above us and sticky little aliens dangling from our belts. I joking told people they were there to ward off any possible abductions. But we were no match for some of the other costumes we saw. Marvin the Martian from Looney Toons fame was there in full regalia - including the full helmet and mask. As was a Power Ranger, and several Hollywood-style aliens. As for illumination, I was thoroughly impressed with the women who wore a blinking bridal veil, the man who's whole back blinked and the walkers who were so covered in glow sticks that they lit the road wherever they stood.

The buses dropped us at the "black mailbox" which signifies the start of the ET Highway. Way off to the right from here is the US Air Force base best known as Area 51 and suspected by many to be where the military is housing downed UFO spaceships. The "black mailbox." ironically is painted white and painted on its side, (in black paint) is "We believe."

This fun, wacky setting was a perfect setup for what would be a rather tough marathon. Starting at 4500 feet, the course went up roughly 1000 feet over the first 13 miles, then dropped the next 7, arriving at the town of Rachel and The Little A "lee" Inn. That's the finish line but since we're doing 26.2, not 20 miles we bypass the finish and continue along the ET highway 3.1 more miles and turn around. 

Sounds simple enough but this turned out to be a very tough course and a harsh conviction of my lax training over the last few months. Work has been very stressful and all-consuming over the last couple of months, so getting sick and not getting enough sleep over this time period really did me in.

I started out strong at 7:26 for the first mile as I broke free from the crowd of 150 or so marathoners. By mile two I pulled the pace back to 8:20 without really noticing it, as we started the climb. By mile 5 you could really feel the climb but I was holding 8:30s.

As the marathoners started to spread out you could really take in the beauty of this desert. As far as you could see to the left and right were fields of dirt and cacti that disappeared into purple mountains in the distance. Ahead of you was a flat road rising and disappearing at the horizon. It was a full moon with just scattered clouds so you could see thousands of stars overhead. This made the evening very special as I saw ten shooting stars throughout the race. And yes, I made a wish on every one. Mostly health, happiness and long life for those I love.

Around mile 8 I was getting mild stomach cramps. I had a PowerGel at 5 miles and was planning another at 10. So I decided to back off to every six miles and that seemed to help.

I was also steadily passing other marathoners every half-mile or so. By mile eight, we started catching up to the back of the pack half marathoners so you never really felt alone on the course.



By mile 11 the climb got more significant and pushed my pace back to 9:30, then above 10 for mile 12.

At 13 it leveled off, then started descending but I had burnt a lot of energy climbing and so couldn't pick up the pace as much as I would have liked. I was around 8:30-8:45 each mile through 21. Then I hit the wall. Miles 22 and 23 were rough. 10 min miles. I was tired. The last 6 miles are out and back, turning at 23.1. When I turned the volunteer told me I was 21st overall, and there were two people ahead if me that I felt I could catch, so I picked up the pace and got a second wind. Their blinking lights and reflectors made them beacons in front of me that drove me forward. I wanted a top 20 finish! 

But pacing was still not great, I could only muster 9:15-8:40 but by mile 25 I had caught and passed them both. Now I wanted to keep that lead so I kept the pace strong through the finish and ended 19th.

Time wasn't great - 3:56 but I'll take it given how I felt.

I definitely don't think I'm fully recovered from being sick the last few weeks and obviously a midnight start put me at a sleep deficit. It's now Monday and I'm definitely feeling a bit off. John and I crashed on the bus ride back to Vegas and in our hotel room after we got back but I'm definitely still feeling it today. 

I know I could have run this stronger under the right conditions. Oh well. Now I have 12 weeks to get sleep, prepare properly, get in more consistent speed work and shoot for the magic 3:00 mark I am seeking at the Santa Barbara Marathon in November. Wish me luck!

Finally, a negative split - Capitola Half Marathon

After my self-proclaimed disaster of a test marathon in Napa, I finally got my head on straight at the inaugural Capitola Half Marathon. I know, I know, this race was back in May and now it's July. Suffice it to say that I have been buried with work and just couldn't prioritize writing this up so apologies if it sounds like old news. But to me, it is a very big deal to have finally - after 9 years of serious running - run a negative split in a race of this length.

Receiving the prize for 3rd in my age group

As many of you know my goal for 2012 is to see if a man of my age can actually improve his time in the marathon and more-so, take off nearly 17 minutes and break the 3-hour mark. I started this journey back in January of this year and have been making steady if slow progress towards this goal. I started the year in marathon shape and after adding in several weeks of speed work, thought I'd test my training with the El Paso Marathon in February and the Napa Marathon in March. In both cases, as is often my mode, I went out feeling great and thus went a bit too fast resulting in a much-declined pace by mile 25. For Napa, I was determined not to do this but ended up doing it anyway, ugh. Ok, so an old dog can learn new tricks. Or so I hoped that would be the case as I lined up at the start of the Capitola Half Marathon. I knew the course -- it was roughly the Wharf to Wharf course, (which I will be running in July) times two (out and back). the weather was good - sunny but cool. I had a plan - hold back and keep the pace above 7 minutes per mile until the turn around, then let it go. This would be the (psychologically) hardest thing I've ever done. 

This race was small and felt pretty informal as we all roughly gathered behind a small inflated starting line arc. To ensure I didn't take off like a banshee, I stayed well back from the arc and chatted with my friends Spencer and Kent all the way up to the gun. I then casually turned to the arc and started running. First mile: 7:01. Right on plan, I decided to pull back a bit more so I wouldn't be tempted at all to speed it up. This run has a fair amount of hill climbing so I figured that too would keep me from pushing it too much. What was working against me was that at this pace I was still passing a lot of people and the urge to chase down the leaders was rising in the back of my brain - because I could see them ahead.

Thankfully as the miles accumulated so did the lead they had and so I was able to surpress that desire. I stuck to the plan as we weaved our way from the Santa Cruz beach boardwalk and into the cute town of Capitola. The course was nearly the same as Wharf to Wharf except for one turn we didn't make which would made this course a bit shorter I thought. As we entered Capitola we passed right down the street where Reesa and I had taken her mom and step-dad several years ago for what would turn out to be his last vacation before succumbing to cancer. I immediately thought of our time there sitting on the beach watching the waves and waves of bikini-clad girls go buy, which always brought a smile to his face. 

We turned right toward the wharf in Capitola and off to our left were the leaders who had rounded the town square and were coming back. I started counting them just to see how many were ahead of me. Not that I could catch them, they had well over 5 minutes on me but just for fun. As I lost sight of them as I started to round the town, I had counted 15 runners ahead.

When I hit the straightaway climbing the beach road away from Capitola, I turned on the jets and pulled my pace well below 7 minutes per mile. when I hit the 8 mile marker I was running 6:25; too fast. I pulled it back but only a little, as I was feeling good and was quickly catching and passing runners in front of me. What a thrill!

I kept the pace up repeating a mantra to myself of "keep pushing" while remaining conscious of how I felt and ensuring I wasn't tipping into exhaustion which would ruin my finish. The speed work was paying off as I was able to stay below 6:50 as I hit mile marker 11. I had passed several people by this point and if my calculations were correct there couldn't be more than ten people ahead. This would be my first top ten finish in a half marathon. Amazing! I kept pushing and was reeling in the first-place woman I had seen fly by in Capitola. Within 200 yards I passed her, said "good job" and then realized it was fellow TNT alum Riya. 

Riya with the award for faster woman

I pushed on with the boardwalk now in sight and calculated when I should push the pace even more, for a strong finish. I wasn't sure if the finish was back through the same arc and we hadn't hit the 12 mile marker yet so wasn't sure. By the time we got to the boardwalk I couldn't see the finish in front of me, so figured it must be a bit further ahead, but couldn't be much more, so I put the hammer down. There was another runner ahead and I wanted to take him before the tape. 

We passed the boardwalk and I still couldn't see the finish. Had I pushed too early? Could I catch this last runner and stay ahead of him. I wasn't sure. then I started hearing the crowds and a volunteer directing traffic. It had to be close. I pushed the hammer down even more and flew past this last runner. The course turned to the beach (which explains why I couldn't see the finish) and just as it dropped to the sand it was over. 

Finisher results from Capitola Half Marathon. My first top 10 finish!

I had done it - a negative split. And I felt fantastic! i was definitely tired but couldn't have been happier with my plan. Turned out the course was a bit short of a full half marathon - 12.88 miles but I still had finished strong, landing a top ten finish and third in my age group. I was ecstatic. Now I know I can stick to a plan and overcome my own stupid brain. I could go out slower than I think and not suffer as a result. Now I just need to put it all together again at twice the distance. 

Next try: In August at the ET Midnight Marathon in Area 51. Now that should be fun.  

Go Out Like A Cheetah, Die Like a Pig: My Napa Marathon

They say that doctor’s make the worst patients and I think the same must go for coaches. In Team in Training we have been preaching for years that runners need to pace themselves in the marathon, going out slower than you might feel up to, so you have energy left over for the final miles which are always the toughest. You’d think after 36 marathons that this learning would have sunk in and become second nature to me. Oh well.

After several years of coaching our TNT participants through the Napa Valley Marathon it was finally my turn to run it. I certainly knew the course well enough – it is one of the most scenic marathons you can do in the Bay Area. TNT had rotated NVM out of its event list for the winter/spring season to introduce other events and so that weekend I was finally free to try it out myself.

Kelty, Scout & I in Napa

We started the weekend by piling our two dogs into the car, driving up to Napa, getting my running bib and finding a place to take the dogs for a run. Reesa had found a fantastic park in Napa, Alston Park. It's just off Redwood Road and turned out to be the highlight of the weekend. This park was dog friendly so our kids could play freely off leash and run around in over 30 acres overlooking the hills along The Silverado Trail, where the marathon takes place. It was an absolutely gorgeous weekend with temperatures in the 70s and crystal clear skies. It rains on Napa Marathon weekend pretty much every other year and I was running it in the right side of this binary sequence, it seemed.

Living just a couple hours away from Napa we rarely stay overnight there and so it was a pleasure to do so, especially knowing what time I would have to get up the next morning for the race – 4:30am. Before going to bed, Reesa and I went to FuméBistro, a fantastic organic restaurant in Napa for a romantic dinner. We had excellent food in this small gourmet place and a touch of wine (I think it’s a crime not to have wine with dinner up here – or it should be).

The following morning, Reesa graciously got up with me and drove us to Vintage High School where I caught the first bus to Calistoga and the starting line. Sitting a few rows back was fellow TNT staffer Davina who had driven up from Menlo Park that morning. And I thought 4:30 was an ungodly hour! We chatted on the 25 mile ride and were fortunate to be able to stay on the bus from the time we arrived until just minutes before the start. It was in the low 40s in Calistoga at this hour and so we cherished the warmth. I had hurt myback working out Saturday morning and it was aching badly sitting in the school bus bench seats, so I exited a few minutes early to run around and test it out. On finding that running hurt like crazy, I  decided to lay down in the middle of the street and stretch it out. Very bad timing to hurt my back but thankfully the stretching did the trick.

As you may know from my last post, my goal this year is to run a marathon in less than 3 hours, which is shaving 17 minutes off my currentpersonal best. Napa was the first test marathon of the year and so far the speed training had been working well. The weekend prior I had completed a 10 mile tempo run at my target marathon pace of 6:50 per mile and felt like I could have held this pace for at least 5 more miles. That gave me confidence that the 7:25 per mile pace I needed for Napa (which would lower my PR to 3:15) was definitely doable.

Here’s where my heart got in the way of my brain. I know that to hold the 7:25 I really should start out at this pace and store energy so I could still be running this pace the final miles. But I took off feeling great and decided to listen to my body for the first couple miles. It felt great at a 7 min/mile pace. It felt so good in fact that the emotional part of me started bargaining with the logical side. The argument was, “this feels great and is 10 seconds per mile slower than the tempo run last weekend. I held that for 10 and could have for 15, so this slower pace should be achievable for, what, 20 miles? That would give me a 3:08 and propel me much faster toward my goal. Wouldn’t that be fantastic!?” Of course it would, but as it turned out, it was also foolish.

As miles 6 and then 7 went by I was holding the 7 min/mile pace with easy confidence. I had slowly passed a few folks who looked around my fitness level who had clearly pulled their pace back as I should have. One in particular was a 30-something brunette whom I would see later.

I was still holding this pace at the halfway mark, turning in a 1:31 for 13.1. At this point a collection of runners around me, started to pick up the pace. Clearly they were stronger runners than I and had held back so they could register a negative split. I don’t think I’ve ever done one of those and certainly was smart enough to know not to follow them. I was still feeling good so I stuck to my plan and the 7min/mile pace.

By mile 15, however, I began to fade. I still felt good and so at first the slowdown escaped my notice. I checked my Garmin at the mile marker and saw 7:25. So I picked it back up and hit 16 miles at my prior pace. That was a mistake as by mile 17 I was clearly getting fatigued. I passed that marker at 8:25 per mile and could not maintain anything faster the rest of the way. By mile 24 I was dragging big time and had lost another minute per mile. And the 30-something brunette who had pulled it back early on, sailed right by me looking clearly stronger. I passed Reesa and our kids looking very beaten and crossed over the line at 3:19:42. This was still my second fastest marathon but clearly not one of my best efforts. As I grabbed a water and stumbled through the finisher’s area I passed the brunette who was smiling and looking relaxed. Her time: 3:15. Ugh.

Well as I’ve said before, I tend to learn all life’s lessons the hard way and this was clearly no exception. I have 5 months before my next marathon and clearly this experience will prepare me for that race: The ETMidnight Marathon in Rachel, NV. Join me by following the link to the left.

What is it with freezing Texas marathons?: El Paso Marathon

After my Rock n Roll season in 2010, then 2011's Down, Up and Around, I decided to pull back on the number of marathons for 2012. On deck for this year I decided on the Napa Valley Marathon in March, the ET Midnight Marathon in August and the Santa Barbara Marathon in November. But on a training run in January my friend Kent mentioned he was planning to run the marathon in my home town in February. How could I possibly refuse the opportunity to show him the town I grew up in. That's how I found myself shivering and huddling in a school bus with about 300 other folks in sub 30-degree weather 5,840 feet up the Franklin Mountain pass facing down a 20+ mile an hour headwind. 

It had been nearly 4 years since I was last in El Paso, the Mexican border town where I was born. While some of my family had scattered, my favorite aunt and uncle still live there as does my middle cousin with her family. I love them dearly and feel bad every time I talk to them that it has been so long since we have been together in person. To make the trip extra special, my youngest cousin Emily and her family were coming into town from Albuquerque that same weekend.  

After rising at 4am for our Friday flight out of SFO, we arrived in El Paso at 11am and started the trip the way I recommend everyone start any visit to El Paso, at Avila's Mexican Restaurant. This institution, which is about 10 minutes from the house I grew up in, is an El Paso institution, serving up the greatest traditional Mexican food in town, as it has for over the past 50 years. My favorite dish there is their chile con queso, which is made from Mexican white cheese and long green hatch chile strips. None of this Velveeta and salsa stuff here. 

The whole family gathered for this first meal, so we took over their long table in the back. Reesa, I, and my aunt and uncle were first to arrive, followed by Katy and her three kids and Emily and her two boys. Their husbands Jay and Dan showed up shortly after; they had been busy loading up the trucks for their annual "Knucklehead Hunt." This is their annual male bonding event over guns, beer and campfires. After lunch they were off to the airport to pick up my other cousin, Kevin from Austin who flew in for the trip. 

If you come to El Paso, you have to take in three things at least: the incredible Mexican food that is plentiful everywhere, the views of three states and two nations from Scenic Drive and the incredibly colorful sunsets each evening. We did just that the following day when Kent arrived from San Jose.

 If you think you know Mexican food but haven't been to El Paso, you know nothing. Nearly every good place here makes their own tortilla chips and salsa, uses whole green chiles (not Jalapenos) and is very liberal with the cheese. It's a great place for your tastebuds - no so much for your waistline. 

After Kent got off the plane we drove downtown to a small local favorite called L&J's Cafe. Predictably it was packed with UTEP Miner fans and out of towners who had heard of the place from Texas Monthly, Food Network or other outlets who have helped make it famous. Kent had the mole enchiladas, covered in their homemade chocolaty chile sauce. I had tapatias, a favorite dish from my childhood. If you haven't had them (they are sometimes called Tostadas), these are fried corn tortillas, laid flat then covered with layers of refried beans, guacamole (homemade or course), shredded lettuce, tomatoes and cheese. Growing up as a kid, this was one of my favorite dinners.

After this awesome meal we hit the race expo where helpful volunteers were everywhere assisting in finding our bib numbers, getting our shirts and ushering us through the hall. We then went to the local museum of art where some cubist works from Mexico's Diego Rivera were on display. It was the first time these paintings had been shown outside of Mexico and they were part of a large collection from Mexican artists of the same era.

After this we took a driving tour of El Paso which covered the first part of the course that started at the top of TransMountain Road, a very scenic pass through the Franklin mountains that shortens the drive from east to west El Paso by a ton. It also takes you from 3,200 ft above sea level, where most of El Paso lies, to nearly 6,000 feet. The marathon would start at this highest point the following morning. 

When we arrived in El Paso, it was a gorgeous warm day in the 60s - perfect for a marathon. By midday Saturday, the famous El Paso winds had swept in and temperatures weren't getting below the 50s. Come Saturday night, these cold winds were howling. From there it just got worse.

Race morning I arose in a slight panic at 4:38am because my alarm, set for 4:15, hadn't gone off and so it was scramble time to get ready. I had to get downtown to meet Kent and get on the buses to the start line by 5:30am. Made it. Barely.

In it's sixth year, the El Paso marathon is still a small event with about 3,000 runners spread across a marathon, half and 5K fun run. Only about 350 hardy soles were on the buses with us heading up TransMountain. We arrived about an hour before the start and were very worried the buses might leave us there, because the winds were still howling, it was pitch black out and the temperature had dropped below freezing. Add on the wind chill factor and even the woman who had come in from Minnesota for the race was cold. 

I don't know what it is about me and Texas marathons. My first, in Austin, also took place during a freak winter storm that put that start line below freezing too. 

Thankfully the buses stayed put with the heaters on to shelter us until the start. With just five minutes before the gun, we piled out of the buses and became a huddled mass in the middle of the road. We were tightly grouped, seeking each other's body heat as we listened to the national anthem then waited for them to find the starting gun and fire it off. Then we were off. As we started to spread out so we could run, the winds ripped right through us. I ran the first mile breathing into my gloves to keep my hands and face warm. 

The sun was just rising as we headed down the hill giving us a fantastic view of east Texas and, to the South, Juarez Mexico. The race course dropped over 1,100 feet over the first 4 miles and we were all running faster than we probably should have just to stay warm. I traded leads back and forth with a woman who eventually would win the race as we came down the hill. I was able to stay with her until around mile 8; by mile 10 she was completely out of sight. 

As we came off the mountain, we snaked around the highway and over to Fort Bliss, the local army base, which is in heavy use due to its terrain that looks so much like Iraq and Afghanistan. Cheering, friendly El Pasoans were stationed every mile or so along the course making us all feel welcome. Volunteer groups set up some really creative and fun water stops. Among my favorites were the Wizard of Oz stop where the Cowardly Lion was handing out high fives while Dorothy and the Tin Man passed out Gatorade. Just past the entrance to Fort Bliss the soldiers manned a rocking station with big speakers blasting out hip hop toons while troops in fatigues and holding M-16s bopped to the beat. It looked like a scene right out of Apocalypse Now. A few overly-enthusiastic soldiers gave us the basic training routine, so I wasn't sure if I was being yelled at or yelled on. 

As the race headed through the main post I started to feel the affects of blasting down the mountain and slowed from 7 minute miles to the mid 8s. But I picked up the pace at each water stop. The Sun City Roller Girls were super enthusiastic and dressed in vintage (and way over the top) 70s garb. The Humane Society had an arch for us to run through along with great upbeat rock n roll blaring. Atop their arch was the name, Shelbie, a local rescue dog available for adoption.

The course wasn't a complete down hill as there were some rollers as we passed by the Radford School for girls. I cherished the downsides of these and took advantage to pick up some time. As we turned toward downtown, the winds moved from in our face, to cross winds in Fort Bliss to now, at our back. As I came down the hill along Wyoming street, I came upon the Six Guns and Shady Ladies water stop, filled with a team of folks in vintage old west duds, replete with horses and a jail. Their water stop was fittingly opposite the Concordia Cemetery. Established in the 1880s this is the final resting place of John Wesley Hardin, the Buffalo Soldiers and many Texas Rangers who fought the rebel Pancho Villa and settled West Texas. 

We turned the corner past the cemetery and headed back towards L&J Cafe. A taco stop would have been great but we sadly turned away one block before the restaurant and headed into the main town. The tailwinds made the final 4 miles much more enjoyable until a final blast in the face crossing over I-10. When we passed by the downtown square I picked up the pace to below 7 minute miles and began looking for my family. I found them at mile 26, huddled in the still cold morning but enthusiastically waving their homemade signs and cheering me on. I dumped the last of the cold weather clothing I had with them and sprinted for the finish line, coming in at 3:26. Kent came in just after I did. The marathon organizers thankfully had chocolate milk waiting for us - you can't beat that recovery drink.

After a warm shower and lots of stretching we returned to my uncles house to get ready for the Super Bowl. It was still windy and cold at his place and I needed an ice bath to speed the recovery of my aching legs and hips. So I put my race shorts back on and several coats and sweaters and stepped into the pool. Yikes! The Pacific Ocean has nothing on a freezing cold pool in El Paso winter. I lasted only about 10 minutes before I could no longer feel my feet and legs. But today I feel great as a result.

As they say, pain is temporary - and so is numbness. And it was nothing a good cold Negra Modelo couldn't fix. 

On to Napa.