The weather is getting nicer, the nature is getting greener (or otherwise more colorful) and the hours are still growing longer. What a time to be tapering for a race.One Week Away
I gotta tell you I've never been this worked up for a race before, with the exception of The Josh, and I'm getting antsy. I had a nightmare the other night where we couldn't find the start of the race and when we did I had forgotten to wear a shirt. The first two miles of my dream-race were substantially slower than my goal pace, to the point that I'd never be able to make up the time. I woke up in a panic.
The hardest part about the couple of weeks leading up to this race is that I'm supposed to be tapering, meaning running fewer, easier miles. At this point there's nothing to gain by running hard so you're just maintaining and trying not to get hurt. After busting your hump for months it's awful to try and hold back. Just today when we finished 8 miles up and over a mountain, or at least some wicked steep trails, with a two to three mile ass-hauling at the end, I felt like I could have done it again. I had to use great restraint to get in the car and drive home. The last thing I want is to run my race a week early.Out for a Spin
Yesterday I was scheduled for an easy 3-miler. The weather was perfect (despite the predictions) and I had just stopped to buy a new hat, some shorts and a shirt for the race when I got a call regarding a bike ride. Technically a bike ride is considered cross-training so I opted for that over the run. Plus my road bike was fresh back from surgery where she had a new crankset installed.
I made my purchases, passing up the race shorts with the 3/4" inseam (which I will be returning to buy after all) and was on my way. The ride went into the wind in both directions (figure that out) and we met a couple of interesting folks.
The first was a young woman out cruising the Berkshire countryside checking out roofs for her upcoming roofing project. We rode with her to a coffee shop slightly outside the range of our initial ride route, and headed back when she went to meet up with a friend.
On the way back, we ran into a guy who liked to ride fast. My counterpart doesn't have her summer biking legs on yet and we kept dropping her on the climbs. He didn't seem to care and just kept on pedaling. I should have let him go instead of leaving my friend behind, but I couldn't come up with a polite way to drop off. Don't worry, I felt plenty bad.
We stopped at another friend's house to admire his firewood pile (as instructed) which was not the 30' tower we were promised. I'd give it 15', but it was a letdown. I slithered through the post and rail fence to steal some logs while my partner in crime watched the horses (oh yeah, there were horses) to make sure they didn't come after me. For the record, animals larger than cats (and many the size of cats) scare me to death.
After leaving a note written in logs and placing a few on the lawn as a sign (and a close call with the big horse) we started to make our getaway when I noticed I had a flat. SHIT! We were going to get caught for sure. I had the tube replaced and tire almost back on the bike when the woman of the house showed up, busting us right there by the road. DAMN THAT FLAT! She was clueless to our intentions though, so I think we're fine.Unbroke My Brakes
Remember how my folding bike showed up with a broken brake? Well yesterday the new set of brake calipers showed up. It's a good thing the guy on the phone asked me what color mine were, because he made sure to send me a different color. Either way, these are way better than the original ones, being made of metal and all.
Last night I installed the new brakes, tweaked the rear ones that had been squeaking, swapped my mountain bike seat onto the folding bike, oiled the chain and called it a night.
If you haven't ridden a bike much, you should know that big fat wide cushy saddles (what cyclists call seats) are the worst. They're fine for a couple of miles, but after that they tear you up. Being used to a skinny, hard saddle I found the fat saddle rubbing me the wrong way. The mountain bike saddle is an improvement, and I hope it does the trick.
Well, I guess I had more to say than I thought. I could go on, but I'm sure I've already lost a lot of you. Peace out, y'alls.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Sunday, May 18, 2008
This Weekend in Review
Friday, February 08, 2008
Training Isn't Just for Training's Sake
Cooterinos, every once in a while a person says to hisself "Why am I doing all of this? What am I preparing for?" I found myself saying those very things and decided to do something about it...Ha Ha, Tricked You Into Reading About Running
I convinced four of my running compatriots to join me in this year's Boston's Run to Remember, a combination 5 mile and half marathon race. Since Boston is a long way to drive for a 5 mile race, we opted for the latter. So this May 25th we'll be racing our way through the streets of Boston in the hopes of setting that coveted Personal Best.
Before you ask how far of a Half Marathon it is, I'll save you the embarassment. A Marathon is 26.2 miles no matter where it's run. There are not longer ones or shorter ones, they're all the same length. If a race director wants to run a 28 mile race, he'll call it a 28-miler. From there, simple math tells us that a Half Marathon is 13.1 miles.
Now that I have a goal race in mind, I can begin the training process properly. I plan on using a time tested training plan partly for the motivation of it and partly because I've never properly trained before and I thought it would be a nice experiment.So Whatcha Shootin' Fer?
I knew you'd want to know what my goal time is, so I'm offering a preliminary goal of sub 90 minutes. That equates to a 6:51 min/mile pace, a respectable yet achievable goal. As I work my way through the 12 week program I may adjust that some but for now we'll go with 90 minutes.
As a reference, I ran the Rock 'n' Roll Half Marathon in Arizona last year in a time of 1:40 (100 minutes) with a leg injury. I think that with a proper plan, proper stretching (I've been getting into some yoga) and a good bank of karma I should be in pretty good shape by the end of May.
Not only will this kick off the summer race season early, but it'll give me a head start on some of the local competition which might not be inclined to train in the winter. Plus, with a major race out of the way early I can feel better about riding my bike more in the summer. Oh, this plan is pure genius.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Three Day Report
What's the good word, yo? Today has been a long, tired day. Yesterday was also long, which made today tired and Friday was just a good productive day.Friday - Still Working on them Windurs
Yep, just as I thought I'm still working on my storm windows. The temperatures and snowflakes have already fallen and I still don't have my act together. I picked up some primer earlier this week, driving the repair cost of my shitty storm windows up to $80. Christ!
So Friday morning I picked up a brush and slapped a coat of primer on one side of each window. Since I'm working in the cold basement it takes a while to dry, and I couldn't get to the other side. No skin off my teeth.
Instead of watching the paint dry, I threw a few loads in the washing machine. It was a sunny day, around 30 degrees so I put the first load out on the clothesline. It was all running clothes save a pair of khakis so I knew it would dry in the sun. For the second load I bit the bullet and used the dryer. Oh well, I knew I couldn't dry outside forever. Plus, spring will be here before we know it.Saturday, a New PR
Saturday morning was a cold, nagging bitch of a day. It was the kind of day that makes you want to curl up in front of a fire, drink cocoa and read a book. Well, instead of doing those things I headed out to Northampton, MA for The Hot Chocolate Run. It's a 5k started by the mayor herself, with proceeds going to help victims of domestic abuse/violence. I had already paid for it, so I had to go.
The beauty of the Hot Chocolate Run is that at the end they have tents set up with, you guessed it, hot chocolate for everyone. In fact, the first 2,500 entrants get a mug too. What blew was that it was about 20 degrees, windy as a sumbitch and we got there too late for a proper warm up. With mere moments left before the race started I lined up in the corral alongside the sign for the 20:00 5K runners. That's been my goal all summer, and if I could hang with someone fast just maybe I could break that barrier.
As I stood there, my toes completely numb and hands not far behind, the guy next to me was describing the route to whoever was listening. I'm going to paraphrase here, but I think it's fairly accurate:After the first turn up here at (insert name of street) it's a gradual uphill. After the first mile is The Big Hill (which I had heard other people discussing). You gotta just hang on for a half mile and you'll be at the top. Nobody's setting a PR (personal record) on this course (he said with a chuckle), it's too hilly. At the top of the hill you'll get to the Gust of Wind. You'll make a hard turn to the right and it's all downhill from there.
Well, The Big Hill was not that big for the finely tuned Western Mass Athletes I rolled out there with. In fact, despite never discussing the hill before we all came to the conclusion "where was that hill?". And The Gust of Wind, apparently a local landmark, was there exactly where the guy described.
The whole way up what I guess was the hill I picked off runner after runner. There was one guy however, who sort of played leapfrog with me. I let him get ahead and hung off his shoulder (not literally) for the rest of the race. When we turned the last corner, about 3/10ths of a mile from the finish I was on pace to break 20:00. I put everything I had into the last kick and crossed the finish line at 19:39, 0:21 faster than my goal!
Not only did I set a PR on this "hilly" course, but everyone else I rode out with did too. We had lofty goals, but we've been working hard at the track every week and it payed off. I almost threw up on the timing chip girl, but it would still have been worth it to set that new record.
The hot chocolate afterwards was awesome, and they had mini marshmallows by the tubful, that you got to add to your own hot chocolate with a soup ladle. Oh, I fucked UP some hot chocolate and marshmallows.
The drawback to attending a race in a college town is that all the guys are in my age group (18-29), so there's no chance of winning any prizes. On the flip side, all the girls are in my age group too. It was lycra heaven, let me tell you!Sunday, an Easy Run
Sunday morning we had a trail run set up for 9:00 AM. Like Saturday it was cold as a bitch again, but at least it wasn't as windy. I dragged my ass out of bed, suited up and headed down the cold road towards the meeting spot.
Blah blah blah, we got navigationally sidetracked a few times as we usually do, and it ended up being a really long run. So long in fact that my body was really starting to cool off. My hands were completely numb and I was getting that "I need to get out of this cold before my body shuts down" feeling.
When I got to my house, I walked into the kitchen to get my shoes off. I pulled my gloves off with my teeth and started untying my shoes. I could see from the getgo that my thumbs didn't work. Not that they didn't work well, they didn't work at all. I could barely move them. I rubbed my hands together to warm them up and noticed that I was numb up a few inches past my wrists. I finally got the shoes off without using my thumbs, yanked my shirts off and put on warm and dry shirts. I was numb from the elbow down. Shit! I guess the thin windbreaker and one long sleeved shirt weren't enough for my arms. I had a short sleeved shirt on underneath, but that didn't help the forearms.
It was probably 15-20 minutes before my thumbs were back in effect, and another half hour before I was completely warmed back up. I spent the next few hours in wool socks, flannel pants, a turtleneck and fleece sweatshirt, wrapped in a thick blanket on the couch before I was really 100% again. Lesson learned? Yup, wear two long sleeved shirts and maybe some warmer gloves. There's always a little learning curve at the beginning of the winter, but I typically err on the side of being too warm instead of too cold. I guess there's a first time for everything.
That's that. I've got dinner in the oven and I'm gonna settle in for the evening. I'll holler at y'all later.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Friday, November 23, 2007
Happy Belated Thanksgiving
This will be a short one since I just wrote the post I was supposed to write back on Wednesday. I planned to write about things for which I am thankful, but instead I'm just going to talk about the Turkey Trot.Another Record Year
Each year the Buffalo YMCA Turkey Trot sets another record or two. As the longest continually run road race in America (longer than the Boston Marathon), each year it beats the record it set the previous year. Also, it's growing popularity continually sets a growing record of entrants every year. The first year I ran it (2004), there were roughly 5,500 entrants. The following year was about the same. Then last year we came roaring in with over 8,200. This year, the total reached 8,720 registered runners and walkers. From the results, not all of those who started finished and from the weather I'm guessing not all who entered started.Race Report
It was 34 and rainy when I left my parents' house donning my new running jacket, a pair of grey shorts and my trademark red Nike baseball hat. I left my car at Delaware Park, ran the 1.25 miles to the starting line as a warm-up and found my place at the front of the mob. From my experience, nobody lines up by ability except the guys at the front. Since I've been training pretty hard for this race, I felt that was where I belonged so I pushed and shoved my way up to the front of the pack. Not the front-front, but only a few people deep. I was lined up between the 5:00 and 6:00 milers (not where I truly belonged). I would then spend the next two miles passing people who were even less qualified to start that far up.
By the time the race started the rain had all but let up. We had a strong tailwind and the streets were flooded in places. Unlike years past, the crowds that gathered on the sidelines were thinner and less enthusiastic. I still cheered for them and thanked the volunteers for coming out and helping. My fellow front runners were apparently too businessey to follow suit, and they looked at me funny when I screamed in the underpasses. What the hell is wrong with those people? You always scream in underpasses!
As I passed the spot where my parents were going to be I noticed that they were not there. My superior training had apparently propelled me there too quickly and they had not been able to make the 5 minute walk to the corner yet. That corner was close to the 3 mile mark, which is coincidentally close to the 3.1 mile mark, AKA the first 5k. My plan was to break 20 minutes in the first 5k, then do whatever I could for the final 3k. My stretch goal was 32:30 for the entire race, a 6:30/mile pace.
Upon downloading the results from my watch, I found that I was 26 seconds shy of my 5k goal and 28 seconds shy of my overall goal. Not too shabby methinks, since they were both tough goals. Also, I never saw the 2 mile flag, so I didn't know if I was on track until I hit the 3 mile mark, when was too late to break 20:00. Oh well, there will be other races. I can make all the excuses I want, but ultimately I can only blame myself for not being ready.But How'd You Do Overall?
Since you asked, I'll give you my overall results for the race. Recall that there were 8,720 registered entrants. Some people who registered probably didn't show, and some who showed probably didn't register. The newspaper claimed the field was nearly 9,000 people deep.
Anyway, I finished in 270th place in 32:58. That means that while 269 people finished ahead of me, I finished ahead of roughly 8,450 people! I also placed 14th out of 311 guys in my age group, putting me in the 95.5th percentile! What whaaaat!The Cooldown
After finishing the race (where I smoked some punk who thought he could pass me with half a mile to go) I hit up the Convention Center for a bottle of water and a banana, searched in vain for Dom who promised to be there to trip me at the finish line, and headed back along the race course to my car.
By the time the race finished, the temperature had dropped the few degrees necessary to turn the rain into snow and the wind had turned from bitter into biting. If you recall, there was a strong tailwind during the race which means there was a headwind going back. Sufficiently sweaty from the Convention Center, I suffered for a mile or so until I warmed back up. Along the way I took the opportunity to stop and cheer for the people still running. I got a few cheers back and a few of my favorite "Let's Go Buffalo!" cheers, the cheer commonly heard at local sporting events.Point of Reference
This is mostly for me when I'm re-reading these posts while compiling notes for my memoirs. My first running of the Turkey Trot back in 2004 took 51:12 at a pace of 10:18/mile. The gun time was over 56 minutes, but there was some walking to be done before we got to the starting line. This year I was almost back to my car in that same amount of time. I think if I don't break 6:00 miles next year I'll be disappointed. I've been training hard and I'm still improving in leaps and bounds, so I think that's a fair goal.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Westward Bound
Happy Tri-Centennial. This is our 300th Issue of The Rantings of an Old Coot.
Wednesday morning I awoke to my alarm, lounged in bed in the knowledge that all I had to do today was pack up for the weekend, get the cats ready, run a quick errand or two and go into autopilot for a few hours. At the end of all that I'd be in Buffalo casually relaxing for a few days, eating Thanksgiving dinner and running a Turkey Trot.The Check Engine Light
Let me set the stage for you. It's November 21st, 11:00 AM and I just stopped to top of the ole gas tank before driving for 6 hours. According to my odometer I've traveled a hair over 4 miles when, wouldn't you know it, the check engine light (CEL) comes on. I'll be damned. From what I understand the CEL is almost always en emission issue, so short of creating a little more pollution (maybe I'll get one less mile per gallon, which over 12 gallons is not a problem) and spending a few extra cents driving out to the 'lo it's not a big deal. BUT, my inspection is up in December (9 days away) and it'll fail if the CEL is on. Excellent! There will be no putting this damn task off.
A few miles down the road it dawns on me that when I topped off the gas tank, the gas cap just didn't feel quite right. I pulled over at my earliest convenience, took the cap off, put it back on real good and hoped for the best. The light would never go off for the entire drive, but those things can take a while. I was not overly worried.
At a rest stop I took a few moments to jot down the details of my trip so I would remember to pass them along to all y'all and I noticed that the last thing I wrote in my little notebook was P0031 - the fault code from the last time my CEL was on.In-Car Snacks
With little more than an orange Check Engine Light, the occasional tail light and the dirt on my glasses to look at, I passed the time by looking into other people's cars and judging them. DVDs playing? Bad parents. Radar detector? Scofflaw. Navigation system? Directionally challenged. Nevermind that I have a radar detector and navigation system, that's not important. What I found to be the most fun was seeing what people eat while driving.
I'm sure we're all familiar with the standard in-car snacks: coffee, huge slices of pizza, Cinnabon cinnamon rolls, and so on. I myself had pretzels, bananas, apples and a granola bar. Nothing funny about those things. Then there was the woman who came swerving out of a rest stop. I thought for sure she was trying to stir a coffee or eat soup, but she was not. Of all things to be eating A) while driving and B) on a cold November day, she had a big ass ice cream cone.
If you've ever eaten an ice cream cone, you're probably well aware of the mess it can make if you don't stay on top of it. Add the fact that she's probably got the heat blasting, and it was a recipe for disaster. Chuckling in amazement to myself, I then proceeded to drink from my 32 ounce wide-mouth Nalgene bottle which, under the most controlled circumstances, is a freaking mess. How I managed to keep from pouring it down the sides of my face I'll never know.Race Packet Pickup
Before ending my trip at the family homestead, I stopped by the Young Men's Christian Association (YMCA) to pick up my race packet for the morning's Turkey Trot. By this time it was pouring rain out, and I was quite drenched by the time I got into the building. I waltzed up to the table for last names G-L, announced myself and received my timing chip and bib number. She asked if I would like a small or extra large t-shirt, to which I replied 'No'. I would have actually preferred a medium, but I was SOL. I took a small, thinking if it didn't fit well I could at least wear it under something. Like the pile of Red Cross t-shirts I've received over the years, an XL would never be worn.
Passing by the racks of discounted running gear for sale by Runner's Roost, I nabbed a jacket I've been eyeing for years. It was 50% off which put it down to a reasonable splurge for yours truly. In the morning, it proved a welcome addition to my running wardrobe since it was the only sleeved windbreaker I had. Excellent!
When I got home I dug through my race bag to collect all of my goodies. Usually these bags are stuffed with granola bars, strange jelly bean style food supplements, and coupons. Apparently mine had already been pawed through, leaving me with only the latter - coupons for shit I don't need. Oh yeah, hair bands for my close-cropped hair. Excellent.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Monday, October 29, 2007
Another Asskicking Weekend
Another weekend has come and gone, but it was once again a fun-filled two days. I watched most of the Sox game on Saturday, a first for me. Yesterday I caught most of the Pats game, a first this year. Last night I even watched some regular television programming over at the COW abode. But let's look at the weekend in detail...I'm Ruuuuuuning in the Rain
Saturday I let myself sleep until almost 11 in the AM. I had been running myself ragged and decided to treat myself to a really great night's sleep. I even put my new flannel sheets on the bed for eggstra comfort.
When I awoke, I found that during the night the temperature outside had risen from somewhere in the mid-30s to nearly 70. I went downstairs, turned off the heat, opened some windows and breathed in the sweet autumn air. You know that smell when it's raining on freshly fallen leaves. Mmm mmmm bitch.
I took my time with breakfast, read a magazine for a bit, then headed out for a short, easy run. I knew that Sunday morning was The Brock Trot, a 10K complete with all the hill trimmings so I planned on a nice easy couple of miles to keep the legs loose. Well, the warm autumn rain combined with the nice dirt roads turned a couple of miles into too many miles. Come morning this will have turned into a big mistake.How to Guarantee Failure
Ladies, if you're looking to pick up a guy at a bar (or get picked up, I guess) the recipe is pretty simple. Walk up, sit down next to your top choice, smile, introduce yourself, receive compliments and free drinks, done. Any of those steps can probably be skipped and your success rate will probably be pretty good. However, screw up too many and you're S.O.L. Well, Saturday night I met a bar-fly who was so wack I'm guessing she woke up under a park bench the next morning.
First of all, I was out with JC and HECOW, enjoying the baseball game and a few orders of chicken wings. In saunters a young-ish chick who wasn't completely unappealing. She sat down right next us, ordered two shots (with $10 of her last $12). Not bad, I thought at first, but it went straight downhill from there. Her first mistake was opening her mouth.
As soon as she started talking her chances of getting anything other than an extra napkin out of us were shot. For one thing, I was the only single guy in the group, and for another she had the mouth of an ashtray, figuratively and literally. With each white trash syllable that came spewing from her ash hole, you could hear the cartons of Marb Reds and speed rack whiskey that had ravaged her body. Then, if you made the mistake of directing your eyes in her direction you were greeted with a "set" of teeth that pointed every which way but vertical.
I'll spare you the details of the ensuing "conversations" and instead provide you with the laundry list of things she said to dis-impressed me:
- "My fiancée ..."
- "Oh, did they cut you off?" - The only reason she could think of that I might turn down a free shot.
- "Oh, so you're on parole too?" - Too? Also, the next logical reason for turning down a shot.
- "I quit drinking for about 2 years, but for some reason I fell off the wagon." - Clearly, and you might want to grab that wall before you fall off your feet.
- When her friend went to smoke a cigarette with her boyfriend she screamed "Did they just leave? I only have $2." It was true, she showed me the two crumpled bills.
- "She's the reason I got kicked out of my fucking hotel!" - Hmm, a local girl lives in a hotel. Top choice.
- "My son..." - Nothing against single moms, but if you have a kid, no place to live and you're in a bar with your last $12, you're screwed up.
- After hearing a comment made by a Yankee fan and walking straight into the edge of a divider wall: "If I was drinking like I used to, that guy would have his throat slit by now."
It wasn't all bad, she did touch my leg.
Brizock Trizot
Between running too many miles and staying up too late the night before, I was not in prime shape for the race Sunday morning. I managed to drag my sorry ass out of bed, have some breakfast and drive over to Lenox. It was a balmy 41 degrees, and I haven't had a chance to really acclimate to the cooler weather yet. This would be a test.I checked in, got my race shirt, my bag of goodies and a cup of coffee and headed back to the car to change into my race costume. Last year I ran in my strong arm sailor shirt thinking the rest of my crew would be in costume. They were not. This year I thought others may have taken my cue and dressed up. They did not. No biggie, I don't mind the attention.
The starting line is about 3/4 of a mile from where the festivities are held, so I had a short run to warm up. It was there that I realized I may have overdone it the day before. I had more creaks than a horror flick staircase and some would never work themselves out. I stretched and ran another few blocks to at least get the blood pumping.
After the speeches and National Anthem we were off. The trick to races is to find an attractive girl who is slightly faster than you. You then stay behind her as long as possible, improving your time while enjoying the scenery. This technique proved very useful as I passed the first and second miles well before I expected, following three lovely ladies. Eventually I lost all three of my escorts, but at that point I was in the zone.
Fast forward to the last 0.2 of the 6.2 mile race. The course comes up a hill and around a bend before you hit the 6-mile marker. Just then the finish line appears before you, complete with clock. As I got closer I picked up the pace, then noticed I had exactly 5 seconds to cross the line if I wanted to hit my target time. The crowd was literally cheering "Go Muscle Man" as I approached the finish, and as my pace quickened to a full sprint they only got louder. I crossed the finish line a second off my goal (it would be exactly my goal time once they adjusted for my chip time instead of the gun time) to a cheering crowd, something I have never before experienced. It was AWESOME!
The lady at the finish who takes the chip off your shoe was having trouble with my safety pins, and I very nearly threw up on her. After pushing with everything I had, then instantly stopping, my body was shaking and ready to revolt and this woman was going to feel the wrath of that revolt if she didn't hurry. Just in the nick of time she got the chip off and I was able to walk it off, eat a bagel and grab a water. Close call.
New 10K personal record (PR) for yours truly: 42:30 (6:50 min/mile).
Eat at Joe's
You know that Normal Rockwell painting, "The Runaway"? As I learned yesterday, that was set in Joe's Diner, a small eatery in Lee, MA. As we sat there having breakfast after the race, I noticed the photos on the wall and put two and two together. They had a copy of the painting, a photograph of the kid and the cop, and another of them 30 or so years later. Pretty neat.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Get the Whole Story Here...
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
I've Got the Trots
Ha ha, gotcha. You saw that headline and couldn't help but to read about what you thought was something nasty. Instead, you've been duped...Bizack on Trizack
Yesterday, I had the trots. I trotted around the local HS track during Tuesday Night Track Club, hosted by and primarily attended by, yours truly. I'm working on a few race goals that I won't mention here because either: A) Frankly, my dears, you don't give a damn, B) You might give a damn but my goals are embarrassingly slow, or C) You would be so jealous of my speedy goals (in addition to your growing jealousy of my killer good looks and fabulous lifestyle) that you'll drive by my house and bust a few warning caps through my picture window's ass. Whichever the case, I don't like the outcome.
Since you asked, Tuesday Night Track Club reached an all-time high record attendance last night of two people. There's nothing formal at all about it, and in fact the term 'club' is really misleading. It's not so much a club as much as it is me trying to get people to come run at the track with me because I'm afraid of the high school riff-raff that might be loitering about, trying to rob my fine, fine ass. Of course, all they'd get is a lesbian-mobile and maybe a bottle of Gatorade if they're lucky, but they don't know that.I've Got the Trots
Next on my agenda of Trot-related bloggetry are the two upcoming Trots I'm signed/signing up for. The first, The Brock Trot is next weekend down in Lenox, MA. It's a 10K fund raiser for The Brock Wilkerson Memorial Cancer Research Fund. Seriously, the application says to "Make checks payable to The Brock Wilkerson Memorial Cancer Research Fund". Try to fit all that shit on a check. Christ!
Oops, now when someone Googles that race they'll find my public complaint.
Last year I ran that race in a sailor costume, complete with embellished arms. Originally, the plan was for everyone from my running crew to show up in costume, but apparently they didn't take that as seriously as I did, and I was the lone costume wearer. Whatever, I smoked them fools anyway!
This year I'll be wearing the same costume and pushing for a PR in the 10K distance. Since I've only run one other 10K, that should be easy.
The next Trot I'm signed up for is the 112th Annual Turkey Trot in B-lo. My sister used to run it with me, but she's since moved far, far away and doesn't want to make the drive. I've tried to get my mom to walk it with me, but she's not interested. Instead, I'm gonna line up at the front and show some people how it's done. Ya hurrrrd!Folgers Whitening
As I sipped the second half of my second cup of coffee this morning, a co-worker and fellow Cheap Ass Coffee Club member, LB asked if the coffee tasted funny to me. I thought it was a rhetorical question, because it always tastes funny to me. We drink crap, hence the name Cheap Ass Coffee Club.
Well, LB did some investigating and found that there was a noticeable aroma of chlorine emanating from the water jugs we fill for the coffee makers. Either someone "cleaned" the jugs or they've added a little too much chlorine to the water supply. Either way, my teeth are whiter for having drank it. Also, I feel like crap.
I told my lead at work that if I'm not in tomorrow it's because I'm dead. He told me that was fine, as long as I made up the time on Sunday.
Well Cooterinos I hope that satisfied your craving for quality bloggetization. I've got to get in a run, have dinner, hang the laundry and get my act in order for work tomorrow. Dang.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Friday, September 21, 2007
A Fine Cuppla Days
Good morning Cooterinos! It's Friday, it's my "day off" and I'm sitting here digesting chocolate chip pancakes and sipping freshly brewed coffee. It's been an exciting couple of days: some good, some bad, and some pedestrian. Before I go into any of the details, I'm going to hook you up with a piece of photojournalistic gold...
Pardon the poor image quality, it's a photograph of a newspaper photograph. In the center of the picture you can see your favorite one-time triathlete "El Guapo" running from the kayak to the shore moments before I began the last leg of The Josh - the run. Note the chiseled legs and cool Curious George Astronaut cycling jersey. In the lower left is my Entourage, HECOW, waiting with my running shoes, socks and a towel to dry my dogs.
Post Pre
To give anything less than your best is to sacrifice the Gift. - PreA friend of mine recently lent me his copy of a book entitled Pre. It's the story of one of the world's best runners of all time, Steve Prefontaine (affectionately called 'Pre') who took the world by storm during the 1960s and 1970s. He could have easily been considered arrogant, but in reality he was just confident. His story is incredible and inspiring.
In Pre's world there were no limits. He went to the Olympics knowing he could never out kick (sprint) the world's best at the end of the race, so he turned up the heat the entire race, forcing his competitors to abandon their race strategy and just hoof it the whole way. He came in 4th that race, but the fact that a young kid from Oregon could make the world's elite runners run his race because they respected his ability is incredible. After all he didn't care who was the fastest, he wanted to see who had the most guts. One of my favorite quotes is:
A lot of people run a race to see who is fastest. I run to see who has the most guts, who can punish himself into exhausting pace, and then at the end, punish himself even more.
After reading about his life and running career, I was inspired to stride to more than mediocrity in my running and bicycling. The night before The Josh I decided on my game plan - to race each leg like it was the only one I was racing. Basically, I wanted to see if I had the guts. From my excitement after the race (in my last post), you can see that I had the guts. I may not have won, but it was certainly a better effort than I thought I was capable of.
Riding with the Big Dogs
After my stellar performance in The Josh, some people at work who constitute what I consider an admirable section of Berkshire County's cycling community realized that I'm not a tourist in their world. I was invited to ride with one of the better cycling clubs on Wednesday night and gladly accepted.My friend (coincidentally the one who lent me Pre) told me beforehand not to be intimidated. Intimidated? As long as I was riding with the "Fast and Friendly" group (as opposed to just "The Fast Group") I had every confidence that I'd be able to keep up, no problem. I had no problems whatsoever. We averaged 20 MPH over 30 miles, often cruising for extended periods at upwards of 27-28 MPH, and I was right there with them.
I now get nods from the cyclists at work.
Guts in the Woods
Last night, at our weekly Thursday Night Run, we were standing around the parking lot bullshitting when one guy asked if we were going to break last year's record. He said last year, the week after The Josh, we (by 'we' I mean he and some other guys) ran the course in 41:55. To put it into perspective, my personal best is probably 45 minutes, maybe high 44s. It later occurred to me how strange it was the he remembered that one run and the time they ran it in.I was definitely up for the challenge. I hadn't eaten much yesterday, had drank about 5 sips of water and 4 cups of coffee, and my legs felt like lead. Work had shat upon us though, so I had anger on my side. We set off at a blistering pace (for the trails anyway) and I was going to beat that record!
Through the first two miles we were right on pace to beat the record, but by the third we had lost a full minute. Apparently dehydration and a lack of proper warm up were coming into play. By the fourth mile we were two minutes behind and we hadn't seen the front runner in quite some time. But at the last hill I got my second wind and was cruising.
I emerged from the trail at 41:15, a course record, but over a minute and a half behind the "winner". In fact, the first three of us out of the woods broke the record. Yup, we're a force to be reckoned with.
Third Thursday
After the run, we headed to the Crowne Plaza for dinner. It was Third Thursday in Pittsfield and North Street was filled with all sorts of things to do. We dined on lobster and gator Jambalaya. $10 for a lobster, you can't turn it down.After dinner, we meandered down to Spice where there were rumors of a Brazilian band. When we got there, they had the front of the restaurant opened up to the street, the band was jamming and people filled the sidewalk and spilled out into the street. People were partying and having a great time, and it was the most eclectic mix of people I could have imagined. I've never seen anything like that in Pittsfield.
We ended up staying there until 12:30 AM dancing, laughing, mingling and having a great time. It was just what the doctor ordered.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Get the Whole Story Here...
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
I'll Claim Success
As many of you have surely noted, but have yet to find time to comment on, the Josh has come and gone. It was not without much fanfare and celebration, and unfortunately I haven't had the time to fill you in on the details.Most Importantly Feature
Before I get into it, what's most important about this competition is that I placed 4th out of about 20 in the Ironman Kayak division. Considering my boat was one of the slowest crafts out there, I am very pleased with my performance.The Racing Heart
The first thing I should mention is that aside from block parties as a kid, this was my first bike race ever. Like most people, I get plenty nervous before any race, and this was no exception. What I found interesting was my body's response to the excitement.
As we lined up at the beginning, I kept an eye on my heart rate monitor (HRM) noting that it was at 90 beats per minute (BPM), about 40 BPM above my normal resting rate. When the guy got on the megaphone to announce that there were 5 minutes remaining until the start, it shot to around 140 in the blink of an eye. Thank you, adrenaline.
What I liked about lining up for that race though, was that I didn't feel outclassed one bit. The way I saw it, I was just as good as everyone else out there. And as they say in the trade, "Trust your training".Wear Your Eye Protection
I always ride with cycling glasses, no matter what time of day. I have an inexpensive pair of glasses that came with three sets of lenses allowing you can change them to suit the time of day. For me, I find that the orange lenses are perfect for all conditions. But that's neither here nor there. Over the course of the summer, I have been hit in the glasses by stones, June Bugs, crud and untold mosquitoes and gnats. Until Sunday I never really appreciated what they did for me...
There I was, riding up and down the hills of southern Berkshire County in a pace line, hugging the center line. Mere feet to my right was another pace line of equal length, roughly 30 cyclists. We were cruising along at a good clip, but I was certain I could go faster. The guy ahead of me kept looking around to the left like he was going to make a break for it, and I down-shifted to get my cadence (pedaling speed) up to be ready to take off with him when he went. He looked once, he looked twice, and on the third look he fired off a snot rocket. The chunky end of his nasal explosion was sent careening off my glasses.
At first I was stunned at what had happened. A guy literally blew his nose in my face, and it bounced off my glasses. I can't even begin to imagine what it would have been like if I hadn't been wearing those glasses. Best case scenario I would have had snot in my eye; worst case I would have been taken off my bike. I plan on writing the company to thank them for their product.Climb Does Pay
After a summer of cursing the hills of Berkshire County, I was happy to have been training in such an unforgiving landscape. With each hill, I was able to easily drop scores of other riders who were less prepared for the climb. Often I would "jump on the wheel" of another good climber and we would end up in a smaller, faster pack. Ultimately we had a group of about 20 cyclists with which I finished out the race (leading them, of course).Three Separate Races
Although this was technically a triathlon, I treated it as three completely independent races. Instead of saving energy for the next event, I just gave 100% to everything and I couldn't have been happier. The funny thing about cycling is that no matter how tired I get during a ride, I always have the energy to mow the lawn, go to the grocery store, do laundry, and so on afterwards. I knew 100% wouldn't leave me too tired for a measly paddle around the lake and a quick 6 mile cool down run.Eyes on the Prize
The paddling portion was pretty uneventful. After an hour and a quarter of speeding along at 20+ MPH in a pack with 60 other guys and gals, paddling a kayak at 4.5 MPH seemed pretty lame.
At first I was right alongside a guy from the Thursday Night Runs (we'll call him Jeff). I wanted to get ahead of Jeff because he's a faster runner than I am, but after the first lap he pulled ahead. After that, I just kept thinking about getting to the end of it so I could get on with the run. Once I reached a mindless state of oblivion, the paddling just flew by and before I knew it I was bearing down on the beach.
From about 200 yards out, I could see HECOW standing on the beach waving his pink hat. I fought for position against a clumsily steered canoe and hit the beach running. HECOW followed me up to a clearing on the hill, handed me my socks and shoes one at a time, offered some words of encouragement and I was off.
The first mile or so I took it easy to find my stride and fight off the cramp in my ribs. Once I felt good, I picked up the pace and one by one picked off other runners. Sure, a few people passed me but I was starting to feel it on the hills. Besides, I still had to catch that Jeff guy.
Every time I thought I spotted his bright orange shirt, I would slowly reel "him" in only to find it was someone else. My goal was to get about 10 yards behind him, match his pace, follow him until the end and dust him at the finish. I must reeled in the wrong person 4 or 5 times only to never actually catch him. Oh well, it gave me a reason to push the pace.
When I passed the boat launch, I knew there was about a mile left until the finish line. I made a visual list of people I was going to beat in that mile and proceeded to reel each one of them in. According to my plan, my last victim was going to be taken out at the last minute in an all out sprint. I didn't want him to have a chance to out sprint me, so I waited for the perfect moment, then POW, I kicked it into overdrive. I passed that guy like he was standing still and by the time I hit the finish line I was running full tilt and had a good 75 yards on him. Poor guy, I almost feel bad for him.
Almost.The End Result
After 38 miles of racing (plus 12 miles for my warm-up ride), I finished feeling like a million bucks. My official time was 3:09:14, an excellent finish for my first time. My goal was to finish in less than three and a half hours, with my stretch goal at three hours even. Under 3:10 was pretty damn good. When I looked at my splits, I was really only one or two (well, I guess three) minutes off my goal for each leg of the race so I have no complaints.
The best part was that even among my regular riding/running crowd nobody expected that I would do so well. When my pack came in on the bike, people told me they were watching the riders come in and someone goes "Holy shit, is that (Old Coot) out front?" Yup, riding with the big dogs. As a matter of fact, one of the big dogs asked me to come ride with them tomorrow. Check!
Maybe next year I'll find myself a paddler and just do the bike and run legs. A good canoeist/kayaker should be able to pound out a killer time, and I'll have the whole summer (hopefully I won't be injured like I was this summer) to whip myself into even better shape. Until then, I have only running races to hold me over.
See y'all at the Fall Foliage Race!Special Thanks
I'd like to give a special thanks to HECOW for being "The Entourage" for me. Not only did he show up early on Sunday morning, but he performed all Entourage duties to perfection and with enthusiasm. And don't think I'm not going to get you to enter the race in one way shape or form next year.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Friday, September 07, 2007
What to Do With My Day Off?
I awoke this morning to the sound of a garbage truck doing its thing in the proximity of my house. As garbage trucks tend to stop at every house, this one did its thing for quite some time. Fortunately my trash has been out for two days because of Monday's holiday so I was able to simply roll over and resume my beauty sleep.One Man's Trash...
For the first time in my life I took the trash out the night before, saving untold minutes of anguish, and untold lives as I would not be driving to work roadrageously.
As a result of replacing all of my windows, I was left with quite the stack of old windows. As far as old windows go, there isn't much wrong with most of them so I hate to just trash them. The other option is to build another house and reuse them. Off to the trash they went.
Yesterday morning (which is normally trash day) I went out to get in the car and noticed the windows I set out were gone. Sweet, someone wanted them. So I let the car idle for a minute while I went back in to retrieve another set. Sho nuff, when I got home those two windows were gone too. Since trash day had been moved out one day (remember the holiday) everything else sat there untouched. It would be picked up on the morn.
At this point I'm pretty psyched. At the rate of one set of windows per week it would take over two months to get rid of the whole stack. This morning I thought to myself "Self, if every time you put out windows someone comes and takes them, maybe you should put out all the windows and none will be picked up with the trash" so that's what I did. Wouldn't you know the only one remaining is broken anyway, so it hardly counts.
Reduce, Reuse, Recycle.Running Errands, Running
I spent most of the late morning and early afternoon running errands. I felt very accomplished, as some tasks had been on the list for a while. A few weeks ago I came across a box of magazines I didn't even know I had. The addresses on some made it clear that I had moved this box twice without ever re-reading a single issue. Does anyone re-read magazines anyway? Off to the transfer station with those.
The last chore was to swing by Family Footwear to pick up some new road shoes. I should be honest here, buying running gear is never a chore. I spent some time last night online selecting just the pair I would buy, which of course they didn't carry, but the guy who helped me was very knowledgeable as far as running shoes go. He's been there as long as I've been shopping there and he's always been able to help me find what I need.
I went back home with my new pair of Nike Pegasus shoes and decided that despite the 90 degree heat and humidity I was going to test drive my new kicks. A quick change of clothes and I was on the road. It was one of those runs where every 10th car is being driven by someone I know, so I felt like a celebrity, putting one fist in the air every few minutes. ECOW passed twice and she's always good for a honk. It was a good run.The Cookie Bowl
After that unplanned run, I had to load up the boat and head over to Stockbridge Bowl for the Cookie Bowl, a canoe/kayak race with cookies for prizes. I was turned on to this race by one of my buddies from the Thursday Night Run. Since I had never heard of it, I assumed it was some rag-tag race with a dozen or so boats. I assumed wrong.
The parking lot was loaded with cars by 5:15 when I pulled in. I don't know exactly how many boats were there, but I would say 75 is a safe estimate. This was no rag-tag bunch either; some of the boats likely cost more than the cars they rode in on. In case you aren't amazed, keep in mind these boats still require that you paddle them. Shit, some of the paddles people used cost more than my boat.
About 2 miles into the race I was hitting the wall. "How the hell am I gonna make it the rest of the way around the lake, then do another lap?" That's when I slipped into a rhythm, zoned out and pulled that boat around for a 72 minute finish.
For most of the race I had these two girls in a canoe on my ass (figuratively, not literally). At first I tried to chat them up, but they were concentrating on going in a straight line and unresponsive, so I just kept to myself. At the end they tried some bullshit and made a break for it, trying to pass me. There's no way I was going to let them draft off me for nearly 6 miles only to get beat in the last few hundred yards. In a blistering (at least on my hands) speed I left those hoes in my dust. Or steam, spray, whatever. I gave it another shot to chat them up, thinking my now-bulging arms would have them swooning, but they weren't having it. Eh, no skin off my teeth.
The best part is that the woman I drove there didn't listen to me when I said "I'm going to put my race number over here, let's not get them mixed up", when she put them together in one of the boats. She assumed (making an ass out of you and me) that her number would be lower because she got it first, and we ended up with the wrong numbers. As a result, she placed first in the Women's Open Kayak division, earning herself a bag of homemade cookies. Of course, I earned those cookies because they gave her my time (about 15 minutes faster than hers), but whatever.
I ate the cookies.Cooldown Lap
After the race, we went for a cooldown run in Lenox. It was a great night: low 70s, lowish humidity and a gentle breeze. We ran the back roads which is like running out in the country, a peaceful route at any time. I fell victim to several calf cramps (hmm, maybe I overdid it today) that slowed me to walk a number of times, but it was good anyway.
Now, it's time for my beauty rest.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
My Endieseling is Coming Along Nicely
"What did you do yesterday, Old Coot?" I kicked ass and took names.How's My Dust Taste?
Last night was the final Live on the Lake at Burbank Park, and the final running of the Live on the Lake Race Series (AKA Dave's Races). For me, it was opening night because I haven't been able to make it to any of them. As expected I showed up too close to the start for a proper warm up, and since I haven't been doing much running this summer I figured that would handicap me. I did have to run a little to get there on time, and I figured that was good for something.
As I scanned the field, I made note of the racer demographics. There was me (M20-29), a few dozen high school girls (F14-19), and a dozen other people who were not in my age group (M30-39, M40-49, M50-59, F30-39, F50-59, you get the point). My goal, besides not tearing a hamstring, was to not get beat by a little girl. You may say "Old Coot, what little girl would beat you?" to which I say "A whole mess of them." One in particular kicked my ass at the 4th of July race, but she's a superstar around these parts so I didn't let it get to me.
After we lined up and the race director (Dave) said a few words thanking everyone for showing up, thanking the sponsors and the volunteers, we were off. The fast guy (who shall be called The Fast Guy for the purpose of this post) immediately pulled out ahead, with me in 2nd place. Like an idiot, I looked at him and thought "The Fast Guy is going to beat you, but he's not pulling away too quickly. If you can limit how fast he pulls away you might be able to maintain your spot in 2nd place. Let him pace you and you'll do great."
Well, half a mile into it I hit the main road and the hot sun. Shortly after that, I dropped to 3rd place. After the first mile marker, another guy pulled up behind me, shot some shit, exchanged pleasantries, and left me in his dust. I decided to keep him in my sights while keeping the group behind me in their place, behind me.
The whole time I'm watching my heart rate monitor and thinking "There's no way I'll keep up this pace. My heart rate is up in the 95% of Max range, I'll never make it." Thank God the devil on my shoulder told me to "Shut up, quit whining and run faster. It's only 3.7 miles, why are you such a baby?" I just kept pushing, keeping my heart rate high with no signs of slowing.
Wouldn't you know that with half a mile to go I heard the footsteps of 5th place closing in on me (ironically, Dave). He passed me with a few hundred yards to go, much to my chagrin. As soon as the finish line appeared on the horizon I decided there was no way I was letting this guy beat me in the last minute and I put the pedal to the metal.
The people at the finish line were yelling "Go Dave, you got him" , alternating with "Yeah 'Old Coot' (they actually used my real name), don't let him beat you". From the depths of my soul I pulled out enough energy to pass him and reclaim 4th place. Post race analysis showed that we hit over 16 mph in that last sprint!
Then I almost threw up.
Once the results were posted I saw that I finished in 25:34, 34 seconds behind my personal record but about 26 seconds better than my goal. Average pace: 6:55/mile. After a summer of hamstring trouble, no speed work, limited running and only one race I'm almost where I was this time last year.
Ninja Status - check!Oops, I Scuffed the Floor
After the race, I hung out at Live on the Lake to eat pizza and hear Sirsy play. I think they're a perennial favorite, and they put on a really good show. Afterwards I headed home full of Dominos pizza and water and set up the bike on the rollers to crank out a few miles, under the guise of working on my balance.
It was immediately evident that my balance and technique had improved from my initial voyage on the rollers. I was able to maintain a fairly straight "line", didn't have to lean on the doorway, and was pretty aware of my position within the width of the rollers. That's when the sweat started dripping.
I had a box fan blowing on me to help keep me cool, but eventually I started getting sweaty and as the first drops burned my eyes I decided I was going to have to let go for a second to wipe my brow. I slowly moved my hand from the handlebars to my forehead, wiped the left side and while reaching for the right eyebrow the bike started to shift around a little. I gave it a quick wipe and started reaching for the handlebars. The sudden movement upset my delicate equilibrium and sent me swerving. As I oscillated out of control my left elbow slammed into the doorway en-numbening my left hand, and I quickly sped off the other side of the rollers.
As expected, the tires spun out on the floor and I did not accelerate across the hallway. I waited for the feeling to come back to my hand, wiped my forehead real good, got back on and continued riding. Afterwards, I noticed a nice scuff on the floor from the tire. I was going to clean it up, but I'll leave it there as a war wound for now.
In case you were wondering, my elbow has a mark on it, but the bruising is minimal. I'll live.Autumn Approaches
As the nights get longer and the days get shorter, a young man's thoughts turn to "How much longer can we run trails on Thursday Night?" I love the trail we take, and even though it's the same route week after week I never tire of it. When we have to move back onto the roads it's like summer camp ending. It's also like giving up and letting fall beat you. I know that no amount of willpower will keep the seasons from changing, but it still feels like quitting.
Of course, it also means we get to run the horrible, horrible route around Pontoosuc Lake for the winter. It's full of hills, cold lake wind, snow, traffic and suffering - but it hurts so good.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Weekend Update
Tonight I'm going to take a break from my vacation report, because well, it's really dragging on. I might do one quick blast of a review to get it over with, and that'll be that. For now, here's the news from the front lines.Simple Quote
"E-mail is not to be used to pass on information or data. It should be used only for company business."<
Accounting Manager, Electric Boat Company
For those of you who don't get why this is funny, Electric Boat builds submarines for the US and UK Navies. They're also not known for passing info along to the people they work with, but I doubt that's the original quoter's intent. Having worked with some of EB's finest, I can attest to their poor communication skills.
Reprinted without permission from: http://www.mitchy.com/quotes.htmlNo Thanks, Just the Box it Came In
Anyone who has kids or was a kid at one time knows the best part of Christmas (sorry Jews) is the kickass boxes stuff comes in. As it turns out the same holds true for my less-than-appreciative cats.
Yesterday my entire agenda was rained out when the slight drizzle they predicted for the afternoon showed up as an incessant downpour somewhere in the middle of the night. After bagging my bike ride and returning to the warm confines of my bed, I slowly awoke, lazed around the house and somewhere around noon decided I needed to do SOMETHING. I decided there was no better day to head to Trader Joes than a rainy Friday off.
Long story short, while at Trader Joes I treated my cats to a double-wide cardboard cat scratcher doohickey, complete with catnip. So far they ate the catnip and have ground their gums (as cats do on anything with a corner: boxes, eye glasses, noses, toe nails, tables, post-biking calves, etc) on the corners of the box the scratching post came in. They have not, however, ground their nails into the perfect scratching surface within the box. Ingrates.Josh Billings Rampup
For those of you who don't know, I'm going to be participating in the area's foremost athletic event later this year. The event, The Josh Billings Runaground, is a triathlon consisting of a bike, paddle, run combination (in that order). Last year I was the paddler on a team of three. It was fun, but I thought it would be more fun to tackle the whole thing myself this year, also known as the Ironman division.
Not wanting to let myself down, I've been hitting the bike and kayak about as hard as I can safely do without injuring myself or getting fired from my job. The running on the other hand has been put on the back burner while I nurse a hamstring injury back to health. Last year I would have said that the running was my strong suit, but this year I'm not sure. I hope to be able to give it a strong attempt, but lately I've really been having a hard time. Send some healing vibes this way, please.
Tomorrow morning I'm going to head out to the race route to give my bike another shot at it. Historically I've ridden with people of all abilities and we end up waiting around at various points. The average pace (minus waiting) is usually pretty good, but if I get to rest every 20 minutes it hardly simulates race conditions. Tomorrow I'm going to give it hell, and follow up with a paddle around Stockbridge Bowl for good measure.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Half Marathon Race Report
Hey Coot fans, this is your old pal Old Coot here to give the promised report on my race. To get you up to speed, it was the Rock 'n Roll 1/2 Marathon, held in Phoenix, AZ. In this posting, you'll find all sorts of interesting tidbits about the race.A Cold Wind Blows
Okay, so it wasn't necessarily windy but it was certainly cold. When I was thinking about running this race, I had ideas of plodding through the desert in shorts and a t-shirt, sweat pouring down my face, scorpions nipping at my toes, and so on. What happened instead, was a cold front blew in the day I got there (and back out again when I left) bringing the bitter cold with it. At the start of the race it was 29 degrees.
Phew, thank God it was a dry cold.A Sea of Runners
As of race time, there were 27,000 people entered in the half marathon and another 10,000 in the full. For those of us accustomed to running races of several hundred or less, this was a big deal. When you entered the race, you had to give an estimate of how long you expected to take and they arranged the "corrals" accordingly. All told there were 30 corrals of roughly 1,000 people per corral. Obviously the fastest people were in the front and the slowest in the back.
To prevent the inevitable congestion, they sent the first corral off at the starting gun, then walked everyone up until the people in the second corral were at the starting line. Every two minutes they sent off the next wave of runners until - an hour later - everyone had begun. Each person had a timing chip affixed to his/her shoe, so your time was really the time between the starting and finish lines, not when the gun went off. In theory you could start dead last and win the race.It Pays to Plan Ahead
Every major race has it's Port-o-John farm where you wait in line to relieve yourself prior to the race. This one was no exception except they had them spread all along the starting area. I had to whiz like it was going out of style when we got there (thank you 5 glasses of water) and by the time I made it to my corral (#2, yup I was in the second corral) the lines were pretty much nonexistent.
I stood in a line of one while awaiting an open 'o-John when I saw one with the green vacant indicator showing. Having been embarassed by this before, I chose to knock before opening the door. Thank God, because the guy inside quickly hollered out "Whoa, I'm in here!" and I resumed my spot in line. Finally, he slowly and nervously opened the door as if he was looking for someone. He stepped out with his shorts and his pride hanging low, and muttered the words "No toilet paper in there" to me.
The poor guy probably had the nervous trots with no means of cleansing himself. His bad, should have taken care of it ahead of time. I took my whiz and was out of that shithouse with the quickness.
Through the grapevine, I heard of a woman running with about 4 feet of toilet paper hanging out of her shorts. I can't verify it, but I am willing to laugh at it. Someone finally had the guts to talk another woman into helping her out.5K with 10 Mile Warmup
Feeling good, I decided somewhere around mile 9 that when I crossed the 10 mile mark I was going to run at my 5K race pace for the rest of the course. When I hit the 10th mile, I checked the watch to find my pace and kicked it up a notch. By the time I hit the finish line I was cruising at somewhere around 5:30 min/mile (wicked fast for me) and was feeling great.
I would have kept a faster pace the entire time, but I've had a pain in my leg/butt (this much you know) that I was not willing to risk aggravating. I figured I could easily suffer for 3 miles if I really hurt it.The Envelope, Please
When all was said and done, the results tabulated, recounts recounted, absentee ballots added, I came in 804th place overall with a time of 1:40 (one hour and forty minutes). "Holy shit, that's bad" you might be thinking, but allow me to refresh your memory. There were 27,000 people in this race, meaning I was in the top 3%.
WHAT!
Even if you adjust it for age group (M 24-29), I was 102nd out of 937 or something like that. Not quite the top 10%, but pretty damn close. Considering this was my first half marathon I think I pretty much cleaned up.Closing Remarks
I'd just like to thank all of you who sent fast thoughts my way this weekend, they really helped.
Over and Out,
Old Coot
