Category: running (Page 1 of 2)

Sunday, March 10th I participated in the Prickly Pear 15k, a trail run in San Antonio. This was my first real race in over six years, and only my second trail run since an 8k race in Government Canyon back in November, 2014. Had the race taken place in late December, or had I not been sidelined with a couple of injuries the past two months, the outcome might have been different.

The race was capped at 600 runners, split between three distances: 5k, 15k, and 50k. I signed up four days before the event, as participant #600. In other words: the last possible person to enter the event. The only available spot was for the 15K; had the 50K been the only spot I would have passed on that opportunity.

After the event, in scanning the results, I only found 496 finishers. If that was the case, then just over 100 runners didn’t show up, and more than 15% of the runners did not even start (DNS). Maybe the weather was to blame. The temperature at the start was a cool 48 degree Fahrenheit, though it warmed up quickly and turned out to be fantastic throughout the course. Perhaps some runners were delayed by the change to Daylight Saving time, which started that morning?

As for myself, I was guilty of a DNS once before. A few years ago, when I was in far better shape, I’d signed up for the same race. The week prior to the race, the rains were heavy in San Antonio. I showed up that morning, looked at the waterlogged trails, and turned around without toeing the starting line. I don’t mind running in wet weather, but I hate slogging through mud. I don’t think I would have enjoyed even 5K in knee deep water.

This time around I ended up as a last-minute entry. Overall, it wasn’t an ideal race. The prospects were not great: due to some injuries a few months prior, I was undertrained. Also, I’m not a trail runner. Lastly, I’m a few years older since my last race. My body doesn’t respond like it did back then. I thought I could handle the distance, but the lack of miles in my legs the past two months had a greater impact than I anticipated. I’d hoped to finish around one hour-twenty minutes, based on training runs. That goal seemed manageable, not too ambitious, and at a much slower pace than my last long runs back in December. A few months ago I regularly ran 10 plus miles, until sidelined by a couple of injuries in early January. After some rest and physio, I’d picked up my training again, but the long miles weren’t there yet. Not having raced in years, I also failed to properly fuel along the course. I ran with a water-bottle and some fuel, but hardly used the former and never touched the latter.

My first hint of disaster came at mile four (out of nine!). Mentally I thought I already was at mile six, and did not believe my otherwise trusty GPS watch. Maybe the tree cover affected the GPS, I thought. The same doubt persisted throughout the remainder of the course, so at each subsequent mile I told myself, “Only two more miles.” I said this over and over again, to no avail.

The trail was mostly narrow single track, winding in a serpentine fashion through McAllister Park. At times the trail was smooth, before switching to a rocky river-bed surface, then smooth again, but always winding so I never really knew where I was in the park. The gradient was mostly flat, with a small rise along an earthen dam, then dipping down and up when crossing dry river beds. At times I hear someone on a speaker, but it could have been at some baseball fields, not necessarily the race announcer.

The last time I ran this trail was nearly ten years ago, and then I ran it as an easy jog with some friends. Racing is different, something I didn’t appreciate due to the length of time since my last race. There’s the pressure of people behind you, the thrill of passing someone, and the agony of getting passed. As far as my own race, the wheels came off just before mile six, and from then on it was a matter of survival. At the end, I finished more than 12 minutes off my goal, which was a bitter disappointment. There were many times that I considered quitting and walking somewhere else, anywhere else, as I became focused on my injury and lack of will to keep running instead of stepping to the side and walking. It was, overall, a humbling experience.

Yes, there were prickly pears on the course, some which I almost touched as I passed a runner. There also was prickly pear flavored beer from Shiner (the brewery) at the end. I barely tasted that beer, as I sat off to the side with my head between my knees wondering where it all went wrong.

Runners are rarely satisfied with their results. Like fishermen who focus on the one that got away, runners tend to think, “If only I ran a little faster, I could have shaved some seconds/minutes off my time!” On the positive side, I try to think of this as my first race in over six years. Six years in which I’d quit running because I thought my ankle no longer could handle the training. Six years in which I thought I’d done everything I wanted in terms of running, and no longer needed to prove anything. But I missed it. I missed the thrill of the race, the agony and despair that went with each step.

Still, I enjoy running.

I truly do enjoy running, even though there’s pain, doubt, and misery. I just don’t think I like trail runs. It’s too narrow, too winding. The rocks and surface require more patience and caution than I have.

Will I run that course again? I don’t know. Maybe, if I don’t have other plans I might try it again, but only if I’m not injured. Maybe, if the weather cooperates, and if the course is dry, I’ll lace up my trail shoes and give it one more shot. The 50K would be nice, in terms of a goal. Maybe…

Once I registered for the New York marathon through the lottery, but since they changed their rules I gave up on that big marathon. Now it appears that the Chicago marathon, whose initial registration system crashed when too many people attempted to register for the 25k spots, will switch to the lottery for the remaining 15k spots. Will they make this a permanent change? I think it’s likely, since marathons are becoming sold out everywhere now.

The weekend of January 12th and 13th I ran the Goofy Challenge in DisneyWorld. This consisted of running a half marathon on Saturday, followed by a marathon on Sunday. Training had been spotty, given a summer with little running and longer than recovery times following hard weeks due to a persistent foot injury. I had committed to the race and trip months ago, so I refused to back out. Though I ran a semi-decent half-marathon in November, I anticipated at Disney a terrible half marathon time, and an average marathon time.

The packet pickup took place at the Wide World of Sports area. I rode a bus there first thing Friday morning, grabbed my stuff and was on the bus back to the hotel as quickly as possible. Against all recommendations I actually walked around one of the parks that day, but family was with me so there was no choice. Waking up at 2:30am to get to the starting area proved easier than expected, but exhausting. The Goofy Challenge is so called because during the WDW Marathon weekend, the half marathon and marathon take place on separate days. Over 20,000 people race in each event, and some crazy people decided to attempt both events. It sounds goofy even to runners; non-runners who hear about this either looked at me blankly, or shook their heads wondering why anyone would attempt this.

Saturday morning I lined up in corral A, and the fireworks signaled the start at 5:35am. I took the first mile easy. The course descended languidly the the first couple of miles, and the second mile opened up with a slightly faster pace as I settled into a rhythm. We hit the Magic Kingdom around mile 4, with a sharp dip under a bridge the only significant hill. Runners entered the park through a side door, then took a sharp right turn along Main Street amid cheering crowds. Undeniably such enthusiasm does something positive. At the top of the street came another sharp right turn, straight into Tomorrowland. It was still dark, and Cinderella’s castle lit the sky and was visible the whole time. We ran through the castle, then veered right again along what appeared to be Frontierland. Someone zipped in front of me to take a picture with some characters, almost tripping me up. Otherwise the trip through the park seemed almost too brief.

We exited Magic Kingdom and ran past two of the resort hotels, a few people lined up along the road cheering. As we hit mile 10 I still felt good and started passing people. I rarely looked at my watch, trying to feel the pace instead. Near the turn to Epcot, the road climbed as we looped a wide looping turn. After about a mile we turned rightward again, and headed into Epcot. I think the pace lulled me a little here, as I throttled back and let people pass me until near the end when I realized I could break one hour and 40 minutes. With around 200-400 yards to go I woke up and sprinted to the finish. I ended up at 1:40:07, three minutes faster than my PR, but a few seconds shy of seeing 1:39:xx on the clock. Still, much better than I expected.

The following day saw another vast crowd of people in the same place, many Goofy runners amid the marathoners. Again I found myself in corral A, but I started further back since I planned an easy run. We followed the half-marathon trail through the Magic Kingdom and two resorts, then turned and ran into and around a speedway, with cars stationed all around the track. Then we ran through empty back roads, with only occasional characters by the sides of the roads, until we turned into Animal Kingdom just before the halfway point.

I ran fairly easy through the first 15 miles, at which point fatigue and pain took over, and I slowed the pace. Although I’d completed a couple of 18+ milers in training, the fatigue, heat, and foot pain, combined with a mental disconnectedness that sets in after a certain distance, all contributed to poor pacing over the second half. Around mile 16, with the Wide World of Sports park ahead, we could hear people announcing the 21-mile point, as the course looped around the park. Running through the WWS park, with its complexes of soccer and baseball fields, broke up some road monotony, and we even ran through a baseball field and around the chewed up outfield. Then at mile 20 Mickey, Donald and Goofy were there for a photo-op.

The last six miles were tough, as always. I struggled through Hollywood Studios and along some of the other resorts. We ran on boardwalk planks along the Boardwalk. At mile 24 as we left Hollywood Studios I felt out of breath and walked a little bit for the first time. The crowds in the parks were great and volunteers beyond fantastic. Thank to the one person around mile 25 who encouraged me by name to keep going, giving me enough energy to push through and run the rest of the way. I enjoyed running through the world showcase in Epcot, even though the bridge to France seemed massive. There were more crowds closer to the Epcot entrance and near the finish line, but at that point I remember little except passing one runner going backwards. I ended up finishing at 3:54, tied for my slowest of four marathons.

Running through all the parks was a blast. The weather was warmer than expected, near the 80s at the end. And it seemed like the walk back to the monorail took another hour. At the start of the race an announcer mentioned 95 perfect Goofy’s were there, people who had run the Goofy Challenge all the 20 years in the race’s history. Quite an amazing feat, as I’m not sure I’ll attempt this again. I’m now trying to rest two injured feet, hoping that when summer arrives I can start training for my next running goal, knocking down my half-marathon time another five to eight minutes. I think I am done with marathons, unless something special comes along. I am close to figuring out the half-marathon race, with a great negative split for the Disney half, and nearly zero recovery time. The marathon takes me a couple of days before I feel right again, and the final 6-10 miles remain elusive in putting together that perfect race. We shall see.

My toughest moment on the course occurred about three miles before the finish. My legs up until that point felt fresh. Turnover was quick, and my pace remained around a 7:45 minute per mile average, well under the goal I set going into the race. Undertrained due to a persistent injury, I still felt hesitant about my endurance and pace, so I might have started out too hard. In a long race, what feels good the first third or half often ends up turning into “what happened here?” when setting a hard pace early, even when you think it isn’t hard. When I registered for the San Antonio half-marathon many months ago I hoped to finish around 1:37. I knew this goal was out of reach due to the injury, and I didn’t want to push too hard in case I aggravated the injury. I deliberately kept the pace slow, or so I thought, but lack of recent racing meant my pace estimates were way off base.

In 2011 I ran the San Antonio full marathon course in steaming heat. That year, through the first 13 miles I felt like I was running on air, and hit the halfway mark at 1:41, around three minutes faster than my half-marathon PR. Then the sun broke through the clouds, the heat climbed several degrees, and a long slow hill crushed me by mile 20, sending my hopes of a 3:35 finish time into the ether. I finished in 3:50, struggling through the last 6 miles. A few months later, injured and apathetic, I improved my marathon PR by nine minutes in Houston, with cooler temperatures and better pacing. Still, I figured that if I trained for the full, and ran the half instead, I would skip the heat and break 1:40, and so I signed up with that goal in mind earlier this year.

However, the injury never quite went away. I took time off from running, and biked and swam instead. When I resumed running I discovered that there is no substitute for running if you want to run well, and it took a few weeks to build up decent mileage. Not the 50+ mile weeks I hoped for, but some long runs gave me the confidence that I knew I could finish the race.

I lined up near the back of corral number 2. I remember being in corral 4 two years ago, and weaving in and out among runners for several miles. It’s tougher further back, as I know from running the Austin marathon in 2010. I found myself running around some people the first mile, yet settled into what I thought was a comfortable pace just after the first mile, and the first few miles ran a fairly consistent pace. I kept my head down, alternated water and gatorade, and occasionally dunked water on my head to keep cool. Around mile three we passed huge crowds in front of the Alamo. There’s an urge here to speed up, high five and wave. I tried to stay within myself, and didn’t notice any significant increase in speed. Just before mile six we hit the only significant hill in the half-marathon course, zig-zagging through streets to the top of a hill before running down again towards downtown San Antonio. Around halfway down I started feeling some unexpected fatigue.

I had eaten a GU as we topped the hill, which helped the legs, and amid the buildings of downtown overcame some fatigue. We encountered small pockets of crowds here. At times young kids stuck out their hands for high fives, which now helped motivate me, and I plugged along, passing runners, getting passed – normal stuff. Then with three miles to go I felt the legs get heavy. Here I made a big mistake: I brought the wrong nutrition, blocks instead of more GU. I struggled getting through just two of them, and couldn’t eat more, which I know cost me some energy. I have used blocks in training runs, but at a slower pace and carrying my own water. This time it didn’t work. For two miles I slowed the pace, even considered walking for a moment, but when I passed the 12 mile marker I felt some energy return, and the last mile almost returned to my previous pace.

Shortly before the finish, as you run alongside the Alamodome, there is a short, steep hill. Here many people slow down or walk, but near the top I tried to speed up and managed a slow sprint after the hill evened into a 200 meter flat before the finish line. I squeaked out a PR with 1:43:06, about one and half minutes better than my previous half. In terms of the final results, I ended up number 442 out of 16,372 in the half, so in the top 2%. I think I have a better result still somewhere within myself, but I’ve learned there are many factors that I can’t control. Perhaps things will be different next year, perhaps they won’t. But I do intend to line up on November 17 and run that half-marathon again. Pushing the date back one week might work out with cooler weather, but in Central Texas the weather is never a sure bet.

Finished my fifth half marathon today, in a personal best of 1:43:06, despite persistent injury and limited training. Lack of serious training made itself known around mile 10, when I felt the leg strength fade. Turnover slowed drastically for two miles, then picked up again the last mile. I hope the injury finally heals in 2013 so I can keep working on my 1:35 goal pace.

Although the Runner’s World writer mixes Norwegian and Dutch soccer players as I’d they are one and the same, the study found that elite Norwegian soccer players have the same VO2 max as 2:36 marathoners. The key is probably youth and health, and lots of conditioning.

Amby Burfoot from Runner’s World writes a thoughtful essay on the aftermath of the cancellation of the New York Marathon. I thought it would go on, should go on, but I don’t live there and was not running New York. I understand some of the reasons for why it eventually was cancelled at the last minute, but not some of strong emotion behind those against the initial decision.

I think the decision to cancel came a little late; if there was any doubt, cancel it earlier, rather than in the middle of the anti-runner sentiment that arose after Mayor Bloomberg said to proceed with the event. The ramifications of the cancellation next year and beyond for all runners will be huge. Those who showed up in New York from elsewhere, especially outside the US, must feel somewhat angry and disappointed. Hopefully the anti-runner sentiment will not bleed over into other events.