The Cleveland Marathon is Decadent and Depraved

I did my usual Bolling for seven miles Wednesday (April 25) morning, but then decided against going to BCC for track work, opting instead for an 11 mile route on the W&OD to Vienna, then a loop back through neighborhoods. I wasn't feeling too great, though.

I took Thursday off of work to go up and watch the Penn Relays, so I took my time in the morning running out to McLean High School to do 4k,3k,2k, 2x1k, but early on I wasn't feeling great. I did some drills and ran back home. It was a late night, and I got about 3.5 hours of sleep on a shockingly comfortable couch.

Friday, I walked to work and before I went in I got a tired eight miles, out to the FDR fields and back. That evening I ran an Idylwood+ for another five, and slept like crazy after.

The next morning, I was up at 6 and out the door at 6:40. I planned to run 12 miles before the Jaguar 5k to get myself nice and tired, then race the 5k and cool down home. My first mile was just over 7:00, but I caught up in the next two, hitting three miles in 19:00. Three more miles in 18:30, by which point I was on Cottage and just rolling, having never run that direction before, it was cool to see everything from the other side. The next three miles were 18:05, but apparently when I remapped the course to include a few missed turns, it was more than three miles. I slowed down a little, with the intention of actually trying to run fast at the race, but when I got to the vestigial bridge over the beltway, I couldn't resist a few surges,and I kept of kept that going through Fairview Park. I thought better of my plan to cut it very close to the 5k start, since I was picking up my packet, so I cut a mile off the loop. I eased up as I headed down Route 50 and showed up at Falls Church High School for the Jaguar 5k, having averaged 6:13 for the 11 miles.

Everything I had read indicated the race started at 8, but when I picked up my number, it became apparent the race was a half hour later. I jogged around trying to stay loose and keep my heart rate up, but my brilliant plan to be "nice and tired" at the start to simulate the latter stages of the half marathon was beaching like a whale. Eventually the 5k start rolled around.

The gun went off and with it, a flock of floppy-haired teens out for yucks in the race's first stretch. I got around them by the first turn, then caught the last one, who actually looked like he could be kind of dangerous, right as we got out of the parking lot. I cruised through the neighborhoods, pushing a little more than I would have liked, but not interested in having any of the kids catch me. The first mile was mostly downhill, but I was shocked to come through at 5:01, I was expecting something more in the 4:40 range, considering my effort and the course.  I had nothing to worry about from the teens chasing me- I didn't hear any footsteps or cheers behind me. The second mile was heavily uphill as I turned onto Camp Alger Avenue, I saw the same old man out walking that I had seen two weeks before. I slowed a bit to say hi, then got back to business to split a lackluster 5:25 in the second mile.The third mile was more uphill and battling through the crowds of runners still in the first mile, but when I turned onto Holly Hill I found out the roads were not closed to traffic after all, because I had cars on either side of me as I turned onto Marc. I claimed the middle of the road after the turn and let the drivers deal with me until I got back to the school grounds popped up a hill and ran 300 on the track to finish in 16:30. I was pleased that after the long, pretty hard warmup and the unexpected wait, I was able to average a little faster than my goal half pace, but I still would have liked to have been faster.

As much as I love the CCT to Lake Accotink, it always tires me out a lot more than a mostly-flat trail should, and Sunday was no different. Gone, though, were the sunset clouds of gnats who pestered Karl and me the last time I was there. I took it easy and averaged 6:50s throughout, though as usual I was ridiculously thirsty in the last four miles.

Monday was a trip to Tenleytown to look at a house then a late run to McLean High School for some quarters. 69, 69, 67, 69, 68, 67, 67, 67, 69, 70, 70, 67. Then a cooldown for 13. Tuesday was another house but an earlier return home and, I believe, a Pimmit-Idylwood, though I'm not positive. Wednesday I struggled through the humidity to do some 1200s with Karl, Diddy and Syd Barrett, but I got pretty dizzy after a while and dropped out in favor of a few laps with Murph.

The next day I did five miles, probably an Idylwood+. That was when my back started to hurt, a different part than last time, I think I took the afternoon off to recover, or something. Friday morning I started a New Virginia Manor, but cut it after one loop, it was just too humid.

Saturday morning I was back in Pittsburgh and had plans for a nice long workout at 5:20 pace- 400 on the track, 1k on the oval, a mile on the track, 2k on the oval, 2 miles on the track, 4k on the oval, then 4k on the track. I was doing just fine until the youth soccer teams starts swarming the field inside the track while I was in the middle of my two mile. With kids running into lane one after soccer balls and parents not seeming to care where they stood, I was fed up. I tried to do the 4ks on the oval, the humidity was really getting to me by that point, and the temperature was climbing, so I opted for a long cooldown. It was really humid, I felt awful and wondered if I should even bother with Cleveland--two weeks later in a volatile month. The recent, very favorable temperatures on race day, however, convinced me to stick with the plan.

Sunday, I ran around and watched the Pittsburgh Marathon and Half, a total of 18 miles. My back was not a  problem while I was running. Monday I did another fartlek on the W&OD, my back wasn't even an issue. Tuesday I took off. Wendesday back to BCC for 5xmile- 5:30, 5:20, 5:10, 5:00, 4:49. Our pacer was slow at 800 for the last (2:28+) so I took the second half a little harder- 69 and 70. I didn't feel my back at all. The next morning I did a Slade Run at 6:35 pace, with some intestinal problems in mile 6 and 7. Friday was off to let my back rest.

Saturday was a run up to McLean High School for 2x20, but I got out fast- 5:08 for the first and second miles. I managed to ease up later on, but dodged a lot of lane-one walkers. I decided to just go for 4 mile, and averaged 5:15 pace feeling easy. Again, no pain. Afterward, though, was another issue.

Sunday I went out to Alexandria to run with Dave O'Hara and Murph on the Mt. Vernon Trail. The back pain was constant, though I could run through it. I was seriously regretting putting $93 into the Cleveland Half at this point.

I took Monday off to rest the back. Tuesday evening I headed off to do a NVM, but the back wasn't cooperating. I made it a mile and turned around and went home. The next morning I successfully ran an Idylwood+ in the morning, then up to McLean in the evening for 5:13, 5:18, 5:13 and back. No 30 miles on my 30th birthday.

Thursday morning I went out to do a NVM, but stopped after one loop. Friday morning I took off, and in the afternoon, I headed up to Pittsburgh with Dickson and Beth, with Drea and Paul in their car. After stopping at the Country Club Mall in Cumberland, I drove the rest of the way to the JBI, choosing one of my favorite routes -- through the Laurel Highlands and the Mon Valley. That two hour chunk was nothing short of amazing, even as I was driving right into the setting sun.

My back and hip were still troubling me Saturday morning, so I skipped my pre-race jog around Chatham Village in fantastic weather. That would have been a good day for the race, aside from my discomfort.

After the drive to Cleveland and a stop at the miserable IX Expo Center to pick up our bibs, after paying $8 to park, we got some dinner and we all settled into the bizarrely-designed rooms at the Comfort Inn Suites near Cleveland State that lacked a wall between the shower and the living room. After a long night of sleep the night before at home, I was prepared for general discomfort on the foldout bed which didn't really conduct body heat too readily.

In the morning, we took a cab ride with two delightful ladies from Charleston, WV, driven by a temperamental cabbie who "enjoyed the hell out of being fat" and congregated at a place where every out-of-town team feels like a winner- Cleveland Browns Stadium. It was warm- in the 60s, and after our warmup, sweat was running all over my head and torso. It was going to be rough. Thanks to seven or so Aleve, I couldn't feel my back or hip. At least something was going right.

The start was up a slight hill, evidently they have those in Cleveland, they also have a number of delays for the race start that never were clear to me. It looked like an awfully pale field, if you know what I mean.

I lagged at the start, as is my tendency. After weaving through the hoi polloi, I was within reach of the leaders, and none of them looked to be going too fast. I was in the front within 30 seconds and cruised along with the pack until we hit the first turn. I took it aggressively, keeping my pace consistent, but everyone else slowed. I figured it was time to go for it- nobody else was going to be taking the half seriously, with its lack of prize money, so I shouldn't concern myself with the early-race jockeying among marathoners from Lorian, Ashtabula and Streetsboro.

So, I ran ahead and nobody else came with me. I hit the first mile in 5:28, and I was surprised it was that slow, though the hill certainly was a factor. There wasn't a sliver of shade on the shoreway along Lake Erie. All I could hear were my own steps, and I thought maybe I could run away with this thing. That thought was reinforced when I hit the second mile in 5:05. I couldn't feel my hip, maybe it was better, maybe my stride was doing its job, maybe the borderline overdose of anti-inflammatories was doing its job. Maybe any of my multitude of relatives in Cleveland would see the race on the television before they took their Sunday morning trips to Marc's, the May Company, Malley's Candies or the Crawford Auto Museum and say "oh my, that's Charlie."

I kept cranking, marveling at the amount of sun-- there was nothing stopping that mother today. After a mile in 5:15, I started to feel the muscles around my shins tighten up and my forefoot striking was coming to an end. A few seconds later, I heard a bicycle, then a lot of breathing. Then I saw the shadows, not-so-elongated by the sun behind me, of a pack of skinny dudes. Suddenly, I was surrounded by east africans and one white dude. There was the pack of marathoners shooting for the sub 2:20 bonus. I hadn't seen a single member of this pack on the starting line. They rushed past me, no surprise, since my fourth mile was 5:41-- not where I needed to be, to put it lightly.

Now it was time for me to figure out what kind of race it was going to be. Would I try to regain that pace the pack was setting, or fight for whatever position I had in the half marathon, ambiguous as it was? That fantasy about leading the race crashed faster than Kellen Winslow, Jr on a motorcycle.

I tried to get back on my forefeet to chase that pack, and my legs cramped immediately. Looks like I was going to be forced to the latter. I managed to maintain by pace for the next mile. 5:41 for a 27:12 five mile split as we weaved through a shady neighborhood. That was kind of nice, though I lost a few positions there. As I turned eastward on Detroit Avenue and finished a 5:43 mile, I was running directly at the sun. I passed the 10k park in 34:01, well behind where I hoped to be at that point. I took two cups at each water stop and doused myself to try to keep my head together. It helped for about 15 seconds, which made a difference in my 5:30 seventh mile and 5:34 eighth. I don't remember much of nine, in 5:35, but 10 was an adventure. A downhill of which I failed to take advantage in my chase of a pack of three, complicated by a few loose cars on the course that I dodged on my way back up the hill. At the top, I was cooked, and it showed in my 5:47 split for a 55:23 10 mile. At least in my Philly half I was under 55 at 10--this was troubling. Maybe I could gut it out.

Nope.

Back into the sun on Carnegie, over the bridge, those now-creepy statues and another 5:47 for a real kick in the pills. The last two miles offered a little shady relief, though I was losing the capacity to judge my distance traveled. I got a little better in mile 12- 5:38, but soon after the marathoners split off and I saw the one chance for redeeming this race fade away when one guy continued straight toward the half marathon finish. Victory now beyond my reach, I focused on finishing, merging streams of 10k runners.

"What the hell??" I said.

I really had enough by this point, and even the otherwise-welcome downhill didn't do anything for me, I finished up, with a 6:24 last 1.1--miserable, really, and came to a rapid stop when I crossed the line. I had no idea there was a fellow four seconds behind me. I also had no idea in which place I had finished. Some handler tried to scoop me away, but I escaped to watch Drea and Beth finish. My first thought was that one of my left toes must be bleeding like hell. The pains and aches I had been deferring for 73 minutes all called in their debts at the same time, and I lurched around with a degenerative limp. It got really f%$@#ing hot out there, and the marathoners all suffered. I'm sure the winner didn't want to sneak in at 2:19:59.

1:13:13. Not what I was hoping to run. Part of me was thrilled that I was even able to run 13 miles at 5:35 pace, after the discomfort and downright pain I had felt in the weeks prior. The fact that it was a sweaty mess didn't help things, and should have made me happier with being able to hang on, but all of these add up to the fact that I didn't get the job done. I didn't win the race or improve my best time, which remains from a hilly race I ran with a cold- granted, in perfect conditions.

Despite my feelings of failure in terms of the race, the trip itself was fantastic. On the way home, I nailed the Breezewood trifecta of KFC, Dairy Queen and Taco Bell. The KFC was nothing short of divine.

Back in Virginia, I took a full week off. The bender I had planned became a Tuesday evening and a Saturday night where I stretched the limits of a full liver and an empty stomach. It was a miserable week and I'm not sure if not running made it worse or prevented it from sinking lower.

Then Molz and I headed up to Winchester on Memorial Day to run the Loudoun Street Mile with Witty and Billzzz. The drive was pleasant. The race did not bode well. It was warm, I hadn't run in a week, and I was ill prepared to race a mile, but what the hell? Molz and I warmed up and I realized a few minutes in that there would be no miracles. I was drenched after 15 minutes. My back, which was miraculously comfortable  starting Monday morning, started acting up as we jogged to the start. I saw Tim Schuler, the maniac master, down from Chambersburg. The heat was overwhelming me, but as I would find out minutes later when the race started, it was the least of my worries.

My habitual slow starts off the line was deadly here. I was immediately left behind and rushed down the hill to catch the huge pack. At the bottom, though, I felt the exertion catch up to me and I felt, for the first time in my running career, like I might not live to see the finish. My lungs has to have been run clean through with a sword, there was no other explanation for what I was feeling. Except maybe the 63 second 400 split...

The next 400 was up a hill in the sun. I stopped even pretending I was racing and jogged it. 79.99. Not quite 80. I thought of Lauder's 4:52 last year at this race and wondered if I had the wherewithal to match it at this point. I charged down the hill. No I didn't. I meandered a bit. 74. We hit the flat-to-uphill last stretch on the pedestrian mall and I started to fight for my position again, but that didn't last too long. I started hemorrhaging places and managed to struggled in at 4:51.8 for 25th place. I just managed to squeek by what a fellow who trained much less than I did ran on a much hotter day the year before. Great job, Chaz.

I'd rather be a half a second slower than look like an idiot

The next day I went out to Burke Lake with Fun Liz. The sky was dark, in advance of a rainstorm, and the humidity was raging. I ran off around the lake and was feeling pretty good for a while, splitting 6:00 miles for a little over 18 minutes. The clouds of gnats were a pain, but I was moving again, and without pain. Then suddenly everything caught up with me- the heat, humidity, and I stopped. I grabbed my knees as I struggled to breathe, and watched the bicyclists I passed with such ease cruise by me. Soon Liz caught me, and I ran with her for about a minute until I had to take another break. My decline was swift, but decisive. I jogged in and finished 35 minutes of running right before the storm started.

Wednesday after work I gave running another shot- an Idylwood+. Five miles in 33:30. Thursday evening a Seaton, for six miles at 6:40 pace. Friday was a nice day to take off. Saturday morning I rose and just started running and played it by ear. 6:30 average for this loop, with a few stops at garage sales.

I had planned to run very early Sunday morning, taking advantage of the phenomenal June weather. Back after the George Washington Parkway race, I had a crazy thought that I would keep my options open for a spring marathon after Cleveland. I settled on the God's Country Marathon in Coudersport, Pa. It was a small race, a point-to-point course between two towns, and I'd be able to register the day of the race, giving me flexibility to strike if the weather was good. I figured why the hell not? If I am feeling good after Cleveland, and the weather wouldn't be too oppressive, I might as well just see what I could do. As it turned out, the weather was great, but I was not. AJ Kelly ended up winning in 2:42, which would have been a nice time to run, especially if we had kept each other company on a pretty lonely course. So, I designed a 26.2 mile course through McLean, Great Falls and Falls Church and I would give it a shot.

When I didn't want to do that when the alarm went of at 4, I slept in and decided to do it after I watched the episode of Mad Men I missed the week before. That eventually meant a 9:30 start. It was warmer than had I started at 4:30, but not terrible. I ran the first two miles carrying a quart of gatorade, which I hid in a tree two miles in. After I got that out of my hand, my form straightened out.

I navigated the new neighborhood past Daleview with more ease this time than in March, but I struggled on the Belleview hills. My thirst was starting to hit me when I got to Georgetown Pike. Luckily I was coming up to a point where I could turn back toward where I stashed my Gatorade. I can't remember the name of the subdivision I entered, but it was clear it didn't consider itself a thoroughfare. The map I consulted, however, begged to differ. It was hilly, and I was starting to labor, but I could keep going. I wound around until what I thought to be the logical turn. Eventually I hit a cul de sac I hadn't expected. Maybe I turned early. I headed the opposite way and found the same situation. Back from whence I came, I saw an imposing-looking gatehouse blocking what looked like a driveway. I decided to just go back and turn on Swinks Mill, a long uphill that really didn't do it for me. Back over the beltway and up Balls Hill Road. I stopped a few times in the last few miles, not sure what it would take to make me comfortable again running, but I knew the answer was going to be fluid of some sort. Salt was caking my once-flexible shorts turning them into a chamois-like consistency. I finally got back to the Gatorade bottle and went to town. After that, there would be no more running. I ended up running this. I walked home the last two miles, pretty tired out and still thirsty.

Monday evening I ran with the DC Capital Striders and bumped into Teddy Winschel, a total of nine miles, then did six the next evening with Elyse's gang of fun runners. I took Wednesday, National Running Day, off. Thursday night I did what be my last Slade Run, averaging 6:22 pace for 13.25 miles. Toward the end, I actually got chilly. What a gift this first part of June has given runners in DC. Friday morning I woke up to 56 degrees and hopped out of bed for a morning run, but found that my elusive hip/back pain had returned. I meandered six miles around part of the Bolling loop, but never settled in.

Saturday morning I ran a sleep-deprived eight miles on the towpath with Karl, Jake, Diddy, Dix, Murph and Bitz. Sunday I planned to a variety of the Irvin long run, but within a mile I could tell the heat would be too much, I switched to a Double Pimmit, but that proved to be too hot, too. I made it seven miles.

I'm still figuring out my fall schedule vis-a-via cross country races, but I will give the half another shot in late October, which should fit well, at the Charlottesville Fall Classic. That will also give me a chance, after the race to tour south-central Virginia in its most enjoyable month.

For now, nothing but base, most runs will be less than an hour for my own sake. The heat is here and it's time for me to get used to it. A few weeks of my northern Virginia farewell tour, then it's onto the big city and the Tenleytown Running Endeavour.

Five years gone

Saturday (April 7)morning, I took the metro to Vienna, then biked down Nutley to Arlington Boulevard to the Cross County Trail.  I saw the trail and was dismayed because it was paved. I asked some walkers how far it was paved, and they said five miles, acting as though that answer would please me. If there's any way a trail through the woods can be ruined, it's by paving it. Eventually, though, it transitioned to gravel and dirt as the trail wove through a series of parks as I headed southeast along the beltway towards Lake Accotink. The actual loop around the lake was fantastic, rolling hills and a beautiful view of the lake through the trees and a majestic train trestle. I was pretty thirsty on the way back, and ready for the run to be over. At the end I had 16 miles, 95 for the week and a gift card for the Sweetwater Tavern nearby, where I had a delicious filet, thanks to the Van Metre Five Mile. 

From http://thenextbestthing30.blogspot.com

Sunday's (Easter) progression did not start well. I felt cruddy in the first mile, though I managed to keep at under control, at 7:00. The next mile was not as easy- 6:00. I manged to drag it back down to 6:45 before I started the actual workout- 3 at 6:30, 3 at 6:00, 3 at 5:45 and 3 at 5:20. 
I was 6:00 for the first mile, way too fast, and it just never got better. I changed my plan in the middle to get 20 seconds faster per mile every three miles, but even then I was going too fast. I was hitting 5:30s when I should have been running 5:40s, and about a block from the end of mile 12, I stopped. I jogged it in, past a small park where a few kids were participating in an Easter egg hunt -- truly the sport of kings. I wondered, during my trudging last mile home, whether I had lost sight of what was important, and was clawing for every second I could at the expense of those little surprises I would find in a less structured life, the Easter eggs in a day without routine. No, I wasn't.


That afternoon I developed a new loop -- the Bolling -- that was seven miles long and looped through Falls Church. I like it.


I worked a little late Monday and did a Pimmit-Idylwood. The next morning I did a Bolling for 7, then planned to do the Hounds workout that evening in Pittsburgh, but my schedule did not work out that way in the end and I got there an hour late, so I ran a few laps of the oval while Jim, Brandon G, Mark and Ed ran their workout, then we did a cooldown and I had another 7 for 14 for the day.


My morning run Wednesday morning gave me great cause for alarm. I set off around Chatham Village for a few miles before I would wander throughout Mt. Washington, but two miles in, I felt a sharp pain in my right IT band that forced me to stop. I walked back to my mom's house and stretched, but felt no improvement. Throughout the day, I felt it being tight and worried I had somehow suddenly damaged my knee. I thought about trying to run again after a four-hour car ride back to Virginia, but I figured a little extra rest couldn't hurt.


Thursday morning, I felt only a hint of tightness in my knee less than a minute into a five-mile morning run, but just for a second. The rest of the run was fine. That afternoon I did a series of one-minute fartleks on the W&OD to Vienna, a loop around the library and school and over into Falls Church and back. After the first three I felt like I was done, but soon after I felt able to push through it. The next evening, I ran one of the Crystal City 5ks with Will and Elyse for her birthday, starting a minute after the gun and jogging through the crowds to finish in 26:01. Then I took another few miles to cool down, both of which were faster than my pace for the race.


Saturday morning I headed up to McLean High School for a long progression run, but I was feelin pretty dehydrated. I ran a mile or so, then figured I'd postpone the workout until Sunday. I ran home to drop off my flats, then ran a Bolling to total 13. That afternoon I did an easy Idylwood+ for 5 more for 90 miles that week. Then I went out to George Mason to watch a track meet. The Spiders took a small but solid crew up, and I had a chance to hang out with Molz, Steve and Lori and see some of the young guys go after their 1500 PRs. I watched Sam pull Webb along for two miles before the no-longer-bald miler took off for a pretty cheap win at a small college meet. 

The next morning I woke early for the workout I had scrapped. I headed to McLean but noticed undeniable stomach problems a little more than a mile in. I kept going anyway and eventually started the workout, but was too fast- a minute ahead of schedule at four miles. I gave up and headed home, then did some drills before meeting Melissa for a four mile run and brunch.


Monday morning my legs were a mess after my first walking lunges in months. It was also well into the 80s by the afternoon, when I met Karl at the head of the cross county trail on Arlington Boulevard. He was stuck in traffic and we got a late start on a run to Lake Accotink. We immediate encountered clouds of gnats swarming around the trail. The heat was getting to me when we approached the lake, and luckily the water fountain was on for a reprieve, but with our late start, Karl acknowledged that we would have to push the pace to make it back before dark.


As it turns out, nothing short of cutting the trail short would have helped us there, and we ran the last 20 minutes in relative darkness, though we could see enough to run on the dirt part of the trail. I was falling apart, but would ease up for about 15 seconds before pushing the pace again. The end couldn't have come at a better time- I was pretty much out of gas when we made it back out to Arlington Boulevard.


I was able to get up the next morning for a very easy Idylwood+, thanks to both my legs being ridiculously sore and the rest of me still trying to catch up from running in the heat 11 hours before. That afternoon, the schedule looked clear for McLean's track, so I biked out there so I could do hurdle drills after my run, but I arrived to find the place swarming with lax bros. There couldn't have been a worse infestation. I locked the bike, though, and took off on an eight-mile loop up Balls Hill Road to the neighborhood I explored during my pre-Cherry Blossom long run- the Ben and Doug. It was really pleasant, though my legs were still lagging. I noticed, moreso this time, the absolutely gigantic houses on Benjamin and Douglas streets, the roads that give this loop its name.


Wednesday, I hit a Bolling in the morning and went to the track after work, concerned about my ability to break 6:00 pace. Luckily, a group was doing miles at 5:20 pace. I did three, leading the second precisely. On the fourth, I let Tender and New Sam take a 20 second lead, which I would try to gain on, but in the meantime, the guys doing 69 second quarters jumped into start. I was close behind them, and didn't back off enough and came through 400 in 70 seconds. I called it a day, happy to have those 5:20s feel as easy as they did, considering how lousy I felt before it all started.


Thursday afternoon I headed out to Fairview Park, which I hadn't seen in months. After a few laps of the pond, I took the trail around the office park to Falls Church High School and tried out much of the Jaguar 5k course. I liked the way it looked- rolling hills in a residential neighborhood, reminiscent of a lot of low-key 5k races I had run in Pittsburgh and Richmond. I headed home via Hollywood Cemetery, another route I hadn't taken in a while, and got 13.5 on a few missteps of a new loop I call, aptly, the Jaguar.


I woke up Friday needing a day off, and took one. Saturday I trudged through a pre-race run of the Park++, hoping for some relief from the heat before the George Washington Parkway Classic. Little did I know just how much relief I would get. 


I tried to find a comfortable niche on Mike Smith's futon Saturday night and get to sleep before the race. My mind kept running through a Bruce Hornsby song (not The Way It Is) that I routinely listened to on my drive to Hounds practice from work in 2007, particularly when I got to the corner of Beeler and Forbes and sat at the light next to Dan Ruef's old house. It invariably drew my thoughts to much of that year, one marked by a lot of solid running, and that it was five years since my best 5k, a 14:57 at the Genesis 5k. That year wasn't all great, my heart issues threw the feasibility of my journalism career into doubt and I found a few times to feel lost and frustrated, but it had long held an awful lot of highlights from my adult life, both in and out of running. Part of me thought I was foolish for even trying to run fast again, because I was nowhere near that shape for short distances. It also reminded me that I was no longer a young man, with 30 coming pretty soon. Why was I still doing this? It was one thing when I was running really well (at the time) for the effort I put in back then, but this was now 2.5 years into committing serious time every day into running. Is there something else I'd rather do? I was revisiting the doubts that came on Easter, after a broken workout. I felt it might be unfair to weigh it all on the results the next morning, but there was a chance I would do it anyway.


I don't know when I actually fell asleep, but when I woke up I didn't feel too bad. I walked down the street to Old Town in a slight drizzle. The bus ride up took a while, but got us to Mount Vernon at just the right time for a warmup but not enough time to stand around. I was kind of frantic to get my shoes on, the laces of my racing flats were a little tight, but it all came together. The weather was pretty much the best I could hope to have- cool, with a little rain and not too much wind, yet.


The pack thinned out quickly, and I found myself in the middle of it. I knew it was going to be fleeting, though. I knew how fast a lot of these guys could go, and it would have been ill-advised for me to try to hang with them too long, lest I be left on the side of the road. We went through the first mile in 5:06, jarringly slow, given then downhill, but I think people were playing it safe in regards to the rain on the ground. I eased up and let the pack go but still came through two in another 5:06. In three I started to feel the effort I was putting in and I gradually eased up into the uphills and came through in 5:19, with an African in blue ahead of me. I caught up with him and passed, which he did to me a few minutes later. Matt Barresi blew by us but didn't intend to wait. We yo-yoed through a 5:24 fourth mile before I caught the African in the fifth, for a second, I hesitated and waited for him to join me, eager to have someone with whom to run on this wide open course. 

Thank you, Cheryl Young

Then I thought about something Steve observed while we were watching the track meet at GMU. He noticed that there was no fight in the eyes of one of the runners that night, no indication that anyone trying to pass was a concern. Maybe that runner was focused on hitting splits, but Steve said that person didn't look ready to race. I thought about that in that split second in the drizzle on the course. Was I just going to run this race like a time trial? No, I was going to race, and that meant I had to get rid of this guy while I felt I could. I surged and put nine seconds on him before the five mile mark (4:27- 26:23). 


From then, I just kept pushing. 5:10, 5:25. I was starting to get dark spots on the bottoms of my eyes, but I realized there was a safe balance somewhere. If I fell over one side, I had my roadID to identify me Once the trees stopped shielding us, the wind from the Potomac was right in our faces. I saw a dude in a Pittsburgh Half shirt running the other way on the Mount Vernon trail and couldn't stifle my smile. 5:28. Dave O'Hara was waiting at a bridge, getting me ready to tackle the hills. I ran parallel to a bus that was driving through a narrow lane, marked off with cones. He was hitting pretty much every cone.


The wind was getting silly. I had a brief respite at the end of mile nine, but that also included a sudden climb over a hill -- 5:35. Down the hill and around the corner, I was headed right into the wind again. I saw what I thought to be the finish line ahead, and I started to kick, but I really had no idea how far away it was. I was squinting into the wind and just trying to leave enough energy so I wouldn't fall apart out there. The finish chute finally made sense to my depth perception and before I knew it, I was there in 53:22, with a 5:18 last mile. It sure seemed like I was going a lot faster than that.

I outkicked her

So, I had a 57 second PR, and a race much more along the lines of what I wanted to do three weeks prior. Part of me wants to credit the course, which, while rolling, did lose elevation, but I also ran most of it alone, and the last few miles into a healthy headwind. I'd say it all balances out. I cooled down a solid two miles with the O'Haras, then stood around in the rain for the awards and got very cold. I didn't feel much warmer throughout the day, so I decided not to go out in the downpour in the afternoon for a second run.


Monday night, I went out for a New Virginia Manor. Though planning to take it easy, I hit 24:45 and 24:25 for the two four-mile loops and ended up averaging 6:10s for a very hilly 13. My mind was thinking ahead to what late May could feel like if I keep my training moving. The race did more than give me a new PR and $50 for being the fifth American, it renewed my confidence that I was headed in the right direction. As recently as Wednesday, I was wondering if I was over training, when I was really just feeling sore after doing drills again. Things are coming together now. Maybe not the way I dreamed in the winter, but in a way that it challenging and rewarding. 

Lonely on Hains Point

Two days before the Cherry Blossom race, I took a last look at Hains Point, running 10 miles from my office in the afternoon. Saturday morning I ran an easy Park++.
Then came the race.

Never before has a PR felt so miserable. It certainly didn't feel like my best 10 mile. Every other PR I set, I do so with ease, but this one was a struggle.
I woke up at 3:30 and couldn't get back to sleep. The ride to the race was uneventful and easy. I felt fit and ready to go during the warmup, and figured out Evan, Wertz and Luke all wanted to run 5:20s. That seemed pretty ideal to me.

The first mile was a mess. Dudes with gray hair, idiots in costumes who started fast and were fading halfway down Independence Avenue. Evan and I cruised along, but I had a feeling the pace had to be too easy to be right. A shame, because I could have seen myself keeping that with no problem for 10 miles. I hoped there was a chance I was on pace and was in better shape than I thought, but as we made the turn to the Lincoln Memorial, the clock was passing 5:15 and we split 5:31.When we reached that point, Evan was ready to go, and I knew that staying behind would be a good way to lose my pacing help. We surged, launching around a pack getting onto the bridge and tracked down Dickson, moving closer on the cemetery circle and catching up on the way back to DC, splitting 5:14 for the second mile in the process.

We cruised up Rock Creek Parkway to the Kennedy Center and one of the unnecessary 180 turns that plague the course. We came through in 15:12 and hit the 5k in 16:30. I was hitting my goal splits of 5:20s, but we were obviously going a little faster, and I decided that running 5:15s with a group of people, which now included Wertz, Rich Saunders and Luke, would be a better move than trying to stick to 5:20s on my own.

We scooted down Ohio Drive and hit another 5:15. I tried to watch the race develop in the front with the Pacers. I couldn't account for everyone, but my attention was focused mainly on the pack we had going. Dickson had dropped us in the fourth mile, but I was now leading the group and still feeling pretty relaxed.

When we turned onto Independence, I pushed it a little bit and think I shook the pack up.I felt the slight uphill, but kept pushing, feeling like as soon as I stopped pushing, I'd start falling back. We hit the fifth mile in 5:27, but made it halfway in 26:40- dead solid perfect. I made up for the first mile's malaise and was in position to just pass the next five miles with this tremendous pack. Then the doubt crept in.

We actually started heading downhill a bit as we headed over to Hains Point. I remember my right arm suddenly flailing and nearly whacking one of the fences between us and Tom Jefferson. I fell a step behind. I heard Evan bid me continue, but I wasn't home to answer. I trailed by a few steps as we started toward the point, and even though I was close enough to lunge at one of the guys in the pack and tackle him, I was running a different race. My next mile was solid- 5:22, but the rest of the pack was 5:20, and the gap only grew from there. 10k in 33:10, mile seven in 5:34. I hit that awful turnaround at the edge of the peninsula that seems so excessive, when the old Marine Corps Marathon course turned through the parking lot prior. I don't really hate Hains Point, just the tip. I saw a runner pull over to the side shortly after. I tried to yell to him to finish, to help me, but I was wheezing and gasping and wouldn't have made much noise. I was going to be on my own. Mile eight in 5:35. I caught a few fading advance start women, and tried to reel in a guy who had fallen off the pack badly, but it wasn't happening. Mile nine in 5:35. At least I'm consistent when I'm dying. A crowd of GRCers waited near the turn toward 15th street, as encouraging as ever. Then, they started encouraging Matias. Oh man, I had no idea he was anywhere close to me. If there was any motivation left for my race, it was to avoid being outkicked, but this was going to be an effort. He was charging like hell, the bull that he is. The cheers got closer in comparison for him and me, like radar speeding up when the target gets closer. He charged up the hill near the Holocaust Museum and I climbed it like I was afraid of offending the ground by stepping on it too hard. He caught me and said it was time to go. I tried to pick my legs up but they wouldn't go. He told me again. I rejected his offer, with an  unspeakable oath for emphasis. He pulled away and we crested the hill and somehow I had a charge left to kick it in down the hill. That incline is a ball buster, but the slope is a hell of a gift. I somehow summoned the strength to finish in 5:31 for a 54:19 total, five seconds faster than 2010. As the public address system broadcast that I was from Falls Church, it only put an exclamation point on my fury and disappointment.

Yeah, I was having a rough time (pictured above)

I saw Nora standing near the chute waiting for Geoff and I unleashed my disappointment when she asked how I did. The whole thing had shades of Philly for me--I was ready to blow my old time out of the water and watched it fade away in the last miles. Sure, I PRed by five seconds, but that previous best was from two years ago, when I was just getting used to this training regimen. I am immeasurably stronger, but evidently in this sport, when you have a definite measure, it was only worth a five second improvement. Is that all I could improve in two years? I wound up 35th, it was a weak year. Two years ago I was 49th with practically the same time. How can I spend so much effort on something silly like running and not have more to show for it? Well, first of all, photos from Dustin Whitlow, Michelle Miller, Cheryl Young and Jimmy Daly, respectively.

With more time, I felt better. I realized that was the end of the fourth week since I started running again, a little more than two weeks after I came out from under the pall of my allergy problems. The first week back I was just trying to readjust to the impact and how it beat up my legs, the second I was constantly on the edge of feeling human. I had a solid 91 mile week two weeks ago, but in that whole month, I had one solid hard workout and one solid long run. Most importantly, my 27:39 second half was still faster than the 27:47 for which I got credit at Van Metre (when in reality I ran 28:17). So, I was able to run much faster for 10 miles than I was for 5 miles three weeks before.

Several people remarked that I looked solid whenthey saw me (they obviously saw me in the first half). I ran an easy five that afternoon to get the crud out of my legs.

Monday night I worked late and got home after dark, setting the stage for a Slade Run. I averaged 6:30s and did so with no regard for how fast I was running in the middle. I love that loop in the dark.

Tuesday night was the same situation, and I went out to the New Virginia Manor Loop, where I unwittingly ran 5:20s for the two four-mile loops sandwiched in the 13 miles.

Wednesday night, I felt bushed, and ended up just running six easy miles around BCC during the workout.

Thursday, I met up with Karl in Vienna and we took the W&OD west to the cross county trail. We stopped along the way to check out a parallel trail to the north, then caught the other trail. It was nothing short of marvelous. Soft, scenic and restorative. We eventually turned back and grabbed some greek food for dinner and ran back to his car for a total of about 13.5.

The office closed early Friday, so I had a little more sunlight for my workout- 2ks at McLean High School. It was a bit windy, though, and I misjudged my effort to fight the wind, coming through the first lap in 72, then calming down to a 4:55 mile and a 6:17 2k. Then I was a little more on track with a 6:19 second 2k. I hit the 1k in 3:06 for the third, right on, but couldn't breathe, so I gave up and took a long cooldown home for 12.5.

Hey there, race...

I set out Friday afternoon to meet Witty at Galaudet when I saw this guy running toward me wearing a familiar navy blue long-sleeved shirt. It was nondescript, until I looked back and saw a big spider design on the back. It was one of the Richmond track shirts we got in 2002. I rushed back down 2nd Street NE to figure out who it was. I caught up and said "Scott? Colin?" Nope. I introduced myself, thinking I had met this fellow before and forgotten him. Maybe he was a freshman who didn't make it. As it turned out, it was a friend of a runner, whose name I won't mention in case it would somehow get him in trouble with Steve, so I'm just going to say it was Rhue.

I got to the track and wasn't feeling particularly great. Witty rolled up on a fancy bike and we got going with our 400s. We did a few in the mid 70s, then went down to 72 for a set, then low 70s and high 60s for four laps. I bowed out after 12, wanting to go out on top, and he kept going, so I paced him through a few 200s, going as fast as 30.

The weekend was incredibly stressful, in significant part due to the metro people replaced by a shuttle bus between Courthouse and Foggy Bottom, a huge delay. Ciccone was visiting from Pittsburgh, and he expressed an interest in running with me, so I put off my run on Saturday until the afternoon as to join him. The problem with arranging a schedule around visitors who don't prioritize running is that, for lack of a better explanation, they don't prioritize running. Eventually he said we should scrap the run, so I went out to get 12 on my own. It was dry but cool when I left, so I wore shorts and a long-sleeved shirt. I headed up Great Falls to Dolley Madison, and about three miles in, the cold rain started. It picked up as I rattled of 6:20 miles down Old Dominion until I hit Marymount and turned onto Yorktown. By the time I got back to my place, I was worried that the chill I suffered might damage my reproductive health. I warmed up by eating french toast sticks and cowering in a pile of towels. Aside from the chilly run, I was trying to figure out how to time a long run the next day to maximize the number of people to come out to Burke Lake.

I stayed at Regina and Clay's Saturday night in Bloomingdale on a surprisingly comfortable couch, with a plan to grab shoes and extra running clothes from my office before going to Alexandria to get a ride from the O'Haras. Matt brought up training questions before I left, though, and I wanted to answer them. Upon leaving, I hoped to get a bagel from McDonald's on the way. I then passed a blind woman who asked me to walk her to a bus stop five blocks away. I obliged her, but worried how long it would take. Upon seeing the bus leave before we got there, she then bid me walk her another six blocks, then find a cab for her. All of which I was pleased to do, but I was also hungry, thirsty and short on time. I bought a train to Gallery Place, and walked as fast as my loafers would take me to my office, grabbed my clothes and started running back. All of a sudden, Tender and Matias popped out of the metro station, it seemed. I was confused. I saw I had seven minutes until the yellow line came, so I ran back out and over to City Sports to get some body glide and sport beans to give me some sustenance. I got back in time for the train and made it to Alexandria with a minute to spare. We went to the lake and met up with Dolla Billzzz, Tex and Witty. Billzzz was content to run a little easier than the other three, and after we hit the dam on the first lap, I headed back and finished the 14+ miles with him. The weather was perfect- a little chilly, but clear, the light wind hassling us none. I then had some fried chicken at Safeway.

Monday night, I ran out from the Vienna metro to meet Karl and Mike, who interpreted our plans to mean Tuesday. After waiting for him, we started off for Sunrise Valley, and Karl noticed we got to our normal cruising pace faster than normal. I had been exhausted on the ride over and somehow kept my shit together for 13.25 miles, with an extra loop around the Vienna Metro afterward.

Tuesday night I extended a Thomas loop out to Upland for 13.25 again, averaging 6:27s. I somehow ran 5:40 for my fourth mile, which puzzled me, but I didn't stop my watch at any point.

Wednesday had some potential for disaster. I felt miserable during the warmup and was rushed a lot of the time. I also didn't really get into the groove during the first few 800s, which we hit in 2:31, 2:30, 2:27 and 2:27. I led the fifth, in 2:25, and sat back a little for 2:25, 2:22 and 2:22. I did feel a little tight around my tailbone, I'm not sure what the deal there was. With a long cooldown, I had 12.25. That night, I felt a little off in my lower body. During the workout, my tailbone felt stressed, which was really bizarre. I had a cramp in my right calf while stretching out in bed, and when I woke up, felt some odd tightness in my lower back.

I met up with Dave Burnham Thursday afternoon,. He was running home from work,. but he accompanied me to West Potomac Park and halfway to Hains Point before he turned back. Using the 2011 Marine Corps mile markers, I cruised some 6:15s, the eased up for my run back. Some chaunce tried to race me along the mall, it actually made me feel uneasy. I didn't feel any of those lower body muscular-skeletal issues.

Friday I woke up with no desire to run, and realized there were worse things in the world than taking a day off when you could physically and mentally really need one.By the time half of my work day was over, I knew it was the right move. I wondered how I'd even get the energy to get up and walk to the metro. Surprisingly, when I got home and went to bed, I had a difficult time falling asleep.

Saturday morning, I woke up at 6:30 to the sound of water pouring through the downspout near my window. I knew it was cold, and it was going to take a lot to get me out there. I went back to sleep until 7 to let that clear up, and when I stuck my head outside the porch, I saw it wasn't raining too much, but it was cold. I thought about bagging the Have a Heart for Hoffman-Boston Elementary School 5k, but then I thought about the last time I hung Dave out to dry (or soak) because I was afraid of adverse weather, the workout before Halloween, and I didn't want to do that to him again. I headed to the metro station to catch the shuttle bus to East Falls Church and walked two miles to the starting line. I warmed up with Dave, who, like me, had no real race plan. I wasn't feeling great, but considering the inertia that comes with mornings like that, I wasn't shocked. When the race started, we bolted out fast enough that within a few seconds, I couldn't hear anyone on our tails. I started to feel off when we dipped under Wilson Boulevard, but I kept going. My form didn't feel right, and I had no idea how fast we were going. We passed the mile in 4:57, and while I was surprised that we were going that fast, I also wasn't, because I was definitely working. I eased up a little bit, but at the same time, both my calves and shins started to tighten dramatically and I didn't have a good feel for them. Dave got farther and farther away and I gave up hope of catching back up with him -- we'd be on our own. I hit the turnaround at 8:06 and realized just how much I had slowed. The one nice thing about an out-and-back course is being able to see the other people in the race, so I got to bid good luck to our women's team (who finished 1-7) and others, including John Kendra and Mike Naff. I also got into a better groove with my form right before the turn, which made the second half more pleasant, even though I was running slower.I hit the second mile with a 5:29 split, and I can credit most of that to the downhill portion after the turn. I was paying for that first mile. I stopped even trying to catch back up with Dave and just kind of ran comfortably in. A few people shout to me that I should go get Dave, but I politely declined. I hit three miles in 5:17, much better, considering my effort, and finished up at 16:17 for second.

We sported a seven-woman team in the race, which attracted a serious crowd from non-racing GRC athletes. Breezy and Murph came by during their long run, Michelle took these wonderful photos, and a soccer mom who I later determined to be Dart showed up, too, along with Jerry, Avril's fiancee, Dave O'Hara and Rich Saunders. That kind of support, for a little 5k, was fantastic, and it demonstrated a major ancillary benefit to the GRC Racing Team. I had planned to do 2xmile on the W&OD after the race, but about two minutes into the first one, I just wanted to quit. One my way back, I bumped into the women's team and joined them for their cooldown, which helped me a lot. I ended up getting in 12 miles total. I considered doubling to get 85, but after a nap and seeing the trees bending to the wind's will, I was fine with 78. I needed a little break from the mileage.

On the surface, it was a better rust-buster than last year's By George 5k- 39 seconds better, though that race involved 1.5 miles into a heinous headwind, though a flatter course. This time, though, I'm not recovering from throat surgery. I was upset with my lack of feel for the pace, which took me out in the same split as my delightful Richmond 8k and disastrous Philly Half. I'm disappointed I didn't push through the discomfort in the second mile, I fell back from Dave like a hypothermia or carbon monoxide victim accepting his fate, even though it would have behooved me, and him, for me to stay with him. I couldn't help but wonder if some company for the last almost-two miles would have helped him break 16:00. I blame my leg issues on insufficient stretching, and I can fix that... easily. The positive, which Michelle pointed out, was that I maintained solid form at the end, which I hope will bode well for my ventures into the longer distances this spring.

My sleeping follies last week motivated me to force myself to wake up early, despite another late night that was largely such due to delays with the metro. I thought about delaying my long run for a day, but had little desire to run it in the dark after work, so I figured I'd just go out and face the wind, which evidently was supposed to make it feel like eight degrees. The whole damned loop is hilly. The bridges spanning the beltway were ridiculously windy, and for most of Georgetown Pike and Haycock, I seemed to be running right into the wind. Just like the last time I ran this loop, in October, I hit 11.1 miles in 1:11, which was pretty cool. The undulating hills on Georgetown Pike east of the beltway always beat the crud out of me. Lorraine, at 17, was awful, but not as long or steep as I always fear. I ended up hitting 19.1 miles at 6:30 pace, with only a little discomfort in my hips when I was coming down Orland at mile 17.75. 

BFD

As much as I hate to quote John Madden, "All a prevent defense does is prevent you from winning." That's generally the rule in football, and this weekend I demonstrated its application in cross country running this weekend in Seattle.

In trying to maintain a minimum level of performance, I didn't take any risks at the USATF club cross country championships, but I didn't run a race worth of a cross-country flight for a race. I was a faded copy of the 25:19 runner I was a month ago. My confidence never recovered from the Philly Half, my mind was constantly on my right foot, I felt slow and literally had to carry more when I gained post-Philly weight. Had this race been a month ago, I would have been in a different position, but I just couldn't hold onto what I had. I wouldn't say I was burned out, but I was tired -- tired of waking up early or running late after work. I tried to preserve my enthusiasm with days off, but in the end I just felt more out of shape.

I slept terribly Thursday night, then woke up at 5 to be ready to go to the airport with Shredder. Once there, I had an awful chicken biscuit at Wendy's and sat on a plane for six hours to get to Seattle. The trip kind of kept going and going while we picked up a van, drove it to the hotel and checked in. I could seem to fall asleep before checking out the course. That 35 minute run was so rough that if we had been racing that afternoon, I would be a lock for the last 10 to finish.

Luckily, we had about 20 hours, so after going back to the hotel and having a pretty poor dinner, I went to sleep at 9 and aside from a few tosses and turns, slept soundly until 7:30. Breezy and I took a 15 minute jog and had breakfast. I killed some more time reading and we headed to the course for the race.

I felt decidedly better during the warmup than I had the day before, but still not ready to race. Watching the women's team race was fun, though I never saw Jess' sister, and totally missed both Gretchen Speed and Jessica Winter. I took a lot of great photos, but then somehow lost my camera at the meet.

Despite a steady but light rain, I wasn't cold when it came time to undress for the race. The starting boxes were tight, and we lined up pretty much in single file. I was pretty strong at the beginning, getting into a decent position, I felt, in the first half mile and just going with the flow.

I came through 1k in 3:09, faster than my goal for my average, but right on what I wanted to get started. I cruised on through the rest of the first lap, despite Outlaw telling me I had to move up. I told him to shut up, I was running the race the way I wanted, and that meant really going for it in the last 4k. I came through 2k in 6:25, more like it, and kept moving. Somewhere in lap two, though, I must have slipped, something locked up and I felt like I could barely push off with my right leg. It wasn't my hamstring, and it took me a while to diagnose the problem. Eventually I started feeling my hip again and figured out that was the problem. I passed 5k in 16:42, and extrapolating that I was very unhappy with the position in which I put myself. A month ago, 31:30 seemed reasonable. In the intervening weeks, sub 32 was more like it, but now I just wanted to break 33, and I was a long way from that happening, given the way I felt.

Then I saw an aqua singlet to my right and realized it was a Pacer. Not just a Pacer, but 43-year-old Edmund Burke. Like Lisa, he selflessly dropped down to the open race so his team could score. He might be a fine fellow otherwise, but I sure as hell didn't want to lose to him. So, despite my beaten up body and confidence, I started surging. I'd lose him for a while, then get complacent and he'd come right back. We came through 6k right around 20:30, I think, and soon after I surged again. There was a slight hill, pretty muddy, and I bounded up it and when I got to the top, I took six strong strides, just like Steve exhorted us to so many times at Rosslyn. This time the hill was only a fraction of what we dealt with there, so it was easy. I kept my pace up and started to pass people until I found a good group that was moving. As I hung along a long curve, Outlaw was there. "SEND EM SEND EM!!!! You're crankin' now!" This time I actually was, and I didn't want to punch him. I hit 8k in 27:10, almost two minutes slower than my PR, but considering the condition the course was in, I think being one minute slower than my PR would have been satisfactory, given how things were going.

I just wanted to close it out. I didn't like the way the first 60 percent of the race was going, but in my race plan discussions, I emphasized that I wanted to be opportunistic in the last 4k, and that's the way things were playing out. I didn't catch my 9k split, but at that point I started targeting people and blowing by them. I stayed focus by counting them. First they were on their own, then I started passing clumps. I finally caught up to this skinny dude in green who kept grunting like Chris Sloane at the end of a race. I buried him. With 400 meters left, I tried my best to forget feeling tired, too old for this shit, fat, lazy. I just wanted to pass everyone I could. I got up to 38. I saw the clock passing 33:35. I would be guaranteed to be at least a minute slower than the Great Race, not good. I was sure I could reach the finish line, and all of a sudden I saw two guys who weren't as confident. So, I kicked them down and thanked Joe Pesci it was all over. A few seconds later Murph came came along, having been, I think, the only person to run faster this year than last, in Charlotte. Jason and Jimmy followed soon after. I wasn't there for it, but Jason exclaimed his surprise at the race's difficulty to Dave, "Luggage" Wertz who reportedly said, "Yeah, this ain't no chocolate run!"

For some reason, I was the only one out there soaking in sweat. I actually felt okay while cooling down, but for the rest of the trip, I felt the full brunt of my ultimate uselessness.

I wound up 6th for the team, 204th overall, in 33:51. I was the only GRC runner who had no bearing on the team scores, just kind of sliding into obscurity. I didn't take enough of a risk early in the race to really put myself in a good position, but I also didn't fail and fall apart. I was insurance in that if something had happened to Lug and I had finished fifth, we would have been no worse in the team standings. Luckily we didn't need me.

I was not too in the mood for celebrating afterward. The gluttony I promised myself after the season was over felt revolting, and I just wanted to go to bed. Our morning run was ok, but unremarkable. I thought about running after work today, but as I got close to home, I just wanted to lie down. So that's what I'm going to do now.

P.S. Bigfoot's dick.

Hills again, but that's Pittsburgh for you

After the long ride back to Pittsburgh after the half, I had trouble getting to sleep. I might have gotten to bed around 2, then slept until 10. I did some work, then headed out for a run. I left my mom's house, went down Shaler, up Kearns, around Clearview and Strathmore, Berry, Stafford and West Carson, then up the McArdle Roadway and home for 12 miles. My calves and hamstrings were still wrecked. I had originally planned on 15 miles, with a loop up William and Boggs before coming back, but I was tired.

It rained all day Tuesday, and I didn't care enough to run, so instead I ate a lot of mint chocolate chip ice cream and watched movies. I spent a lot of that day bemoaning my Philadelphia race, at one point congratulating myself for coming so close to my PR despite the poor execution and latter-mile injury, then alternating to realizing that if I ran that fast considering how much went wrong, I had the opportunity to run much faster if I had done things right. In short, I spent the whole week sitting around my mom's house, pissed about the race and relegated to traveling on foot or arranging rides with friends.

Wednesday morning I picked myself up to run around Mt. Washington and added to it by running the new trails along the face of the mountain. It was wet, covered in leaves and mostly clay. For someone who wants to take a walk, it's ok. For a runner, it's a dangerous disaster. I twisted both ankles was on the brink of slipping off constantly. That said,the trail afforded me some great views of the city and I got about nine miles.

After 12 years of running the Downtown YMCA Turkey Trot, I put an end to it. Although it's very popular and had its best attendance ever this year, it's value as a road race has plummeted in the last few years. It's now a series of out-and-backs starting and finishing on the north side and just a mess of people. Great for the YMCA's fundraising, but its quality as a race has plummeted. I was on the race committee in 2008 when construction limited a lot of the courses the race had used from 2003-2007. Given the restrictions we had, we could only do a 5k but I hoped to be able to bring it back to the five mile course when possible. Then I moved, then the director left and took the focus on quality with him.

I did it for two more years, but also started running Dan Holland's Gutbuster race in Frick Park. I am not exaggerating when I say it's the hardest race I have run. Alternating up and down hills on trails that are often slippery. What didn't help was that I ran a 5k one year and a five mile the next before coming to the Gutbuster, so I was already wiped out. Last year's freezing rain made it miserable. This year it was dry for once, just warm enough, though it had rained all day Tuesday and it certainly wasn't dry.

The first mile is almost entirely uphill, with a flat stretch in the first 200 meters or so. I stuck with a decent pack that included Luke Briola, Jim Hommes, Nolan Wildfire and a little kid who looked like a short Andy Webster. We chatted up the hill, until Webster tried to take off near the mile mark, which we hit in 6:57. I bolted ahead of him and immediately opened up my stride on the loop around the fitness circuit and the sledding hill. I headed back down and saw my mom heading up, the two mile was not supposed to go this way and I told her as much. She just said "I know."

I didn't see anybody for a while, and I had a pretty solid lead. I came down the second mile in 5:17 (where was that when I needed it on Sunday?), then up the next hill in 6:44. I didn't see a four-mile mark, but I think I was a little over 24 minutes. I went back up the first hill and hit miles 4 and 5 in 12:43. I started seeing the people behind me coming down the hill and I was climbing, and I start giving high fives, essentially celebrating with almost half of the race left.

I apparently had no reason not to, my lead appeared safe. The next mile was 5:21, a little slower than mile 2. When I hit the Tranquil Trail, I was a little flat, but I figured I could afford to slow down, mainly because when I tried to run hard, my right hamstring didn't respond.

Again, I figured my lead was safe, so this obstacle shouldn't be too troubling. I saw Leslie and Pete near the bottom of the Biddle Trail, and they didn't say too much. That trail was the hardest part of a really hard course, the steepest section, half of the trail was a creek and the other was jagged rock. I slipped at one point and looked back and suddenly Jim Hommes was on my tail. I was shocked- I had no indication anyone was anywhere close to me. I hadn't seen anyone when I made turns, and I didn't hear Leslie and Pete yelling for him. That leads me to several possible conclusions- 1. he did most of the catching up on the hill 2. he told Pete and Leslie to be quiet so he could sneak up on me 3. I didn't hear them cheering for him.

We were in this same position in 2003 at the Turkey Trot, back when the race was worthwhile. I held him off there, but by that point I had a stronger lead. And I hadn't raced a half four days before and run myself into the ground over the last 3.5 miles.

For a few seconds I felt as though I was going to lose, the surprise that he was there, when I was feeling the weakest, nearly broke me. Jim's one of the toughest masters runners around, and his focus has always been exemplary for long races. I felt like there was no way I could fend him off anymore. I ran like an asshole and I was getting my comeuppance. Until I didn't.

I got to the top of the trail and turned onto another uphill, but less steep, trail. I started charging ahead, hoping to put a lot of distance between us before he joined me on the smoother trail. I split 6:53 on the seventh mile, not unreasonable given the lack of a push I had before I saw Jim. I kept cranking up the hill, then pushed a little more back down the hill. This trail was slippery, so I had to run with more caution than I had before. I also had to navigate around walkers and the runners in their fifth and sixth miles. Once I got to the bottom, I had a clear path to finish, and split 5:22 for the eighth mile to finish in 49:16. I think I had a 20 second lead over Jim, who had run a 50k a few weeks prior.

I would have liked to run under 48 minutes, but I could argue with winning, considering the way the prior few days had gone. Mom had fun doing the four mile, and I was left excited about making the Gutbuster my solitary Thanksgiving race in the future. I don't know if it prepared me for cross country running at nationals, but it was certainly tough.

Friday morning, I tried to go for a run on the Seven Springs golf course, but my hamstring felt incredibly weak. I got about two miles of running in before I realized I was better off resting.

Later, after I was back in Pittsburgh, I drove out to the Richard and did my Standard Beechwood loop, averaging 6:05 for 10.5. I finished right before dusk. I felt much better than in the mountains, and to be able to average that pace on those hills was relieving.

Saturday, I was once again without a car, so I ran from my mom's house down to the jail trail and out to Four Mile Run. I hit 11:01 for a two-mile stretch, but slowed down afterward. I made a rare trip up the Panther Hollow Trail, up Neville and over onto Bayard, past the Huff's old place, before turning onto Craig and Bigelow. Now, Bigelow is not a frequently traveled road for pedestrians. There's a sidewalk, but it was overgrown with dry weeds. Things open up a little bit in Frank Curto Park, then shortly after that the sidewalk ends and suddenly I'm on a busy almost-highway. That lasted about two-to-three minutes, then I was downtown, looping around to Gateway Center and back up the Boulevard of the Allies to the Liberty Bridge and Mt. Washington for just under 13.7 miles.

Sunday morning, I ran a little more than seven miles with Jess Gangjee on Mt. Washington before going back to Virginia.

Fundamental failure

I had an opportunity to run a great half marathon this morning and I blew it by not being aware of where I was less than three minutes into the race.

I took Thursday off when I came home from work feeling exhausted. I ran a solid 10 miles the next morning on the Steelers loop at 6:28 pace. Got to sleep kind of early, then up at 8 Saturday to do a Fisherman's loop. The trip to Philadelphia with Dart, then the Millers, went smoothly, as did the packet pickup and dinner. I got to bed at nine, slept well until five, and felt great when I got up and warmed up to the start. I jogged a bit with Drea, Dart and the Butcher of Damascus, then waded around in the maroon corral (who was it who kept pronouncing it "coral" last year?).

After an unexplained delay, we got started. I had a significant blockade of women in the way, so I swung out to the right to get around them, but I was somehow behind some stupid little guy with his hair sprayed to look like an eyetalian flag. I caught up to a pack of dudes and settled in, and felt nothing out of the ordinary. I saw Wager, so I inched up to him and whispered "send 'em" and we exchanged a quick five. I slide back a little, and suddenly saw the first mile mark and looked at my watch- 5:02. JESUS H. CHRIST.

I immediately dropped back, terrified of the hole I had dug for myself. But in dropping back, I was firmly putting myself in no-man's land between the fast half-marathoners and the marathoners. This wasn't a situation like the GMU 5k, I made the right move in not trying to run with them. There were just so many guys up there, I didn't think they could all be running the half- I figured the majority of guys would be running the full to run 2:18. My plan was to just sit in a pack with them and cover real estate. I literally had no idea how fast I was running inthat first mile. I thought I might be cold and stiff from standing in the corral for so long and 5:17-5:19 was that fast. So, I ran by myself for four miles. 5:17, 5:19, 5:23, 5:31. I was pretty much on my five-mile goal time, but I got there the wrong way.

The group of guys chasing sub 2:19 passed me and I maybe hung on for 30 seconds, but I was tying up already. I hit another 5:31 and a 5:25 on a long straight. A pair of guys gapped me briefly, but I reeled them in and pulled away from them on a long uphill in mile eight, which I hit in 5:43. I was alone most of nine, hit that in 5:40, and thought I had a chance to at least match my 10 mile PR (54:24) with my 10-mile split, though my original pacing plan would have been more than 90 seconds ahead. Nope. Long uphill, mostly by myself, though I saw three guys in red ahead of me. Then, running down the road, with no pothole, my left ankle gave out and I yanked the hell out of it. I came though the 10th mile in 5:54, 54:50-- my second-fastest 10 mile, but not by much, and at this point, I consider my 10 mile PR to be my second softest, after the marathon.

The 11th mile was almost all downhill, but with my ankle probably sprained, I could bear only a 5:31. I came across a 180 turn, which, for some reason, this marathon/half-marathon had. That's ok in a little community 5k, but not in a metropolitan marathon, that's just lazy and unimaginative. I saw Curt Larimer, who I figured was doing the marathon, but did the half. Baressi passed me and I quietly encouraged him, but I was toast by this point. He was running the full, and him passing me was rough--he's very talented, but I should have been well ahead of most guys running the full marathon. I tried to hang, but it wasn't happening.

I thought maybe, with an 11-mile split of 1:00:21, I could keep things together for a pair of 5:30s and at least get in under 1:12. Nope. 5:48, 6:24 with the .1, and I lost ground to a guy in red in the last half mile. As it turned out, I had a healthy (90+) second lead over him at Freedom's Run.

It was just poorly done all around. One of the 13 splits was right. One was 15 seconds fast, the others were all slow. I was disappointed, but more embarrassed that such a stupid mistake, such unbridled enthusiasm led to my downfall. I was, for a while, a cockeyed optimist, thinking I could still run sub-5:20s on my own after a 5:02, but no. I tied up more and more as the race went on, and the last three miles, after stumbling, my calves got extremely tight, and following that, my shins. When I finished the race, I couldn't jog over to watch the marathoners go by.

Scott dropped out when I saw him, cramps forcing him to confront the misery of trying to push throug 13 more miles. We walked around, got some dry clothes and watched the finish. I saw Greg Byrnes, Brandon G., Michelle M., Dart, the Burhams, Mindy S., Katie Sheedy, Sam Howard (who qualified by a few seconds), and Jeff, though apparently I missed Cavanaugh, and left 30 secondds before Ali Belicose came by. I went back to the hotel, took a hot bath, packed and met the GRC people for a few minutes before Michelle Corkum and Andy picked me up. Michelle was eyeing a trials qualifier, having run 2:48 in LA earlier this year, but a last-minute cold left her feverish, achy and miserable and she dropped out at 13. Emily Ward thinks she broke her heel, and she was out at 14. Michelle M. felt the race slip away early and was out of it. Drea PRed in the half, and Dart PRed by more than six minutes, though she wanted to be two minutes faster. No men qualified, Kevin Pool once again coming close. In the marathon, the only person I think who made it was Sam Howard-- Liz Graham's protoge.

That all goes to demonstrate two things- Philadelphia is a hard course, and qualifying for the olympic trials is hard. As it should be. It's not something you can do on a lark, as a girl I met last year seemed to think when she said she and her sister were going to do it. You need to know exactly what you'll be dealing with as the race goes on, and I am positive that means overdistance training, a 30-mile long run. That all said, Hallinan and Blood ran under 1:05 in the half, which was pretty good.

That's disappointment right there

I rode in the backseat of Michelle's car, heading to Pittsburgh, knowing I let a great fall's worth of training, along with the summer full of misery while building my base, go to waste because I didn't figure out where a half-mile marker was so I could be sure I was going out appropriately. Part of what appealed to me about the race was that the marathon and half started together and shared the course for almost 13 miles. That seemed great to me, because I could run with Karl -- he'd have a good feel for the pace, and I could keep him company, help with the pace and he'd keep me calm. When he fell ill, the first thing I should have done was ensure that I had landmarks to check my pace, because I wouldn't know who was running 5:17s otherwise. It was simple preparation, and it was just as imporatant as the long runs, the track workouts, the moderate runs and progressions. A 5:02 mile, when I wanted to be runninr 5:17s, was devastating. I sat in the car, which was way too warm, wondering if I got too excited about club nationals after Richmond and lost focus, or if my heart went out of it when I found out Karl wouldn't be running--maybe I wanted to take responsibility for helping him out so I wouldn't focus on how easy it is to give up.

To be clear, I don't think I gave up, I think given what I did in the beginning miles, dealing with wind along the Delaware River in mile three, plus the trauma I put my legs through in mile nine, I was going about as fast as I could. And, in the end, I was 16 seconds off my PR. I should be happy that considering how much went wrong in several phases of the race, that I was a little more thana second per mile off my PR, but I just can't be happy with it. I was ready for more, much more, than I accomplished today. That PR, which I set when I was sick ,running alone in a cocurse that barely had a mile of flat stretch, let alone the 6.5 this had, in the rain, was from the hard 13-mile run Steve prescribed, it was more a time trial than a race, and I picked that course over Buffalo Creek because I wanted to be sure Philly wouldn't be harder and I would run faster if all went well. Getting congratulatory messages from well-wishers was tough, because if they took the time to care, I wanted to give them something worth seeing when the looked up my results.

Madeline suggested I peaked too early. Absolutely not, I feel like my training was spot on, but I just made the dumbest mistake possible, one that I had several opportunities to prevent, and the regret I feel going forward and the missed opportunity will go a long way toward ensuring I don't do it again. It will also haunt me until I take another crack at the half, probably in Pittsburgh. It starts on Thursday with the Gutbuster. As Mike Tomlin, whose quotations I relish for his locution, said after some boneheaded playing cost a few games in 2009, I'm about to unleash hell. That second loop is toast.

The fall is by no means a failure, I ran a great, strong race on my own at Freedom's Run and fough pretty hard in Richmond. If I had a blase attitude at all toward the race because I was looking ahead to nationals, well, time to seriously focus on that. It's a chance to make up for my failings in Philly.