You mean everyone doesn't do this?

New Year's Day Runs out at the old airport in Huntsville.  Ran with Jenn Dunn at something like 7:30's or 7:45's - just right to stretch out and loosen up from yesterday.

Happy New Year to all! (we'll just have to see what all hair-brained running schemes I can come up with this year...)

Nice little shake-out run to loosen up a bit.  A bit chilly (upper 20's), but that just made the pace more comfortable (6:52 avg).  Good way to start another maintenance week (50k three days ago, 50k eleven days ago, and marathon 6 days from now - busy last few weeks...)

thirty-something degree rain is fun...right?

Cool thing #738 about running:  When else can you go out in 23 degrees in shorts and thoroughly enjoy yourself?

I must admit, I'm a bit hesitant to post this as a race report, because I went into it and ran it with the mindset of just a usual training run, my last good long run before Mountain Mist, just two weeks away.  The course could have been a very fast course for those trying to set new PR's, but with two 50k's only 10 and 18 days ago, respectively, and another in two weeks, I figured that running this one hard would probably only do more harm than good.  In any case, since it was an actual race that I was lucky enough to win (barely), I guess I ought to give account, so here it goes:

First off, it's cold.  When I left my apartment this morning it was something like 16 degrees outside with a solid wind, and when I heard someone give the temperature after I was done, it had only risen to 21 degrees.  Not the most ideal running conditions for a born and bred Southerner...

After picking up a breakfast of champions, consisting of a chicken soft taco and 5-layer burrito from Taco Bell, I met up with a couple of friends in Auburn around 4am CST, and we made the short drive over to the race site, which took us into Eastern Time.  When the race got underway at 7 (Eastern), it was still dark, and we could tell by the occasional gusts through the city streets that wind would be a major factor of the day during the long miles along the riverwalk. 

From the get go, a guy jumped out front and sped off into the distance, and I tucked into my natural long run pace.  I struck up a conversation with a biker who was nice enough to ride beside me for the first few miles before peeling off to go help others find their way along the course.  Truth be told, I'm pretty sure he was suffering from the cold worse than many of the runners, because the wind he had to deal with must have been brutal.  When he began to turn around, he told us that all we had to do was follow the riverwalk we were currently on.

Once our biker friend had departed, I, along with a guy who had been closely tailing me, put things on auto-pilot for a while.  We almost got off course when the riverwalk forked, but fortunately we both had the presence of mind to suspect that the fork following the river more closely was probably correct, and our suspicions were soon confirmed by another mile marker.  A mile or so later, my running buddy began to fall off the pace a bit, so I nestled comfortably inside my own head, assuming that since the guy in front was pretty far out there and no one was too close behind, it would be a while before I had anyone to run with.

The miles came and went, along with feeling in my hands and face, and before I knew it, I was at the turnaround.  The marathon course was simply two loops of a half marathon course (the half marathoners started an hour later than we did), and the turn around was just past the 8 mile marker.  Shortly before the turnaround, I saw the leader, along with his bike escort, and judged them to be around a half mile in front of me, looking strong.

Once I made the turnaround, it wasn't long before I began seeing other marathoners on their way out, so I tried to give encouragement to everyone I saw.  Soon enough, I began to see the half marathon leaders as well.  A few more miles clicked on by, and just like that, I was at the start/finish line again, ready to turn back around and do the whole thing over.  At this point, the leader was far enough in front of me that I never even saw him during my jaunt around town to get back to the start/finish and then back out to the riverwalk.

While rerunning the first few miles of the course, I felt like a rock star, because (since the leader was so far in front) I had two cop cars leap frogging each other to lead me through town, stopping cars at green lights (the drivers must have wondered about why a lone runner in shorts in 18 degrees was getting such treatment....) as I made my way through the city.  Soon enough, though, I was back out on the riverwalk alone.

At this point, I had been out in the cold long enough that my double layer of gloves wasn't cutting it, and my hands were completely numb, along with most of my face.  The wind, which was an ever-present nuisance on the first loop, proved to be a veritable gale during the second loop (or at least that's what it felt like).  As before, I just tried focus on staying at a relaxed, comfortable pace and put on foot in front of the other.  A difference on this loop, on the other hand, was that I was constantly seeing other marathoners finishing up their first loop as well as throngs of half marathoners, and again I tried to offer encouragement to all; some were having a tough time with the wind (and, perhaps, the distance).

Yet again, I made it to the turnaround, only 5 miles to go...  I had noticed that the leader was about the same distance in front of me on this loop as the last, and he didn't appear to be as comfortable as I felt - he was not in distress by any means, but just not comfortable.  I decided that I would just maintain my speed and see what happened (the thought temptation was there to kick the pace up a notch, but my thoughts kept returning to possible repurcussions involving Mt. Mist and possibly health, considering that I only got fluids at two water stops and took in no food or electrolytes - I was in no condition to "race").

I thought that the wind had been bad earlier, but I was mistaken.  On the return trip, the wind was almost all I thought about.  My thighs were a funny reddish white color, and I couldn't feel my hands or my face at all.  I love distance running. 

I kept an eye out for the leader, and when I got to mile 24 without seeing him, I figured that he had pulled through and was going to take it, having lead from wire to wire.  However, right as I was about to cross the 25 mile mark, I noticed his bike escort pop back onto the path, and then noticed that the leader was a mere 150 yard or so in front of me, obviously hurting.  I maintained my pace and overtook him relatively quickly.  If he had sped up to match me, I probably would have let him take the race, since he was clearly putting forth considerable effort, but he let me slip on by with less than a mile to go.

The lead bike was somewhat surprised to have a new leader, and he almost missed me, but he noticed my race number was one designated as a full marathon number (1-100 were marathon race numbers, 101+ were half marathoners, and there were around 230 half marathoners...impressive).  He led me back into town, announcing me to everyone he saw.  As I came into the final stretch, an announcer called out my name over a loudspeaker as "your marathon winner," which, I must admit, felt pretty cool to hear.  True to form, I airplaned around the last corner and, since I know you all were hoping for it, I jumped up and gave a heel-click across the finish line for a time of 3:16:28.

It was a fun race, and I accomplished what I set out to do:  get another relatively relaxed but solid long run in before Mt. Mist, negative split the second half by a couple of minutes, and I got an added surprise bonus of winning.  The 25-mile leader came in a few minutes behind me, but I found out that this was his debut marathon.  Pretty darn impressive to lead the vast majority of your first marathon in frigid temperatures, with who knows what wind chill.

All in all, I feel good post-race.  No real muscular or joint soreness to speak of.  My feet are a little tender, but any long road run will do that, so I figure they'll be fine tomorrow.

On to Mountain Mist...

systems check:  everything's a go...

"Eighty percent of success is showing up." - Woody Allen

Runs like this are what keep me in the sport.  Calm, clear, starry 28 degree night; great run.

Up too late last night

Dark to bed and dark to rise

Sleep is short and sweet

-courtesy of Carolyn in Colorado

9 along the roads, paths, and trails of Sumatanga with Peter.  Great run.

Got to run with a couple of Olympians tonight along with several other members of the Auburn running club.  (Mark Carroll, the head XC coach at the university, ran in the 5k in Sydney and Athens, and his wife, Amy Rudolph, ran the 5k in Atlanta and Sydney)  It was neat running and talking with some of the truly fast people.

After being sick all week, I was still up in the air as to whether or not I wanted to attempt Mt. Mist, so I went on a bit of a test run.  After only a mile or so, I felt like coughing up a lung, so I figured that running a 50k probably wouldn't be the most prudent thing to do.  Watching is a lot easier, anyway...

An hour on the treadmill keeping things really really easy; just trying to burn off the remnants of the plague from last week.

"Perhaps the most valuable result of all education is the ability to make yourself do the thing you have to do, when it ought to be done, whether you like it or not; it is the first lesson that ought to be learned; and however early a man's training begins, it is probably the last lesson that he learns thoroughly." - Thomas Huxley

"Far and away the best prize that life offers is the chance to work hard at work worth doing" - Theodore Roosevelt 

Chim chiminey, chim chiminey, chim chim cheree....

"Energy is the essence of life.  Every day you decide how you're going to use it by knowing what you want and what it takes to reach that goal, and by maintaining focus." - Oprah Winfrey

"The mind's first step to self-awareness must be through the body." - Dr. George Sheehan 

"Rest satisfied with doing well, and leave others to talk of you as they please." - Pythagoras 

"Make your life a mission - not an intermission." - Arnold Glasgow 

"One act of beneficence, one act of real usefulness, is worth all the abstract sentiment in the world.  Sentiment is a disgrace, instead of an ornament, unless it leads us to good actions." - Ann Radcliffe

If every run was like this, I'd sell my truck.

"If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours." - Henry David Thoreau 

Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup,
They slither while they pass, they slip away across the universe.
Pools of sorrow waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind,
Possessing and caressing me.

Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world.

Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes,
They call me on and on across the universe,
Thoughts meander like a restless wind
Inside a letter box they
Stumble blindly as they make their way
Across the universe

Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world.

Sounds of laughter shades of life are ringing
Through my open mind inciting and inviting me.
Limitless undying love which shines around me like a million suns,
And calls me on and on across the universe

Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world
Nothing's gonna change my world.

Jai guru deva
Jai guru deva
Jai guru deva
Jai guru deva

"I'm just trying to make a smudge on the collective unconscious." - David Letterman 

What is your favorite flavor of playdough?

Today was supposed to be my day off...

As rare as snow is in the South, a conundrum always presents itself whenever we are graced with the wintry precipitation, however light or brief. How should I most effectively go about enjoying an event of such rarity? On my trek into my office for a brief check on some research, I noticed that quite a few people were out and about making snowmen, having little snowball fights, and generally frolicking around in our all too fleeting winter wonderland. It was nice to see everyone enjoying the day, but I had already hatched something of an eccentric plan...

I had called Marcus Farris, a sophomore here at Auburn and running buddy of mine, and posed the question, "Are you up for doing something stupid?" Without hesitation, he indicated that he was ready and willing to try something out, so I posed to him the idea of going for a little run in the still-falling snow. In shorts and shoes.

Marcus wholeheartedly agreed to come along, so a couple of hours later, when the snow had actually accumulated a little and picked up in intensity, we set out in the least amount of clothing with which we could legally get away.

Our route was relatively short; it consisted of a lap around campus and back to my apartment, which amounted to approximately 3 miles. Within a couple of minutes of departing, we had been captured on both digital cameras and video, which seemed to be a recurring theme of the run. Whenever a new group of people saw us, they immediately began cheering us on and taking pictures, and with the excitement of the snow, quite a few people were out to observe the oddity of two mostly-naked guys running through the streets.

When we had made most of the campus circuit, Marcus and I turned down College Street to make a pass in front of Samford Hall, where many students, enjoying their snow day off from classes, had come to enjoy the scenery and take part in the aforementioned frolicking. That being the case, before long, we were having to dodge people, often catching them by surprise, and weave through the crowds in front of the campus landmark. After dodging a few snowballs thrown our way (and getting pegged by one or two...), we turned back home, and in short order were back in my nicely heated apartment.

I think Marcus summed it up best in the subject line of the email he sent with a couple of pictures we took, simply saying "The most epic 3 miles in a while."

It was supposed to be my day off, but sometimes you've just got to go out and play in the snow...

"How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live." - Thoreau 

"The strongest principle of growth lies in human choice" - George Eliot

So I think it's about time for another running stunt, except this time, I'm actually going to try to do some good with it...

Some of you might remember my participating in a part of the Run Across Alabama along with Eric Schotz (schotz.fastrunningblog.com) and Jon Elmore (jelmo.fastrunningblog.com) from the blog in an effort to raise money and awareness of Tay Sachs Disease, with which  Eric's son Elliott was diagnosed at 9 months old.  The run, which took place between July 1-4, eventually generated over $20,000 in donations to NTSAD, the National Tay Sachs and Allied Diseases Association.

In about a month, I'll be running in the Delano Park 12-Hour Run, a race directed by Schotz and Elmore, in which I've been participating for the past few years.  The catch is that this year I'm planning on starting 12 hours early, making it the Delano Day.  I've never run a 24-hour event before, so I'm looking forward to a new experience, and I'm hoping to snag a new 100-mile PR.

Now, as much as I like stupid running stunts (and I think could legitimately be qualified as such...) for the simple sake of stupid running stunts, I figure that I might as well do some good for someone with this strange obsession.  To this end, I'm trying to raise a little more money for NTSAD through this latest contrivance.

I'm trying to get people to sponsor me on a per-mile basis for my run.  For example, I've already gotten a few families to pledge $0.25 per mile that I run that day; if I run 100 miles this will result in a $25 donation.  (Being in a college town, I'm suggesting a $0.10/lap donation for students wanting to get involved...)  I hope to run between 100 and 110 miles (flat course with aid as often as I'd like it)

If anyone reading this wants to contribute, please send me a private message, and I'll get you in the loop.  I can personally attest to the character of the entire Schotz family, so I think this is a very worthwhile cause.  If you have any questions, feel free to ask...

For what it's worth, the website for the race is http://delano12.com/.  Take a look...

"Nothing in the world can take the place of Persistence.  Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent.  Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb.  Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts.  Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent.  The slogan 'Press On' has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race." - Calvin Coolidge  

Surprises are fun.

One bright day in the middle of the night,

Two dead boys got up to fight.

Back to back, they faced each other;

Drew their swords and shot each other.

A deaf policeman heard the noise,

Came and shot the two dead boys.

If you don't believe this lie is true,

Ask the blind man; he saw it, too.

"As we look deeply within, we understand our perfect balance.  There is no fear of the cycle of birth, life, and death.  For when you stand in the present moment, you are timeless." - Rodney Yee 

GPA : Coffee Cup : : Running Performance : ?

silent night

holy night

all is calm

say what?

and the beat goes on...

Short version:  Fun race; I kind of used it as a training run for my Delano Day in a couple of weeks, so I didn't really push it too hard...

Not as short version:

So I went into this race with the mindset of keeping it a training run.  Last year, I started the race running alongside a friend of mine, Dink Taylor, at a pretty aggressive pace, then proceeded to slow down for the entire second half.  This year, with the Delano Day , my "goal event," two weeks away, I decided to treat Cheaha as a good final training run, and I therefore intentionally ran the whole race at a decidedly more comfortable, conservative pace.

The race starts in a small gravel parking lot for a trailhead, and runners are immediately funneled into a singletrack trail, so to avoid getting stuck in a conga line at the start of the race that can potentially take around 2 or 3 miles to thin out, an ambitious runner must sprint out to the front few, which I did last year.  This year, in my effort to force myself to take it easy, I started in the middle of the pack and eased into the race.

The section before the first aid station has some considerable hills, which can quickly take "it" out of your legs, and quite a bit of passing occurs during this first, shall we say, introduction to the race...

The majority of the course is run along narrow, rocky, rooty, singletrack trails, which can be an adventure to traverse.  The ankles take a beating as runners traverse numerous rock gardens, often with the entire trail on a slant due to its location on the side of a mountain.  This, along with the fact that there probably aren't a cumulative 3 miles of flat running on the entire course, makes this race a relatively tough, slow 50k.  I love it.

This year was considerably drier than last year's edition; not nearly as much mud and running water along the course.  If someone wanted to keep his or her feet dry, he or she could do so, although in one or two spots, some substantial thinking (and rock jumping) might be required.  I, on the other hand, think that the main stream crossing of the race, somewhere around mile 20, feels great, and plowed right through the frigid water.  I was not disappointed, as the cool rush provided a nice bit of relief to my rock-beaten feet.

Whereas most of the course is along singletrack, a few miles are along some gravel and paved roads.  When, a few miles after the creek crossing, we got spit out of the trail onto the gravel road that leads to the paved road, I licked my chops.  Given my road racing, XC, and track background, whenever the technicality is taken out of a run and I can simply dial in a pace to hold, I can generally make up some time on most of the purely trail runners.  This came in handy with the almost constant incline that the roads held, during which, it is incredibly tempting to take walking breaks periodically, especially when you take a turn, and up above the trees, you see Mount Cheaha, which you are well aware that you must climb very shortly.  It's somewhat intimidating, realizing that you're legs are already trashed from running farther than a marathon and that you're taking more out of them now by running up a hill just to get to the trailhead to take you up the mountain, and then seeing the mountain and thinking "I've got to run up that?"  Again, I love this sport.

Once I got past the last aid station, I began my ascent of Mt. Cheaha, and it went relatively uneventfully.  Yes, it was steep.  Yes, it was somewhat difficult.  Yes, I was very glad to be at the top.  But I expected all of those, so it was, in a strange way, kind of easy to get through. 

Once I got to the top, just a few more minutes padding around the top of the mountain, and I was done. (and yes, although I almost forgot, I did manage a nice, jumping heel click at the finish...)  Another 50k in the books.  The funny part is that, even though I played around with this race and ran it with a much more relaxed attitude, I ran 10 minutes faster than last year.  Funny how all that works...

I managed to put in 14 today (Sunday), and soreness is about how you would expect.  2- weeks until the big one; on to Delano....

got to love back-to-back long runs...

not a chance

"If suffer we must, let's suffer on the heights." - Victor Hugo 

 "Running is good for the mind. It cleans the conscience and relieves the stress." - the Howling Commando himself, Benn Griffin 

I usually go to a Wednesday lunch devotional sponsored by the Wesley Foundation here on campus, and today I got a copy of the best prayer I've seen in a while, called the Wesleyan Covenant Prayer:

I am no longer my own, but thine.

Put me to what thou wilt, rank me with whom thou wilt.

Put me to doing, put me to suffering.

Let me be employed for thee or laid aside for thee,

exalted for thee or brought low for thee.

Let me be full, let me be empty.

Let me have all things, let me have nothing.

I freely and heartily yield all these things to thy pleasure and disposal.

And now, O glorious and blessed God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,

Thou art mine, and I am thine.

So be it.

And the covenant which I have made on earth,

let it be ratified in heaven.

Amen.

"If The Flintstones has taught us anything, it's that pelicans can be used to mix cement." - Homer Simpson

sibilance 

taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper taper

"No man is exempt from saying silly things; the mischief is to say them deliberately." - Michel de Montaigne  

The link to these was just sent to me via email, so here are a few pictures from the Mt. Cheaha 50k a week or so ago.  We've got a few of the creek crossing, and for those of you who have read about them for so long, finally some photo evidence of my race-ending heel clicks...

I think this is my last run before the Delano Day. This tapering business never really sits well with me, but I figure that I ought to let any nagging overuse injuries subside.  

Now all that's left is to do it...

"The heights by which great men have reached and kept were not attained in sudden flight, but the, while others slept, toiled upward through the night." - St. Augustine 

Quick story:  Left foot, right foot.  Repeat as necessary.

 Not so quick:

WARNING:  This report is entirely too long, too boring, and too incoherent to be of any interest, but, if you have the urge to delve into it (along with a decent amount of free time and an appreciation of eccentric activities), here it is for your perusal:

A few months ago, I had an idea.  I have run the Delano Park 12 Hour Run, twice as an individual and once as a relay team member, but this year I wanted to make it something more, both in terms of running and as something a bit more worth while.  I was going to start running twelve hours before the official start of the race, thereby making it a 24 hour run, and to make such silliness worth the while, I took pledges from donors who wanted to sponsor me on a per mile basis to raise money for NTSAD, the same organization for which a group ran across the state of Alabama this past summer.  The race directors for the Delano 12 both ran the full way across AL, and one of the directors, Eric Schotz, has a son, Elliott, who is afflicted with Tay Sachs Disease.  Having such a worthwhile cause provided some much needed motivation throughout the late night/early morning hours of solo running, the latter miles of painful slogging, and many miles of pounding in training.  A few miles into my run, Eliza Schotz, Eric’s wife, brought Elliott out for a few minutes, and seeing the reason for the run drove the point home that it was time to get down to business.

I arrived at Delano Park about 15 minutes before I needed to start, got my aid station ready (consisting of a table, a couple water bottles, bananas, and pb&j), and nervously chatted with the small crowd that had assembled to watch me start.  Promptly at 6pm (by the RD’s watch), the Delano Day was underway with me anticlimactically trotting away from the start/finish line.

1 mile:  8:55

The first mile or two went by relatively uneventfully, albeit far too quickly, and slowly, the little group that came out to watch the start thinned out (some had to go to a prerace dinner and packet pickup before getting a good night’s sleep before their own race – the Delano 12 – in the morning).  Soon, we were down to just a couple people at the park with me, which was great to have, as I had expected to be alone for quite a bit of the night. 

As the daylight faded into night, Fred Trouse, a good friend from Auburn who served as a pacer for me during both runnings of the Pinhoti 100, began running with me.  Fred is always a pleasure to have along for a run, given his rather wide range of past experiences that have left him knowledgeable in so many areas.  This, coupled with the fact that he is an overly kind, intuitive, and selfless pacer, makes him a sublime pacer.  In any case, Fred and I circled the 1-mile loop time and time again.

Since this event was in my hometown of Decatur, AL, my family could come to watch the madness.  My Illustrious Father, Darling Little Sister, and, of course, Inimitable Mother, were all on hand for the start, and took different shifts to hang out at the park.  Whereas my Illustrious Father has been to both successful 100’s and the one failed attempt to watch the carnage, Darling Little Sister and Inimitable Mother haven’t had the joy of observing such stunts.  That being the case, my Inimitable Mother took the first shift and watched Fred and me plug away the first few miles.

As I settled into my natural pace, several people came by the park to say hi and see how everything was going, often stopping by after picking up their race packets and eating the prerace pasta supper.  One such visitor, Spurgeon Hendrick, a fellow Pinhoti veteran and all around good guy, happens to be sponsored by the Moon Pie company, and when he stopped by to check on me, he left a few moon pies along with some new flavored versions of the moon pie.  I know; I was spoiled.

At one point, Fred and I were treated with a couple of kids running with us.  Mrs. Burgreen, my high school freshman history teacher, came out for an hour or so to help cheer me on and brought along her children.  It’s not often that I feel old during these events, as I’m often one of the youngest participants, but seeing Mrs. Burgreen’s three kids, all of whom ran a little, and two of whom ran a couple laps as fast or faster than me, almost made me feel like an adult, because Mrs. Burgreen was pregnant with the first one when I was in her class a decade ago.  Regardless, it was nice to see Mrs. Burgreen; she always seems to have a smile on her face and encouraging words on her lips, and I’m glad she and her progeny came out.

Marathon:  4:11

At some point, another local bunch of ultrarunners, the Fagerman’s, came out for a few laps.  They were some of the lucky participants of the Run From the Ranger 50k last December, and it was nice to have the company while Fred took a little break.

50k:  5:09

Late in the evening, yet another Pinhoti alumnus, Philip Sustar, showed up with his family and another runner or two and set up their tent for the race the next morning.  I initially assumed that they were simply going to set up the tent and then go find a hotel for the night.  I was incorrect.  Philip ran quite a few miles with me throughout the night, made sure I always had what I needed, offered up his tent and supplies to me, and even helped me change my shoes and socks after 62 miles.  Because of helping me, I don’t think Philip even got 3 hours of sleep Friday night, and he still managed to get up and run 52 miles during the race Saturday morning (all the while checking on me whenever we crossed paths).

Around midnight, Darling Little Sister arrived to run with me for an hour or so.  Unfortunately, she showed up right as I hit my one and only real crash of the run.  She arrived just as I was completing 35 miles, ready to run, and the only thing I could do at the time was rest my head on the aid table, sit down, and ask for warm clothes and my first round of caffeine in a week (Mt. Dew is a lifesaver at times like these).  So after around 10 minutes of recouping, I got back up and set out with Darling Little Sister for around four miles.  She is always an utter joy to run alongside, and considering the somewhat unusual circumstances, it was all the more enjoyable.  All too soon, though, her running shift was over, and she went home to get a well-earned good night’s sleep and roust my Inimitable Mother for her running shift.  In the interim, of course, Philip and Fred filled in running with me. 

Within 30 or 45 minutes, the Inimitable Mother showed up, and we plugged away a few more miles.  I thoroughly enjoyed my hour with her; the best way I know to describe it is that I like running with my Mama.  Before I knew it, her shift had come to an end, and she went home to roust my Illustrious Father to come out for moral support.  Around the time he showed up to check in (being the experienced crew chief from my previous 100-miler excursions), Jon Elmore, one of the race directors showed up to get his mileage in for the day.  Jon ran around 5 before taking up the responsibilities of co-race director as other runners began arriving for the race. 

100k:  11:46

Around 15 minutes before the official start of the Delano 12, I hit the 100k mark and decided to take the opportunity to get off of my feet for a few minutes, warm up, and change socks (which proved to be a gloriously wise decision).  As the race began, so did the rain.  The weather throughout the night had been perfect. Upper 40’s with a slight breeze, but the Delano 12 has a reputation of bad weather to uphold, so there was an obligatory soaking rain, wind, and (later in the day) a bout of sleet/hail.  Regardless, I donned a light rain shell, and managed to remain pretty comfortable for most of the day.

The first couple hours of the “official” race passed rather quickly for me, since I had the company of John Bolding, a senior runner from the Austin High School XC team.  He’s picked up a bit of an interest in ultrarunning and claims that he wants to try one out after he graduates, so I gave him a little introduction to the oddity that generally accompanies this small niche of running.

During the day, the miles came and went.  Having all of the other racers around was nice, and since it was a loop course, we were constantly seeing each other to offer encouragement, support, and jokes.  Even so, or perhaps because of this, the miles seemed to blend together throughout the day.

It was nice to see a bunch of my friends out running the race.  Almost everyone I talked to had a good day of running, and I only wish I could thank everyone I saw for the unending encouragement they offered me throughout the day.  I think Fred, who continued to plug away at the miles with me throughout the day, PR’d for the total distance that he covered in a day.  I’m not entirely sure of his total mileage, but it had to be approaching 50 (especially considering he kept on plugging away even after I had finished, even though he wasn’t officially entered in the race; he just enjoys being out there). 

In any case, after the final few miles (it seemed like the last 15 took forever), my Inimitable Mother and Darling Little Sister joined me for my last lap.  With a few meters to go, we even got the privilege of pushing Elliott across the finish line. 

100 Miles:  19:42:53

Chatting with Elliott at the finish

For what it’s worth, this is a 100 mile PR by 7:55:27.  I suspect I’ll have a hard time PR’ing by over 7 hours again in just about any event.

Shortly after I got done, I headed into Philip and Co.’s tent to warm up, and the combination of the fact that I couldn’t move my legs and the sudden onset of sideways sleet convinced me that I was done for the day.  In retrospect, maybe I should have gotten out and walked a few more miles.  Oh well; call me lazy…

While I was warming (and stiffening) up, I was giving a bit of a recap to Tony Bolan.  Tony is a friend from church who happens to be a local magistrate.  When he heard about my little overnight adventure, he sent word to the officer in charge of patrols from the police department to concentrate patrols around Delano Park throughout the night.  It was a welcome sight to see cop cars cruise by checking on things.  Tony had come out during the first couple of hours to watch, he showed up around 4am to check, and then he came out again to watch me finish.  I cannot reiterate enough how much all of the support I got from friends meant as I circled that loop time after time after time.

This run was perhaps the most thorough mental effort and surreal running experience I’ve ever had.  The very nature of running through the night and over this many miles causes you to cover the full spectrum of physical, mental, and emotional states, and coupling that with the knowledge that I was running for a cause served to heighten the experience.

Afterwards, I got to enjoy some time with a bunch of running buddies, sitting around and cutting up, well pleased with the effort.  A bunch of folks managed to go farther than they ever had before, which certainly an accomplishment.

I haven’t managed to total up all of the donations and pledges, but I think that somewhere around $1000 was raised for NTSAD through the run, and I’ll gladly repeat the effort if it can in any way help facilitate research or support for families and those afflicted with Tay Sachs.

A day later, muscularly, I’m not too sore, but the joints are screaming at me.  Totally worth it.

Well, yet again, I warned you that it was long and boring, but somehow you’ve made it to the finish.  I am fairly certain that I’ve left out or forgotten quite a bit of what happened, but such is the nature of the beast.  My apologies if it was a bit long, winding, and incoherent, but that’s how the run was, too.  (and I’ll post up pictures as I get them…)

testing. testing. 1 - 2 - 3...

How much wood would a wood chuck chuck if a wood chuck could chuck wood?

"All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence; then success is sure." - Mark Twain 

Got some pictures from Delano...

Quick picture with Eliza and Elliott during a break in the rain mid-morning 

 Closer shot of me chatting with Elliott right after the finish

 Eric Gilbertson, a friend from Auburn, placed 2nd in the 12 hour by racking up 74 miles

 A bunch of running buddies from Huntsville.  They were great cheerleaders, and many of them had rather impressive runs.

A very tired but satisfied 100 miler

I tried to talk myself out of running today; I really did, but I just couldn't stand it.  The weather was simply too good to pass up.

"I tore myself away from the safe comfort of certainties through my love for the truth, and truth rewarded me." - Simone de Beauvoir  

5 @ 11; 9.5 @7

let's play nice

marking the second half of McKay Hollow course with Kathy and Linda

Checking first half of McKay Hollow course with Rob

"What we hope ever to do with ease we may learn first to do with diligence." - Samuel Johnson

If red and blue make purple, and blue and yellow make green, then what is the sound of orange?

5 a little earlier than later

12.2 a little later than earlier

recently got this via email.  it takes a few minutes, but it's well worth the read.  enjoy...

Runners

by Roger Hart

We ran through blizzards, thunderstorms, freezing rain, covered bridges,
creeks, campgrounds, cemeteries, city parks, parking lots, a nuclear power
plant, county fairs, and, once, a church service. We were chased by goats,
geese, a crazed ground hog, guards (the nuclear power plant), a motorcycle
gang, an armed man in a pickup, a sheriff's deputy, and dogs both fierce and
friendly. We ran when two feet of snow covered the roads and when the
wind-chill was thirty below. We ran when it was eighty degrees at seven in
the morning. We ran on streets, sidewalks, highways, cinder tracks, dirt
roads, golf courses, Lake Erie beaches, bike trails, across yards and along
old railroad beds. Seven days a week, twelve months a year, year after year.

During the hot days of July and August, Ed ran without shirt or socks; I
always wore both. Norm ran with a screw in his ankle and joked that it was
coming loose. Ed was faster going downhill; I was better going up. The three
of us met at a race and became training partners, competitors, best friends.
We ran together on Saturday mornings, usually a twenty-mile run along the
shore of Lake Erie or a twenty-two-mile route over hilly country roads near
Ashtabula. We ran thousands of miles and more than a dozen marathons
together, but most of the time we ran alone.

We gave directions to lost drivers, pushed cars out of snowbanks, called the
electric company about downed lines and the police about drunks. We saved a
burlap bag full of kittens about to be tossed off a bridge, carried turtles
from the middle of the road, returned lost wallets, and were the first on
the scene of a flipped pickup truck.

We ran the Boston Marathon before women were allowed to enter and before the
Kenyans won. We were runners before Frank Shorter took the Olympic gold at
Munich, before the running boom, nylon shorts, sports drinks, Gortex suits,
heart monitors, running watches, and Nikes.

We ate constantly, or so it seemed. My favorite midnight snack was cookie
dough or cold pizza. Ed enjoyed cinnamon bread, which he sometimes ate a
loaf at a time. Norm downed buttered popcorn by the bucketfuls and Finnish
cookies by the dozen. We all loved ice cream and drank large vanilla shakes
two at a time.

Still, friends said we were too thin. They thought we looked sick and
worried something was wrong.

We measured our lives in miles down to the nearest tenth, more than one
hundred miles a week, over four hundred a month, four thousand a year,
sometimes more.

The smells! From passing cars: pipe tobacco, exhaust fumes, and sometimes
the sweet hint of perfume. From the places we passed: French fries, bacon,
skunk, pine trees, dead leaves, cut hay, mowed grass, ripe grapes, hot
asphalt, rotten apples, stagnant water, wood smoke, charcoal grills,
mosquito spray, roadkill. And from ourselves: sunscreen and sweat.

Some people smiled and waved. A few whistled. Once or twice a woman yelled
from a passing car, said we had nice legs. Others, usually teenage boys in
sleek, black cars, yelled obscenities, called us names, gave us the finger,
and mooned us. They threw firecrackers, smoldering cigarettes, pop cans,
half-eaten ice cream cones, beer bottles (both full and empty), squirted us
with water, drove through puddles to spray us, swerved their cars to force
us off the road, swung jumper cables out the window to make us duck, and
honked their horns to make us jump.

We saw shooting stars, a family of weasels, a barn fire, a covered wagon
heading west, and a couple making love in a pickup; we ran with deer on a
golf course, jumped a slow-moving train to get across the tracks, hid in
ditches during lightning storms, slid across an intersection during a
freezing rain, and dived into Lake Erie to cool off in the middle of a hot
run. We drank from garden hoses, gas station water fountains, pop machines,
lawn sprinklers and lemonade stands. We carried toilet paper, two quarters,
sometimes a dog biscuit.

We were offered rides by The Chosen Few motorcycle gang, old ladies, drunks,
teenagers, truckers, a topless dancer (not topless at the time but close,
real close), and a farmer baling hay, but we never accepted a single one. We
argued about the dancer.

We were nervous before races and said we'd quit running them when we
weren't. We won trophies, medals, baskets of apples, bottles of wine,
windbreakers, T-shirts, pizza, pewter mugs, running suits, shoes, baseball
caps, watches, a railroad spike, and, once, five hundred dollars. Often we
didn't win anything, although we never looked at it that way.

Ed liked to race from the front and dare other runners to catch him. I
preferred to start a little slower, stalk those whose inexperience or
eagerness took them out too fast, sneak up on them around twenty miles when
they began to look over their shoulders. I felt like a wolf, and they were
the prey. When I passed, I pretended not to be tired, and I never looked
back.

Our goal was to qualify for the Olympic Trials Marathon, to run faster and
farther, to beat other runners.

Did we ever have runner's high? Didn't it get boring? What did we think
about? Why did we always look so serious?

Sometimes. Sometimes. Running. We didn't know we did.

One spring day it rained so hard the road was one giant ankle-deep puddle,
and Ed was huffing and our feet were splashing and it struck us funny. We
laughed until we collapsed, tears and rain running down our faces. We joked
about the time Ed had to pee and caught himself showering a snake's head,
the time we got lost during a winter storm and refused to turn around, and
the time we ran by Don King's ranch and were mistaken for two boxers. (We
never understood how anyone could mistake our skinny arms for a boxer's, but
we loved it, too.)

We felt guilty about the time we ran into a church service being held in the
middle of a covered bridge, and we were too tired, too inconsiderate, too
stubborn to turn around, so we sprinted down the center aisle, dodging the
two men with collection plates, and ran out the other end of the bridge
while the congregation sang "Praise God from whom all blessings flow ..."

And the dogs! The ones that tried to follow us home and the ones that
attacked us. Take the time Ed, Norm, and I were surrounded on a dirt road by
half a dozen blood-thirsty, snarling, circling canines, each begging for a
bite. We picked up rocks, stood with our backs to one another, and yelled at
the dogs, yelled for help, yelled for anything. Then Ed threw a rock, not at
the dogs but at the farmhouse where the dogs had been sleeping on the front
porch. The rock hit the aluminum siding. Bang! Like a gun going off.

An old man came to the door. Looked at us, looked at his dogs, and I thought
we'd done it now, and he'd lift a shotgun to his shoulder, shoot us, and let
the dogs have what was left.

"Harvey, Louie, Princess, Tucker," the old man called. The dogs trotted back
to the porch, and we raced down the road.

But another time we only yelled at a growling Doberman, told it to go home,
and the owner jumped in his pickup, chased us down the dirt road, swearing
he'd shoot us for bothering his dog. We ran through a field and across a
four-lane highway, circled back through the woods, hid beneath the
underpass, and then jogged into a gas station, where we celebrated our
escape with ice-cold Cokes.

I was bitten by a Dalmatian, a terrier, a cocker spaniel, and a red-haired,
knee-high mutt. Three of the dogs escaped after drawing blood, but I caught
the mutt in mid-air and threw it over my shoulder as its teeth clamped down
on my arm. The dog sailed into a telephone pole headfirst and fell to the
ground, knocked unconscious. The owner, ignoring the blood running down my
arm and dripping onto the sidewalk, screamed at me for killing her dog. But
when she stroked the dog's head, it jumped up and bit me again.

Or the time a sheriff's deputy stopped his cruiser to protect us from a
German shepherd as large as the Poland China hog in a nearby field. The dog
jumped through the open window and landed on the deputy's lap, and, while
they wrestled in the front seat, we ran, afraid of what might happen if
either ever caught up with us.

We found pliers, purses, golf balls, bolt cutters, billfolds, money (once,
over two hundred dollars, returned to an eighteen-year-old boy--no reward,
no thanks), tape cassettes, CDs, sunglasses, school books, porn magazines, a
Navaho ring, car jacks, a fishing pole, a pair of handcuffs (no key), an
eight ball, and a black bra (36C).

We ran farther and faster. We sprinted up long steep hills by the Grand
River until we staggered and our heart rates exceeded the two hundred twenty
minus our age that doctors said was possible. We ran intervals on a dirt
track: twenty quarter-miles in under seventy seconds, the last lap in
fifty-six flat. We got light-headed, our hands tingled, and sometimes blood
vessels in our eyes ruptured from the effort.

We ran because it beat collecting stamps, because we were running towards
something, because we were running away, because we were all legs, lungs and
heart, because we were afraid of who or what might catch us if we stopped.

One winter, while running twice a day, I was on my way home from a
seven-mile run, and I couldn't remember if it was morning or night, if when
I finished I would shower and go to work or shower and go to bed. I looked
at the horizon and the stars, the passing cars, and the lighted barns for a
clue, but I couldn't figure it out. Ed often said he once went out for a run
and bumped into himself coming back from the previous one.

We lost toenails and we pulled muscles. We suffered frostbite, hypothermia,
heat exhaustion, sunburn, blisters, dehydration, and tendonitis. We were
stung by bees, bitten by black flies, and attacked by red-winged blackbirds.
Sometimes, after a long run or a speed workout, or after a marathon, our
legs would be so sore, the Achilles so inflamed, that we could barely walk,
and we'd limp or shuffle painfully when going from the couch to the
refrigerator or from the front door to the mailbox.

We treated aches with ice and heating pads, or soaked our legs in DMSO,
sometimes in Epsom salts and hot water. We tried medical doctors, surgeons,
chiropractors, acupuncturists, podiatrists, sports therapists, trainers and
quacks. We were given shots of novocaine and cortisone, told to take
ibuprofen, Tylenol, and aspirin. We were warned that we were ruining our
knees, our hips, damaging our feet, breaking down too much blood, that we
would suffer arthritis and degenerative joints.

But sometimes it was like floating, like sitting on top of a pair of legs
that you didn't think would ever get tired or slow down. It was like the
legs were yours and like they weren't. It was like being part animal, a
running, flying animal. A horse, a bird. It was like feet kissing the
pavement and effortless strides, the body along for the ride. It was like
sitting in Ed's '67 Corvette, that monster engine gulping high-octane fuel
and turning 6000 rpms, your foot ready to pop the clutch. Like freedom and
invincibility. When we ran around corners, we were jets sweeping in
formation.

We all had a resting pulse in the low forties and body fat of seven percent
or less. I was six foot two, raced at a hundred and forty-eight pounds, and
went through a pair of shoes every six weeks.

Once, I experienced chest pains, a sharp stab beneath the ribs. A Saturday
morning, twenty-two mile run. Seven steep hills. We raced up the first hill
to find out if it was my heart or not and when I did not drop, we raced up
the second and third. After six miles the pain eased off, and Ed said if it
had been a heart attack, it must have been a mild one. Thousands of miles
later, a doctor unfamiliar with a runner's heart sent Ed to the emergency
room where he was poked, prodded, hooked up, and given oxygen until Ed said
enough was enough, pulled the IV and ran home. Two weeks later he set an
age-fifty record for the mile in a local meet.

Although we ran faster and faster, we never ran fast enough. We failed to
qualify for the Olympic Trials. Still, four times we drove for hours and
slept in our cars to watch others compete for the three Olympic spots.

Then, just as we once stalked other runners, time stalked us. We began
looking over our shoulders and thinking about the marathons we had run
instead of thinking about the next race. We slowed down. Our bodies balked
at hundred-mile weeks, and it took longer to recover from a hard run.
Sometimes when the weather was bad--very hot was always worse than very
cold--we took a day off. Sometimes we would skip a day because we were sore
or tired. We stopped giving the finger to those who ran us off the roads. We
gained five, seven, ten pounds. More.

Now, Ed has a granddaughter; Norm has "screw pains," and I have a retirement
clock and deformed toes. We've turned gray, lost hair, and joined the AARP.
We run twenty-five, thirty miles a week. From time to time, we race, no
marathons but shorter races, three, four miles, maybe a 10K. We measure our
lives in days, months, and years.

Ed and Norm still live in Ohio; I moved to North Carolina, then to
Minnesota. We no longer run together, but we keep in touch and reminisce
about the time the Star Beacon ran a front-page article about a group of
snowmobilers who had ridden nearly ten miles on a day when the temperature
was five below. We had passed them on our way to a twenty-mile run. We argue
about who threw the rock at the house, whose fault it was we got lost, and
which one of us the topless dancer really wanted to take for a ride.

We complain that we're running slower than we once did and make jokes about
timing ourselves with calendars and sundials.

Sometimes when we're running we'll spot other runners ahead of us and the
urge to race comes back, and we'll do our best to catch them. Last fall
while I was running in a park, I overheard a high school cross-country coach
urge his runners to pass "the old, gray-haired guy." I held them off for
nearly a mile although it almost killed me, and, when I had completed
circling the park, I ran by the coach and said, "Old guy, my ass."

But my ass is getting old along with all the other parts. When I sometimes
fantasize about one more marathon, the fantasy seldom lasts more than a day.
Fast marathons, hundred-mile weeks, ten-kilometer races under thirty-one
minutes are things of the past.

And what did we learn from running seventy-thousand miles and hundreds of
races, being the first to cross the finish line and once or twice not
crossing it at all, those runs on icy roads in winter storms and those cool
fall mornings when the air was ripe with the smell of grapes, our feet
softly ticking against the pavement?

We learned we were alive and it felt good. God, it felt so good.
© Copyright 2001 Roger Hart. This work first appeared in Natural Bridge, the
literary magazine of the University of Missouri-St. Louis.

 

i can't drive 55.

Ran the Scholarship Fund Run 8k.  Fun little race to test out the legs with regard to a little road speed three weeks after the 100.  Not quite all there, but for the most part, I'm back...

A haiku from my little jaunt tonight:

Late night solo run

Only hear footsteps, breathing

My nocturnal bliss

Happy Easter, y'all.

am:  they had a test in a class that i'm auditing this morning, so i had a little extra time, and what better way to fill it....

pm:  "There's.... something on the wing.... Some...... Thing....." - Shatner   (no, Bill, that's just an inch-thick dusting of pollen...)

good morning

good afternoon

"I know that you believe that you understood what you think I said, but I am not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant." - Robert McCloskey (State Department Spokesman) 

Healing rain is coming down
It's coming nearer to this old town
Rich and poor, weak and strong
It's bringing mercy, it won't be long 

I just got a call telling me that Phillip Parker, the owner of the overall Alabama state 50-mile record of 5:43:32 that has stood for over 26 years, passed away this morning after a sudden heart attack.  From what I understand, Phillip ran his first ultra (the Mississippi 50) on a whim while on a fishing trip... and won it.  He went on to blaze some pretty impressive times on the ultra scene well before it was the "cool" thing to do.  I didn't know Phillip very well, but I was lucky enough to have met and talked with him a fair amount during and after the Delano Day a few weeks ago (he went 43 miles at age 72!), and he struck me as being a very down-to-earth, humble, and all around good guy who always had a smile on his face.  The ultra world loses yet another of its legends, and a true champion of the sport by every definition of the word.  If you are of the praying type, I know his family could use some.

Ran the World Catfish Festival 5k that was actually a 5.5k (3.4 miles).  The race director told me that it might be a bit long when I registered, but when I saw my time, which was a little slower than it felt like I ran (had it been a true 5k), I decided that the distance might be worth checking, so my Industrious Grandfather (Inimitable Mother's father) and I mapped out the course on the computer, calculating it to be 5.5k.  I ran the calculation, and my 18:16 for 5.5k converts to 16:36 for 5k.  In any case, it was a fun race, and quite a few people who live along the course told me that they saw me run by the next day in church.  

(and, of course, for those of you with the burning question in your hearts:  yes, i did click my heels at the finish...)

"The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it." - Flannery O'Connor 

am:  5

pm:  10.8

"Life ought to be a struggle of desire toward adventures whose nobility will fertilize the soul." - Rebecca West

am:  5

pm:  10.2

"Chance is always powerful.  Let your hook be always cast; in the pool where you least expect it, there will be a fish." - Ovid 

In this life, only two things are certain...

11@12; 'twas a bit warm

"One of the joys we have in being human is in exercising our freedom to choose and to take each case as it comes to us.  We are not robots who are forced into behaviors by their programming.  We see things; we think about things; and we choose our course of action or beliefs appropriately.  And as long as that remains true of us, we will live every day of our lives on one slippery slope or another.  There is no reason to fear this." - Real Live Preacher (blog) 

Let's speak metaphorically, shall we?

Suppose that I'm in a stage race, comprised of three stages (I believe the FRB's own Kelsey recently ran and won a similar stage race...).  After the first stage, all but a few runners were eliminated, and now I have learned from the race director that after the second stage, the race is down to two runners, and I've got a narrow lead going into the third stage, so y'all keep your fingers crossed that the race committe doesn't find some reason to DQ me.

am:  2 x 1.5 tempo + warmup/cooldown

pm:  7.4

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, I don't think you can measure life in terms of years.  I think longevity doesn't necessarily have anything to do with happiness.  I mean happiness comes from facing challenges and going out on a limb and taking risks.  If you're not willing to take a risk for something you really care about, you might as well be dead." - Diane Froloy and Andrew Schneider  

An inspirational post to the UltraList today from the ever eccentric Lazarus Lake (aka Gary Cantrell), creator and race director of the Barkley Marathons, if that means anything to anyone.  In any case, Laz hasn't been able to run much over the past few years, but presses on because of a simple, yet deep appreciation for the sport; entitled "not this day," I found his post inspirational, and I hope you will as well:

i did two miles yesterday in 50 minutes.

you people dont know how lucky you are
that i am not on here every day
babbling like a middle school girl
over every step i take.

my running career has just about gone the full circle.
it seems only yesterday that everything was always on the way up.
that i was endlessly breaking new barriers
and setting new PR's.
working my way up thru the different running sports
track, cross country, road racing, marathons, ultras,
and eventually all the way to multi-days kept me on the upswing
well beyond where the natural curve should end.
because whenever i did something i never did before
it was a new PR & felt like improvement.

but we cannot be newbies forever.
eventually the PR's stopped happening.
running became all about maintenance of effort.
the only new "accomplishments" were cumulative;
measures of many years & many miles of running.

in recent years it has become a battle against slippage.
the wear and tear of what is approaching a 50 year running career.
the cumulative cost of a sometimes wild and dissolute lifestyle.
(no, i would not change a damned thing. but thanks for asking)
the cruel tricks of genetics and age.
little by little i have watched my running choices dwindle...
and my "career" wind down.

over the last 3 years have had some rough spots.
i have had to face the fact
that i could no longer actually "run".
i have had to settle for walking along & keeping the threads going.
the past two years, when i finally notched the 30+ effort
to keep my streak (now at 34 years) alive
it was a big thrill.
finding a timed event where i could participate has become a treat.
and when i actually "beat" someone it has been quite a thrill...
altho it sure doesnt say much for anyone i do beat.
(c'mon people, have more pride than that!)

i reckon i must have thought i could live forever
as long as i kept training
because i was surprised to find that i could lose ground
even while i continued to push myself.
that my speed and endurance could just dwindle away
despite using my legs every day.
but to this, like everything else we encounter in life,
we just have to adjust.

so it was a big thrill when i had a dr tell me
it was possible i might run again.
to be fair, his emphasis was that i needed surgery
to save my leg.
but you guys understand, i am sure,
possibly being able to run again
(even just a little)
was a powerful incentive to agree.
and seemed like a good place to set my sights.
it was a pretty tough surgery,
just the sort of ordeal that ultrarunning prepares us for so well.
accepting some discomfort
to pursue a goal that is too far away to see.
the hardest part was being patient during the early recovery
waiting on the instructions i know how to follow:
"at this point, the more you can stand, the better you will get."
what sweet words.
moderation is so difficult to achieve.
excess is what we are natural at!

so i am on the road again.
it has been sort of tough.
but i know ya'll understand when i say;
"not any of us would want it any other way."
every day i hit the road thinking;
"if this is as good as i get, how long will it take me to finish this year's 30 miler?"
(this year *IS* goinG to be # 35!!)
when you are having to stop every 20 yards to let the pain recede
and taking over an hour a mile,
the prospect of doing 30 miles in a stretch is sort of intimidating.

at the end of last week,
i finally got 2 miles under an hour.
monday, for the first time,
i walked an entire mile before i had to stop.
and yesterday, yesterday was glorious.
for the first time,
at the very beginning of my "run"
(before the leg started to hurt)
i felt the urge to break into a slow jog.
i resisted, because it isnt quite time yet...
but it is coming soon.
i made it nearly a mile & a half
before i had to stop the first time,
and finished the 2 miles in 50 minutes flat.
(the first mile in a sizzling 22 minutes!!)

ever since the first time i had to accept that i could not run any more
i have looked at this as the last great contest.
time is trying to take me off the road.
i am not planning on going down easy.
time is a tough opponent,
it never quits, it never tires.
and i know that some day time will win.

but not this day.

laz

cruisin

Celebrating the gift of the ability

37:25

Auto-pilot

Late AM (after class, whilst transferring binary output files):  5

felt the urge to escape for a while.  i can't figure out why... i mean, i must have gotten at least 30 minutes of sleep last night...

PM:  met Heather at the track for a relatively mild track workout, finishing out with a little 5:16 mile to let me decompress a little....

"It seems to me that people have vast potential.  Most people can do extraordinary things if they have the confidence or take the risks.  Yet most people don't.  They sit in front of the telly and treat life as if it goes on forever." - Philip Adams

I wasn't planning on running today, but I got an update this evening on a situation that I've done a decent amount of running in an all-to-frustratingly-feeble attempt to help support, so running seemed like a strangely appropriate response.

pray hard y'all.  pray hard.

Easy first half of the Tuskegee F.A. 50k.  Good, relaxing run, and nice precursor to tomorrow's little jaunt...

pacing for Rob Youngren and Eric Charette on day 2 of their attempt to set the speed record for the 335-mile Pinhoti Trail.  good day.

http://pinhotitrailadventurerun.blogspot.com/

Decided to test the waters of running again after Sunday's 40 along the Pinhoti Trail by running the first installment of Opelika's Summer Series 5k.  Wasn't sure how wise this was, given the relatively hilly nature of the course and the fact that I didn't particularly want to break my streak of never being beaten in Opelika from last year, but it turned out to be a relatively pleasant run that felt good on the legs.  I managed a 17:59, which was a nice tempo run, good enough for the win, and a good way to kick off the summer.

I got some pictures a few days ago from the Catfish Festival 5k.  I find them pretty funny; they almost make me look like a real runner....

I got to the starting line a solid 30 seconds before the gun...

And we're off...

Cruising into the finish

Talking with Amanda and Clark, who were kind enough to drive me all the way to Belzoni for the World Catfish Festival and even rousted themselves early to come see the finish...

Talking with Armando, who had a solid second place performance at age 52

A post-race picture with Granny

"Dreams come true.  Without that possibility, nature would not incite us to have them." - John Updike  

"Slow down and enjoy life.  It's not only the scenery you miss by going too fast - you also miss the sense of where you are going and why." - Eddie Cantor 

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Happy Mother's Day to all you mom's out there!  It's the one day of the year devoted to the true ultra-endurance athlete, the mother.  Sometimes we non-maternal runners think that we've got a corner on the market when it comes to stamina and battling through fatigue, but then all we have to do is think back to all those mornings when breakfast was warm and waiting when we woke up, or the smiling and supportive face at every event in which we chose to participate, and then remember who it was and still is that is always there to back us up, support us, and love us, whether we deserve it or not.

My Inimitable Mother might simply be an occasional commenter with a quick wit and a rather broad sense of humor to most of you out there in blog-land, but to me she's always my very loving, supportive Mama who deserves so much more than one day a year to recognize all the hard work and dedication she pours into our family, putting us all ahead of herself, and never asking anything in return.  I only wish I had the words that could do justice to the overwhelming appreciation and gratefulness I have for my truly Inimitable Mama.

Happy Mother's Day, Mama.

Love, John

Rest in peace, buddy; rest in peace.

Elliott Schotz 11/20/07 - 5/9/10

Obituary and wonderful video can be found at: http://www.runacrossalabama.com/

Second installment of the Opelika Summer Swing 5k series.  Ran it in a "Running for Elliott" shirt for somewhat obvious reasons.

"I am not dying, not any more than any of us are at any moment.  We run, hopefully as fast as we can, and then everyone must stop.  We can only choose how we handle the race." - Hugh Elliott, Standing Room Only blog 

Too late, my time has come
Sends shivers down my spine
Body's aching all the time

Congrats to Scott Jurek for setting the new American Record for the 24-hour run.  165 miles; quite impressive...

"We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered." - Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead

Most twenty-somethings living in a college town with nothing to do on a Saturday night probably go out on the town to find something.  I ran.

pretending to be a real runner again...

Installment number 3 of the Opelika Summer Series 5k.  A little more conservative effort than last week, just wanting to stride out for a little tempo, and that's exactly what I got.

.... and then a lot of sitting around, shooting the bull with another ultrarunner.  good times...

got some pictures from my recent adventure as a pacer for the second day of Rob Youngren and Eric Charette's epic Pinhoti Trail Adventure Run .  fun stuff.  enjoy...

 it was some really nice trail...

typical crew spot with the ever-capable crew chief Josh Kennedy

swapping out water bottles for camelbacks for a long, aidless traverse

at the top of the so-called "Stairway to Heaven" (rumor has it that she's buying one of those...)

I'll let you figure this one out...

finally another crew spot, and Rob's in great spirits

see, we did some running...

to give you some idea of how steep it got for a while...

hopefully i didn't put too many up here (a few more at http://letsgoforarun.blogspot.com/ and even more on the PTAR website), and i shutter at the thought of what burt might do with some of these...

"All is in the hands of man.  Therefore wash them often." - Stanislaw J. Lec, Unkempt Thoughts

"You know that children are growing up when they start asking questions that have answers." - John J. Plomp 

am i missing something?

it was a gorgeous, sunny day today

and of the several runners out and about,

i was the sole individual enjoying the day sans headphones.

am i missing something?

i think not,

but i'm pretty sure they are.

running:  better than coffee

Opelika Summer Series 5k, Episode 4.

Starting to feel some benefits of having what could be considered a half-decent mileage base.

weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

That deaf, dumb, and blind kid sure plays a mean pinball.

adding to Sundays curiosity

i noticed a lady listening to her ipod

while walking to an outdoor concert

i must really be behind the times

to loosen up after a bit of a drive

I wasn't planning on making this a race report, but seeing as how I just set off a couple of computer models that will probably take another hour or so to finish, I might as well do something productive...

The Cotton Row Run is a staple of the Southeastern road racing circuit.  Having been run thirty-one times, it has quite a following, and given its impeccable management, it is a fantastic event in which to participate.

I, along with my Inimitable Mother, Darling Little Sister, and Cool Little Brother, have made it to the last 10 runnings of Cotton Row, and it seems to get more and more fun each year (for me, at least).  This year I actually went into it with a somewhat decent base of mileage, so I was hoping to set a PR for the course.  My previous best time on this particular race was a 37:02, run a couple of years ago, and I was shooting for around a 36:30, maybe 36:00 today.  The reason for the somewhat modest time goal for the race is the layout of the course.  The two miles are mostly flat and easy to set a fairly aggressive pace, but after a turn shortly into the third mile, a gradual uphilll starts to chip away at the leg strength, and then the course kicks you in the face when it turns onto the hill.  The three-mile mark is on a relatively short (200 meters, maybe?), but incredibly steep hill that has even been graded to prevent vehicular traffic from slipping.  This particular hill has reduced me to a modest trot every year and seems to just take any speed out of my legs, which is unfortunate, because shortly after cresting the hill, a sharp turn leads to a long downhill mile, then simply through downtown Huntsville to the finish.

But it's only 6.2 miles, so it should be a piece of cake, right...

We got to the race site about an hour early, and after making an obligatory trip to the port-o-potties, I set about a fairly short warmup along the last mile of the course and back before making one last "download."  The I changed into my racing attire that was a hit amongst most of my running buddies that saw it:  my old high school XC/track uniform.  Some of my ultrarunning buddies were pretty amused, one even quipping "I've never seen you in a singlet before!"  Even some of the guys currently on my old high school's team got a kick out of seeing the old uniform (none of them have ever worn this particular style; they've always had the fancy technical fabrics and cool designs, as opposed to my simple nylon uniform... I felt "retro"...)

Clothed in my "old school" Austin High School Black Bears black and orange nylon uniform, I made my way to the starting line, and after the various Memorial Day recognitions, we were off.  The first mile of the race winds through downtown Huntsville and is mostly a blur due to the fact that it is spent almost entirely jockeying for a good position.  I settled in right behind a friend who is currently a pretty speedy high schooler (has all of my 5k and under PR's blown out of the water), hoping I could pace off of him.  I caught up with him right at the mile marker, which came entirely too early, hitting a 5:31.  We both knew immediately that this was probably a wee bit ambitious, but I thought, "well, I can't undo it, so I might as well roll with it," and I pressed on.  Matt, my high schooler friend (whose sister, by the way, was this year's ACC steeplechase champ...), backed off the pace a bit, being a little less experienced at the 10k distance, and so I was on my own.

Over the next mile, I managed to get into a decent rhythm and held a fairly constant distance behind the next guy, just trying not to slow down any while conserving a little energy for the looming hill.  My pacing efforts paid off, as I managed to hit a 5:44 for the second mile still feeling pretty comfortable, which was a nice confidence boost.

After making the left turn onto the residential road leading to the hill, I noticed someone coming up behind me.  For a few minutes, I assumed it was one of the Russian women, but as it turned out, it was Alissa McKaig, who wound up in second place overall for the ladies (first was Janet Cherobon, who was well ahead of me the entire race).  In any case, Alissa pulled up beside me just as the hill was coming into view, and we exchanged a couple of humorous/nervous/oh crap/let's-work-it remarks about it before embarking up it.  Mid-hill, I hit the third mile in 6:06, which is, more or less, where I anticipated being, considering the remarkable slowdown that inevitably accompanies the incline.  As always, I simply trotted up it, but for some reason, I felt a bit stronger and more focused on holding the pace than in previous years (as opposed to only being able to think about how much this hill sucks...I didn't really even notice all of the people that are there every year, sitting on the hill, playing the Rocky theme music, and enjoying observing many a runner's misery...), which allowed me to more quickly settle back into a rhythm once we got to the top.  This added strength, although it did keep me in front of Ms. McKaig whilst summitting the hill, did not keep me ahead of her once we got to the top; she slipped right around me right at the top of the hill and got a few yards ahead of me to the turn that marked the beginning of the downhill portion.  Aha... I had a rabbit to chase...

Down the hill we went, picking up the pace quite a bit, and much to my surprise, I felt fine with the increased tempo, hitting mile 4 in 6:01 (not too impressive, I know, but we still had about two-thirds of the hill during mile 4), and nailing mile 5 in 5:23.  Somewhere right around the 5-mile mark, as we were heading back toward downtown, I realized that I felt pretty good, almost comfortable, and definitely better than I had 1, 2, or even 3 miles prior, so I took the surge of energy and slipped back around Alissa.  I knew that she probably had a better kick than I do (believe it or not, we ultrarunners don't often focus on a finishing sprint...), so I figured that I needed to put some distance on her before the home stretch (I guess my inner 5-year-old still doesn't want to be out kicked by a girl...).

Into town and back to the home stretch, which is actually around a half mile (maybe more) long straightaway, we made our way to the finish.  I was still very surprised at how smooth and relaxed I felt.  Make no mistake, I was putting forth a fair amount of effort, but it seemed to click today, which made for a rather enjoyable race.  In any case, after hitting the sixth mile in 5:33, I went the extra two tenths, finishing in 35:32, and edging out my race companion by four seconds.

I was pleased with the race and felt fine at the finish (dang... I should have pushed harder; maybe I could have PR'd, which is very difficult to do on this course).  I was also pretty surprised that I beat my seed.  Going into the race, my final seed was 28th, and I managed to wind up 22nd, which I guess isn't too shabby out of 2048 finishers.

The rest of the Nevels clan did well.  Cool Little Bro managed a 52:23 just chillin, Darling Little Sister blazed through it 54:49, which I think is a 10k PR for her (good job Lynn!), and yes, Inimitable Mother trucked through it to snag a 1:06:21.  Of the four of us, naturally, Inimitable Mother had the best finish, as I went back somewhere around three quarters or a mile back to find her, ran her in, and somewhere along the last straightaway, both Cool Little Bro and Darling Little Sister joined up with us, so the Inimitable Mother had her Entourage to the finish, as she ought to.

Now to figure out what's next...

Name that tune!

jumbo shrimp

quiet riot

sweet sorrow

deafening silence

irregular pattern

gargantuan lilliputian

I just stumbled upon this, and if you've got a few minutes, it's completely worth the read.

http://runtrails.blogspot.com/2010/05/why-do-endurance-sports-answer-wall-pit.html

I really hate to simply post up links two days in a row, but this race report just popped up on one of the ultrarunning email lists of which I am a member.  It Jim Shapiro's write-up of a 24-hour race he ran in England and is in a 1979 issue of Sports Illustrated.  If you think that any race report I've ever written is of any value, this one puts everything I've ever penned to shame.

It takes a while to read, but for those of you with any ultrarunning aspirations, Shapiro captures the internal, external, and all-encompasing struggle of the effort well enough to thoroughly warrant the time invested.

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1123639/1/index.htm

Out at the Bartram and Pleasant Hill Trails for psychological and physiological bonk training.  Went out for a little shy of  two hours on a humid day, but would not allow myself to drink any water out of the full bottle I carried the whole way.  Just wanted to try it out as a little experiment, and I think it went well.  I managed to come pretty close to the edge of a bonk without hitting the full blown "wall."  Should come in handy during some rough condition ultras...

just enough to get the blood flowing...kinda...

"Enjoy when you can, and endure when you must." - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe 

"Here's a tip to avoid death by celebrity:  First off, get a life.  They can't touch you if you're out doing something interesting." - Kent Nichols and Douglas Sarine 

"Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work." - Thomas Edison

"It is in the knowledge of the genuine conditions of our lives that we must draw our strength to live and our reasons for living." - Simone de Beauvoir 

"Man is so made that he can only find relaxation from one kind of labor by taking up another." - Anatole France 

24 for my 24th

"Things are more like they are now than they ever were before." - Dwight D. Eisenhower  

"A person reveals his character by nothing so clearly as the joke he resents." - Georg Christoph Lichtenberg 

"Miracles:  You do not have to look for them.  They are there, 24-7, beaming like radio waves all around you.  Put up the antenna, turn up the volume - snap... crackle... this just in, every person you talk to is a chance to change the world..." - Hugh Elliott 

8 = ocho = (3!) + 2 = 584/73 = ??????