If the Ski to Sea 8 mile running leg was a band, it’d be Marilyn Manson. The pavement can be the drums, the relentless downhill the guitars, and Marilyn’s screaming mimicked by every fiber of your body below the waist. This is not a dance around the maypole. I knew this going in, but not quite the extent, which led to self-imposed apprehension.

I like to have an idea of what to expect going into normal solo races, let alone team relay races where more than just my cat and I are counting on my not failing. Let alone where all but one of those counting on me are for the most part strangers, and probably better at their sport than I am at mine. And I’m not as fast as the guy they had last year. And their team is pretty competitive, hoping for a top 10 finish. And I’m feeling a little under the weather. Etc. This all bundled itself up into a nice package of fear in my head. I honestly cannot remember a race I’ve run where I was more nervous in the days leading up to it, not even way back in high school, when I was afraid of everything and almost threw up before a couple big xc races. I warned my team’s captain during the job interview a month back that I was not as fast as the guy they had the year before, but I also provided a prediction I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hit since past experiences have told me I’m not what you’d call “any good” at downhill running. I predicted between 41-42 minutes, which works out to a 5:08-5:15 pace. I knew this was all downhill, but just thinking of that pace for anything more than a mile terrified me, especially since I’m not in optimum 5k-10k shape at the moment.

After a pleasant 1-1.5 hours of non-REM sleep Saturday night, I woke up groggy, stuffy and coughy. This didn’t really concern me. My less-than-100% lungs were not going to slow me down in this particular race…it was all up to my legs, and they were both relatively fresh. I ate and drank per my normal routine and sat mostly silently on the drive up to the top of Mt. Baker, save for the occasional hack into my sleeve. I also tried to add to my poor sleep totals from the night before, unsuccessfully.

Upon getting to the top, where both the xc skier (1st leg) and downhill skier (2nd leg) would perform before handing off to me, I quickly found a bathroom and afterward found myself locked out of the car wearing only my short shorts and the tech shirt in which I would race. Perhaps due to nervous energy, I did not feel particularly cold. Or maybe it was simply the least of my worries. It *was* cold up there, but I found it refreshing, and the energy of the starting area was contagious. This race is a very popular tradition in the area, dating back to the early 1970s, and the starting line was buzzing as we approached 8am. What sounded like a cannon let the xc skiers off into the wilderness, the Swede no doubt among the front pack. I did a warmup jog with Greg Crowther (it’s my website and I’ll name drop if I want to) and when we arrived back to the handoff area to wait for our teams with all the other elite-looking runners, I bounced around nervously, trying not to spill bile on the snow.

I heard my team’s number called, letting me know our skier was about 30 seconds from arriving, and bounded out to the edge of the snow next to Crowther and another fellow. Their teams’ downhill skiers came in about 10-15 seconds before mine. “Big Mike” came flying in, slammed on the brakes and slid to a stop about 6 inches from my legs, handing me our timing device before falling over. I spent about 1.2 seconds worrying if I’d botched the handoff, causing him to fall, and immediately started down the hill.

This picture makes me look like I’m 4′10. And dead.

Though I had no way of knowing what pace I was hitting right away, I sensed my initial pace was “about right” as far as turnover went…meaning basically I wasn’t going to be able to go any faster without tumbling end over end, cartoon-style. This was a total shot in the dark though. I also didn’t know if there were mile markers on the course. I figured at the very least I could use the highway mile markers to get an idea of the pace I was hitting mile to mile. Soon enough I came across a handwritten sign stating “mile 2″ on the right side of the road. “That seemed to pass quickly!” I excitedly thought as I hadn’t looked at my watch yet. I glanced down. 8:03. Sigh. You would think a race as legit as Ski to Sea would have accurate mile markers but apparently that magical ability has escaped their grasp as well. It was around this time a young guy whizzed by me, looking incredibly fast and determined. I closed my eyes for seconds at a time (pictured) and just tried to feel light going down the mountain. I awaited the barrage of runners behind me, Marilyn starting to scream at me from my legs.

Soon enough I saw my first highway mile marker and took note of my total time. By the time I hit the next one, I was relieved to see only about 5:10 had passed. This type of running is so foreign to me, I honestly wouldn’t have been surprised by anything between 4:30 and 5:30. And I felt I could trust the highway to have accurate mile markers. Around mile 4 I noticed that a guy I had been fruitlessly chasing as he slowly grew smaller had just passed a gray-shirt guy. I honed my focus on that gray shirt and, when I could see him, tried to reel him in myself. I was definitely gaining on him…but slowly. I then spent the next 3 miles closing the gap and finally caught him around mile 7. In between these two events I continued to take note of the highway mile markers…on one mile I clocked a excitement-inducing 4:58…on another one I apparently clocked a 6:28. Sigh.

At mile 7.75 or so, the descent ended and I was now on flat road, running what felt like a 12 minute pace, weighing what felt about 450 lbs. I was insistent that the guy I had just passed would pass me back, but he didn’t, and I miraculously handed off to our cyclist without having lost our place in the race. I started with us in 7th, I handed off in 7th. My final time, by my watch, was about 41:26, give or take a few seconds. The relief of the weight now being off my shoulders was incredible. And not only that, I did more or less exactly what I said I’d do. You couldn’t say shit to me…at least for a couple minutes after I’d finished. I later found out I finished 24th overall.

Our team finished 9th overall. Top 10 was achieved. My fears were not. Even if they dumped me and somehow picked up the best runner in the country, they weren’t going to finish better than 9th. Eight place was over 12 minutes in front. Tenth place finished about 2:45 behind, 11th place about 3:45 behind. This team was going to finish 9th pretty much no matter what I did. If I had known that, I might have gotten a bit more than 70 minutes of sleep the night before. I might not have been stressed all week, and maybe wouldn’t have gotten sick. I might have been a better guest the night before, a bit less reclusive, less in my own head. I might not have wanted to throw up at the starting line. But I probably wouldn’t have felt as good and proud afterward.

*******

A potentially relevant question today is “was it worth it?” And not simply from a stress/relief standpoint. I’d heard from more than one person after the run that the recovery would seem as bad/long as, if not worse than, the typical marathon recovery time. It’s probably a little early to tell, but I *was* still somewhat limping around today at work, all thanks to the quads. I put in another 41:26 run Monday evening (only 5 miles though) to shake things out, took yesterday off and did about 65 minutes tonight. All easy aside from a couple (up)hill charges. Everything was manageable. I won’t be doing mile repeats anytime soon, but at least I think I’ll be able to tackle the Cougar Mtn 7 miler next Saturday.

There was also the risk of injury, but as of now I believe I have escaped unscathed. My shins, that which worried me the most heading in, have actually been mostly silent and pain-free. I barely believe it. I can feel a little tightness when I do some shin stretches, but that’s it really.

Yes, I think it was worth it. I’m sure I won’t be asked back on the team, and that’s fine. Even if I was asked, I’m not sure I would accept. I wouldn’t be as terrified next time, meaning I wouldn’t be as proud when I finished, yet the risk of injury would remain the same. When it comes to my legs, now that I’m out of my 20s, I like to quit while I’m ahead. That’s what 30 year olds do. They quit.

For now I think it’s safe to finally and officially sign up for the White River 50. Then break 8 hours. Then quit. In the meantime I’m more than happy to turn off the Marilyn Manson and put Boards of Canada back on.

The preferred television in the household these days is a British comedy called “Doc Martin” that plays on KCTS. The doctor, played by Martin Clunes, is one of the most likable characters I have ever come across in television. If I lived in Portwenn, I’d have to hold back the urge to try and be this man’s best friend, to avoid the inevitable rejection and ridicule. But I’d definitely admire from afar. Some random highlights. A small part of me, and possibly a small part of you, wishes you could behave this way towards many of the people you come across in the day. If anything I know Clint Wattenberg would also enjoy him.

*****

A couple weeks ago it was announced Apple had bought out lala.com, the best site I’ve found to stream full albums on the ‘net. On May 31, 2010, lala will be no more and any/all “credits” you have will be transferred to your iTunes account or whatever. Makes sense from a business perspective for Apple, but a dick move is a dick move. They basically bought something with, as far as I can tell, the sole intention of simply taking it away from us. I do not think lala should be lumped in with the other methods of getting “free” music. The model was more along the lines of a preview site. You could listen to each song/album one time, after which you could only hear 30 second previews. So if a new album came out, you could basically preview it once through on lala before determining whether it deserved your money. It allowed you to easily and quickly get a taste of music you’d otherwise never think to purchase or waste time/disk space downloading.

May 31 is 11 days away, or passed 11 days ago depending on when you read this, and I will try to savor these final 11 days. As I may have stated here earlier, I prefer listening to full albums than randomly choosing singles or suffering through whatever set a particular DJ thinks I should listen to on the radio, especially while at work. So lala was a godsend in that respect. I will miss it…until July when the next streaming music site pops up. A friend recommended grooveshark.com but its interface, while copying lala.com in many ways, is very clunky and its library not nearly as extensive. It took me a few hours to figure out how to even get to full album listings, and when you do, chances are fair that the user that uploaded the tracks either omitted the track numbers or put them in incorrectly, negating the whole point to the “full album” experience. Also, the fact that users are able to upload tracks gives me the feeling this site will be shut down in due time. Lala had a sense of legitimacy to it. Now even moreso, I suppose. Thanks Apple!

*****

I love being on Wordpress over that old setup I had before. The work and pain and misery of the transfer may all have been worth it only for the clear reduction in spam. Every time I visited my site back in the day it seemed there was someone selling “sexytim furnirture viaggra vicodin” or some similar product and I’d have to manually remove each one. And don’t get me wrong, they still come. But now when YOU visit my site every other hour day week, you don’t have to see them. Nor does your wife girlfriend friend mom nevermind forget I said anything. And if you *are* a legitimate person with something coherent to offer in the form of a comment, or you’re Patrick, Wordpress seems to recognize you and allow you in! Which means I have to log in less in order to moderate the comments. Which means I post less. (cough)

*****

Yesterday I had a running day off, so I rode my bike to work for the first time in 2010. It’s a not-entirely pleasant 9ish mile ride through, at times, some real shitty barely-paved roads and unappealing traffic. But it took only about 40 minutes to get to work, a mere 5-10 more minutes than it’s taken recently to drive. Obviously while I’m “in shape”, I’m definitely not in “bike shape” so I was huffing and puffing up the final hill climb to the office, and my butt felt really uncomfortable in the seat as I continually adjusted with little success. Eight hours later I was climbing onto the bike to head home and was horrified by how sore I was, most noticeably where the seat holds me up. The uncomfortable ride home was made more so by a steady rain and a bruising feeling on my butt that made every goddamn pothole on Jackson St. and E. Marginal Way utter torture. Instead of 40 minutes, the ride home took 56.

This is all a leadup to tell you I’ve spent the past 24 hours walking around looking for excuses to make the “it’s ok, over the years my ass has taken a pounding” joke, sadly to no avail. So, I’m posting it here.

(Anyone?)

*****

XBL gamertag “jayaresea”. Come get some. Just so you know though I only play Tecmo Bowl: Throwback, The Misadventures of P.B. Winterbottom, and Sea Life Safari. That having been said…come get some.

aka “Racing by the Numbers”. Yeesh. As I look back at the Cougar Mtn Series 5 miler, all I can muster up is “well, in hindsight that’s pretty much EXACTLY what I should have expected.” Although I had no proof, I had no reason to not think that I was a bit slower than last year. The past few months I’ve been focusing more on going longer, and my speed work has been scaled back in terms of intensity while increasing in duration. After all, the important race this season in the big ol’ 50 miler in late July, not the quick 5 miler in mid May. The thing was, I didn’t know how much slower I was. And with there being no mile markers on this course outside of Scott McCoubrey under-selling how much further you have to go when you see him around mile 3, I wouldn’t know how much slower I was until I crossed the finish line.

At the starting line, I stood with Chris Bender as we scanned for The Swede. Chris had never met him and I described him as “…uhh…he looks Swedish…and he’s got a big bushel of hair.” We ran into his friend Debbie and I inquired about Martin’s whereabouts. We were told solemnly that he actually hadn’t arrived to the states yet, his flight grounded by the volcanic debacle in Iceland. “Well THAT fucking sucks,” I thought to myself, selfishly, as usual. Chris and I slowly made our way near the front of the start. While McCoubrey described the course, I realized I’d been standing around for a good 5-7 minutes and decided to get in a stride or two at the last second, and on my way to an open patch of land, there was the Swede. “Does Debbie know you’re here? She told us your flight never made it.” “Debbie gave me a ride today!” I’d been had, as usual.

About 20 seconds after my one and only stride, the race began with the same loop as the year before. Martin and I were around 5th or so getting onto the fire road, and quickly Martin took the lead, a younger, late-high school/early-college looking student dutifully following him, myself in 3rd. About a week ago, Martin had let me know that the ski season in Sweden had only just ended and, his hometown still covered in snow, he’d only gotten in about a week’s worth of actual running. Ya know, with shoes and everything, only one of which was a “speed” workout. Nevertheless, he looked good today.

We got onto the single track and, like last year’s 7.5 miler, he and his follower started slowly pulling away from me. We started climbing the first hill and I quickly realized hill climbing is not one of my strengths at the moment. Which, as I thought about it between agonizing breaths, made sense since I hadn’t been doing the kind of short & hard hill charges I’d been doing last year. I was passed about halfway up the hill by a guy in one of those repugnant Club NW jerseys. As he got smaller I seemed to forget my long term racing goals and regretted NOT training for fast 5 mile races.

I reached the lone water station, around mile 3, still in 4th and not hearing anybody behind me. McCoubrey was there with his impeccably-behaved 5(?) year old kid, who stood cheerfully and silently, holding out a cup of water. Weird to say, he lightened my mood a bit, as I declined the water as politely as I could muster (not very). McCoubrey announced “a little up, then the rest is flat or down, about 2 miles!” I’ve learned from past experiences at these races to always add about a half mile to whatever distance Scott announces is left, and I finished the final climb, secretly listening behind me for Scott’s voice encouraging whoever was in 5th. I didn’t hear anything.

After cresting the 2nd climb I finally started to feel good. Sure it was on the gradual downhill of the final 2 miles, but I really felt like I was hitting it good and quickly lost all worry of losing 4th. The final brief up & down of the last half mile was soon upon me and I crossed in 33:41, not at all surprisingly, 10 seconds slower than last year.

I immediately asked the timekeeper who won. He pointed towards the food tent. “That goofy looking guy in the red shorts,” he announced, obviously referring to The Swede. He might not have said “goofy”, I forget. I asked the margin of victory. “Umm, pretty good. About 40 seconds?” he replied. His final time was 32:00, 10 seconds faster than last year’s winner.

We were both wearing our Polar watches, and we found out my avg HR was 181 with a max of 189, while his was 180/186. Last year I hit only 179/184. I…don’t know what any of that means, but I’m guessing it boils down to Martin being in better shape than I. Some things never change.

Me

Him

I have a 5 mile trail race tomorrow (Saturday), the first of the 4-race Cougar Mountain Series, now officially my favorite set of races in the year. The shortish distance has rendered me terrified these past few days leading up to it. As I’ve stated countless times before, the “faster” a race is (ie, “shorter”), the more intimidating I find it, because the pain is upon you almost immediately. There is no chewing the fat with competitors as the race slowly thins out and becomes gradually more uncomfortable. You’re dropped into the fire. So there’s that. A lesser worry is the state of my legs. I don’t think I’m “injured” but I’m banged up almost 24/7. The pain seems to be some sort of living thing, residing in one area of my leg(s) for a few days before I run in a way to not get rid of it, but move it to a different area of my legs. A week ago, my right calf was irritating me. Yesterday, that seemed to be gone but oh look, now my left hip is bugging me. And then there’s the added pressure of a certain jovial Swedish fellow being in attendance at the starting line, adding to my anxiety. The Swede does not condone loafing. Though gentle in nature, when racing he only condones the accumulation of pain.

***

The fright though is probably highest for the Ski to Sea 8 mile race. Not only am I holding (a sizable) responsibility for a competitive team (of which I only know ONE teammate), that hopes to finish in the top 10, but the consecutive downhill on pavement cannot be good for my brittle legs. The expected ~40+ minutes for my leg is longer than avg, I believe. And though I predicted a 41-42 minute completion time while I was “vetted” for the spot, I cannot fathom maintaining a 5:10 mile pace for anything more than…oh, one mile, let alone eight, even if it’s all downhill. Leaving the fear of either a) letting down 6 strangers, b) shredding my already hurting legs or c) both. But as I stated to the Swede, maybe the pressure and anxiety will work in my favor. I know I won’t walk away saying I screwed the pooch because I was apathetic.

***

More soon if this pesky writer’s block clears up!

Hi all, I was interviewed for a feature in some magazine whose name I can’t remember. I pasted it below! Let the racing season begin!

***********

   Fresh off his record-setting performance at the Mt Si 50k earlier this month (personal record, that is), Joe Creighton is ready to release his summer racing plans, and he was kind enough to give us the exclusive information firsthand. There are six races, starting in mid-May and finishing up in mid-August. And it seems this performance at Mt. Si, a far easier course than any other 50k he’s run, has inflated his sense of self worth to otherworldly proportions.

   The self-titled “Creighton 2010: Dreams to Reality” race season begins on the trails of Cougar Mtn for the first in the 4-race series, a 5 miler Creighton is partially familiar with.

   ”I’ve run this race twice before in two years, so I know the course like the back of my hand,” said Creighton in a phone conversation, who did concede he hasn’t actually been to Cougar Mountain since 2009 and from his descriptions seems to have mistaken it for Discovery Park. “Unless they change it, which isn’t uncommon. Either way, I fully expect to win and set a course record.” We reminded him that Martin ‘The Swede’ Rosvall would also in all likelihood be at the race, competing. Creighton quickly changed the subject to his next race.

   Two weeks later, Joe will be participating at “Ski to Sea”, what he described as “some sort of relay race that starts somewhere and ends somewhere else.” It’s actually an 8-person, 7-discipline relay race that starts on Mt. Baker with a cross country ski leg (handled by Martin Rosvall) and ends in Bellingham Bay with the sea kayaking leg. For his team, Creighton will be responsible for the running leg, an allegedly brutal 8 mile jaunt down the side of Mt. Baker, dropping 2200′ of pavement before he’s handing off to the bicycling leg. I advised Creighton to do a bit more research before this event, as he was adamant the running portion was only 3.4 miles in length and actually took a slightly UPHILL route.

   Assuming his delicate shins show any signs of life after the 2200′ descent of Mt. Baker, Creighton will then see himself reunited with former training partner “Dutch” at the second of the Cougar Mtn series, the 7ish miler, on June 12. Also in attendance should be Chris Bender and Patrick Niemeyer, whose last name Creighton incorrectly spelled out to us as “Kneemeyer”.

   ”I will expect another victory here,” stated Creighton, his voice muffled by what sounded like Cheetos, or Bugles. “It seems every year there is some ‘elite’ runner who shows up and beats me by a minute or two, but earlier this year I set a 76 minute PR in the 50k, so a mere 7 miler should be no problemo.” He also stated he looks forward to Eddie Martin being able to give him a ride to the race as his own car has become “very unreliable and dirty.”

   The race mileage will take a big jump only one week later at the Sun Mountain 50k, a more mountainous and hilly course than the mostly-flat Mt. Si 50k Joe did in April. But don’t tell him that.

We asked for a picture of him running…

   ”Seeing as how I clocked a 3:44 at Mt. Si, I assume with another couple months of training and reading Tony Krupicka’s blog, I can get that time down to about 3:30 or so for Sun Mountain. And last year the winning time was a mere 4:19, so I’ll just say ‘I hope the first place prize is a good one as I expect to go home with it!’ lol.” It should be noted Creighton actually did audibly say “lol” at the end and did in fact laugh out loud.

   It was around this point in the conversation that I decided to cease correcting Joe on his ill-advised race goals (Mt Si had ~1100′ of climbing, Sun Mountain will have over 5000′) and tried to quickly wrap things up.

   The “big race” of the year for Joe, by his own admission, is his 2nd attempt at the 50 mile distance. He will once again traverse the trails of the White River 50, assuming his check clears, and assuming he can still walk after attempting a 3:30 at Sun Mountain.

   ”I learned a lot last year at White River,” admits Creighton. “The biggest thing was I think I ate too many packets of Gu. I had 39 of them, and I didn’t drink any liquid until I had some Pepsi at the mile 27 aid station. But in the off-season I read this book called ‘Ultramarathon Guy’ [ed note: I can only assume he meant "Ultramarathon Man" by Dean Karnazes] where this guy ate pizzas and slurpees during his ultramarathons, and sometimes he took naps and then woke up and vomited all over the leather interior in his high-priced vehicles. I think his name was Dan. Anyway, he won this highly prestigious race on Antarctica, I think he even beat an Olympian or two, and then the next day ran all of the Hood to Coast relay race by himself, subsisting on nothing but Ensure and the adoration of his kids and wife, who was really hot.”

   I thought better of asking Joe WHAT he learned from this book, about which 90% of he was completely mistaken, and asked him simply what he might eat for dinner the night before White River.

   ”Last year I wanted the normal spaghetti plate they were serving at the orientation, but they said they ran out, so I just had the fried spaghetti,” he replied. “So…umm…I think this time I will just sit in my car and eat powerbars. I like Vanilla Crisp the best. Mixes well with Jolt.”

   If all goes well (sounds doubtful), the final race of the season will be the fourth of the 4-race Cougar Mtn series, the long 13 miler. However, only two weeks after a much longer 50 mile, perhaps it won’t seem so long. Creighton admits he had full intentions on running the race last year but bowed out after White River left him with unattractive cankles and a bruised ego. He hopes his plan on limiting Gu intake at White River will allow him to complete his six race summer.

   ”I crushed that 50k PR, I’m ready to rock and roll,” he exclaimed loudly into the phone. “Last year I failed to say a prayer before each race. In 2010 I look forward to seeing just how fast I can go when I remember to thank Jesus for making me a humble able runner who is better than almost everyone else in the state.”

   I told Joe that I could hear him, he didn’t have to yell, and that I wished him luck this summer.

Epilogue

   After penning my draft of this article, I sent it to Joe to make sure that, unlike him, I got all the facts right. He emailed me back, correcting a few not-incorrect things and asking if I could add a paragraph about his “hot girlfreind” [sic]. I thought better of responding to him and will simply copy/paste a few parts of his lengthy email here to stand on their own.

“hi thanks for sending me the draft of the article. there are a few things wrong with it though if you could fix them that would be great. 1. i’ve changed the name of my summer race season. instead of Creighton 2010: Dreams to Reality it is now known as Low and Behold: The 2010 Joe Creighton Racing Season, starring Joe Creighton. please fix this.
…
4. i was mistaken, the auther of the book ultramarathon guy is not named dan…his name is dean karno. he has a chairty called karno kids. and if you could remove the part wear i say his wife is hot thanks. 5. speaking of i have a pretty hot girlfreind, do you think you could include a paragraph about her and be sure to include how i say shes hot? and dont forget to remove what i said about dean karnos wife ;-p
…
8. you we’re right about ski to sea its an 8 mile run not a 3.4 mile. could you take out the part where i say that i look kind of dumb :-/
…
13. though i originally said i ran a 3:44:43 at the mt si 50k and thats what there website says, my watch says 3:44:40 so could you change my time to that?
…
thanksfully,
joe creighton”

Yasso 800s on the track, sat between 2:50 and 2:52 for most, a couple late herculean efforts dropping the overall average to 2:48.8. For the first time since I can remember, I actually jogged the rest between 800s, doing a lap at what averaged out to a 1:51, or, spectacularly, ~7:25 mile pace. After the 800s, these rest laps felt like 10:00 mile pace. Funny how tracks work. So all told, a new record in that I did 29 consecutive laps on a track. It wasn’t what I would call fun times, but I felt pretty good and the calf held up without issue, so we can’t complain.

2:51.5 (1:51.1)
2:52.9 (1:47.5)
2:52.0 (1:49.9)
2:51.9 (1:51.5)
2:50.5 (1:52.4)
2:50.5 (1.49.9)
2:47.9 (1:53.0)
2:51.2 (1:53.7)
2:48.8 (1:59.9)
2:41.6
---------------
2:48.8 (1:52.1)

5 miles:    28:09
7.25 miles: 44:58

It’s kind of weird to enter a race without a real sense of what to expect, time-wise. Such is the case at the 2010 Mt. Si 50k, which I ran Sunday, April 11th.

Compared to the three prior ultras I’ve done, the Northface 50k (‘08,’09) and White River 50 mile (‘09), Mt Si’s 50k is more like a “marathon + 5 miles” style race. All I knew of the course was it started flat on a gravelly trail, then climbed ~1100′ from miles 5ish to the turnaround point at 15.5, where you simply returned from whence you came (see the graph way down below). Sadly, though I could have easily found out using my watch in prior weeks/months, I never did the legwork myself to actually see what ~100 ft/mile of elevation gain felt like during a normal weekday run, so I didn’t have a great handle on what to expect as far as climbing. I figured not much, but I can’t be too safe before an ultra. Plus I haven’t run a marathon in over a year and half, and I stopped going to that running group I used to frequent, which supplied marathon-length running schedules I no longer use.

Looking at past results, I only recognized one 50k finisher’s name, but using simple arithmetic involving his (excellent) finish time, his estimated then-marathon shape and my estimated now-marathon shape (~3:00), I projected myself out to about a 4:00-4:10 finish. Last year, this would put me in the hunt to win the race, oddly enough. I contacted the guy in question and he was helpful in telling me his rough 1st half/2nd half splits from his race, giving me the confidence to go ahead and try to negative split, even though I’ve never come close to such an act in my past 5 years of marathoning. It *was* either all downhill or flat in the entire 2nd half. Using my rough time goal, I projected something like 2:05/2:00 1st half/2nd half splits, or about 8:00/7:45 mile pace.

I got to the race about 30 minutes early and quickly found out my plan of using the ipod wasn’t going to work out, as the ear buds wouldn’t stay in my ear for more than 5-6 seconds at a time. Good thing I found out before the race and not 5-6 seconds after the race began, I suppose. I had an ace up my sleeve though in that I received a vintage 1996 PV XC jersey in the mail on Friday from a guy I used to coach who had pilfered a handful over the years,* so for the first time since high school, I was wearing what the veteran runners like to call a “singlet.” It was a little on the large/baggy side, but I couldn’t *not* wear it after the timing of its surprise arrival and all.

*The jersey style in question has long since been decommissioned in favor of newer, flashier jerseys, so for the love of god please refrain from the guilt trip attempts. It would either be used by me at a 50k in WA, or used as car-wash rags by NorCal high school coeds trying to raise money for their [insert sport] team’s travel expenses.

It’s about as exciting a course as your typical road marathon course…meaning not very. The first couple miles I found myself sitting behind a pack of 3 “Marathon Maniacs”, one of whom was the eventual womens winner. They seemed to know each other well enough (and thankfully didn’t feel obligated to include me in their conversation), as my watch told me we were hitting 7:20-7:30 miles for the most part. We leapfrogged each other a few times as I paid close attention to any leg issues that might become problems later, but the pace stayed consistent. I figured this was okay since we were in the flat portion and perhaps when the 10 mile climb started our avg pace would slow to my planned avg pace.

No, this did not happen. To be honest I didn’t really even notice the climb start at all, it was so subtle and insignificant. I found myself taking the lead of the pack for good (by now there were five of us, only two non-Maniacs sadly) and as I slowly pulled away, my watch kept reporting my pace to be in the low-7 range. I was actually faster now than I was on the flats. I knew this was partly as I subconsciously tried to “race” my pack, challenging them to stay with me on a hill, but it really felt pretty effortless. After a few miles I gave in and called this my new “right” pace for the race and would spend the rest of the “climb” using these new pace numbers to mentally calculate my new time predictions. Assuming this wouldn’t bite me in the ass later, of course.

At the 10 mile aid station, Katie told me I was in 6th place. I only needed to refill my water bottle and was quickly back out, soon passing two defeated looking guys within about a mile or so. Now I was in 4th, my climbing pace staying steady around 7:10-7:15, my legs *kind of* feeling the effects of uninterrupted uphill (however slight), but fine otherwise. Up to now, the weather had been cool, overcast, and perfect. The sun was now out though and warming up the gravel trail. I didn’t see anybody until maybe half a mile from the turnaround point (mile 15.5), when I saw the #1 50 mile guy and the #1 50k guy a short distance apart, heading back in the opposite direction. I reached the halfway aid station and Katie said I was in 3rd, though I only recalled passing two guys. I only counted one 50k guy so I figured maybe she had mistakenly counted the 50 mile guy as well, visions of “runner-up!!” dancing in my head.

The downhill immediately showed how even *I* could negative split on this course. Without seemingly any added effort, I was now steadily clocking 6:45-6:55 miles. Still, despite being able to see for very long stretches ahead of me on the course, I could never see anyone to chase. Nor could I see those behind me. I passed the time extending/receiving “good work” to/from people heading in the opposite direction and was thankful that my shins seemed to be holding up. I hit the mile 21 aid station, refilled my water bottle, and tried to motivate myself to just go as hard as I could for 10 more miles. It wasn’t really a “race” anymore. There was the possibility the guys ahead of me could bonk like those guys I passed earlier on the uphill seemed to have, but the one 50k guy I saw didn’t seem to be wearing a camelback so I figured that chance was slim.

The downhill continued until mile 25.5, where the DIY water jug sat, alone. I quickly refilled one last time and pressed on. Gravity no longer on my side, the course now warm with unrelentingly searing 60 degree heat, I merely hoped heat stroke wouldn’t be an issue. I had been pretty good with the food I brought with me, eating at pretty regular intervals (watching me try to eat while running though, fumbling with my gel packets and plastic-wrapped clif bloks was probably not as impressive) and taking an s-cap every hour. I had never used s-caps before, but my calf issue from a couple weeks back and this not being a hugely important race allowed me to test them out. Who knew if they were working, but I wasn’t cramping, and I wasn’t projectile vomiting all over the place, which was good enough for me.

The only thing I really remember about the final 5 miles was the golf course, which was about a mile or so from the start/finish. While I mildly died, I longed for it, knowing when I hit it I was truly in the clear. And eventually there it was…but with this goddamn pancake-flat, arrow-straight trail, it seemed to be 3 miles away. And as I plodded along, it refused to get bigger, or seem closer. It just sat there. However like every other immobile thing I encounter when racing, it couldn’t escape me, and eventually I was on the city streets and taking the final turns toward the finish line. I wanted to kick for the no fans in attendance, but there was nothing there. And when I tried, my left calf stated “no, I don’t think you should be trying that.” So I backed off and just finished, Biggest Loser-style, in 3:44:43. 3rd place overall.

I suppose if I thought long and hard enough about things, I could find negatives about the performance. I’m that good. But I won’t. The race, all things considered, could not have gone better. I was more than 15 minutes under a time I hoped on hitting as recently as a few miles *into* the race. While I sort of “died”, in all honesty my last 5.5 miles were about as fast as my first 5.5 miles…they just felt about 100x more difficult. This has never been the case in any race past a half marathon. The two guys who beat me, I later found out, are both 2:40ish marathoners. The female winner who finished 15 minutes after me is a sub-3 hour marathoner. I brought food, and had just enough to eat. I never ran out of fluids. I ate regularly. I almost cramped in the final kick…but I didn’t. I negative split, 1:54/1:50. I didn’t chafe anywhere. No nipple bleeding. I wasn’t outkicked in the sprint by a Relay runner who was finishing his 11th mile of the day. Only two urine breaks, at the same point in the course, and no TMZ cameras. No walking, aside from the those two pisses and the aid stations…I probably only spent about a combined minute at all three. My shins didn’t hurt. My old high school xc jersey came in the mail and functioned fine. Only one small blister on a toe that I didn’t notice until after I took off the shoes. Nobody driving by me in a truck yelling out an observation about my sexual orientation. Just a good 224 minutes.

-More pics from the race-

Heart Rate Graph

Data 	               Value    Unit
Duration	     3:44:40
Sampling Rate	          5	 sec

Energy Expenditure	3998	kcal
Number of Heart Beats  37083    beats
Recovery	        42	beats
Minimum Heart Rate	143	bpm
Average Heart Rate	165	bpm
Maximum Heart Rate	173	bpm
Standard Deviation	5.5	bpm

Minimum Altitude 	660	ft
Average Altitude 	1073	ft
Maximum Altitude 	1695	ft
Ascent	                1180	ft
Descent	                1085	ft
Grade %	                 0.1	%
VAM	                 315	ft/h

Yesterday I got in 23 minutes of running. I was sore (quads mostly), but thankfully did not feel incapable of maintaining a modest jog. The left calf reminded me of his presence every other step, but never threatened me.

Now the hills have to start.

Zack Greinke learned some kindness in the offseason. Last year, when I made public my intention of self-inflicted pain during each of his starts in order to win him the Cy Young, he responded with a career-high 15 strikeouts. I was on the hook for 375 pushups, a feat I only barely accomplished and not without loud bellowing.

This time, in his first start of the 2010 season, Zack took it easy on me, easing me into the shirt-ripping season with a mere 4 strikeouts over 6 IP. One hundred pushups. No problemo.

The plan itself was working great. Despite facing Verlander, one of the top 5 AL pitchers last year, the lowly Royals still saw themselves with a 4-2 lead when Zack was pulled after the 6th inning. The worst everyday player in Major League Baseball even took Verlander deep and I was happily accepting each batch of crunches as they came.

Sadly, I forgot to take into account the KC *bullpen* and as I sit here, I realize I may need to add my 25 pushups/K rule to their innings as well, or else Zack will never get a W this season. In their first inning, the game’s 7th, before recording ONE out, the Royals had relinquished the lead and assured Zack that it would take at least an extra 5 days to get that career W-L record of his above .500.

Final score: 8-4, Det.
Greinke Ks: 4 (100 pushups)
Royals H+BB: 11 (220 crunches)

Greinke W-L: 0-0
Greinke ERA: 1.50

Zack Greinke Day #02: Sunday, 4/11 (Bos)

In line for Cy Young #2: Yes