After rediscovering the old joy and excitement I used to have while running (see previous post), I decided i'd test my limits and try to OD on that excitement. In my quest to become a "Marathon Maniac" ( www.marathonmaniacs.com ) I am currently training to run six marathons in six months. I chose to humbly share this with you, not seeking any praise, but rather your support. Here is what I would gladly accept from you:
- An offer to accompany me on a training run...it gets lonely out there sometimes.
- Better yet, run one of the races with me.
- A word or two of encouragement before my races.
- Come see me cross a finish line or two...you'd be surprised how motivated I get knowing people are waiting for me at the finish.
- If you see me out running, throw a brother a red vine.
Following is a list of the races i'll be running in. If you're a runner, join me! If you're not, cheer me on at the race or via your technological messaging system of choice...
October 31 - Silicon Valley Marathon (San Jose, CA)
November 13 - Catalina Marathon (Avalon, CA)
December 4 - North Face Endurance Challenge 50K (Sausalito, CA)
January 23 - Carlsbad Marathon (Carlsbad, CA)
February 6 - Surf City Marathon (Huntington Beach, CA)
March 20 - Los Angeles Marathon (Los Angeles, CA)
Note: I WILL GLADLY ACCEPT ANY DONATIONS OF RED VINES
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Monday, October 4, 2010
Back in the game
Have you ever visited a favorite old childhood spot and felt envigorated thinking about the experiences you had there? Maybe you visited Disneyland as an adult and all the childhood excitement you once had came rushing back to you. Or maybe you hopped on a bicycle for the first time in years and your sense of adventure was renewed. This past July, I experienced this phenomenon while running the San Francisco Marathon.
I know, I know...in my last post I said I may not ever run another marathon. As a matter of fact, I didnt run for nearly four months. Then in March I felt the urge to get back out there, I thought I had kicked my addiction, but my time away only fueled my desire. On my first run in months, I came to a few conclusions:
1. Four months off severely depleted my stamina...I was struggling mightily to finish just a few miles.
2. I can't believe I waited this long to get back out here.
3. From now on, I won't let anything or anyone steal the joy I have when i'm running.
After a few months of training, I headed up to San Francisco and had a blast running 26.2. The course, the crowds and the race were all top notch. Sticking with my theme of just having fun, I paid no attention to my pace or my time, allowing myself to walk when I needed and even took a couple pictures and sent a couple text messages. What an incredibly enjoyable four hours. After finishing, my mind started wandering off as I pondered my next race...that's when I hatched a maniacal plan. More on that in my next post...
I know, I know...in my last post I said I may not ever run another marathon. As a matter of fact, I didnt run for nearly four months. Then in March I felt the urge to get back out there, I thought I had kicked my addiction, but my time away only fueled my desire. On my first run in months, I came to a few conclusions:
1. Four months off severely depleted my stamina...I was struggling mightily to finish just a few miles.
2. I can't believe I waited this long to get back out here.
3. From now on, I won't let anything or anyone steal the joy I have when i'm running.
After a few months of training, I headed up to San Francisco and had a blast running 26.2. The course, the crowds and the race were all top notch. Sticking with my theme of just having fun, I paid no attention to my pace or my time, allowing myself to walk when I needed and even took a couple pictures and sent a couple text messages. What an incredibly enjoyable four hours. After finishing, my mind started wandering off as I pondered my next race...that's when I hatched a maniacal plan. More on that in my next post...
Monday, October 12, 2009
Wrecked in Long Beach: A Marathon Story
It's been an eventful year since I have blogged about my running and I thought it would be a good time to start writing again. While revisiting my site, I found an unposted draft of my Long Beach Marathon Race Report so I thought I would finally post that, a year after I crashed in Long Beach. Enjoy...
I'm still recovering from yesterday's Long Beach Marathon. My quad's are shot and my ego is a little bruised, but I wanted to share the experience with you all so that you can get a glimpse at what it's like (or sympathize with me if you've ever run one).
Disclaimer: I chose to write this stream-of-consciousness style, with obvious (edits) made to make it appropriate :)
My alarm goes off at 4:55...Well that was pointless, i've already been up for a half hour worrying that i'd miss it...I went through my usual routine and was out the door by 5:15...Race starts at seven, I have plenty of time...Flying on the 405 freeway, I make the change onto the 710...Uh-oh, these cars aren't moving...I maneuver my way in and out of cars and finally get to the end of the freeway...Crap, 6:35, race starts in 25 minutes and i'm still in traffic...I find where i'm supposed to park and make my way out on to the street...(Oh no) Race starts in 15 minutes, and i'm at least a mile away from the start line...
I ran to the start line, I didn't jog, I ran. As if 26.2 wasn't bad enough, I decided to add a mile sprint to the start line because I just love pain so much.
National Anthem just ended, gotta find my pace group...Found 'em...Gun just went off, guess I don't get to stretch...As with most races, slow runners feel a need to be close to the front and then impede the progress of anyone behind them...Watch out for that lady, don't trip over her feet.
Next thing I knew, we were three miles in and I was having no trouble keeping up with my 3:40 pace group...I dont feel like I have a lot of energy, but this pace seems comfortable...There goes mile 4, time for a shot-blok (strawberry, my favorite)...Here's a water stop, (Crap), I got blue powerade, that's not gonna mix well.
Right around mile 7 we hit the bike path on the beach...Well this is nice, beautiful weather and nice scenery, really wish I had more energy...Around mile 10, the half-marathoners split off which leaves us with plenty of room...Sideache, (shoot), run through it, run through it, stretch, breathe, keep going...Gone, phew.
Winding through the somewhat familiar streets of Long Beach, I found the 3:40 pace becoming gradually more difficult, for no other reason than I didn't have the energy...Son of a (woops)...I let them gradually slip away until they turned a corner and were no longer in sight.
Half way done and all I wanted to do was sit down...I can't believe I went through all that training and feel like i'm half asleep on race day...We got to the CSULB campus and the students there did their best to cheer me on, but there smiles did little more than keep me going until they were no longer in sight, at which point my legs finally needed a break and I walked.
There are few feelings like the feeling of defeat, and even fewer like having that feeling with 10 miles left in a race. I pushed my way through the last 10 in some sorry excuse for a run-walk method and somehow, coming down the final stretch I found enough energy to sprint...Probably looks like a peg-legged pirate dancing...to the finish line.
Finished in 4 hours flat. For some marathoners, this is a life-long goal. Others can run nearly two marathons in this time. For me, I was devestated. I missed my PR by more than 10 minutes and missed my goal by over 15. I trained so hard that I ran myself into the ground and out of an opportunity at a good race.
Frustrated as I received my medal, I thought back to my first marathon and could not believe the stark contrast of emotion. With my legs practically quivering and the rest of my body ready to slip into a coma, I decided I needed to walk away from running. I was doing more harm than good and it was clear that the time I put in was not paying off. I thought that I had just run my last marathon, but little did I know that I was beginning...
I'm still recovering from yesterday's Long Beach Marathon. My quad's are shot and my ego is a little bruised, but I wanted to share the experience with you all so that you can get a glimpse at what it's like (or sympathize with me if you've ever run one).
Disclaimer: I chose to write this stream-of-consciousness style, with obvious (edits) made to make it appropriate :)
My alarm goes off at 4:55...Well that was pointless, i've already been up for a half hour worrying that i'd miss it...I went through my usual routine and was out the door by 5:15...Race starts at seven, I have plenty of time...Flying on the 405 freeway, I make the change onto the 710...Uh-oh, these cars aren't moving...I maneuver my way in and out of cars and finally get to the end of the freeway...Crap, 6:35, race starts in 25 minutes and i'm still in traffic...I find where i'm supposed to park and make my way out on to the street...(Oh no) Race starts in 15 minutes, and i'm at least a mile away from the start line...
I ran to the start line, I didn't jog, I ran. As if 26.2 wasn't bad enough, I decided to add a mile sprint to the start line because I just love pain so much.
National Anthem just ended, gotta find my pace group...Found 'em...Gun just went off, guess I don't get to stretch...As with most races, slow runners feel a need to be close to the front and then impede the progress of anyone behind them...Watch out for that lady, don't trip over her feet.
Next thing I knew, we were three miles in and I was having no trouble keeping up with my 3:40 pace group...I dont feel like I have a lot of energy, but this pace seems comfortable...There goes mile 4, time for a shot-blok (strawberry, my favorite)...Here's a water stop, (Crap), I got blue powerade, that's not gonna mix well.
Right around mile 7 we hit the bike path on the beach...Well this is nice, beautiful weather and nice scenery, really wish I had more energy...Around mile 10, the half-marathoners split off which leaves us with plenty of room...Sideache, (shoot), run through it, run through it, stretch, breathe, keep going...Gone, phew.
Winding through the somewhat familiar streets of Long Beach, I found the 3:40 pace becoming gradually more difficult, for no other reason than I didn't have the energy...Son of a (woops)...I let them gradually slip away until they turned a corner and were no longer in sight.
Half way done and all I wanted to do was sit down...I can't believe I went through all that training and feel like i'm half asleep on race day...We got to the CSULB campus and the students there did their best to cheer me on, but there smiles did little more than keep me going until they were no longer in sight, at which point my legs finally needed a break and I walked.
There are few feelings like the feeling of defeat, and even fewer like having that feeling with 10 miles left in a race. I pushed my way through the last 10 in some sorry excuse for a run-walk method and somehow, coming down the final stretch I found enough energy to sprint...Probably looks like a peg-legged pirate dancing...to the finish line.
Finished in 4 hours flat. For some marathoners, this is a life-long goal. Others can run nearly two marathons in this time. For me, I was devestated. I missed my PR by more than 10 minutes and missed my goal by over 15. I trained so hard that I ran myself into the ground and out of an opportunity at a good race.
Frustrated as I received my medal, I thought back to my first marathon and could not believe the stark contrast of emotion. With my legs practically quivering and the rest of my body ready to slip into a coma, I decided I needed to walk away from running. I was doing more harm than good and it was clear that the time I put in was not paying off. I thought that I had just run my last marathon, but little did I know that I was beginning...
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
It's here...again
Sixty-mile-eighty-hour-jam-packed-weeks have torn me up. My quads are worn down, my calves are tender and my feet ache. I thought I was supposed to feel this way after a marathon?
My mind is full of questions...Is it possible to have overtrained for this? Have I run myself into the ground, risking my health by running? In striving to be better, did I do the opposite?
...And of course the familiar question, why am i doing this?
Tomorrow, I get to test my limits again. Maybe i'll find some answers...
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
This is my life...
It's 9:30 and I am in bed.
Most people my age are up drinking and socializing, staying up into the wee hours of the morning leaving just enough time to sober up before work.
Not me. I need to be well hydrated and asleep before 10 so I can get my 11-mile run in before work.
...I'm one helluva good time.
I've gotten fed up with this recently and decided I am going to turn the tables and place the blame on my friends so here it goes...
"Why can't YOU hang out at 6 in the morning?! I just want to spend time with you."
"I hate that you can never come hydrate with me because you have to wake up late."
"I don't know how you wake up that late, now that is crazy."
So to all my non-runner friends, thank you. Thank you for the crap you give me for doing what I do. Distance running is a test of endurance and requires perserverance. My training gets me there physically while you guys get me there mentally :)
(Disclaimer: this post written with a hopefully obvious sarcastic tone)
Monday, August 17, 2009
The waiting game...
Endurance running is not a great sport for specators, as a matter of fact, it is downright lousy.
Spectators are normally close friends and relatives of race participants.or the occasional people living in the nearby neighborhoods that will stand on the corner with a Starbucks and watch us idiots run. While every runner relies on these people for motivation, most don't know a single one.
There have been plenty of races I have run with no spectators to support me, and I totally understand why. I can't say I would willingly get up before the sun on my day off to stand on a street corner for hours only to watch my 'loved one' run for a total of about 45 seconds. What most spectators don't realize, though, is that those 45 seconds can sometimes fuel runners for hours during the race.
It's no secret to me why my best running performances have come when I have had spectators cheering me on. It also comes as no surprise to me that my favorite running experience have been ones I have shared with the people I love. Having my dad there for my Half Marthon PR this weekend meant the world to me. He watched me run for about 30 seconds, but knowing he was at the finish line motivated me more than I could even describe.
If you are a runner, thank your supporters because what they are doing is not their idea of "fun", and yet they do it anyway. If you are a spectator, I want to thank you. Even if you didn't come out to support me, I probably silently adopted you as my supportive family as I struggled through late miles of a race.
If you have ever come out to support me at a race, I want to apologize. I'm sorry that you might not have had a great time and you may have even been miserable. But i'm happy to tell you, your misery was worth it.
Spectators are normally close friends and relatives of race participants.or the occasional people living in the nearby neighborhoods that will stand on the corner with a Starbucks and watch us idiots run. While every runner relies on these people for motivation, most don't know a single one.
There have been plenty of races I have run with no spectators to support me, and I totally understand why. I can't say I would willingly get up before the sun on my day off to stand on a street corner for hours only to watch my 'loved one' run for a total of about 45 seconds. What most spectators don't realize, though, is that those 45 seconds can sometimes fuel runners for hours during the race.
It's no secret to me why my best running performances have come when I have had spectators cheering me on. It also comes as no surprise to me that my favorite running experience have been ones I have shared with the people I love. Having my dad there for my Half Marthon PR this weekend meant the world to me. He watched me run for about 30 seconds, but knowing he was at the finish line motivated me more than I could even describe.
If you are a runner, thank your supporters because what they are doing is not their idea of "fun", and yet they do it anyway. If you are a spectator, I want to thank you. Even if you didn't come out to support me, I probably silently adopted you as my supportive family as I struggled through late miles of a race.
If you have ever come out to support me at a race, I want to apologize. I'm sorry that you might not have had a great time and you may have even been miserable. But i'm happy to tell you, your misery was worth it.
You stay classy, San Diego (Race report)
Ah, San Diego...Discovered by Germans in 1904.
If you don't know where that is from, shut down your computer right now, go to Blockbuster and rent Anchorman. Then come back and read the rest of my blog.
Where was I? Ah yes...San Diego.
I was in the wonderful city this weekend for a race appropriately titled, "America's Finest City Half Marathon". Never one to disappoint, San Diego delivered a great weekend and an even better race.
My alarm went off at four-$%#@&*%-fifteen a.m. so I hopped out of bed and into my racing clothes and was quickly out the door. I had to be at Balboa Park before 5:30 to catch the shuttle bus to the start of the race, which was at the beautiful Cabrillo Monument. By the time the race started (7am) I was ready to go back to sleep. Thankfully, the sound of the gun woke me and we were off and running. About a half-mile in I could feel my calves burning...apparently one day off was not long enough to rest my hill-beaten legs.
Two miles in, my legs were still burning, but I noticed the most incredible sensation...we were starting to go downhill. My legs caught a break as the rest of my body did it's best to try and keep up. This lasted for a few glorious miles, which served as a catapult of sorts, launching me into a quick and comfortable pace for the rest of the race.
Floating along at my fastest-ever pace, I saw the friendly 10-mile marker. Relieved and conscious of my PR(personal record)-setting pace, I began to calculate how much energy to use over the last 3.1 miles...that's when it hit me. My whole right side cramped up.
"C'mon, you whimp, its only been ten miles", I thought to myself as I tried to stretch while running (hope they didnt get pictures of that, probably looked like a dying quail). But eventually the cramp caused me to stop briefly and stretch. As frustrating as this was, I knew I still had a chance at an excellent time and I resolved to push myself as hard as I could the entire rest of the way.
The cramp subsided minutes later and I was back on pace...then I saw 6th Ave. For those that are unfamiliar, 6th Ave. runs downtown and takes you up to Balboa Park. UP. I knew the finish line wasn't far beyond the top of the hill, but I couldnt see the top of the hill from the bottom. I put my head down and pushed myself, picking out other runners to try and pass. After what seemed like forever, I reached the top of the hill and turned to enter Balboa Park.
Entering Balboa Park, the course was lined with American flags and screaming spectators, what more motivation could you ask for? I kicked it into high gear and sprinted the last quarter mile leaving everything I had on the course. 1:39:29. I had beaten my previous personal record by 18 minutes. I love San Diego.
I'll be back next year to try and shave off that 9:29. In the meantime, you stay classy, San Diego.
If you don't know where that is from, shut down your computer right now, go to Blockbuster and rent Anchorman. Then come back and read the rest of my blog.
Where was I? Ah yes...San Diego.
I was in the wonderful city this weekend for a race appropriately titled, "America's Finest City Half Marathon". Never one to disappoint, San Diego delivered a great weekend and an even better race.
My alarm went off at four-$%#@&*%-fifteen a.m. so I hopped out of bed and into my racing clothes and was quickly out the door. I had to be at Balboa Park before 5:30 to catch the shuttle bus to the start of the race, which was at the beautiful Cabrillo Monument. By the time the race started (7am) I was ready to go back to sleep. Thankfully, the sound of the gun woke me and we were off and running. About a half-mile in I could feel my calves burning...apparently one day off was not long enough to rest my hill-beaten legs.
Two miles in, my legs were still burning, but I noticed the most incredible sensation...we were starting to go downhill. My legs caught a break as the rest of my body did it's best to try and keep up. This lasted for a few glorious miles, which served as a catapult of sorts, launching me into a quick and comfortable pace for the rest of the race.
Floating along at my fastest-ever pace, I saw the friendly 10-mile marker. Relieved and conscious of my PR(personal record)-setting pace, I began to calculate how much energy to use over the last 3.1 miles...that's when it hit me. My whole right side cramped up.
"C'mon, you whimp, its only been ten miles", I thought to myself as I tried to stretch while running (hope they didnt get pictures of that, probably looked like a dying quail). But eventually the cramp caused me to stop briefly and stretch. As frustrating as this was, I knew I still had a chance at an excellent time and I resolved to push myself as hard as I could the entire rest of the way.
The cramp subsided minutes later and I was back on pace...then I saw 6th Ave. For those that are unfamiliar, 6th Ave. runs downtown and takes you up to Balboa Park. UP. I knew the finish line wasn't far beyond the top of the hill, but I couldnt see the top of the hill from the bottom. I put my head down and pushed myself, picking out other runners to try and pass. After what seemed like forever, I reached the top of the hill and turned to enter Balboa Park.
Entering Balboa Park, the course was lined with American flags and screaming spectators, what more motivation could you ask for? I kicked it into high gear and sprinted the last quarter mile leaving everything I had on the course. 1:39:29. I had beaten my previous personal record by 18 minutes. I love San Diego.
I'll be back next year to try and shave off that 9:29. In the meantime, you stay classy, San Diego.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)