Heroes in Recovery 6K

With a pretty good stretch of recent training (and with an eye toward a half marathon in October), I decided to take advantage of the fitness and jump into a local race. I'd been thinking about running one of several road 10Ks in the area but instead opted for a 6K trail race at Paramount Ranch. (Paramount Ranch is a neat little spot in the Santa Monica Mountains with great trails and an old western main street that's been used as the setting for hundreds of movies and television shows.)

Paramount Ranch - site of the Heroes in Recovery 6K.

I hoped there wouldn't be a gun fight on the trails that day.

The race - Heroes in Recovery 6K - raises money for a good cause, is a novel distance, covers challenging but fun terrain, and even has some prize money for the top four finishers. Those were reasons enough for me to give this one a shot. Now onto the race...

Mile 1:

On the starting line was a group of a dozen or so kids from the race's charity organization, New Directions for Youth. They were pretty adorable and had been training for the race for the past eight weeks. Rather than asking the kids to move to a more suitable starting spot, the race director asked the rest of us to carefully run around them after the race went off, noting that we'd have lots of time to make up for the slow start. I thought that was a nice touch and gave those kids a chance to lead us out onto the course.

The little guys lead the way. I'm looking for a way through.

I lined up in the first group behind the kids and plotted out what I thought would be the path of least resistance around the inside of the first curve. Well, those kids are smart and had the same path in mind, which put me in a tough spot as I attempted to pass them 50 yards or so into the race. I dodged my way through, even elbowing one or two of them in the head (they were the perfect height). I said I was sorry and prayed that the race photographer was far enough away not to catch that moment of abuse.

The kids in arrears, I followed the course along what would be a stream in other parts of the world but here in California is a bone dry ravine. This was, as far as I could tell, the only long stretch of straight, flat trail, and I used it to catch the early leader and accelerate into a steep up/down section. I thought I might be clear of the rest of the field on the other end of the technical descent, but I soon realized there was one guy I hadn't shaken. Not only was he hanging tight, but he was moving up to my shoulder as we came to the end of the first mile. Split - 5:46

Mile 2: 

The second mile starts part way up the biggest hill of the race. I had planned to ease my way up this hill, which I did, but the guy behind me took the opportunity to ease right by me. And ease he did; I've never seen someone look so smooth while accelerating up a steep hill. By the top of the hill, he had gapped me by 5 seconds and wasn't showing any signs of slowing down. It was already clearly a two-person race, as I couldn't see anyone within 100 yards behind me, so I stayed focused on the leader hoping his big move would take its toll later in the race. From the top of hill, the course drops down pretty quickly and then goes through a series of short ups and downs, making it difficult to settle into a steady pace. I kept waiting for his lead to stop growing, but if it was going to happen it wouldn't be during this mile. Split - 5:46

Mile 3:

More ups and downs in mile 3, and I started losing sight of the leader. I loved the challenge of the course, though it was strange to never feel like I could get into a rhythm. Every time I would have a straight stretch of trail to stride across, I'd encounter a dip, step, or sharp turn that would throw things off. To add to the fun, the second half of the course used some of the same trails as the first half, except in the opposite direction, which meant dodging a slew of runners at peace in their own world coming up the single track in front of me. It was a welcome distraction/series of obstacles, and before I knew it I was heading back down the steep hill where I'd been passed by the leader back when this was still a two-man race. Split - 5:49

Mile 4: 

I caught the occasional glimpse of the leader when the trail afforded a scenic vista here and there in the final mile. He was quite far ahead, and I was running for what little pride I had left. My legs were finally starting to feel a little peppier, and I was able to increase the pace to something respectable as I inched toward the finish. I made the final turn with about 200 meters to go and heard the announcer greet the winner as he crossed the line. All I could think about is how the spectators (all 15 of them) must be wondering where the second place finisher is. After an eternity, they wondered no more. I was done. Split - 4:30 (5:24 pace).

Total time: 21:50 (results here)

Crossing the line in 2nd.

Post-race: 

I congratulated the winner (a nice, modest, young guy), and we chatted about the challenging course and surprising temperature increase. We were soon asked by a few kids from the New Directions for Youth to pose for pictures and meet with them. Actually, they asked the winner to do that, but they reluctantly pulled me in on account of my hurt feelings. They treated us like celebrities, which was pretty cool.

Speaking of feelings, I was feeling pretty bummed about getting destroyed by the winner. Then, I heard his name called at the award ceremony. It was very familiar, but why? I turned to my trusty phone, typed it in, and found this. This dude had just finished 3rd in the NCAA DI XC championships less than a year ago. Hmm, maybe I should recalibrate my performance. Turns out, he either took it easy on me or has been taking it easy on himself since graduating. Either way, there was no way I was going to touch him in any race of any distance, so 2nd place suddenly seemed rather fitting.

4th, 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place finishers. The identity of the guy on my right is just dawning on me.

Other observations:

• The temperature was 49 degrees when I arrived at 7:30, which is just about as cold as it's been since I moved out here last year. By the time I finished my long cool down, it was 102! Now that's a temperature swing.
• My quads felt heavy throughout the race, likely from the previous day's bike ride. It's a good reminder to stay away from that dreaded two-wheeled beast as more important races approach.
• I need to start defaulting to fist bumping others after races out here. There are few things as awkward as sticking out my hand for a shake only to be greeted by an unrelenting fist on the other end. Everyone here does the fist thing but me. It's time to adapt.
• The top female in the race was 9 years old! Apparently, she's been at this for a while.
• This girl sang the national anthem. So Hollywood.
• There's nothing that bothers me more than someone crossing the finish line and immediately making excuses for their performance. At this race, I congratulated one guy on his finish, and he launched into something about bringing the wrong shoes to the race. Did it add 10 minutes to your time, buddy? Another guy, without any prompting, announced that this race was too short, as he just ran a 50K a few weeks ago. Good for you, but it's not like the length of this race was a surprise. For the five of you who read this blog, please hold your tongue if you're thinking of self-handicapping before or after a race. Do as I do: save your excuses for your blog!

Bridgton Four on the 4th

July 4^th marked my fifth consecutive year participating in the Four on the Fourth in Bridgton, Maine. I’d gotten a little faster every previous year and hoped to continue the trend in this installment. The nice thing about running the same course year after year is that it serves as a fitness yardstick. I’d been feeling good about my running after an apparent 5K PR a few weeks ago, but that was on a course I’d never before run, so this would be the first true test.

As has become something of a tradition, I’d done an anti-taper in the week before the race. This year, while staying at my parents’ house in New York, I’d gotten overly enthusiastic about the wonderful trails there and had run 6 out of 7 days for the first time since college, totaling 53 miles in that stretch, also a post-collegiate high. It was worth it – I had a wonderful time – but my legs were tired heading into our trip to Maine. I took three easy days prior to the race and was ready to go on race morning.

Race day got off to a less-than-ideal start. The novelty of sharing a room with us meant that our kids woke us up a dozen times in the night and finally for good at 5 AM – far earlier than I would have preferred. But all was forgotten by the time we hit the road to Bridgton with our friends.

Upon arrival, my buddy Mike and I did our usual warm-up out and back on the first ~3/4 mile of the course. We commented on how it wasn’t as humid as in the past but was still warmer than we’d expected. We made the joint decision to go shirtless*, and I felt invigorated as soon as mine was off.

*Note: I had made a point to pack my 1996 Team USA Olympic jersey for this race, but I stupidly forgot to bring my suitcase when we loaded out stuff in the shuttle van in California. I was thus without my jersey (and all of my other clothes) during this three-week sojourn east, making the decision to bare my chest that much easier. 

I saw a few fast familiar faces on the starting line and hoped there weren’t too many unknown others to bump me out of a podium position. I’d just squeaked in the past two years, placing fifth of the five-deep race prize awardees, and I knew that a single random new guy could displace me this time.

My strategy was pretty simple – I wanted to run a little faster than last year in miles 1, 2, and 4, and really blast mile 3, which includes the last stretch of the long uphill followed by a solid descent. My analysis of my previous years’ results showed that I tended to give away too much time in mile 3, and I knew the cause was probably mostly psychological.

Mile 1

The first mile starts on a gradual downhill and then remains mostly flat the rest of the way. Halfway through, I was in 9^th place, running with a few other stragglers five or ten seconds behind a large lead pack. My breathing was ragged and took longer than usual to settle into a regular rhythm. I drew even with the 8^th place guy (a youngster) right as we hit the mile mark in 5:17. This was slower than I’d hoped for but not too far off. Still, I knew I’d have to keep the pace snappy heading into the challenging second mile.

Mile 2

I moved into seventh on the first hill of the second mile (which rises 100 feet over half a mile) and then was quickly passed back by the young guy I’d been with at the mile mark. The hills in this mile are relentless, and I made sure never to let up, especially where the others did as we crested each one. I recalled reading that Chris Solinsky or Matt Tegenkamp or some such fast guy of my generation would force himself to take 20 quick steps after reaching the top of a hill in a cross country race to ensure he didn’t let up. I was inspired by this memory to do the same, and it really made a difference. I was able to drop those guys and eventually get myself into 6^th place by the end of the mile, which I reached in 5:37.

Mile 3

I was feeling strong heading into the final hill and could see the top five guys (Moninda Marube, Jim Johnson, Silas Eastman, Nate Richards, and someone else) spread out in the 100-150 meters in front of me. I also knew Kevin Tilton was somewhere behind me, and I worried about him on the hills. Watching the stride and pace of those ahead of me, I was fairly certain I would catch at least one more, but it would take some work. I continued to push the final hill and then really put some effort into descending quickly. I caught one guy and then set my sights on the next one – a college kid who’d beaten me in 2015. This was the make-or-break mile for me, and I wanted to make sure I stuck with my game plan. I caught the college kid, moving into fourth place right around the mile marker, running a 5:19 third mile, 15 seconds faster than I’d run it last year.

Mile 4

The ol’ legs were starting to feel the effort, but I really didn’t want to lose any places I'd gained. I also discovered that I was closing on the third place runner, another college kid, who’d won this race a few years ago. We were moving well down Main Street, which was lined with fans shouting for the guy in front of me (he was a local kid) to hold off the old man chasing him. I came within maybe two seconds of him as we rounded the final turn onto the long straightaway. I was glad when he turned on the afterburners and started to pull away, because I wasn’t relishing the thought of dueling it out with the guy all the way to the finish. This was a weak thought, and I’m not proud of it, but it’s what my tired brain was thinking. I crossed the line in a big PR of 21:12, with a final mile of 4:58.

Half-mile to go, trying to catch third-place. (Pic from mcclellandmiscellanea.com)

I'm apparently scanning the sidelines for sneak attacks. None came. (Pic from mcclellandmiscellanea.com)

Forcing a smile as I finish up the race. (Pic by Katie)

Third place vanishes into the distance. (Pic by Katie)

I was thrilled with my time and place, as it verified my fitness. For my efforts, I took home a Food City gift card to give to my in-laws and a New Balance gift card to give to myself. Mike also had a PR, coming through in 23:45, despite running little more than 3 miles at a time in slow circles on the track during his training.

During the award ceremony, the top 5 men and women, as well as past race winners, had the unusual opportunity to blow out a candle on a cake honoring the 40^th anniversary of the race. That was pretty cool!

See separate write up here. Results here.

The past three years have had similar split patterns, with 2016 just dipping below the others throughout the race.

My goal of putting a charge into mile 3 is evident when viewing the splits this way.

The two patriots post-race. (Pic by Katie)

Love Run 5K

It has become an annual ritual to add to my yearly running goals the following: Break 16:00 in a road 5K. It's something I'd like to do before I get too old to have a realistic shot at it. While it's a nice idea, I haven't really come close to accomplishing it. Last year I hit 16:17 at the Battle of Stonington, and the two years prior I ran 16:21 (CVS 5K in 2013 and Schonning 5K in 2014). Still, a guy can dream, can't he?

Heading into the Love Run 5K in Westlake Village, I had no illusions of breaking 16, but I did think a road 5K PR (under 16:17) was possible. Several things were working in my favor at this event: flat course (~70 feet total climb), great weather (in the 60s, no wind), and fairly good fitness. I also spontaneously snagged a pair of new flats during packet pickup at Roadrunner Sports the day before. They were "lightly used" Nike Flyknit Racers, selling for roughly 1/3 of their original lofty price. I typically do hours of research before buying a pair of shoes, but I was very nervous about racing in my other flats, which caused me to lose a toenail after the Blessing last year, so I jumped on the opportunity to nab a replacement pair. These fit like a glove and felt great, so I took a chance.

Race day arrived and, as in my last race, I lined up next to a friend, a few rows back, despite knowing full well that I'd have to weave my way up to an appropriate position after the race started. As I was standing there, stuck behind some high school girls, I realized that there were some perks to starting in the pack. No, standing behind high school girls wasn't one of them. This vantage point allowed me to scope out the competition while remaining somewhat anonymous myself, so scope I did. There's an art to this, by the way. I've learned there are several tricks runners can play to make themselves look fast when they might not really be: tight-fitting clothing (bonus points for neon colors), 4 oz flats, a nice tan, being handsome, general youthfulness, toned muscles. So how do I know if someone is actually fast? I don't, but I usually figure it out after a couple miles of racing (har, har). There were a couple of fast-lookers on the line, so I made sure to take note and look for them out on the course. 

As we started, I was able to get through the crowd with surprising ease and was already in the lead after 15 or 20 seconds. There were audible footsteps behind me for about a half mile, but they vanished, leaving me and my soon-to-be best friend "Rick," the lead cyclist. So much for the fast-lookers. Rick and I passed the mile marker in 5:16 (I was targeting 5:15) and continued on our way. I wondered why the race organizers bothered to have a lead cyclist for this well-marked course with just a few turns. I wondered no more when we turned onto Hampshire Rd. and merged with the 10K runners. This is when Rick and I really bonded. He dinged his bell and announced my presence like I was a visitor to Downton Abbey for each 10K runner we approached. ("The Earl of Charlestown, Chris Garvin...," or something like that.) This had varying effects on these runners. People with headphones were oblivious of course, and nearly everyone else acted like Rick's announcements were serious affronts to their solitude and in return slung all manner of expletives back at him. I don't know why this was. In some cases, I think they thought he was a random biker trying to mow them down, and only when I came by a few seconds later did they realize what he was shouting about. In other cases, there was a "why is this 5K leader so special? I paid for this race, too," kind of vibe. Regardless, it gave me constant amusement along with a clear path to run. 

I reached mile 2 in a surprising 5:10, my two-mile time equaling my high school 3200 PR, which was a little depressing in retrospect. After a few seconds of regret over my high school career, I realized I'd settled a little too much at the start of the third mile, my watch showing "5:20" pace after a tenth of a mile or so. I consciously picked up the pace, though my legs were starting to feel fatigued, and was able to bring the pace down enough to log a 5:12 for the mile-3 split. I never saw this, since I was focused on getting myself to the finish in one piece. The mostly-flat course had a slight rise just before reaching the third mile, and this little slope change took a lot out of me. I recovered enough on the ensuing downhill to make one final push as I made the last turn and headed up an SBS (short-but-steep) hill to the finish line. (Despite Strava giving me credit for not a single foot of elevation gain during the race, there were actually some bumps on the course!)

Mile 2.5. The droopier the lower lip, the more tired I am. This is ~90% droop. Note the WTAC representation in California!

I crossed the line and glanced at my watch and saw 16:01. 16:01?! If I'd only paid attention over the last quarter mile, I surely could have mustered up the energy to break 16. I also noticed that the distance on my watch was 3.09 miles, which is technically just short of a 5K (3.107). I gripe when a race course is longer than advertised, so it's only fair to mention that this may have been something less than a 5K. This door swings both ways.

Still, slightly short or not, this was a road 5K PR. And maybe it's better that I didn't just sneak under 16, since it might not have been legit. 

But wait! Despite the time shown on the results board just after the race being 16:00, the online results have me listed as 15:59. It must have been the difference between the chip vs. gun time, since I'd started ten feet behind the starting line. Forget everything I'd just said - it was a sub-16 5K on a totally accurate 5K course! Etch it in stone! (One final note - this was a new course this year. The previous out-and-back version was USATF certified. I can only hope this was, too, but that the certification hasn't yet been posted. This is serious stuff, folks. My legacy is on the line.) All kidding aside, now I have incentive to find another flat course and put any uncertainty about the sub-16 to rest.

Putting the "cool" in cool down. (I wish I looked this relaxed during the race.)

Next race: A return east for the annual Four on the Fourth in Bridgton, Maine.

Ventura County Corporate Games

The best thing about not racing for six months has been not falling behind on these blog race reports.

Since my last race, back in October, my running has looked like this:

10 weeks: Achilles injury
7 weeks: Working way back into shape
4 weeks: Knee injury
4 weeks: Working way back into shape

I'm now one of those guys who runs with a band around his knee, and my Achilles still isn't quite right, but I'm running, and that's all that matters.

I typically wouldn't have allowed myself to race so soon after restarting my training, but I had committed to represent my company at the Ventura County Corporate games (kind of like the Olympics for the county, if the Olympics were a bunch of regular people who trained for their event a couple of times a month).


A month before the race, I'd started doing one modest workout a week, plus some strides, in preparation. I'd been surprised how well my legs responded to this load after the injury, but I was constantly battling soreness in my knee, and two days before the race I still wasn't sure if it was worth risking further injury by competing.

The day of the race finally arrived, and too many people at work knew about the race for me to back out, so I sucked it up and made the trip to Ventura with a colleague for the big event. I checked out a map when I arrived and discovered the course was officially listed 5.17K, despite the race website and advertising calling it a 5K. 5.17K?? My training had been all wrong! In reality, this had no impact on how I planned to approach the race. Another 170 meters would be nothing, right? It made me wonder at what point would added distance cause me to change my pacing/approach? 400 meters? More? Something for you guys to ponder on your next long run.

The course makes two loops around a park, starting and ending in the same spot. I got a sense of the level of seriousness of the other competitors when I realized that maybe 20 or 30 of the 350 racers were doing warm-ups, while the rest socialized. This was reinforced when I returned from my warm-up to a bunch of open-mouthed stares from my teammates who were in awe that I'd run a whole lap of the course prior to the race. This would be interesting...

I walked to the start with a teammate who said she'd start with me and see how long she'd be able to hang in there. I didn't have the heart to tell her how things would go down, so I agreed, and we walked toward the front of the starting corral together. I had a dilemma - should I go straight to the first row and put her in position to get stampeded by the faster runners behind her, or do I sacrifice my own start and keep her out of harm's way? Being the gentleman that I am, I chose the latter. We were in maybe the seventh row, which, on the bright side, gave me a chance to size up the group in front of me. I saw a few fit-looking guys, including one in a Navy singlet that I picked to be the top in the field. Sure enough, as the race started, he took off like a bolt, while I weaved my way through the couple dozen runners who started in front of me. Oh, and my colleague? I didn't even look back to see what happened to her. I can't even be sure I didn't elbow her out of the way myself when the siren sounded. So much for being a gentleman.

After a quarter-mile, I was in eighth place or so, already 5 seconds behind the leader, whose margin was growing with every step. I glanced at my watch and saw we were running sub-5 pace. Oops. I backed off to something I could maintain, even though I knew I'd be sacrificing any chance to challenge for the lead in the near future. After another 100 meters, I was in second place, the spicy opening a bit too hot for most of the crowd. I felt a presence on my shoulder and knew I had a barnacle. I was happy to oblige, as long as he didn't want more than a comfortable place to hang out.

I glanced back at some point and discovered that we were in a two-man battle for second; no one else was close in front of or behind us. We hit mile one in 5:22, and I felt smooth. My thought coming in to the race was that I'd be happy with 5:30 miles. Now, I was hoping that a 5:22 wouldn't cause the wheels to come off at the end. Time would tell.

Running with the pack as I finish my second lap.

We came through the end of the first lap in the same position we'd been since 500m into the race. The guy was still hanging strong. Meanwhile, the leader's gap had grown to more than 30 seconds. There would be no chance to catch him. We continued to run in tandem until we reached the second mile marker (5:19). He suddenly and unceremoniously detached, thanking me for the lift (really) and wishing me luck the rest of the way. So that was it? I was able to enjoy the solitude for another 100 meters before coming upon a throng of walkers and joggers taking up most of the path ahead for as far as I could see. It was the fabled back-of-the-packers, working their way around the course on their first lap. I thought about warning them of my approach, but that would've required shouting, "On your left!" in perpetuity. Instead, I dashed and darted every which way, like Barry Sanders (that is, Barry Sanders now, retired and a heavy-footed, not when he still played football) finding holes in a defense with 200 players on a very, very long field. Yes, I'm over-dramatizing things, but not by much. On the bright side, all of the weaving was a great distraction from my increasing fatigue. Before I knew it, my watch beeped for the third mile (5:17), and I figured I'd better start picking it up. I ran hard but still comfortably through the finish (final 0.2 at 4:43 pace) in 17:06.

The medal ceremony. See, just like the Olympics.

The Navy guy had beaten me by 15 seconds, but I took some solace in the fact that I'd cut his lead in half over the second lap. I was also pleased that I was able to negative split after being concerned that I'd started too quickly, and despite the traffic on lap 2. (Splits: Lap 1 - 8:38; Lap 2 - 8:28). Best of all, my knee, which tends to be sore for days if I so much as step too aggressively out of my car, felt after the race like nothing had ever been wrong. These injuries are mysterious.

Final Results: 2nd place overall, 17:06 for 5.17 K (5:18 pace; roughly equivalent to a 16:30 5K). The team also finished 2nd, scoring some key points for the county championship!

Now let's hope it's not too long before I have to write another one of these things.

2015 - It happened

I'm desperate to leave behind 2015 and move on, but there's one final piece of business to take care of: the dreaded review. Let's start high-level and then drill down.

My mileage will never be impressive, but I can always strive for more. I was actually on track to beat last year's total by a couple hundred until October, November, and December happened. I wound up a mere 4 miles short of last year's total (1136 vs. 1140), based on Strava and Garmin's flawless accounting system (right, Jonny?). It's not much, but it's still better than any other year since 2002.

If we look week-by-week, there are lots of peaks and valleys. I was able to fill in some of the valleys with cycling and other activities (roller skiing!), but a few were filled with nothing but tears. Two such weeks were during the pre-move mayhem in August, when I was consumed with moving logistics and work. The others were at the end of the year, after sustaining running and cycling injuries in rapid succession.

Now, on to the 2015 goals.

Goal #1: Stay injury-free: FAIL
I probably would've given myself a pass until the Achilles injury happened in October after running too many hills, too hard, too soon. I blame California. 

Goal #2: Sub-4:30 mile: FAIL
I didn't train for the mile nor race one on the track. In fact, the only mile I ran hard was at the final WTAC fun run (4:43). I was happy with the time, but it's still a missed goal.

Goal #3: Sub-16:21 5K: PASS
Somehow, I ran just two road 5Ks in 2016. The first was an underwhelming performance at the Super 5K in February, but I turned in maybe my best race of the year in the second, running 16:17 at the Battle of Stonington for a road 5K PR.

Goal #4: Sub-47 Li'l Rhody: N/A

I'll go easy on myself and waive this goal, since I was no longer in RI for my favorite race.

Goal #5: Sub-21:30 4 miles: FAIL

I ran just one 4-miler, and it was on a tough course in Bridgton, ME. The 21:43 there wasn't quite fast enough.

Goal #6: Win 4th Season Trail Series; PASS

I achieved this, but with some caveats, of course. First, it was actually a tie with Eric Lonergan. Second, he missed one of the races (so did I, for that matter, so maybe it evens out). Third, Greg Hammett let me win one of the races after I took a wrong turn. If not for his gentlemanly gesture, there'd be no victory here..

Goal #7: Run more miles than in 2014: PUSH

I was four miles short per Strava, but that's within the margin of measurement error, so let's call this a push.

Goal #8: Complete a century ride: FAIL

Nope, never went for this. My longest ride was just short of a half-century.

Goal #9: At least one race in the Gunks: N/A

The two races I was targeting were post-CA move, so I missed my chance.

Goal #10: 20 consecutive pull-ups: FAIL
I made it up to 18 in a row by August, but the move wrecked this one, too. Without a bar in the house out here, I got lazy and weak. 

So, what do I want to fail to accomplish in 2016? Let's keep the list simple this year:

1. Run more miles than in 2015
2. Get and stay injury-free
3. Sub-1:16 half-marathon
4. Sub-16 5K
5. Jump and touch a 10-ft rim (this was inspired by Greg's blog. Who knows what's after this. Maybe a two-handed dunk in 2017??)
6. 20 consecutive pull-ups
7. More data analysis!

Despite all of the goal misses, I had a great time training in 2015. Some highlights include:

• Completing my first triathlon in 10 years - 2nd place at Block Island (thanks to Jeff and Tommy for the motivation)
• WTAC fun runs with and without strollers and friends to help push them (Tommy and Mike)
• Ragnar Relay domination with the awesome Foolproof team
• New deer fly murder PR: 40
• Exploring the amazing trails around my temporary home in California
• Epic training weekend with childhood friend Mike. Running/biking around Block Island, video games, and more. I'll never forget it and will never grow up.

Finally, some other stats:

• Highest mileage week = 41 miles (8/3 - 8/9)
• Lowest mileage week = 0 miles (11/16, 12/7) - Achilles pain
• Most hours run/bike in week = 8:56 (+30 min roller ski) (5/11 - 5/17) - Bike to Work Day, two lunch runs with Jonny, and a long ride with Jeff and Tom
• Longest run = 14 miles (7/24) - Blessing of the Fleet race + wu/cd
• Most climbing on a run = 2709 ft (7/5) - Baldface Mtn in Maine
• Longest ride = 47 miles (11/7)
• Most climbing on a ride = 4419 ft (11/7)
• Number of races = 14 (1st place -3 times, 2nd place - 3 times, 3rd place - 5 times, plus a team win at Ragnar)
• Number of states/commonwealths/territories run in: 11 - I don't love traveling, but it is fun to explore new places. Lots more to come in 2016...

Here's to a better year in 2016!

Catching up: Part III - Super 5K, Clamdigger, Backroad Ramble

This will be my final installment in the "Catching Up" series - a string of posts recapping races from earlier this year that I was too busy/lazy to write about at the time. This time, we'll go way back to the spring.

Race #1: Super 5K, Narragansett, 2/1/2015
Results here.
I actually wrote this up back in February but never put the finishing touches on it, so you're getting the draft version here. Don't complain; it's better than nothing. Or is it?

At the start, I lined up in the second row, next to Tommy, just behind Bob Jackman. Bob asked what I was shooting for, and I told him I didn't know due to the horrible training I've put in over the past several weeks. I then tried to say something like, "I'll be thrilled if I can hang with you today." Instead, I said, "I'm might have a bad enough race that I run with you, you slow fool." Well, not exactly that, but it was nearly as insulting.

A colorful crew heading out from the start.

We took off, and I settled into eighth or ninth place. Matt Pelletier and D.J. Principe were far ahead in no time at all. The rest of us would be racing for third today. Ahead of me were a few unknowns, as well as Jonny and Bob. After passing Jonny and a kid who'd gone out too hard, I was a few seconds behind Bob and his pack of three. I didn't have much of a race plan other than wanting to be directly behind Bob going into the headwind up the hill on Earle's Court. (He's big-boned. That's a compliment.) I saw the turn up ahead and put in a little surge just in the nick of time. As we rounded the corner, I pulled squarely into Bob's wind shadow. Our little pack crossed the first mile in 5:19. The group slowed down quite a bit on the second half of the hill, and I was tempted to make a move, but energy conservation won out, and I bade my time a while longer.

As we crested the hill and turned left, we said goodbye to the wind, and I said goodbye to the pack. I urged Bob to come with me, hoping we could push each other as we often do, but today wasn't his day.

Rounding the turnaround cone, I had a chance to see how things were playing out behind me. Bob and another guy were still within striking distance, maybe five seconds back. Muddy, Jonny, and Tom were not far behind, with Jeff following shortly after. I did my best to give shout outs to all the WTAC members in the race (there were a ton), but I mostly just drooled and spat at them.

The rest of the race was pretty uneventful. D.J. was far ahead, and Matt Pelletier was totally out of sight. I looked back when I got to Ocean Rd and saw I'd opened up a gap on the chase pack. While it would have been nice to run with someone during the final mile, I actually didn't mind being in no-man's land. It allowed me to relax, which could only help me avoid completely destroying myself in this race after the miserable month of training I'd put in during January. (For perspective, my total mileage for the month was the same as Muddy's mileage in the previous week.)

The only interesting thing that happened the rest of the way was nearly getting run over by a 15-passenger van that turned left onto a road just as I was crossing. (This after being told by the volunteer directing traffic that he "had me covered.") I stopped short and skirted the back end of the van and continued on my way. When I rounded the final corner to head to the finish, I was surprised to see the clock already in the 16:30s. I crossed in 16:42, my slowest road 5K in two years, and only 10 seconds faster than the Resolution Beach 5K. I might have cruised it in, but I still ran hard, so the result was pretty disappointing.

I was thrilled to see Muddy finish close behind (just missing breaking 17 again...), then Jonny a few steps in back of Bob and Dave, followed closely by Tom, running his first race since August. Jeff was our 5th man, just over 18 minutes

Closing in the on the finish.

The most intriguing part of this race is the team competition. The scoring goes five deep, so it favors large teams with a solid front five. This would seem to benefit WTAC, but TNT brought a talented squad that was going to give us a run for our money. Last year, we'd dominated the team competition, but we'd be without out top two varsity finishers from a year ago, as Mike Galoob had"graduated" to bigger and better things, and Ryan Woolley is studying abroad, so to speak.

After the race, we tried to figure out if we'd pulled it off, but it was hard to know if we were counting all of the Turtles who'd been in the mix, since Jeff's implicit rule that team members must be wearing a team jersey was not being enforced on this day. There was a moment of drama as we awaited the announcement of the team winner, and we all erupted with joy when WTAC was proclaimed the victor.

It turned out to be nearly as close a race as we'd imagined, with WTAC winning by a little over a minute. Interestingly, the team winners were determined based on overall time, and not on place, as the website stated (and had been done in years past). My assumption about the scoring played a big part in my effort over the final mile. If I'd known that we'd be judged by our time, I would have kept grinding it out rather than cruising in. Next time, I'll remember to check on this in advance.

Celebrating the team titles!

For reference, here's how the team competition would have looked if it had been scored based on overall places or on the places including only runners on teams. No matter how you slice it, we would've won.

Overall places:
WTAC - 3, 4, 9, 10, 17 = 43
TNT - 2, 7, 8, 13, 22 = 52

Men's Team places:
WTAC - 2, 3, 6, 7, 10 = 28
TNT - 1, 4, 5, 9, 11 = 30

However, we were not nearly as speedy as the year before. For comparison, here are the times of the top-5 WTAC finishers from the two years.

Overall time: 86:55
Chris 16:42
Muddy 17:03
Jonny 17:25
Tom 17:30
Jeff 18:15

2014 team: 82:16
Galoob 15:29
Woolley 16:16
Chris 16:33
Tom 16:45
Muddy 17:13

Race #2: Clamdigger 5M, Westerly, April 12, 2015
Results here.
Almost nothing worthy of a recap happened in this race, but that hasn't stopped me before. I ran fairly well at this race in 2014, nearly breaking 27:00, and I thought if I played my cards right, I might have a chance of sneaking under this time. No need for suspense in this post -- I didn't even come close. I went out a little behind the speedy Nick Migani, last year's runner-up, and watched him slowly, and then not so slowly, pull away. I ran by myself the entire way and was the only runner to finish in a span of two minutes between the 1st and 3rd place finishers. My final time was 27:46, with splits of 5:21, 5:28, 5:36, 5:33, 5:36. It was a disappointing race. The best part of the day by far was watching Seb run in the kids' race on the beach. He face-planted right before the finish but eventually got up and made it across, with only miles of sand behind him. And that's all I have to say about that day.

Taking off next to Tommy. (Photo by Jana)

Outkicking 5K runners. It was nice to finally have some company out there. (Photo by Jana)

Race #3: Backroad Ramble 5K, Charlestown, June 7, 2015
Results here.
This was another race I'd wanted to check off my list, especially with all of the effort Jeff had put into revamping the course in recent years. I was not disappointed - it was a fun course with superb post-race activities and food.

The first hundred meters of this race are unique in that we have to charge up the wooden steps of an outdoor amphitheater to reach the trail. I was cautious, both to conserve energy and to avoid stumbling, and found myself in 5th place or so at the top. I started to ease my way toward the front and took the lead by the time we reached the dirt road at the other end of the parking lot. I glanced at my watch and noticed that the pace was far too slow for a 5K, so I started to push until the effort was right for the distance. By the time I reached the mile (5:35), I was alone, but I knew Matthew Walker and others were still lurking behind, so I kept on pushing.

I felt excellent on the trails in the campground. It's really quite enjoyable trying to run 5K pace on single track; the pace seems so much faster than it truly is. I glanced back at some point in this 2nd mile and didn't see anyone; this gave me a jolt of adrenaline, and I kept on pounding. Mile 2 split was 5:41.

I continued running hard on the return of the lollipop loop (the stem?) and made one final surge up the last hill and then down the steep road to the finish. Final mile split was 5:34, for a finish time of 17:28. Matthew, Jeff, and Jonny followed shortly after - a nice showing by WTAC up front.

While I didn't get to play on the water trampoline afterward, I did enjoy running with Seb in yet another kids' race (he was last again but his Batman shirt drew rave reviews) and then kayaking out to the trampoline to watch Jeff and Jonny jump around like the children they are.

Up the final hill. (Photo by Jana)

Pacing Seb through the kids' race. Look at that form!

The always intimidating WTAC squad. (Photo by Jana)

Posing with Batman after the race. (Photo by Katie)

Catching up, Part II: Blessing of the Fleet

This is Part II in the "Catching Up" series, a belated set of posts about races that took place earlier in 2015. Keeping with the old adage, "Thou must etch in the scrolls a race write-up before thou doth loses the toenail killed in the race," I will eke out this post just in time. Four months after destroying it during the Blessing of the Fleet, the toenail on the second toe of my left foot now has mere days left. So, let's roll up the scrolls and get on to the post...

July 24 - Blessing of the Fleet 10M

I loved the Blessing in 2014 and was looking forward to the 2015 version. I had really hoped to crank out a great time this time, but, as usual, an injury kept me from doing the kind of training I needed to. (This time it was hip bursitis.) I really hope to one day write about a race without including the second part of that sentence, as this seems to happen far too often. Still, I had lofty goals, and I wanted to break 57, which would be roughly a minute faster than I ran last year.

I met up with Jonny and Woolley before the race and then bumped into the Walkers, Mike B, young Eckel, and Jackman, and we took a casual group warm up, during which I grabbed a GU off the tire of Katie's car, where she'd lovingly stashed it for me. On my way back to my car, I ran past a face I hadn't seen in many years, that of a guy who used to dominate high school track in New York State's Section 9 in the late '90s. I think we recognized each other, but neither of us wanted to be the one to make the first move, so we just passed each other by. It was the first of many times I'd be passed on the day.

Cruising in the first mile. U-S-A!!

Back at the start, I lined up next to Jonny and Woolley, amidst a throng of high schoolers and a bunch of speedy grown-ups. I took off conservatively, but not as cautiously as I usually would. I wanted to maintain 5:40 effort as long as I could, and I was OK with the first mile being a little faster, since it was net downhill. As we headed toward the bottom of the opening hill, I noticed how far ahead the lead pack was. I was 30 seconds behind and essentially leading the chasers. (We weren't actually chasing the front pack, of course, but what else could I call us?)

On Ocean Road, I was caught by a pack of high schoolers and wanted to hang with them for as long as I could. They were a focused group with one notable exception. That one guy was writing the book on youthful arrogance, and I found myself wishing he'd trip and fall on his smug little face. Did I mention I've become a crotchety old man?

A man among children. Literally.

I was even more annoyed when those kids dropped me at the start of the fourth mile. I was still running my intended splits and felt great, but I couldn't match their pace. Up the hill at mile 5, I watched that pack pull farther ahead and realized they weren't coming back. Each time I got caught by another runner, I hung with them for as long as I could before letting go. I was like an eel someone was trying to hold with soapy gloves; I kept getting dropped. (In other news, I just got nominated for worst metaphor of 2015.)

Going up the long hill on 108, I saw the most threatening sky I'd ever seen in a race. Dark clouds were heading our way. I was a little worried but figured the chances that lightning would strike me instead of the thousands of other people hanging around the race course was pretty slim. The skies opened, and the deluge began. I was drenched within a few minutes, which was probably more of a benefit than a hindrance, as I needed to cool off. 

On the bright side, I didn't have to shower that night.

Probably a good thing I didn't go with the white shorts...

By this point, I was doing everything I could to keep the pace in the high 5:40s, but it was a struggle. Heading into the final mile, my toenail was killing me, and the dreaded calf cramps began. It was so frustrating not to be able to respond as I got passed by two guys in the last 800 meters. Katie was standing right around this spot, and after the race all she could say was, "Oof, honey." So much for thinking I at least looked good.

I can't be sure, but I think that lady just passed me.

Delirium has set in.

I finished in 57:24, still a PR, but I was terribly disappointed in the race. I know I was in better shape than that, based on my previous races. Things just didn't come together in this one. Maybe it was racing Beavers the week before, or maybe it was that I went out too fast. Either way, I was feeling unfulfilled by the experience. That is until Jonny, Woolley, and I got to have a drink with a former Super Bowl champ in his house. All thoughts of the race vanished after this brush with greatness. The night ended with a group dinner at Phil's in Wakefield. It was a great end to a mediocre day.

This says it all. A fast start and a not-so-fast finish. I had good intentions.