Patience, Grasshoppah, Patience...

"Good things come to those who wait. Be patient."

I noticed those words, again, amidst the managed chaos of things on my fridge, from the fortune cookie that I never ate. Timely, given what's going on right now.

The year 2011 was a good one for me from a running perspective, but it ended terribly when my Dad died on Christmas Eve.  Although his health had been failing over the last few years, I truly thought Dad would make it well into 2012 and possibly even longer.  I was wrong, though, and so spent Christmas day unexpectedly flying back to my hometown to make final arrangements for him.  "Love the people God gave you, because He will need them back one day." 

Dad & me, Christmas 2010

Last run of 2011: December 24.

Enter 2012, and with it, a lack of excitement about anything, really.  I didn't expect it to be any different for a good long while, so just tried to settle in and take one day at a time.  Knowing that I was due to begin training for Boston, round 2, again at the end of January, I set out the first week of January on my scheduled runs (although completely off schedule from my typical daily routine).  The day after the third run of the year, a speedwork session that I completed solo by way of headlamp in the darkness of Wash Park, I experienced more tenderness in my left foot than I ever had--even after any marathon--and knew that it was time to get it checked out.  The nagging, intermittent soreness had come and gone, and it hadn't bothered me during or after my last marathon, but I didn't want it to continue.  After a visit to Dr. Michelle Wolcott at CU Sports Med Center, and a subsequent MRI, I was told that it wasn't, thankfully, a stress fracture, but that it was a stress reaction & chronic plantar fasciitis.  Michelle, herself a marathoner and running friend, recommended that I cut my running considerably and cross-train, as well as start physical therapy.  (Advice that I needed to hear, because I wondered if I should run on it at all or take some time off now, versus later.) Without hesitating, I started PT and immediately switched primarily to the spin bike (solo, and staying seated) and some walking.  My thought was that if I could replicate my heart rate training that I'd do on my training runs on the bike or the 'mill instead, I might not be as far behind when I was able to resume running.  (I discovered that if I cranked that treadmill up to a 9% incline and set the speed at a minimum of 4 mph, swinging my arms a la running, I could indeed get my heart rate up into my zone 2. Any higher of an incline, though, and you have to hold on to the handles!)

Last run, so far, of 2012:  January 4.

My second visit to my PT, Jeff Coverly, yielded the encouragement that he thought I'd only be off running for two more weeks, and that I should be able to run Boston (depending, of course, on how well I responded to treatment).  He works on my foot, tapes it up, and then I see him two days later.  In just a couple of visits, my foot has made some progress.  I'm feeling like I'm ready to test it out as soon as I get the ok from the experts.  The next day, however, my back had other ideas. 

I'd done a relatively easy core workout that morning, and was getting ready for work when suddenly I tweaked my back while I was--of all things--drying my hair.  Had this never happened before, I might be tempted to think it was the core workout, but I know better.  It's happened every so often through the years, and hasn't been a result of any type of exercise I've done.  It just happens, and when it does, it just takes time to work the kinks out.  In the meantime, though, I'm walking like Mr. Tudball from the old Carol Burnette show--slow and hunched over. Sometimes I try not to hunch over so much by trying to scooch my hiney forward to align with my shoulders, but I think that probably looks just as funny.  

So here I am, having been given the ok to run in short bouts, with walks in-between, for a max of 30 minutes today, and I can't because of my back.  With a marathon in 86 days--that's 72 training days plus a 14-day taper--it can be a little un-nerving to be missing any training, but I don't just believe in training and training hard.  I believe in training smart. I want to run long distance (and hopefully run it well) far into my old, old, old age, even until I take my last breath on this earth. 

(An aside: Runners are such great people, and especially my running family at Runners Edge.  All the runners I know have been concerned, offered encouragement, and commiserated.  At some point, they've been there in some form or fashion.)

And so, for the most immediate future, my training will be done on the spin bike and a high-incline treadmill, with the goal of reproducing the heart rate training that I do during my runs.  At least, that is, just as soon as I stop channeling my inner Mr. Tudball...

Dad taught me about being able to wait on things that you want...

"Good things come to those who wait. Be patient." I'm counting on it.

Relentless Forward Motion, Ya'll...

The Decision

What do you look forward to this time of year?  In Colorado, it's the changing of seasons: the shifts of hues in the tree leaves that leave hillsides ablaze with color, the bugling of the elk, the cooler temps that inevitably bring snow...and for a bunch of us runners, marathon season! 

Yes, marathon season is in full swing now, and no--non, runners--that's not when you can hunt down a marathoner! Fall is the time when most (though not all) of the major marathons occur, along with some smaller gems that one of my friends tend to find and race.  This is the time when we want to see all of our consistent training pay off...all those early morning long runs, speedwork sessions, goal pace runs, recovery runs, and the cross training we've been doing.  (And, of course, the nutrition we've hopefully dialed in as well as the REST we've been getting.)  As some of my friends and teammates head off to their races, their "hay is in the barn" (and they must just now "feed the horses"), while I still have some hay stockpiling to do (5 weeks, to be exact:  3 weeks of "regular" training, followed by a 2-week taper).
 

And so I headed out in the early morning darkness (as usual) again today to do my goal pace run. (I have to interject here that I do enjoy running in the darkness.  There's something almost magical about only being able to see the ground directly in front of you that removes that visual reference of where you are and how far you've gone versus where you're going and how far you've gone.) The weather folks said that we'd have a cool front moving in today, so I was prepared for--and actually looking forward to--a cooler run.  I've been a little tired this week, having volunteered at a race on Sunday and probably also just due to where I am in my training cycle, so I wasn't sure how this goal pace run would go.  I adjusted my expectations a little, but not so much that I'd be disappointed in the target pace I was hitting. 

Now, when I do my goal pace training runs, I deliberately start slowly to warm up, but gradually pick up the pace with each successive mile prior to the actual goal pace section, so that moving to the goal pace miles doesn't seem like such a big shift.  I've found that works well for me, and makes that transition much smoother.  This morning, even though I'd adjusted my expectations of my target goal pace to be a bit slower, something was clicking in those miles.  I found that I was holding my target pace (for this morning, at least) pretty exactly mile after mile after mile.  Given that I was tired going into this run, you'd better believe that there were several times that I wasn't sure I was going to keep up the pace.  There were times when it wasn't comfortable to keep going--today, my hamstrings were arguing with me a bit--and the wind gusts made sure to hammer that feeling home this morning.  Somehow I kept my inner metronome going and repeated "I can do this, I can do this..." to the rhythm of my footfalls and breathing.  "Keep the turnover quick, watch your form...".  (I mean seriously. This was a morning when I have to admit that the thought of sleeping in did cross my mind for a split-second, because I knew I was just tired and that this was probably going to hurt a little. Not as in "injury" hurt, but as in "dipping into the pain bucket because you're pushing yourself" hurt.) Mile after mile, though, I was able to nail the goal pace I'd told myself I could live with this morning, and then something happened in that final mile.  Without planning it, and I think simply because I was trying to keep the effort constant, the final mile ticked away at a slightly faster pace.  And then, the beep of my Garmin signaled the end of goal pace miles and one final, recovery pace mile.  Ahhhhh...a comfortable, easy pace for my last mile back to the car!

This morning's run--along with every race I've run this summer and fall so far--reminded me that I have to be willing to "dip into the pain bucket" and endure the discomfort during my race(s) if I want to PR, BQ, or RAFASP  (run as fast as smartly possible).  (And thank you to my friend who challenged me to do so after I ran Boston last April.)  I have a "pain bucket" theory.  There's the discomfort of the marathon in and of itself, and then there's the discomfort of pushing yourself and your pace (as fast as SMARTLY possible) during the marathon, and they're not necessarily the same. We hope and pray that we've trained well so as to avoid much of the first pain bucket, because by virtue of the fact that we've even toed the line at our race, we're facing that one, but we either choose or we don't choose to possibly dip into the second pain bucket when we decide on a goal pace and strategy for our race.  Don't get me wrong here:  I absolutely believe that we have to run a SMART race (including pace)!  But we're also faced with the choice of taking a CALCULATED risk and testing ourselves with our pace.  And that's where it gets scary.  (At least it does for me...  Anybody with me??)  We know the consequences....And we dream of the reward.  

This is the decision I'm faced with, as are my friends and teammates who will toe the line at our respective races this fall.  Take that calculated risk, or play it safe?  


 

May the running gods smile on you, my friends and teammates, in your races this fall.  

Relentless Forward Motion, Ya'll...  

Georgetown to Idaho Springs Half Marathon: The TakeAway

Every year about this time in August, several thousand runners along the Front Range of Colorado, myself included, head up to the mountain town of Georgetown, Colorado to run the Georgetown to Idaho Springs Half Marathon.  For the group that I train with, this race is considered a "training race", and we each can go into it with different goals--some to race it, some to test their marathon pace, some to have a supported, fun, long run in a beautiful area, and some to test their pacing prowess while helping others meet their goals. This is one of the few times a large part of our group does the same race, so it's always fun because of that, too.  And then, there's the post-race party and liquid carb-replenishment...but I digress...

This year, for me, it was a very good race, and I managed to hang on to run a PR--personal record--for my half marathon distance.  Training race or target race, it's usually worth some time to reflect on the experience and what I learned from it.  (The difference being that if it's a training race, there's still time to take action in training before the target race!) 

1)  It's a little intimidating to think that what I'm about to do, if I actually race it, might actually hurt.  Accept it. (If it does, there are effective ways to deal with it.)
2)  No matter where in the lineup I start, I still must allow myself to be passed at the beginning by those either faster or more foolish than me.  This is nothing new to me--the best piece of running advice I got as a beginner runner was to "not go out too fast". I'm good at holding back, but knew that, in this race, I'd have to pay special attention to that, due to where I toed the line.  (I did, and my Garmin showed it: my first two miles were my slowest.)
3)  Don't be afraid to take a chance with the pace, but keep in mind that I still have to "have some left" for the rest of the race.  That was a little scary at times, but I found that if I could just settle in at the new, faster pace, it was doable.  (Not "easy", but doable.)
4)  There will still be rough patches, but keep going!  There was a stretch where I wondered if I was going to fall off my pace significantly, but I remembered that an elite runner once mentioned to keep going through the rough patches--that they'll pass.  I focused on keeping my turnover going and it did pass in just a few minutes.  (What did Winston Churchill say?  "When you're going through hell, keep going".  Sounds like good running advice to me!)
5)  Focus, focus, focus on form when fatigue sets in.  There were a few times late in the race where I felt like my form was breaking down a bit. I don't necessarily think that it was, but even wondering about it brought my focus back to keeping good form going (perhaps a bonus since it took my mind off the fatigue).  This is something I can actively work on in the remaining training before my target marathon, by continuing to strengthen my core and pay special attention to my form when I get fatigued, especially during speedwork. 

It was a fun day for me, in part because I enjoy challenging myself.  We each may have different goals for our races, yet when it comes down to it, there's nothing quite like meeting our goal--whether it's to finish the race, to run our marathon pace successfully, to set a PR, or to win something.  The beauty of it is that we can all take away something from our races no matter what our goal is, and be successful. 

So...what's your takeaway from your last race?

Relentless Forward Motion, Ya'll...

Inquiring Minds Want to Know

What do you do when the "holy grail" of marathons fills up in only 8 hours and 3 minutes of registration?  If you're the folks in charge, you take a serious look at what might need to change.  Of course, I'm referring to the Boston Marathon and the Boston Athletic Association.

As you know if you've read previous blog entries here, or if you have qualified, want to qualify, or are even remotely connected to distance running, the 2011 Boston Marathon filled within 8 hours and 3 minutes, in the midst of technical computer issues, and there was an uproar within the running community immediately.  Consequently, the BAA implemented changes for the upcoming 2012 and 2013 Boston Marathon.  (For details, see my earlier blog entry or go to http://www.baa.org/).

After the first (and second, and third) reading of the details of these changes (and from the 2011 Boston Marathon program itself and www.baa.org) , I was still left with questions about some of the specifics concerning the new registration process.  Several of my running friends weighed in with their interpretation of the new process, but none of us were completely sure. So, instead of waiting and wondering, I emailed the Boston Athletic Association because, after all, "inquiring minds want to know":

"... If I register on that day, and someone else in my division with a time that is, say, even one second faster than mine registers after the 10 min & faster registration window closes (when the next faster 5 minute window opens) would I be bumped?  Or, are we confirmed for our registration as one 'fast wave' ends and the next one begins?"

Their response:

"Thank you for your email.   On September 14th and 15th (10 minute or faster registration period) all entrants will be accepted until the last hour of registration.   If registration fills during those two days (which we feel is unlikely) then there will be a selection process.  If that is the case there is a chance that another runner could have a faster time than you do and therefore secure a spot before you do... " 

After receiving their response, I still felt that some clarification was needed, so I forwarded the email exchanged to another (running) friend for her take on it, and we were still left with some questions: 

"Thank you for your response.  To clarify,

1.  If I have been accepted by the end of that registration period, then (assuming the race hasn't filled) I won't be bumped?

2.  What happens in the event that someone with a faster qualification time than me waits until, say, the last registration day of the second week to register?

3.  When will we actually receive confirmation that we "made it" into the race--at the end of our period of registration, or at the end of the second week of the entire registration process?"

And finally, the response from the BAA Registration Office:

"You will receive confirmation of you acceptance when we are able to verify your time.   Once your registration period has ended (on September 15th) if you are accepted pending verification, you will not be "bumped out"  by a faster runner."

What will happen during those two weeks in September?  Stay tuned for the rest of the story...

Relentless Forward Motion, Ya'll...

Race Recap: The 2011 Estes Park Half Marathon

Got hills?  Got altitude?  The Estes Park Half Marathon has them both!

The Estes Park Marathon is billed as the highest paved marathon (and hence, I'd assume, half marathon) in the world.  Estes Park sits at the gateway to Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado--you know, where they're lucky to have the enormous snow drifts on Trail Ridge Road plowed by Memorial Day, and where you're likely to see all kinds of wildlife not only in the Park, but in town (as I did).

It goes without saying that this isn't one of those huge big-city races, where tens of thousands of runners turn out and there are bands every mile along the course.  No, this is a smaller race where your spectators are just as likely to be elk, deer, and hawks, as well as the supportive race volunteers and some of the people of the town of Estes Park...and perhaps some curious tourists, too.  (Sidenote:  Estes Park is a wonderful day-getaway for those of us here on the Front Range, and is also popular with tourists from around the world who want to visit Rocky Mountain National Park.)  Make no mistake about it, however, this is one challenging race course!

Preview

I decided to run the Estes Half Marathon because I'd not run a half other than the Georgetown to Idaho Springs Half Marathon (three times) and also because the timing seemed good, following Boston in April, but before Georgetown in August. I knew, especially on the heels of the BolderBoulder, that I'd be taking a chance that I wasn't fully ready to actually 'race', but thought I'd give it a go and just see how I felt.  To quote Coldplay, "But if you never try you'll never know", right?  And so, last weekend, I decided to go up to Estes for my long run, deliberately scoping out as much of the course as I could (I'm not a runner who likes to be surprised that way), and ran a 9 mile loop, 8 of which was on what I think is the toughest part of the course.  The views are majestic and unparalleled for any other race I've run.
Race Day

I arrived at Estes Park High School, where the race was to start, in time to do a slow mile warm-up, with some strides thrown in.  Since I can't really eat before I run (except for a Honey Stinger Waffle), proper nutrition pre-race is always a challenge. I lined up with the other half marathoners, and we listened to race co-director Terry Chiplin give us directions (in his fabulous Aussie accent) about what to do if we encountered wildlife--especially elk--on the course, part of which included the following admonition:  "If you encounter an elk on the course--and it's been known to happen--DON'T try to run from it!  Elk are much faster than you!" 

After he counted us down to "Go!", we crossed the first set of mats and were on our way.  One of the best pieces of advice I ever received for my very first race (the Race for the Cure 5k) was to "not go out too fast...don't get sucked into the wave of people who take off quickly", and I made it a point to stick to that race strategy today.  We turned the corner onto Highway 36, then up and around to Highway 34 (and the first of many hills), and I found my rhythm, but not my pace yet.  I don't listen to music during races--and usually don't on most all training runs--because I've found that it's better for me to settle into a rhythm with my breathing and footfalls.  If I speed up or slow down, either in pace or in my turnover, then my breathing changes along with it.  Maybe that's part of the musician in me, and the conductor, but I can keep a steady beat, so I use this to keep my running rhythm consistent. 

 We crested the first hill on Highway 34 and turned left onto Elk Trail Court into a residential area and kept ascending.  There were a few people out, but if you need heavy duty crowd support, then this is not the race for you.  Following the residential area, we were granted a short reprieve downhill.  Next, though, was the grueling uphill of Dry Gulch Road toward McGraw Ranch Road and then on to Devil's Gulch Road.  I'd run this loop the week before, so knew what was coming, and wondered what would happen to my pace? (It wasn't a question of if it would fall slower, but how much.) Starting this part of the course, I kept reminding myself to stay (run) within myself.  For me, that meant focusing on my turnover and where my feet fell beneath me, as well as my breathing and keeping the perceived exertion level 'easy', comparatively speaking.  There was a lot more of this race to go, and if I didn't want to blow it, I knew I had to stay within myself.  I noticed three other guys in my general vicinity--there were no other women who I could see around me--and couldn't help but feel good when I kept at it like a tortoise and eventually passed them. (This, by the way, is what we call "chicking", and my apologies to all my male runner friends, but it is gender-specific and--for me, at least--only applies if I don't know you.) It wouldn't have mattered whether they were guys or gals, as any runner knows, it just feels good if you pass someone on a hard stretch. 

We ran.  Uphill.  We kept running. Uphill.  This first stretch of this portion of the race is, I believe, approximately 3 miles of long, gradual, unrelenting uphill. Once you reach the junction for McGraw Ranch Road (ok, yep, I'm feeling my hammies here!), there's a slight dip but then another gradual incline before you crest a hill that will then allow your hamstrings some relief but tax your quads for some downhill running. I was encouraged by an aid station volunteer at the bottom of the hill just before McGraw Ranch Road, who said to me "3rd woman overall"!  Now, whether that was true or not, I didn't know, but it gave me more motivation to keep at it!  At this point, I was running along with the small pack of guys, some of them taking turns leap-frogging each other at various times.  After a short downhill just before mile 8, the climb to the crest of the next hill was the shortest, but the steepest, on this part of the course.  Now, after making it this far on this hilly course, would I have the control in my legs to allow gravity to help me out and take advantage of the downhills? 

And, the answer is....yes.  At times, I felt as if I was flying downhill, but still in control.  The pack of guys was still in my general vicinity, but I was trailing one in particular who seemed to be regulating his pace a bit better than the others, and I decided that was to my advantage.  As long as my pace felt good and I was in control of my running, I kept him in my sights, trailing about 10 feet behind. Finally, some descents!  "What goes up, must come down" is the saying that came to mind.  The caveat here, however, is that from what I knew of the course (and I didn't get to preview the last several miles of it), there were still some hills! 


We made our way back up and over to Wonderview Avenue/McGregor Avenue, turning left and heading--again, uphill--to the Stanley Hotel grounds.  After a short jaunt through the adjoining neighborhood, we finally reached Highway 34 again (aka Big Thompson Avenue), and were in the home stretch.  Now, however, I was facing the unknown:  the last couple of miles of this half marathon were on the bike path that ran south of Lake Estes and then up to the high school track.  I was completely unfamiliar with this part of the course, because although I've biked in and around Estes Park, I've never biked this side of the lake.  Fortunately, it was only being used by us crazy runners, so I just had to keep my wits about me and be prepared for anything.  If you're a runner, you know this, but if not, I'll clue you in:  there's a point in any race, especially marathons and half marathons, where any incline--whether it's a 'big' hill or not--can cause you to want to throw in the towel, at worst, or to slow off pace to the point where you can't regain your rhythm.  You also might be fighting lactic buildup (which literally keeps you from moving any faster), fatigue, heat, or dehydration (though hopefully not that last one!) For me, it's the unknown in these last two miles that had the potential to throw me mentally. 

While running on the bike path, I again passed some official-looking fellas and heard one of them say (to the other, not to me, but talking about me), "There goes our first..." and then I lost him.  What did he say, I wondered?  How could he know I was the first whatever?  I can't be the first woman, so what...???

When I looked up and could see the track at the high school, I knew it was almost over.  Just before making the last turn up to the track, one of the race volunteers called in my bib number (746) so that the announcer would be able to call out my name as I crossed the finish line.  As I ran into the stadium and onto the track, another volunteer repeated my number.  I looked across the field to find the finish line--less than one full loop around the track--and spotted another gal in front of me about 40 or 50 feet. As I hit the curve of the track, I kicked it into a slightly higher gear, but didn't have as much as usual, so couldn't catch the gal in front of me.  Nevertheless, I crossed the finish line as I heard the announcer say my name across the loudspeakers, a strong ending to my first Estes Park Half Marathon.  I was glad to be done! 

After walking for a while, to keep the blood circulating and avoid it pooling in my legs, I made my way over to the water/Gatorade/Mix1/snacks area.  No, I didn't want to eat, but I knew that I needed to get something in the way of carbs and protein in me asap.  As I was standing there, I met a fellow runner by the name of Lisa Marshall, who paid me what I consider to be one of the biggest complements I've received.  Lisa is a resident of Estes Park, a Boston Marathon finisher, has run the Estes Half race before, and placed in 2010, so when she told me that I "killed those hills!", I was honored!  We talked more about the race and the hills, training, and so on, and by the time I'd left Estes for the day, I'd made a new friend in Lisa.  By the way, Lisa snagged 2nd in our age division!  Congratulations, Lisa!

 

 The awards ceremony was held in the student center of the high school, and this race certainly gives out some very nice prizes.  The overall winners received beautiful framed print photographs of a scene in Rocky Mountain National Park, taken by local artists.  Age group winners received elegant plaques, and the 2nd and 3rd in each age group received another medal.  (All half and full marathon finishers receive a different medal.)

After the awards ceremony, taking pictures, and watching the female winner of the full marathon finish (in 3:29-something!), I said my goodbyes and headed back home to Denver, where my pup and the first ice soak of the season awaited me. 

If you're considering the Estes Park Half Marathon, and are up for a challenging, hilly course, I'd definitely recommend it as one to put on your list.  While you don't get a 'free' t-shirt (do we really need another cotton t-shirt?), you do get a medal, and some tasty goodies post-race.  The scenery is incredibly beautiful, and the organization is top-notch, from the starting line, through the plentiful aid stations, to all of the very clear course markings.  The fact that there's an awards ceremony and some nice swag is also a plus, as is the fact that it's a smaller race, so you could actually meet your competition.  Kudos and thank you to Terry Chiplin and Belle Morris, race Co-Directors, as well as the Estes Park Marathon Committee and all of the volunteers for a very nice event today! 

So what's my takeaway from today's race?

1.  Hill training is worth it, and it can work. (Sidenote here:  I have my close friend Marguerite to thank for the fact that I've embraced hills over the past year.  After one run at Dino Ridge with her, seeing how she loved hills and ate them up, I've been motivated to embrace hillwork, rather than just 'do' it. Thank you, my friend!)

2.  'Staying within myself' became much more well-defined for me on a personal level. 

3.  Accurately assessing when to take advantage of a situation versus when I'm pushing too much will help in the future.

4.  I may have a patch during a race where I consider DNF-ing.  DON'T!!! Keep going!!!

5.  Runners are amazing, resilient, determined, encouraging, and friendly people from whom I constantly learn, and I'm proud to be one of them in their community!

Relentless Forward Motion, Ya'll...

God Bless the USA--Memorial Day and the BolderBoulder 2011

This isn't your typical race recap, because today's race wasn't your typical race.  Whether you're a runner or not, read on, because I think you'll identify with some of the uniqueness of today, Memorial Day 2011.


My day began at 3:15am when my alarm sounded to rouse me for the running of the 2011 BolderBoulder, an annual 10k (6.2 miles) held on Memorial Day in Boulder, Colorado.  While I've lived in Colorado nearly 20 years, this was only to be the second time I've run this race, so I was looking forward to it for a number of reasons.  The BolderBoulder is also a tribute to everything that this days means to our country--I just had no idea since I wasn't able to stay for the 'festivities' the first time I ran it.


After meeting up with a friend and warming up, we each took our places in our respective waves.  My race went off without a hitch, and after the usual post-race stretching, hydration, snack-bag-getting, pictures, chatting-with-friends-who-aren't-staying, and gear bag retrieval, we headed into Folsom Field (the stadium at the University of Colorado) to meet other friends for the festivities.  Now, the BolderBoulder is the second largest 10k in the country, with some 50,000 participants expected this year (I don't know yet what the final count was).  We'd started in one of the first few waves, and given that the official celebration wasn't slated to begin until around 11:30 or so--after the elite men's and women's races, we had a lot of time.  Given that all of the runners finish by running into and around the stadium, naturally we watched the runners.  There is, of course, some silliness that ensues in the BolderBoulder, but not with one group who did this race as a unit.  Looking up on the jumbotron, then spotting them entering the stadium, our group--and the entire stadium (which was now getting quite full)--jumped to our feet shouting and clapping, and the clamor grew with each section they passed:  a group of about 12 military men--Army, I think--running two abreast, in their fatigues and combat boots, carrying their branch's flag and the American flag!  They stopped just before the finish, the flag-bearers standing at attention, and in formation and with the precision of a well-oiled machine, executed a set of push-ups before resuming formation to run in to the finish.  The crowd went wild. That was just the beginning.

This year, the BolderBoulder would celebrate its 1 millionth runner crossing the finish line. As we were waiting for the elites to finish their race, the announcer presented the unsuspecting 'winner' to the crowd, interviewed her, and let us all know the bevy of cool things she would be getting.  On this day, how fitting it was that we discovered that she was a veteran herself, and was running for a group of fellow soldiers with whom she'd served who'd not survived to return home.  On her back was a race bib filled with each of their photos.  


Following the International Team Challenge, the elite men's and women's races--which deserves another entry all its own--the official celebration began.  There was a flyover, then the announcer asked us to stand to honor several significant veterans who were being recognized on the podium.  In a stadium now full of at least 50,000 people, you could almost hear a pin drop.  Next was the presentation of colors and the 21-gun salute.  It's always impressive to see the precision and discipline of our military men and women during these time-honored traditions.  When it came time for the singing of our national anthem, it was an a Capella soloist who did the honors.  Standing there, hand over heart, something inside me just wouldn't allow me to sing.  Silent.  Be silent, and honor in that way.  Even if I'd tried to sing, I don't think it would've happened, because I was already sensing something welling up in the 'ol esophagus...


In the sky over the stadium, a plane slowly circled in the air, and as we watched, one...two...three...four...five parachutists jumped, pulled their red-white-and-blue chutes, and began slowly descending in a large spiral--one at a time--toward the center of the stadium in Folsom Field.  But wait...there's something else they've each unfurled that's now trailing behind them.  One by one they spiraled down, got into position, then made their final descent onto the center of the grassy area meant to be a target--each representing a different branch of our nation's military, and trailing that branch's flag behind them as they did.  Army...Navy...Air Force...Marines...Coast Guard. With each successive solo entrance, the crowd became more appreciative, and you could just feel the sense of pride growing.


It was what happened next that capped off the experience I wasn't expecting today...


We'd watched each parachutist land, gather his chute, and make way for the next one.  Without realizing it, though, there was one more who'd just jumped from the still-circling plane.  Suddenly, he released the American flag to trail behind him, and as he did, the music to Lee Greenwood's "God Bless the USA" began. We all stood, initially cheering with enthusiastic pride. Then, every one of us in the crowd in Folsom Field got quiet, listening to the music as we watched this amazing experience unfold before us. Some sang softly, but in our group there was nothing but silence.  There was no singing for this runner--there was no way I could eke out a sound.
He took his time, circling, descending, circling, descending, until the moment for the final chorus was at hand.  I looked up behind me, and there, seemingly within arm's reach, he positioned himself in the center of the end of the stadium above the crowd...floating.  At the final chorus of the song, he released from his position and flew right over us, American flag in tow, and--to the wild excitement of us all, right down onto the center of the field, where the volunteers were waiting to scoop up the American flag so as not to let it be on the ground. 

The excitement, the honor of being an American, and the appreciation for those who had fought and were fighting for our freedom all came together in that moment--at least for me.  Everything I'd just experienced reminded me how thankful I am for the freedoms that we have--not just the ones we usually think of, the big ones, but also the little, daily ones that we sometimes forget.  Thank you, BolderBoulder, for such a great event in which to participate and be reminded of the significance of this day.  And thank you to the men and women of our military, both past and present, for your service.  Those of us who haven't served will never truly understand, but we are appreciative nonetheless.   God bless you and God bless the USA.

God Bless the USA--tribute video




Relentless Forward Motion, Ya'll...

2011 Boston Marathon Recap -- Countdown to Marathon Monday: T-1

Marathon Monday.  That's what they call race day for the Boston Marathon.  In contrast to other marathons that are usually held on Sundays (and in a few cases, Saturdays), the Boston Marathon is held on a Monday, and is always on Patriots' Day.  It's a holiday for the city of Boston, and the Red Sox have a game that day, too.  Marathon Monday is extremely well-supported by the citizens of Boston and the towns along the race course!

We've now reached T-1 day, Sunday, the day before race day.  Our three goals for the day are:

1)  Stay off our feet as much as possible,

2)  Tour the course, and

3)  Talk out our race strategy.

I won't go into detail about each one--just the highlights...

1)  Stay off our feet as much as possible.

     The last thing we want to be doing is spending lots of time on our feet the day before our marathon.  For the last few weeks of the taper, and now especially this close to the race, our objective has been to avoid doing things that would sabotage the training we've put in and hurt our race. 

2)  Tour the course.

     Thanks to a friend in my running group, I'd made reservations for us to take a tour of the course through Marathon Tours.  We were sure to get to the coach buses early in order to get a seat in the front--where we could actually see the course as it unfolded in front of us.  With half an hour to spare before the stated departure time of 10 am, I quickly went to the shirt exchange area in the expo so that I could exchange the technical shirt that came in our packet for a better fitting one.  As I came out to the bus area again, with 13 minutes to spare, Marguerite stepped off the bus and motioned for me to "come on!!"  After I ran to the bus and took my seat, she told me that the tour director had come on the bus at 9:45 wanting to leave, but she proceeded to keep that from happening.  It was an uncomfortable scene for her, and I'm extremely glad that she's a strong woman and friend who'd do that for me.  (Note to Marathon Tours:  If your stated departure time is 10am, then you shouldn't plan on leaving early without telling your paying guests prior to the day of the tour!)  Despite this incident, I highly recommend taking this course tour.

Our tour narrator proved to be very knowledgeable not only about the course, but also about the history of the Boston Marathon, as he'd run it twenty-something times.  His experience on the course dated back to the 1960's, and he had quite a few interesting stories to tell about now-famous runners, such as Alberto Salazar, with whom he'd actually run! 

We arrived in Hopkinton, a small town where the race begins, and they alloted about twenty minutes for us to walk around and take pictures.  If you're a runner, you may have seen some of these pictures before. 



This well-known sign is almost at the Starting Line for the marathon.

The folks in Hopkinton must be very patient...just about every runner out there, including us, had to get their picture at the Start Line.









 

The Start Line for the 115th Boston Marathon!

While on the course tour, we paid close attention and tried to remember as many aspects of the course as possible. The mile markers are actually painted onto the road, and every so often there is an 'elite' marker as well.  These people are committed to the longevity of this marathon.

We made it a point to note were there was a rolling hill and where it flattened out, as well as how steep we thought the initial descent really was.  One important thing we came away with: the course is more of a rolling course in those first miles than it's been described, and we'd need to plan for that accordingly.

Of course, the primary things that everyone wants to see on the Boston Marathon course are the hills.  How steep are they?  How long are they?  I'd read various descriptions of the course, but until I actually saw the hills, I didn't know how they compared to the hills that we'd run in training.  Let me just say that the hills that we run in training are enormous energy-suckers that drain even the best hill warrior.  The hills in Boston are notorious not just because they're hills, but because of where they are in the race--starting at mile 16.5 and lasting until you crest Heartbreak Hill at the end of mile 21.  They aren't to be taken lightly, but because of the hill training we do, we should be ready for them.  I believe it's the running strategy employed up to this point that also helps you navigate them. 

Here is a video of the infamous Heartbreak Hill:

   

 Interestingly, at the end of the course tour, the bus stopped short of the finish line on Boylston Street.  We'd heard that it was bad luck to walk across the finish line prior the the race, so we opted to skip the walk down Boylston and returned to our hotel instead.  It was time to rest and talk strategy.

3)  Talk out our race strategy.

     Up to this point, we'd talked casually about running the race together, but hadn't made a firm decision yet.  We also hadn't talked pacing or pacing strategy. 

     After a few minutes of discussion, we decided that we did want to run the race and cross that finish line together.  Unusual, yes, but we might not ever get a chance to run Boston together again. We agreed on one 'ground rule':  that if either of us had to stop, the other would automatically go on.  As for pacing, we reviewed the different times and settled on the most conservative time as well as the most conservative pacing strategy.  Our plan was to run conservatively through the top of Heartbreak Hill (mile 21), check in with each other, and slam it in from there to the finish on Boylston Street.  We both believed that we could run faster than the pace we'd chosen, but one of our goals was to run a smart race, strategically speaking.

Finally, we caught a cab to the pre-race pasta dinner at City Hall, where we were treated to some pretty decent pasta and a pary-like atmosphere.  It wasn't Little Italy, but we also didn't want to linger at a late dinner the night before we ran the Boston Marathon.  Get in, get out, and get back to our final preparations for the next morning's ride to the race start in Hopkinton.  

In line at the pre-race pasta dinner.



 Ready for Marathon Monday for the 2011 Boston Marathon!

Relentless Forward Motion, Ya'll!