Capital City Marathon 2007

Marathon number 14 is in the bag. It was a great run and I’ve never felt better during a race. The day was bittersweet for me, though, as I found myself surrounded by my family of Maniacs and Boomers but also filled with suspicion and mistrust of a new friend…. I’ll get to that in a minute.

Saturday night Tet, Karl, Divechief, Rasmussenmp and Rnrwife had dinner at a neat little place down by farmer’s market. It was the first pre-race dinner that I have attended where everyone was a Boomer and a Maniac (or Maniac spouse), so the conversation revolved around various marathons: which ones to run, which to avoid, comparing notes on how to prepare for frequent marathons, etc…

Sunday morning was cool and wet. I met up with Hippo, Karl, Tet and SR Lopez at the start but quickly settled in with a group of Maniacs that I hadn’t really run with before. The first 7 miles were full of conversations that only Maniacs would find interesting, mainly how to train when you only have one to two weeks between marathons, how to recover and strategies for running doubles (two marathons on two days). We decided that someone needs to write an Owners Guide for Maniacs since none of this information is available anywhere except as pleasant conversation during races. It felt like a casual Sunday stroll with my best friends. I had decided not to wear a watch and run by feel, knowing there would be no clocks on the course, so I was not surprised to discover we had been running a 12 or 13 minute per mile pace. Around mile 7 the hills started and marked the beginning of my favorite part of the Capital City Marathon. I bid goodbye to my buddies and started the roller coaster run through the forests, farmlands and inlets of southern Puget Sound. At mile 13 I asked another runner what our split was: 2:16. A bit slow, but I am trying to let go of time goals so after a quick assessment of all operating systems (all systems running smoothly) decided to be happy with it and continue to enjoy myself. The miles ticked by effortlessly with mile 24 appearing out of nowhere along with Mr. Dove offering to run with me over the next mile. Mr. Dove got me to mile 25 and the start of a long descent to the finish line. I crossed amongst cheers from my family and co-workers (one of the hugh benefits of a hometown marathon) in 4:16. A negative split of 2:16/2:00.

Everything was wonderful. I felt great, I was in my town, I had just run my favorite course: then I checked the results. My son’s baseball coach, a 46 year old fitness runner who logs 15-20 miles per week, had finished 3rd overall. He finished ahead of well-seasoned, fast Maniacs; our local race favorite who logs 100 mile training weeks and several other talented, trained runners. I had just met the coach this year. He is a great guy who has been spending a lot of time with the little Dovelet, believing in his abilities and offering that tough mix of discipline and encouragement. He is also highly competitive. As much as I like Mr. Coach, I doubted his ability to run his first marathon in under 2:30 hours. I went home wondering how this could happen and what I should do about it. I checked race results on the internet… maybe he was a sandbagger or just humble and hadn’t mentioned his racing to me. Nope, no race results except a DNF at our local ultra several months ago. I continued to fret about this all night, trying to decide what to do. Monday morning the local paper had front page coverage of the race, Mr. Coach was still listed as 3rd overall. I decided I would wait until Monday night’s baseball game and innocently ask “how’d the marathon go?” before I alerted race officials.

Before the game start, Coach walked up to me a said “Did you see this morning’s paper?”

(Oh no, here we go, the moment of truth…. Get ready Dove….)

“Yes,” I replied “You ran a great race”.

“No, I didn’t. I ran the half and someone at registration forgot to make the change. I knew I had a different colored number than everyone else, but didn’t know why. I’ve spent all day trying to fix things. This is so embarrassing.”

Whew! My red alert signs were back to green, crisis over, faith in friend restored, universe is back in balance and I don’t have to worry about my son being coached by a cheater.

Marathon 14 is in the bag.

Vancouver International Marathon 2007

I’ve been in a bit of a slump since Boston. My times have been steadily
increasing since the beginning of the year compared to last year when I
was PRing every race. After Boston, I sat down for a long talk with myself. I realized I could only PR on base-building type mileage for so long, then I would need to train specifically for a target race and quit running maniac-style. I came to the conclusion I could either run a few fast marathons a year or many slow marathons. I was at a "fork in the road" with my running career and goals... quality or quantity? To make my decision I asked myself "Who do I admire most? Someone who spends 6 months to a year training for one fast marathon, or a mid-packer who cranks out 50+ a year?” Do I want people to say "Hey that's Dove, she's running her 101st marathon today!" or "Hey that's Dove, she ran a 3:30 once". I decided I value frequency over speed. Brooks also decided to sponsor me based on my presence at many marathons, not my chance of winning one. That tells me that much of world admires ordinary people leading extraordinary lives, not just elites that seem out of reach.

All that said, I approached Vancouver with the primary goal of trying to discover how to run a marathon for the quickest recovery, not the fastest clock time. I forced myself back into walk breaks (10-1's), even though conditions were perfect for me (49 degrees, steady rain) and marathon morning I felt like my legs had a PR in them. That first walk break was the hardest thing to do but I stuck with my plan and continued to do so the entire race. Did I set a PR? Not even close.... 4:21, 7 minutes slower than last year, despite the fact I am in much better condition. Am I happy with my race? Absolutely! I crested Burrard Bridge at mile 23 smiling and shouting to the spectators "I love marathoning, it's the greatest sport in the world!" The other runners sure shot me some dirty looks after hearing that!

Who knows, next year or 10 years from now the need to be speedy may win out, but for now I'll take the opportunity to run as many as possible. Next up: Capital City on May 20th. It’s a tough, hilly course and I’m sure I’ll be even slower than Vancouver… but it will be my 6th (and probably best) marathon this year.

Boston Marathon 2007

Even weeks out it appeared the perfect storm was brewing for the Boston Marathon. High winds, cold, rain and snow. The early forecast gave me plenty of time to obsess about traveling (especially after my Myrtle Beach Marathon fiasco), what to wear, what to take on the bus to Hopkinton and race strategy. I wasted a lot of energy fretting about things beyond my control.

Thursday morning I woke at 5:00 am and checked my flight status online because a storm had blown into Chicago causing the airport to shut down for several hours. My flight from Seattle to Chicago was on time, but my flight from Chicago to Boston was cancelled. This was one of my worst fears, all the effort it took to qualify for this race and not be able to physically get to the starting line. We went to the airport anyway and thankfully, by the time we arrived our Boston flight was showing as delayed, not cancelled. Finally, at 11:00 pm, we checked into our Boston hotel, exhausted from a day of travel, but so happy to get to our destination.

Friday morning we bundled up, walked ½ mile to the train station and caught the Blueline for downtown Boston. We hit the expo just as it was opening, picked up my race number and did all my shopping before the crowds arrived. We ran into Divechief (Dave) and wa5yom (Tim) at the expo as well as a few Marathon Maniacs. Those bright yellow Maniac jackets do wonders when it comes to picking out members of the clan and luckily both Divechief and I were wearing our Maniac colors.

Sunday we were up early and ran the ½ mile to the train station then ran another ½ mile through downtown. At 7:45 we meet other Boston Boomers for the 2 ½ mile Freedom Run. The Freedom Run was one of the highlights of my weekend and anyone misses the Freedom Run is missing a major part of the Boston experience. I was wearing the Maniac jacket again and had several MM come up and introduce themselves during the run. The Korean Marathon Team took a liking to me and Mr. Dove. We must have been stopped a dozen times by the Koreans to pose for pictures. In front of this monument with this Korean team member… that statue with that Korean member…. running with arms wrapped around other team members…. running with the girl in a traditional Korean dress…. it was so much fun.

After the Freedom Run we hopped the Greenline to Henry and Marj’s for brunch with the wonderful Boomers. We also got a chance to chat with the NW contingent who now seem like old friends even though we only see each other at pre-race dinners. The Nor-easter had blown in during brunch and made for a miserable hike back to the Greenline, and a grim taste of what was in store for us race morning. Mr Dove and I ended the afternoon with a ½ mile run from train station to hotel.

Fashion Flash: Marathon morning I decided to wear a red Brooks Podium Marathon Maniac long sleeve tech shirt, Brooks tights, black running skirt, Red Brooks hat, Brooks socks and Brooks Adrenaline 6 GTS shoes in copper.*

I woke several times during the night as the raging storm shook our hotel. Streets were flooding, power lines were down… it didn’t look good. Race morning was cold, wet, and windy. I grabbed my bag and headed for the buses. My timing was just right and I got on one of the first buses to Hopkinton. When we arrived the athlete’s village was flooding. I looked for Divechief and wa5yom who promised to save me a spot under the tent. I couldn’t find them but found one of my new Maniac friends from the Freedom Run and settled in for the long wait until start time. By the time the second wave was staged, the volunteers had given up on trying to sort people into their proper corrals (rain gear was covering up all the bibs) and it became a free-for-all. I found my assigned corral and noticed it was full of charity runners and bandits. I eased my way forward towards the 12th corral and was still surrounded by bibs in the 20,000+ range. No one was honoring their assigned corrals.

The start was a mess, charity runners 5 abreast blocking the way, bandits wearing ipods oblivious to the world and people walking right down the center line. This was not the Boston I expected! I worked hard to qualify and end up in a race that felt like the mega-Rock-n-Roll-a-thons. I wasted way too much energy dodging people who shouldn’t have been on the course, throwing on the breaks to avoid collisions with people who were walking by mile 2 or moving 10 feet sideways to get around a herd of runners in matching t-shirts. I was finally able to settle into a pace but my hamstrings had stiffened up after sitting for hours on the cold, wet ground and they were complaining. I ran the first half conservatively, clocking 9:20 minute miles. I sped up slightly the second half, then slowed down to a 9:35 pace in anticipation of “The Hills”. They never came. Oh sure, there was a rise here and there, and then a bump that got my heart rate up a bit and by mile 23 I was starting to wonder out loud “just where is that Heart Break Hill”. Of course some one answered “you passed it already”. So with three miles to go, plenty of energy left in the engine and no hope of getting a BQ time, I slowed even more and coasted in, saving my legs for another day. I crossed the finish line in 4:14:12. I chilled quickly after the race, even layers of polar fleece couldn’t keep me warm. We got back to the hotel, had a nice, hot shower and prepared to go back to town for a celebration with the Maniacs. I was too cozy though, and the thought of heading back out into the weather wasn’t pleasant so we stayed decided to go downstairs to the hotel restaurant instead.

The next morning I woke up with fresh legs and ready for another day of sightseeing. We took in a few sights, had lunch then the rain and wind picked up so we called it a day. Boston was unlike anything I had ever experienced. The spectators were amazing even in the nastiest weather. All the marathoners were treated like world class athletes and everywhere you went people were asking about the race. I can’t wait until next year, hopefully it will be 45 and sunny with a tail wind!

*Details to follow in another post.

Yakima River Canyon Marathon 2007

Yakima River Canyon RR

I still can’t wipe the grin off my face. The whole weekend was fantastic, one big party with a marathon in the middle. The thing about Yakima, though, is it is a marathoner’s marathon. Small, remote and NO SPECTATORS. None. They are not allowed on the course. Aid station volunteers and race officials are the only people besides other marathoners that you see and they are few and far between. Aid stations were located every 2 – 3.5 miles providing water and Propel, you were on your own for gels or other sources of energy. The course is also on the tough side. It is a net downhill course with major climbs at mile 14 and 22. It also offers a screaming downhill from mile 24 to the finish… perfect for a last long run before Boston. I knew all of this when I signed up so I didn’t expect it to be my best marathon ever.

The weekend started out with a Marathon Maniac Reunion which attracted over 80 Maniacs. The 50 Staters and 100 Marathon Club were also having small reunions, so serious marathoners were everywhere. The pre-race pasta feed featured John Bingham as the guest speaker. He did a great job tailoring his talk for the crowd… no need to talk about tips for completing a marathon, or what a great accomplishment it is, or any of those things that are covered during most carb-load dinners. We all knew marathoning and certainly didn’t need anyone to motivate us.

Race morning was chilly with temps well below freezing. Rain clouds were hovering overhead, but the forecast called for only a 10% chance that we would actually see raindrops. Mr. Dove and I joined the others to march the 1/3 mile from the parking lot to the actual start line, bundled up in gloves and throw-away sweaters. Mr. Dove was about to tackle his first marathon, so on the way to the start we went over our strategy: 10:30-11:00 minute pace with a ¼ mile walk at every aid station. I was going to be the pacer until Mr. Dove got sick of me, then he would send me on my way. Our goal was to finish, our secondary goal was to finish under 5 hours.

The race started nicely. Our first split was exactly 10:30 and remained there as we hit the first aid station. As planned, we walk ¼ mile then resumed our run. The ¼ mile walk only added 1½ minutes to our mile pace, but did wonders for our legs. I felt great. The running was easy and the scenery breathtaking. Our pace continued at a consistent 10:30 during running miles, and 12:00 during miles that we added a walk-break. We hit our first hill at mile 4 and I didn’t even notice. A bigger hill came at mile 14. We happened to reach the climb during our scheduled walk break and I noticed we were actually passing people who were running up the hill. Because we were walking so fast we decided to walk the entire ½ mile hill, picking up the run just before we crested the top and started down the other side. At mile 20 we were just where we wanted to be… on pace for a sub-5 hour finish. We continued on at 10:30 pace until we hit THE BIG ONE, a 1.6 mile climb at mile 22. Mr. Dove’s back cramped and he was having a hard time keeping his legs moving forward. We stopped to stretch, walk backwards, stretch again but nothing was helping. Mr. Dove gritted his teeth and managed to keep going, but in obvious pain. We reached the summit, stretch one last time then picked up our run, hoping Mr. Dove’s back would behave for the final 2 ½ miles. The back cramped again, but somehow he managed to ignore his pain and we ran across the finish line hand-in-hand in 5:12:13. The prez of the Marathon Maniacs was waiting for us with his camera, a big pat on the back for Mr. Dove and inquires about his next marathon. Hippo was there, too, ready to welcome Mr. Dove into the ranks of Marathoner. I was ecstatic: I had just run my best marathon ever, on the most scenic course imaginable, with my favorite person by my side and my friends cheering us on.

Myrtle Beach L.D. Marathon 2007

Short Version:

I ran a marathon this weekend. It was my 10th and completed 364 days after my very first marathon. My time was slow (4:21), but considering what I went through to run this marathon, it was the one I’m most proud of finishing. My family and I had quite a victory dinner afterwards.

Long Version:

I woke up at 3:00 am Wednesday morning to catch a flight to South Carolina for the Myrtle Beach Marathon. The weather forecast called for cool temperatures and I was looking forward to a nice, flat run along the coast. I was also bringing my mother along so she could visit with her best friend from high school, someone she hadn’t seen in 50 years although they talk almost every day. We arrived for a layover in Washington D.C. a little before schedule… then we sat….and sat…. and sat some more on the tarmack. Finally, an hour and a half after landing we pulled into the terminal. Rushing out of the plane, we quickly checked the departure board, afraid we may have missed our connecting flight. Thank goodness it was delayed and we had an hour before taking off again. An hour passed, then two before we were boarding the plane. As soon as we found our seats the crew ushered us back into the terminal: no co-pilot. We waited again. An hour later the co-pilot arrived, so back on the plane we went. And we sat….. and sat…..and sat again, watching planes around us de-ice and attempt to pull away from the gates. It was no use, the planes were frozen to the ground and trucks couldn’t get enough traction to break them lose. The crew eventually announced our flight had been cancelled and we were to deplane. We proceeded to customer service and we were informed that all flights to Myrtle Beach were full with huge standby lists. The soonest we could possibly get a flight would be Monday, two days AFTER the marathon. Could we fly somewhere in S. Carolina, N. Carolina or Georgia? Not a chance until mid week. Then we tried to rent a car with a few other stranded passengers only to find no cars available. How about Seattle, could they fly us home to Seattle? Nope, not until Saturday night or Sunday. Argh! O.K. maybe it wasn’t meant to be, could we get a refund or voucher for another trip? No again, act of God and all that stuff. We tried to get a hotel room but couldn’t find anything under $200 dollars a night. I looked at my watch: 1:30 am Thursday. I’d been awake almost 24 hours and had only eaten a bagel and two veggie tacos since Tuesday. Not the best pre-marathon diet. Then I had an idea (I think it was the lack of food/sleep that sent this delusion my way), maybe we could get to Arizona in time to run the Lost Dutchman! I checked for flights to Phoenix, no luck. Tucson? No. Palm Springs? Nope. San Diego? BINGO! 2 seats were available to San Diego the next morning, but it would cost us because we were changing our itinerary. Oh well, I forked over the money and we had two tickets in our hands. I called my wonderful S.O. who winters in Yuma, Arizona and asked if he could pick us up in San Diego and drive us to Apache Junction. He agreed and met us in San Diego only to find our luggage was hopelessly lost. The airline had no idea where it went and, unfortunately it contained all my running gear, including shoes.

We finally arrived in Apache Junction Saturday afternoon. A few quick calls and I located a pair of my favorite running shoes, then stopped at Target to pick up Champion shorts, a singlet and a jog bra. At the expo I registered for the race and bought some GU, Body Glide and sunglasses.

I arrived at the pre-dawn start line decked out in black Champion shorts, white Champion singlet, blue Brooks Adrenalines and socks that were too big and too thick. I had just five minutes to enjoy the pre-race campfires and coffee that have become a legendary part of the Lost Dutchman experience. The race director asked us to make our way to a chalk line drawn in the dirt as a shotgun blast signaled the sunrise and start of race. The remote location meant that the marathoners started alone, without crowds to cheer them on… just the company of fellow racers. It was a fast start, too, with the first 7 miles up and down (though mostly down) a dirt fire road. I let myself get caught up in the momentum…. partially because I was so happy to be running after 5 days off and partially because I didn’t have the mental strength to hold myself back. Mile 8 put us on pavement and along a highway. We would alternate between dirt and pavement, but the constant climbing and descending would remain with us throughout the day. The heat and hills were starting to take their toll on runners as many were reduced to a walk. By mile 20 my early speed caught up with me and I was having a hard time controlling my heart rate. I slowed to a snails pace, reminding myself that this was a training run for Boston and time didn’t matter. I continued to the finish with the slowest jog I could muster. I crossed the line in 4:21. My legs were cramping and my socks had caused my toes to look like they were capped with a series of red Jelly Bellies. I ate a little, sat around on the grass a little then hobbled back to the car. I looked down at my medal and thought how appropriate it was to be wearing the Lost Dutchman around my neck, my 10th marathon, 364 days after I ran my first and on the very same course.

Marathoning… it’s about the journey, not the race.

Carlsbad Marathon 2007

Carlsbad was my first of three marathons I'm running as "long runs" in preparation for Boston. I had enough of our horrible PNW winter and decided to head south for some sunshine, some beach time and a little hill training in the form of a marathon.

I arrived on Wednesday and it appears I brought the snow with me. Malibu was reporting snow fall and it was downright chilly in Carlsbad. The days leading up to the marathon were filled with 3-4 mile runs on the beach and longer barefoot walks. Since I was approaching the marathon as a long run, I didn't feel the need to taper.

Marathon morning I gave myself an hour to get to the start line. That seemed reasonable since my hotel was less than 5 miles away. I was wrong! Traffic was at stand still approaching the parking area, so I detoured and parked in a strip mall about a mile from the start. By the time I parked, I had less than 15 minutes to get to the race and as I approached, I heard the start gun go off. I found myself behind thousands of half marathoners and walkers... it took me an additional 5 minutes to cross the chip-mat ( both the marathoners and half-marathoners started at the same time). I was with my BF who was running the half, so we decided to stick together until the marathoners split off at the 5 mile mark. It was great fun to run together, weaving and dodging through the crowd. Soon I split-off to follow the full marathon course east and up a long grade while the rest of the crowd continued along the ocean. There were only 1,000 marathoners compared to over 6,000 half marathoners, so after the split the course really opened up. I really enjoyed the run up past the Airport. It was enough of an uphill to get the heart beating but not horribly difficult. The downhill was great for conditioning the quads! We returned to run along the ocean at mile 15, through nice rollers and a slight headwind after mile 18, which I found refreshingly cool.

I crossed the finish line in 4:14 chip time. I had a nice negative split of 2:13/2:01 with the last 6 miles being my fastest. The best part of the race was the way I felt afterwards… like I had just been out for a 4 hour walk. It’s nice to feel that way after running 26.2. Later in the afternoon I had enough energy to take a 3 mile barefoot walk along the beach for a total of 30.2 miles for the day. Maybe it’s time to think about an ultra!

FASHION FLASH....
Black marathon skirt, yellow Maniacs singlet, orange Brooks Adrenalines and sunglasses that BF deemed as making me look cool and unapproachable. No watch, no diamond studs, strictly business.

Seattle Marathon 2006

I love the northwest. Every single training run in November has been cold, windy and extremely wet. If I ran in the morning I would be chilled the rest of the day. If I ran at lunch I would sit at my desk looking like a wet mop all afternoon. So I resigned myself to evening runs, in the dark, through puddles I couldn't see and through driving rain that chilled me past the point of feeling. It was good training.
The weather forecast for the Seattle Marathon was ominous and ever changing. One station would call for high winds and rain, another for snow, and still another for partial clearing. The next hour the forecast would change, but the main theme was constant: it would be cold and wet. I packed for all conditions and headed for the big city Saturday afternoon. After a very quick stop at the expo we checked into our room then straight to the elevators to make our 5:30 Boomer Dinner. When the elevator doors opened we were shocked to be greeted by a red-stilettoed Goddess....
Fast forward to Race Day:
By now everyone has heard about the conditions: rain mixed with snow and wind. I decided to wear black tights, a red Marathon Maniacs long-sleeve tech shirt, safety yellow Maniacs jacket, black hat and black gloves. I tucked some hand warmers provided by Divechief into my gloves for extra comfort.
Waiting for the start was miserable, but as soon as the gun went off all was forgotten and it was time to run. I felt good and thought I was running strong, but my first mile split came in at 11:45. Oh well, it was crowded so the next one would be better. The next split? 10:30... no excuse, I guess it was going to be a slow day. Mile three came in at 9:30, better but still not good enough for the elusive BQ.... almost 5 minutes behind my pace in the first 3 miles. Everyone told me Seattle would be a tough course to PR or BQ on, I was probably foolish to even think it was possible especially with the weather conditions. (I had trained for a BQ attempt in the Tri-Cities three weeks earlier, but mother nature gifted us with a nasty wind storm and though I PR'd, I missed qualifying by a little over 3 minutes.)
My splits were bad, but my spirits were up. I was having fun with the rain, the cold and the other runners. I finally felt like I was hitting my stride as we came off the floating bridge. I shed my jacket and gloves and settled in for 18 miles of constant, consistent effort, putting myself in an almost meditative state. I don't remember much about the middle miles except an all-too-brief hug by an aqua-socked Boomer at mile 16. At mile 20 I caught the 4:00 pace group, hung out for a few minutes then went on ahead as we climbed towards the arboretum. Almost too soon I was flying down the long down hill approach to the finish, through the tunnel and onto the football field. My feet took wing as I crossed the artificial turf (one of the best parts of the Seattle event) and into the finishing chute in 3:58:46. A 5 1/2 minute PR, a BQ and an age group placement award.
Yes! I'm going to Boston!