Seattle Marathon, Nov. 30th, 2008

Things sure do change over time, this January we will have a president that is younger than me, and he is also from a generation that has a different tilt on life than us Baby Boomers.

This Marathon trip also gave me the opportunity to visit with family for Thanksgiving in Portland, OR. We had some of my family and some of Kim’s family, all eating at the same table after just meeting, very American.

We made our way up to Seattle the day before the race to pick up my racing number and to be a part of the pre-race Spaghetti Dinner. And for the first time ever, I can report that I came in first, having gotten my plate and sat down before any one else. First place feels soo good!

The Seattle Marathon can be unpredictable, weather-wise, being the weekend after Thanksgiving. Some racers we talk with at the Spaghetti Dinner mention how 2 years ago it was 18 degrees and they had black ice to deal with. At our table is a couple, the lady a true runner with multiple half marathons and a few marathons prior, while her husband was attempting his first ever marathon – due to a dare. Well, that is one way to start this silliness. Another lady sitting with us was set to run the half marathon while hoping one day to do a full marathon, which I am sure she will accomplish.

The day of the race is cool and cloudy as I stand with 3,000 of my fellow runners shivering in my garbage bag (aka “coat”). A lady taps me on my shoulder and points to my shoe string – “That one is too long!” I fix it and look up and see my last night’s dinner couple standing, shivering and scared. “It is great seeing you again and good luck to both of you!”

The fog is low and the temps are around 50 as they sing the National Anthem and right in the middle of the song the fog lifts just enough to see the top of the Space Needle, as if she is looking down to see what is going on, and then she was gone again in a cloak of white. The gun goes off and we head out of town.

I start out slow since I know the hills start at mile 16 and don’t really end until mile 25. We are making a bee line out to Highway 90 where at mile 4 I had hopes of seeing Kim and her brother Bill for the first time. For some reason no spectators are allowed on the freeway and I don’t get to see them at that point. We end up going down a floating bridge, run in a tunnel for a mile, turn around and head back towards Seattle. I expect to run into my crew at around mile 8 and end up seeing them at mile 9. High fives all around and then back to it as I run out along Lake Washington. The scenery is great, though you can only see about 40 feet, you can see that all the ducks and geese in Pungent Sound have been grounded due to fog in the area.

This race course is like a big plus sign gone goofy in a couple places, so after meeting up once again with my crew at mile 15, I head off to the hills and away from the lake into the neighborhoods of Seattle. This city is hilly and I felt fortunate that there were not more hills, but still, they suck.

At around mile 17 I start running with a lady because I like her pace (that is true, believe it or not). She is of my generation, has a good manner as she waves to spectators and keep plugging along. We never say a word to each other; we just keep switching the lead as the miles go by. You need distractions to avoid losing focus and she works wonders for me.

This race is the kind I like, they do not have major prize money like the East Coast marathons do and locals will win this race, as always (30 years and counting). They also are okay with IPOD’s and so I put mine on for the final 10 miles. At mile 23 when you really have no hope left, all you have is the music and the running buddy that keeps it going.

At about that time something happens, a series of songs start that makes me feel like Rocky (actually one song is from Rocky 1), and I start running with purpose and find strength to pump my fist. By mile 25 1/2, the final, Power song comes on and it is “Running on Empty” by Jackson Browne.

Running on – running on empty
Running on – running blind
Running on – running into the sun (not today!)
But I’m running behind

Everyone I know, everywhere I go, People need some reason to believe
I don’t know about anyone but me
If it takes all night, that’ll be alright

Looking out at the road rushing under my wheels (feet)
I don’t know how to tell you all just how crazy this life feels
I look around for the friends that I used to turn to to pull me through
Looking into their eyes I see them running too

Honey you really tempt me
You know the way you look so kind
I’d love to stick around but I’m running behind
You know I don’t even know what I’m hoping to find
Running into the sun but I’m running behind

I power past my running buddy and finish the last mile faster than the previous 25. (I do end up thanking her for all she did to help me - she said the same to me).

Things sure do change; on this day I wonder what my grandmother would have thought about me running marathons in all the west coast states – having started in 2003 in Oregon. I think she would have approved since she always showed me that she expected good things from me. My grandfather, who was so proud when he met his first Great-grandson, my son, too would have been okay with me doing this. He and I had a special bond. They are no longer with us physically to see the changes, but on this race day they were with me showing the way.

Outer Banks Marathon, Nov. 9th, 2008

The wild grasses had grown to waste height by fall and now blew back and forth as if they were all cooperating creating golden waves upon waves across the field. Christine and I had just finished our Junior League Bowling this Saturday and had some time to kill before her mom was going to pick her up. I had bowled a 140 and was just giddy enough to talk her into walking with me out into the fields. I wanted to show her the gravel pit, but mostly I just wanted to be with her alone.
We plop down into the gravel and slide about 3 feet before stopping; natures bean bag chair. We are talking and throwing rocks into the water filled pit when she takes my hand and my heart skips a beat.

The Outer Banks Marathon starts at Kitty Hawk, NC and ends at the Monteo city center. The area is known for the birth of flight by the Wright Brothers. Today this is a very nice strip of land that has fine sandy beaches and great fishing from those beaches.

This race course actually handles 2 races, the full marathon and the half. The morning of the race is fairly cool 49 degrees with an early starting time of 7:20 AM. At the start of the full marathon, we are all queued up based upon our speeds; fewer than 7 minute milers up front, then 7-9 next, 9-11, etc. This day they will set us out in waves, spaced 5 minutes apart. The timing devise we have is new this time. Usually we wear an RFID (Radio Frequency Identification) that we tie into our shoe laces; this time we have an ankle bracelet with Velcro fasteners. There are nervous conversations at the starting line about this ankle bracelet and how it will perform for 25,000 steps. I kind of feel like one of those recently released convicts that have to wear those detection devices. Our detectors are read by running over a pad that reads our chips and ensures that cheaters can not cheat easily.
We sing the National Anthem and then say a prayer; part of which addresses the need for strength for the final miles. Then the gun and we were off.
What a beautiful, tree lined start we had. We get great glimpses of blue, sunny skies as we run through residential neighborhoods for this first part of the race.

This first section is very flat and so it is fairly easy to cruise. At mile 7 I run up to a lady in pink and I recognize her; “Did you run the Baltimore Marathon?” “Yes I did!” The guy next to her says, “She runs them all and she is going to PR today!”
The only reason I remember her is that she is shown below in a picture we had caught of her at about the same point in the Baltimore race. And the outfit of pink stands out, especially that Pepto Bismal pink.
I believe she did PR (Personal Record), since we got a picture of her again, at this race, where she was at 2:39 at mile 21 – way ahead of me. Thanks to digital cameras, each picture Kimberly took had a time stamp.

At about mile 7.5 you run past the monument to the Wright Brothers, what a sight and you can almost imagine what it was like, to push start that plane/kite into the wind, getting lift and then soaring. That must have been something!

Next we go off road for awhile as we are sent into the woods to run on wood chipped covered trails. There are hills here and I wonder if they had to be built or how nature would have been able to put hills on such a flat piece of land. These 3-4 miles feel nice under your foot as you go up and down through the woods and finally pop out by the highway for your shot up the way and to the bridge at mile 21.

The emotions you feel through the course of running a marathon really run the gamut. At first you feel giddy and anxious to start, where everyone is talking and joking, then you get into a rhythm as you pass the miles and focus on the next station for fuel. This race had a lot of water stops and only started with Gatorade at 8 miles. Gatorade is like throwing a Dura-flame log onto a fire, it is the fuel that keeps the rest of the fire going that gives a runner the power to keep going for hours. As someone that has done a few of these races, I also know to keep track of things like how fast I am sweating and today it is warm. I think by the time we get out onto the highway – with no shade – it is 70 degrees. Too warm for optimal running, so I take salt tablets to make sure my legs don’t cramp up.

Still, with all of my experience, I say something at mile 14 that even surprised me, “I don’t want to do this anymore.” Well, there you go, the emotional change had started. The emotions control more of a race like this than the physical aspect. It becomes an internal battle, the mind is saying “hey my feet are hurting, you are sweating up a storm, the beach is right over there and that place over there sells ‘peel and eat shrimp’ for crying out loud!”

Some how I get control my little devil that wants to piss this race off, and by mile 21 I am talking it up with my fellow runners; “Geese, we only have a 10 K to go!”
“I know, but it is going to be the toughest 6 miles ever.”
Now that’s no way to let the devil win!

I actually end up passing the folks that walk the half marathon. I admire these people, they do not have the body to be a marathoner, yet they are out there plugging along taking up to 4 hours to walk 13.1 miles. Their faces are hard and show tension until you say something like “Keep up the great work, you are looking good!” A smile wipes off all the stress and they know it is sincere, since I am in the race with the devil too.

One hundred yards from the finish, I try to sprint but end up running like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz.

But I do finish the race and my heart skips a beat.

Back when I was 14 ½ and had held hands for the first time, I knew something was changing. Being in a family 7 made it hard to feel special, like you were the one, but after holding a warm hand that was connected to those eyes, well what can I say? I know I called her on the phone everyday for at least 60 days in a row, which did not make her mother happy or the people that shared their party line.

I find Kimberly and take off my ankle bracelet, talk with a few racers as we are all so happy to have made it to the finish line. Not a cloud in the sky as family’s reunite and we listen to live music and sit on the grass by the marina. Next to us are 2 guys, loners. One, just a kid, probably 21 at most ran the entire race in long, Carhartt pants with his cigarettes and pocket knife in his pockets. “I came with what I have and drove 6 hours to get here.” (He stayed in his car the night prior). The other guy is from England, but working in Virginia and probably 35, a professional working at NATO. For a moment I look at the three of us, so different, but yet this day something in common, for we are marathon runners.

Baltimore Marathon, Oct. 10th, 2008

Have you ever had something so fixed in your mind, that you missed the main point?

The other day I was channel surfing and saw a movie title that I thought was about American Indian shoes and how they were going out of style and therefore would soon be gone for ever. What I thought I read was "The Last of the Moccasins" was really the "Last of the Mohican's".

Well, if you have seen the movie, then you know it is a great movie and I was pleasantly surprised with it. If you haven't seen it, take the time, it will be worth it.

That is kind of how I was feeling when getting ready for my latest Marathon quest. My mind had been set that this would be a typical city marathon through typical city streets with nothing really being out of the ordinary or special.

Now of course, I can tell you I was in for a shock, this one is dubbed as a clone of the Boston Marathon and I now believe they are right.

This day started out just fine at about 55 degrees and not a cloud in the sky. We all get in our designated area in the corral for the start. About 4,000 souls will attempt the marathon and about 8,000 will do the half. Standing in the shadows of the Camden Yard Baseball stadium with helicopters from local TV above and millions of pieces of confetti floating, the gun went off and off we went through the downtown area of Baltimore.

This is another great old city that was and is a major port and the center of commerce for Maryland. One thing they gave us was a sticker that said "FULL" indicating a full marathon as opposed to "HALF" for the half, and told us to put it on the back of our shirts. By mile 5 no stickers were on our backs (except for the insightful folks that actually pinned them on) and were instead on the streets and the bottom of our shoes. You could hear a symphony of 'Scratch,Kick, Scratch' along with a chorus of "What dumb idea!" and "What the hell were they thinking?" It created a good rhythm and it was in surround sound created by 8,000 feet pounding, so the first miles just went by without much thought.

This route goes out and then comes back to near the starting line where the half marathoners join in. The half started at 2 hours after the start of the full, so I managed to be passing half way point when the half marathoners joined in. This can be a little disheartening since the halfers have fresh feet and high hopes, while the fullers have sore feet and a fair amount of dread. Oh well, suck it up.

The part of the race that resembles the Boston race are the miles 16-22 where you are greeted with an endless series of hills. It just so happens that this is also when the temperature starts rising. You have warm air, thousands of runners and endless hills. To help with the numbness you begin to feel, we at least had new stickers for the bottom of our shoes thanks to the halfers.

Though the music and symphony did have a new edge to it and some of the lyrics I can't repeat here, it was very difficult to cruise.

At mile 22 they say it is all down hill from here. The problem is I ran out of gas at mile 21. It is a rookie mistake and I end up paying for it in the end. I finish the second half taking 13 more minutes than my first half.

The finishers get tickets for 2 free beers and the parking lot of the M&K stadium (where the Baltimore Ravens play) has a live band and to top it off, Kimberly found me a chair. Nothing can compare with sitting in the bright sun, drinking a little refreshment along with 11,000 people that dared to put their feet to the starting line. Beyond words, really.

A few days later I get back to work and slide into my cube as I ready myself for the "how" I get to do these races and I hear voices in the background:

"Oh my gawd, it took me 40 minutes on Route 28 today, can you believe it?"

"I know, I was there and we were doing, like, 10 forever and then, poof, we were doing 75."

"Me ,too. But get this, when I had to stop for my Dunkin Donuts since I was sooo stressed out, the person in front of my car ordered, like 10 gift certificates, can you believe that? During rush hour, some people are so inconsiderate."

"Oh my gawd!"

Hmmmm.

Truth be told, it was an Algonquin, not a Mohican that saved the day in the "Last of the Mohican's", but I suppose it sounded better than "The Last of the Algonquins".

How is it that you think you know what you are getting into and so sure you know it, to only find out that it is nothing like what you had in mind originally?

The career I thought I had turns out to just be a job, while the jog I first tried with my dog Charlie for 1 block, 15 years ago turned out to be the passion that filled the void from not having a career.

Hmmmm, go figure!

July 4th, 2008

Mount Marathon, Seward, AK

We arrived in Seward, AK a day earlier than the gang to try to secure campsites. We anticipated high demand since the 4th is on a Friday this year. We got it right, the traditional campsites were completely booked and now the officials had created "overflow" camping at the High School. We stopped by and talked with a family that was just setting up camp.

"You got in on your first try?"

"Yes I did!"

To run this crazy race requires first-timers to register and then wait for the lottery. For about 300 spots in the men's race, the lottery gives about 50 slots to lottery winners - all the rest are race veterans or Charity runners (who bid up to $2,000 for the right to run this thing). I never thought I had a chance to get it on my first shot - the family we talked with had been trying for 5 years to no avail!

Since we wanted to have a fire (not allowed on School property), we ended up going a little further out of town and found campsites for the group at much higher prices, but we at least had a place to sleep.

I was feeling lucky. Besides, how tough could this be, at 3.5 miles it should be a piece of cake - I had run a race almost 10 times longer before! Lucky is the how I felt, do this little race, kick back with some friends, put this in the done column, it will be a slam!

That first day was just great, it was the first day to get above 70 degrees all summer and with sunny skies how could you not feel you were in heaven? We set up camp, took a look around and relaxed. The next evening the gang would be down from Anchorage (a drive of about 135 of the most beautiful miles in the world!). We went to bed when it was still clear blue & bright skies (does not get that dark this time of the year), of course we didn't know at that time that would be last of the blue skies for 3 days.

The next morning greeted us with gray skies and light rain which ended up being persistent, too. Now I start to wonder about my luck this year, this would be my 4th race this year and it is raining. The frustrating part about the rain is the low cloud deck that blocks the view of the mountains.

Now I can't see up the mountain I will be challenging the next day. We drive over to where the race starts up the mountain and since it is raining, I decide against a reconnaissance hike up the mountain. After all, it is only 3.5 miles up into those clouds there, how tough could that be?

But back in my mind I remember when I lived in AK and came down to see this race as a spectator and remember how dirty, exhausted and bloody the runners looked when they finished or was I dreaming that? Not going up the mountain the day before the race was the first of many mistakes I made that weekend.

Everyone made it down to Seward okay the night of the 3rd and set up camp while I went to a safety meeting about the race.

That was a tough meeting as they stated how difficult it is and how if you have not been up the mountain you can just leave now and forget about it.

They show pictures of people that needed $30,000 worth of reconstructive facial surgery after doing a header on the way down!

What was I thinking?

The best course of action is to go back to camp, sit by the fire, enjoy a few beers and talk with my buddies. Just don't think about it and it won't be too bad.

The Mount Marathon Race started many years ago when two Sourdoughs made a bet that you couldn't run up the mountain and back down again in less than an hour. Local Merchants got involved offering a suit of clothes to the winner. The first race took 62 minutes and a tradition was started. 2008 marks the 81st running of the race making it the second oldest race in the United States. The mountain itself is typical for Alaska; it is jagged, steep and unforgiving, averaging an incline of 38 degrees.

Since the location of the mountain is Alaska, the tree line is low at about 1,000 feet, the bottom sits at sea level. The Spring and early Summer were unusually cool this year leaving much more snow on the top half of the mountain for the race.

Race day is also a little weird. The day starts with a junior race where kids run up and down half the mountain. Only in Alaska would you see kids as young as 11 running this kind of race, but it is very exciting.

Then comes the women's race at 11 AM followed with a parade at 1 PM. Often the runners are still coming down when the parade is going on and this year is no exception.

So my day starts slow since I don't need to worry about racing until after the parade. So I go through my check list; two pair of shorts (in case one gets ripped off during the decent), duct tape for the shoes - to ensure that as little of the shale as possible goes into your shoes and cuts up your feet - tends to slow you down, my shirt that has BOSTON on it and gloves - necessary for grabbing onto things on the ascent and to "ride on" for the decent. Check, check, check - good to go. Two hours before race time I start drinking Gatorade and start putting everything on but I am not feeling lucky any more.

We make our way to the race starting area and all I can think is "I don't wanna". That is the only thing going through my head over and over and over again. Luckily it had not rained this day, but it will be wet up there from yesterday. The cloud cover is limiting any view up the monster. You know, I should have probably gone up some of the mountain the day before, I should have, I really should have.

The Men's race has two heats and I am in the second one that starts 5minutes after the first at 3:05 PM. I go to the back of the pack knowing that is where I belong, the horn sounds and off we go, me in my blue duct tape next to nice old gentlemen wearing pink duct tape.

The start takes you on an L shape route through city streets for about 4 blocks before you make your choice - up through the trees or up the slide area. I choose the trees. It is about 52 degrees as we start climbing up the through the jungle. I have no idea what I am doing and my previous strategy in these situations was to simply follow the guy in front of me and figure it out as you go.

That will prove a bad strategy this day.

It was so steep, you need to grab something to pull yourself up while targeting a place to put your foot. I grab a root or branch and lift myself up, one step at a time. Basically lifting my entire weight up a foot or two for each step forward.

I now understand what they meant when they said the ascent speed averages less than 2 miles per hour. I am doing okay since the guy ahead of me has his butt in my face, I just keep plugging away. You cannot see anything but mountain up and trees down.

Fifteen minutes of this and I can't believe what I see, it is two National Guard soldiers with shotguns standing next to the so called trail. At first I deliriously thought it was to put down injured runners - something would I hope for later - but no, they were they to make sure bears didn't eat any competitors. That made me feel better.

We head into the clouds, still inching up and finally we hit the end of the trees. This is about the half way up mark and it is also where we cris-cross with those fast guys heading back down. I can't believe it, I am half way up after a half hour of nonstop sweating and these guys are flying down already.

This second phase of the mountain is very different. Now we wind our way up the spine of the mountain, sometimes only 45 degree angles, other times you are climbing straight up. The shale at this part of the mountain reminds me of jagged books laying down sideways in a wall. Each section is about Britannica thick, but sometimes when you go to grab a book, the dang thing comes off it's shelf! You don't want to have all your weight on that pull, you would just bounce all the way down to the trees where the soldiers wouldn't need to shoot you.

I figure I will only grab where the guy above me steps or grabs. I need to make sure my timing is on, I don't need him rocking back his foot and crushing my hand. We are no longer protected by the trees and the down side of the mountain is covered in snow and it is windy.Finally I am not too hot, though I am exhausted, yet I could not see the top. Looking down was worse. You can actually see hundreds of feet down to the clouds and it is steep. Did I mention I do not like heights? I look down and the world starts to spin, not good. Look up dumb ass! I am so tired and for the first time ever for me, I want to quit the race. But there is no good solution to that thought. I would still need to get down and I had this awful feeling that would be harder than going up.

Then just when you wipe the sweat, or was it tears, off your face one last time you here voices and you can see the top! An hour and 12 minutes after the start and I am at the peak. There are volunteers in parkas handing out cups of water. They will get down the same way they got up, by helicopter. I take a moment and look out and see the top of the mountains from across the bay and I remember what made me fall in love with Alaska in the first place. It is so beautiful to see all those jagged, snow cap mountains for miles in every direction. Some of those mountains have never had a man step on top of them, ever.

Oh yea, it is only half over.

For the first half of the down hill portion, you have two options. You can go over to the snow area, sit down in what looks like a luge from the Olympics and slide your way down. I had heard stories the night before about sliding down and hitting a jagged rock sticking up and besides they say it creates quite a rash. Skis would have worked, but I had none. The other option is longer as it goes around the snow field, but probably better for a novice like me to try that.

I finally start having fun! After a little bit, I figure out how it works. This top area is all loose shale and very steep, so the trick is to lean back on your heals and just start running, but not too fast. The shale swallows your feet to mid calf and is very soft to land on. Each step seems to take you 15 feet down the mountain! It is awesome and I make it half way down the mountain to the tree line in 7 minutes!

Of course all good things come to an end, don't they? As I cross where I saw the earlier guys run down a half hour ago, I find that things are changing as we head down to a waterfalls. At about 120 feet prior, I kick loose a rock about the size of a cantaloupe and it flies down ahead of me at amazing speed.

"ROCK!"

"ROCK!"

"ROCK!"

Says the chorus of runners ahead of me. You don't need that hitting you in the head.

The rock takes one final bounce and splinters into a thousand pieces 90 feet below me.

This portion becomes what they call "technical", which means you could kill your self with one wrong move. We start by running in a stream. I have had some experience in this and actually pass some racers instead of being passed for a change. That doesn't last long, though, as all of a sudden there is a waterfalls. I pause and try to look down without falling and figure what the hell, I sit down and shimmy down the first 15 feet of the water falls on my butt. By the way, snow melt streams are very cold.

I continue down and then I lose track of the guy ahead of me. I am all alone and back in the trees and I see 3 paths ahead of me.

Where did everyone go?

What do I do now? I pick the middle path and head down.

Big mistake.

After about 50 feet of climbing down that took me for ever, I found myself stuck. I decided to sit down and think, only when it is this steep, when you sit, you are actually still standing. I am in a what looks like natures inside corner wall. I can see a place to grab, but it is on the other wall about 10 feet down. I do not know what to do. Some dumb asses actually followed me to this point and one yells, "Step on the flat area" and all I see is vertical flat, not horizontal flat.

Have you seen any of the Spiderman movies? That dude just jumps and sticks to wherever he lands. Sounds like a plan I could use. Finally I get the nerve to jump and I land on the other wall and actually stick. For my efforts, I got multiple cuts on my left knee and right elbow, but what the hell, at that point I was totally numb from the earlier ice bath. I also got applause from the other racers and a "Great Jump!" which translates to "I can't believe you didn't kill yourself". I think I looked more like a contestant from "Wipe Out" than Spiderman.

I thought I was in the clear, I didn't know there was a part two. At this last juncture, you can actually see the soldiers below with stretchers ready and they are yelling at me to not go down the way I had chosen. So, slowly I try to inch my way back up. Wet shorts tend to help, actually, since the dirt and twigs causes friction and you scoot up fairly fast. But the alternative paralyzes me and I just stand/sit there. I figure I will just die here.

Then this nice guy comes out of the woods and knows my problem instantly,

"Put your hand where I put my hand, put your foot where I put my foot and do exactly as I do and only what I do, okay?"

"Oh shit!"

This worked for about five minutes until I looked the other way and then he was gone. After a little hesitation and I gun it and make it down to sea level. Now all I need to do is run 4 blocks to the finish line. My legs are like rubber and the soldiers are approaching with the stretcher and asking me if I was okay. I mumble something and stumble away like Nick Nolte after a '2 for 1' night at the local Corner Bar.

Soon I get my legs back and I catch up to the guy that talked me down. He says the key is to have a shot of whiskey before the waterfalls. Really?

I catch up to pink duct tape guy and pass him - seems so long since we started this thing together.
After 2 hours and 22 seconds, I cross the finish line exhausted as any marathon I have ever run and my friends ask if I will try this again.

I can't wait until next year!

Check out this slide show if you want (additional pictures):

http://www.photoreflect.com/pr3/viewalbum.aspx?a=527615

Providence, RI, May 4th, 2008

I wanted to run a race in Rhode Island and found one. This one is an inaugural race, so I was a bit worried about the logistics. I soon found out that I need not to worry since this event has a long history at the half marathon level.

I traveled down on the Saturday before the race anyway, and to also scope out how this might work. When you have a point to point race, you need to plan much better than when you finish where you start.

Do you take a bus to the starting line or do you have someone drop you off?

The finish line is in downtown and it is a grand city with history that can match Philadelphia, Richmond or Boston with historic narrow cobble streets to new, mile high sky scrapers.

On Saturday before the race and after picking up the race bib, we walk around downtown and look for a place for lunch and finally duck into a nice cozy New England pub. The only other customers in the place are there for the same reason; food and the next day's race.

We get talking and I mention the Bear Mountain Challenge and they top me one better by talking about the Dances With Dirt Race in Hell, Michigan. Mary had already run 5 races this year! After they left I wondered if we would see them again.

The next day starts out weird, weird in that I slept in my own bed. Providence is only about 45 minute drive from Quincy, so we just jump in the truck and headed for the starting line. No parking at the starting line so Kimberly drops me off about a 1/4 mile from the starting line approximately 20 minutes before gun time with a promise to meet me at the finish line.

It is cold and rainy and I regret not wearing a plastic garbage bag to keep warm. The start is delayed due to so many people that showed up late.

At about 10 AM, the scheduled start time, it starts pouring and the guy next to me says it will start hailing in 5 minutes. If he only knew about Bear Mountain just 3 weeks ago...

April 12th Bear Mountain Challenge started at 5 AM and you needed to wear a headlamp just to see. Thinking back, what we were doing running in the dark woods must be similar to what it would be like to be charging up a hill as a Marine. Not a US Marine (we didn't have guns, just water bottles), mind you, but more like a Canadian Marine, and not out to root out the Taliban, but more likely going to find out who was growing marijuana in the woods.

I can just hear it now where the Sargent barks to a grunt,

"Order the pizza now, before we burn up all these plants!"

"Why would we do that, eh?"

"Don't you remember how hungry we got last time waiting for the food?"

"How will they find us?"

"Tell them to follow the smoke, eh?"

Finally the gun goes off about 15 minutes late and the Cox Providence, RI Marathon is on its way. We start up the hill while a steady rain hits us, the wind is calm and the temp is about 45 degrees.

By mile 8 it had stopped raining and the hail never did come.

Most of the run was through city streets, with the exception of a bike trail along the river for about 5 miles that proved to be cold and windy, to say the least. Why must a race always have a tough part? Maybe it is just me and my perception and others would say a different part of the race was The Challenge.

The last five miles of this race was a real torture for me as I slowed down and tried to focus on the deed at hand. I had done many races before, so I knew what to expect, why was this one killing me at the end?

Perhaps it is the fact I have a history with these things and maybe, just maybe, trying 3 races in 6 weeks was being a bit arrogant.

Did I think I had such a physical fitness base that I didn't need to commit to training as much, yea that was probably it.

It also didn't help that 2008 now has three races in the bag and all for all three started in the rain.

Fifteen minutes after the finish we hook up with our new Friends from the day before. These are my people, the energy in their eyes is obvious for someone that had set a goal, had the guts to start and the high from finishing - can't be found anywhere else.

Time to redouble my efforts and get serious, especially considering my July trip to Alaska where the racing application form states you are responsible to get yourself (and or your body parts) off the mountain, for there will be not any rescue efforts made due to rescuers safety issues. Sounds like my kind of a race.

Bear Mountain, NY Challenge, April 12th, 2008

50 miles on my 50th birthday - Maybe, Maybe not

I ran across this North Face Extreme Challenge 50 mile run in the beautiful Hudson Valley in New York on the Internet and I couldn't resist. Can you imagine running 50 miles on your 50th birthday - just like my pal Paul Collins did some 10 years ago (my inspiration). Sounds like a plan.

Well we got to Fishkill, NY on Friday, a 4 hour drive from Boston, and went to get the race bib number for the race on Saturday. The weather forecast showed storms moving in - the same storm that hit the Midwest with a lot of snow earlier in the week, but Friday was okay. We picked up the packet and headed back to the hotel for an early night. That night at about midnight I was awakened by the clouds letting go, thunder and lightning and dumping rain on us for a good hour.


When it comes to a 50 miler, you start in the morning, in the dark, otherwise you would run out of day.

We drove by 8 deer along the road and one car accident from some driver heading home at 3:30 AM to get to the starting line.

These 50 milers are a different breed. You can actually have a "crew" to help you at the Aid stations. I volunteered Kimberly for the job.
So we are standing around waiting for the start and it is dark as I have ever seen. The runners are required to have headlamps and I have mine. The weather forecast scared away 20% of the racers this dark morning and we start out with a smaller group than anticipated.

It is a real freaky thing to run in the dark, it is almost like running in a tunnel, like a lighted tunnel. After about 20 minutes the skies open up and start down pouring with a little hail, thunder and lightning too boot. The first section is also the most technical, we are basically running & climbing strait up covering 2,000 vertical feet in about a half mile. I am not comfortable with that at all. I do not look down but do look up to find some kind of tree to hold onto to stop from falling and maybe, just maybe advance a yard or two before looking for another sapling. This is very tough going, once we hit the summit we go down and back up for 2 more mountains before we hit the first aid station about 5.2 miles into this god forsaken odyssey. Running down is harder than up since all the leaves are very slippery and they cover rocks about the size of basketballs. It takes our group about 2 1/4 hours - they told us to expect it would take only 1 hour to get to Aid Station 1. This is a first time ever event - I should have known better.

Luckily I was better off than 2 others that quit at this point due to injuries from falls. At least it is light now, though the fog is heavy and it is hard to find the white plastic flags that mark the trail every 50-100 yards.


If you look down at your feet, there is not a clue you are on a trail, it is just rocks and more rocks and most move when stepped on now since the rain and the effect of 50+ runners ahead of me. It has stopped raining, but the vest I started with is wet and heavy - I thought it was water proof - my bad is adding five pounds to every step.

A young guy comes running by me like I am standing still - I am in awe as he runs so well on the rocks while I plan every foot fall. Suddenly he goes down 50 feet ahead of me. He lands on his elbow and it is bleeding and he looks pale.


Our group is down now to about 5 and we try our best secure his elbow, and he insists on going on, but he is moving much slower now. The thing is when you fall like that, you lose your confidence in your running/jumping from rock to rock abilities. He won't make it to the finish line today.

I finally get to Aid station 2 and the guys start singing happy birthday to me! How cool is that? I tear up as I stuff my mouth with as much food as I can find. Fuel is so important in this insanity and they have done a great job.

Three more people drop out of the race, mostly due to injuries, but some are just sick of it. I look over my right shoulder and say to the aid station dudes - "Do I go that way?" and they respond "No go this way!" I point to let them know that one guy is going wrong way and they ran after him and got him back on track. I had already lost my way 3 times, so we all expect it and nothing like adding more mileage.

I get back into the prickly bushes and rocky trail and relentless hills to keep going. I am starting to really wonder about what I am doing and whether I will make it. In these kind of races there are cut off times within the race and if you miss it, even by a minute, you are done. So I am worried on two fronts - scared if I fail to make the cut off and afraid I might make it.



Two miles into this third leg and I come around a corner on a steep decent and go to grab the tree and miss it. My shoes are useless since the treads are covered in mud and I hit the rock that is as big as a king size bed tilted at 45 degrees. First I hit my ribs on the rock and then I bounced my head off the trunk of the tree. As I slide down the rock, I wonder if the sound I heard was the sound of ribs cracking, but my mind is not working too clearly. By now I am all alone staring up at the clouds that are finally clearing a little. Maybe I'll just rest here a second and let my head clear.

A few minutes earlier, I had the chance to look over my shoulder and see a gorgeous blue lake 1500 feet below - it was awesome. Earlier still, we had summited the second mountain and everyone stopped to look as we had gotten above the clouds and you could see three mountain tops sticking out of the clouds - a memory I will cherish.

I finally did get up and start running again. I needed to keep going, but now I wasn't real sure of myself and paid more attention to every footfall. That tends to slow you down and it takes a toll on your mind - you need to be so focused for so long.

As I get close to the next Aid Station, I can see it ahead, but it is 100 feet straight down. I sit down and slide on my butt to get down, knowing afterwards I would have to climb back up. As I slide down I hear people clapping and yelling - they see me coming - and this is also the first time my "crew" can assist, so there is Kimberly waiting for me.
















She gets me a chair to sit down and asks me what I want to eat, but there is something else going on here. There is a pained look on these volunteers as they applaud my arrival and soon enough I am notified that I missed the cutoff by 8 minutes.

While still sitting, they take my race bib and my timing chip and I am not allowed to continue. Am I happy or sad? After more than 5 hours of running and climbing and falling I was relieved, but I had a dream of running to the finish line with 50 miles behind me on my 50th birthday.

Today was not my day - this was the first race I have ever started that I couldn't finish. It is part of the deal - if you are going to challenge yourself, then you will fail once in awhile, right? Otherwise are you really challenging yourself if you always finish what you start? I don't think the race officials expected that this was so tough either. Out of 109 people that registered, only 19 finished and only 53 made it half way. No one wants a race where most people don't finish.


Onto the next chapter.