I am exploring Greece this week. Staying in the heart of Athens before and after running the "Athens Classic Marathon". This marathon celebrates the 2500th Anniversary of the Battle of Marathon and the famous run of Phillipedes (among many names he is known by). The Athenians were victorious in battle and Phillipedes was chosen to bring the happy message to Athens, 26 miles away. He ran the 26 miles from Marathonas to Athens after participating in the battle to gasp out "Rejoice we are victorious!" then collapse and die. Marathoners often joke, "Why didn't Phillipedes die at mile 20?"
Our marathon route tomorrow will celebrate that event, the birth of the Marathon and the birth of democracy. The route will follow the route of the original 1896 Modern Olympic games and even finish in the Olympic Stadium used in 1896. This same route and stadium were used in 2004 for the 2004 summer Olympics as well. Fortunately we are supposed to have better weather than they did!
But, that's not what I'm blogging about, I'll tell you about that after the race. What I'm blogging about is the strange feeling of being in Greece. My brothers, sisters and I are all part Greek through our maternal grandfather, last name Demos, shortened from Demotropolis (which I'm told means he is a Demos from the south, that's what the "tropolis" part means). We are also German from both our mother and father's sides and Russian on our father's side. Aaaannnnyyyyway...
We, my brothers, sisters and I, share some strong physical characteristics... light brown straight hair (dark ash blonde is the hairdresser term), "big nose" according to my husband, defined cheek bones and a very noticeable chin. You put us together and you know we are related. We also don't look very typical American.. but we don't look like anything else in particular either. That's what I thought anyway, until we got here. Here I see people with those same characteristics all over the place. Everywhere. The Greeks here even told me I look Greek. So much so I walk down the street and smile and nod to someone and they start talking to me in a stream of Greek and all I can do is smile and apologize and say, sorry, I'm American, I don't speak Greek.
The first night here I saw a 1.2 x scale twin of my old boyfriend (who was also 1 generation removed Greek). A guy with the same hair, same nose, same chin, same weird style of wearing his facial hair.. only .2 times bigger than my boyfriend. He even smoked, though he holds his cigarette differently. Actually a LOT of people smoke here. Not a great thing for a bunch of marathoners
Wandering around the Acropolis, the Temple of Zeus the Olympian, the port of Pireas, I get this sense of this is my "homeland" if I ever had one. At least it is the land of my Grandfather and his forefathers. Do I like Athens? not really. I don't like the modern city of Athens much.. it is crowded and built up like a typical developing country city. It stinks of cigarette smoke and has more graffiti than I expected. But I love the ruins and the port and the sense of the truly ancient you get here. I feel young and small wandering around Portsmouth with building that are over 200 years old. Here, there are ruins over 2500 years old. The new subway built for the Olympic games unearthed cities and buildings from 500BC. They actually kept the ruins in place so you can see them as you travel in the subways. This entire history of the United States is a mere blip on the scales of time that you experience in this place.
On one hand I'm glad to know where my ancestors come from.. from having experienced both Greece and Germany on this trip to some extent. It is nice to have some sort of connection to a place where you are "from". At the same time, I'm not from either of these places. I'm from California. That's my home. My daughter doesn't look so Greek as I do and she's another step removed from our ancestors here. She's from California too. I don't get the feeling I thought I would here, I don't really know what I thought I would feel. I can tell you one thing though, watching the sunset over the Acropolis and watching the Parthenon being lit against the night is an awe inspiring experience... and to know that some part of me comes directly from this ancient land. That is pretty amazing too.
Hopefully some spirit of my ancestors will carry my part Greek body through the very Greek Marathon with a minimum of pain and a maximum of enjoyment.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Life is full of surprises: PR at Twin Cities!
The first weekend of October I ran the 29th Annual Twin Cities Marathon... I ran like the wind and I didn't think I would. I haven't been training well at all, when I managed to get 20 miles or more in a week, 18-20 of them would be my long weekend run. Other weeks I wouldn't run at all. Mostly work, flying and racing were causing me to not train. I've lost a bunch of weight (30lbs), but had not trained. My long runs, such that they were, all went rather well but I didn't expect that to translate to a very good race. I didn't have the conditioning I was used to before a marathon, even a slow one.
The plan was to run a 5-5:15-5:30 hour race with a friend of my brother's who was going to run his first marathon. I've paced one of my other brothers and one of my sisters through their first marathons at Twin Cities between 5:15 and 5:18 so I figured 5:15 was a safe bet. My long runs, such that they were, were well below that pace and my legs if not well trained, were extremely well rested.
I arrived the Friday night before and relaxed with by brother and his family and his brother in law (I guess my brother in law too). The brother in law was also a soon to be first time marathoner, but he was very fast. He had a very good chance to Boston Qualify during his first race if all went very well. Not many people even have a slight chance of BQ in their first race. He did. He was also very cool to hang out with, an enthusiastic runner and intelligent and funny person. It was great to meet a new family member (in spite of the fact we'd been family for 15 years or so? I'd never met him).
Saturday the bro in law (herein after referred to as BIL) wanted to drive the Twin Cities course. He'd read a lot about this 'hill' around mile 20 and was concerned. BIL lives near Dallas, not many hills out there. I didn't remember any hills and I'd run it twice before. My brother said there was a hill but it wasn't bad. Anyway, we went off to drive the course. It took hours. For one thing, the course wasn't exactly a straight line, it wasn't closed to traffic and it wasn't well marked. The course map, designed for those who just need a general idea of where it goes because all you have to do is follow the guy in front of you, wasn't exactly good for driving directions. We took the wrong turn or two, but we finally found the 'hill'. It was just a long incline before the finish. We saw the finish too... it would sure look different. A quick stop at the Expo to pick up our packets and see if we liked the official Twin Cities Merchandise (we didn't) and we returned to brother's house for the traditional pasta dinner.
We hit the sack early, we had to leave before 6:20 to make it to the start at the appropriate time. For a change I didn't have my usual dread of the next morning. Normally the night before a race I simply dread what I'll do the next day. I know it will hurt. I know it will be hard. I know it will take at LEAST four hours and this time I was planning on more than five. I hadn't trained. I was just here. And in a way that helped. I still knew it would hurt and be hard and take a long time. But this time I didn't have any pressure on myself. I knew I could finish, I was confident I would finish in the 6 hours allotted, I wasn't worried about doing a specific time. My plan was to run this guy through his first marathon as I've run two other people through their first ones before. The weather was predicted to be perfect.. highs in the 50s, lows in the high 30s. We wouldn't even have to stand in the cold, they open a sports dome for everyone to stay warm in before the start.
Race Day
The day starts clear and cold and me and the two tall guys head for the VA to park the car and meet the other tall guy (the friend - T) at the light rail. We meet up, me all of 5 foot somethin and three tall dudes. Brother (C) is 6'2", BIL is 6'4" and T is 6'7". As we wait a guy walks up and waits with us for the train. He asks the guys if they are in a basketball team! No, we defer, we're going to run a marathon...
We get to the dome and hustle inside to stay warm. We didn't have a ton of time, but we had enough to get warm. For me to go to the line free women's bathroom while the guys waited to use the men's room. Eventually T decided to go outside to use a port-o-let, he didn't want to wait any longer. I promised to find him by the 5 hour pace group and I'd catch up with them if the start happened before I found him. We stayed inside a bit longer, then it was time to head to the start. I shook hands with my super fast brother C and the even faster BIL and we parted ways. Promising to meet at the finish. Then I went to stand in the port-o-let line. The line took, as usual, forever.. but I wasn't worried, the race is chip timed and I knew I'd catch T at some point.
Port-o-let trip complete... I started to weave my way through the packed runners toward the 5 hour group. I gave up eventually.. it was warm in the pack and no point in pushing, I'd catch T eventually. The gun fires and 6 minutes later, I reach the start and start running.
I try to keep my pace at 9 minute miles.. I don't want to go faster and I wasn't in the fast part of the pack. The first mile passes easily. I keep to whatever pace doesn't have me breathing hard. The second mile quickly rolls by.. half way through mile 3 I finally spot T and the 5 hour group. I settle in with him and start chatting away.. the miles roll by without effort. My legs feel good and my breathing is steady. After 4 or 5 miles I notice T is starting to lag behind just a little, so I slow down, but its hard. I walk a bit and let him catch up. Then start up again... We got past mile 10 and I wasn't even phased. Mile 10 is typically a rough time for me, that's my mental wall. 10 miles is long enough to be tired and early enough in the marathon that there's another long 16.2 miles to go. This time though, no problem. I was having trouble slowing down. He drops back again, so I cruised along a bit and planned on walking at the next water stop and waiting for him to catch up.
It seemed like forever to him to catch up. When he did he said he was doing good and he felt comfortable at his pace. I figured the 5 hour group was somewhere just ahead of us so I thought he was on a 5 hour or 5:15 pace and told him so. Then I did something I never thought would happen. I asked if he minded if I went on ahead. My feet were just running away with me. He said sure. So I gave him my last bits of wisdom as an experienced 5 hour marathoner and off I went with a wave.
I wasn't worried about time, I figured the 5 hour pacers were somewhere ahead, so I just let my legs run as they wanted and monitored my breathing to make sure I wasn't going too fast. I walked the water stops and generally enjoyed the day. I listened to the conversations of the runners around me, the slap of feet on the pavement, the scrape of rakes on pavement as volunteers clean up cups at the water stops. The cheers and laughter from the sidelines as people urged their friends, family and complete strangers on. There were large golden leaves on the pavement where they fell from the trees. The air was cool and fresh. I was running, for a large portion of the race, under the approach path for jets landing at the airport :).
Everything was perfect aside from the most amazing abdominal cramps that started around mile 15. They hurt. The stopped me from running and forced me to walk. I thought it was because of the drink from the water stops (one I'd never had before) so I stopped drinking that stuff and drank water or the Gatorade I carried with me only. The cramps continued on and off for the rest of the race. When they were "on" it was a major effort of will to keep running. It hurt like hell, it hurt only slightly less to walk. I did a physical status check, nope, this doesn't feel like pancreatitis, its not my appendix, its just something I'd never experienced before. So, I figured my best course of action was to finish the race as quickly as I could.
Sometime around mile 15 I also realized I would easily make it to the finish under 5 hours. I didn't know where the 5 hour pace group went.. I figured they must be way ahead of pace too. That made me smile. I hadn't run better than 5 hours since Big Sur and that was JUST under 5 hours and more than 2 years before. So I ran... the running still felt good, the cramp did not.
I got to mile 20, the famous "wall", and felt no wall, only cramps and strong legs and lungs. I looked at my watch and I realized, not only would I finish under 5 hours, I would finish significantly under 5 hours. Heck, if I didn't have this cramping going on I would be sure of a PR! If I just ran 9:30 miles for the rest of the race I would have a chance of catching my little brother (if he had a really bad day).Things started getting hard at that point, the pull of a PR chance vs. the pain of the cramps. Hell, I went into this thing thinking it would take me 5:15 to run this race, not under 5. Why push it?
The cramps started to fade and I was able to run more often. It had been a long time since I'd had a PowerGel for fuel, so I had one around mile 21. That was a mistake, the cramps got worse. I was so close to a PR, a totally unexpected on. No chance of catching little bro unless he had a REALLY bad day. I started to call on whatever I could think of to keep going. I wanted that PR. It was in my grasp and mine to lose. I kept hearing my CFI's voice in my head repeating his mantra "close isn't good enough" and "don't just take the easy way because its easy". (It turns out his mantra is "No such thing as good enough." I guess I was close *laugh*).
About this time we are on "the hill"... that hill that I didn't remember as a hill. The one that seemed like a slight incline as we drove the course the day before. All of the sudden, it was a hill. A long one. People were walking more around me, when I ran I was passing almost everyone else who was running. I tried to distract myself by trying to figure out if the slope of the hill matched a Vy climb angle.. that failed. Cramp pain got more and less intense. Close isn't good enough, close isn't good enough, close isn't good enough. Oh f it. This hurts and this hill is long. I start walking again at mile 25.. so close, but I wouldn't get that PR after all.
All of the sudden this woman runs past me, "Come on, get running! she said and she kept going. I thought, "Look, I've only got a mile point two to go. I can handle this pain for that long, and the sooner I get done the better. Close isn't good enough!" Cramps be damned, I started running again, up the hill, past the other runners. Soon, very soon it seemed, we came around the corner and could see the State Capital in the distance. I see that same woman who got me going walking.. I passed her and said "You got me going, now its your turn, lets go!" She picked up the pace and started running again.
The last half mile of the Twin Cities Marathon is special, you see the glow of the State Capital dome right in front of you. Two fire engines have their ladders extended into the sky with a GIANT American flag across the course with a backdrop of a perfect autumn sky. The long slow uphill has become a downhill charge. Close isn't good enough. Close isn't good enough! Don't settle for less than my best. I'm worth it!
I flash down the hill as fast as I can, weaving my way through people walking and running. Passing everyone I can. My breath is burning in my lungs, muscles aching, cramps cramping, the finish closer and closer. I pass Kellogg Blvd and the road levels out. The final finish chute is ahead with people on all sides cheering. Oh this hurts! But I keep going, faster and faster... I hear the announcer saying the time was about 4 hours 45 minutes.. it took me 6 minutes to get to the start, a PR is in my grasp. Faster still! I cross the mat before the finish and I hear them announce my name. Last few steps, don't slow down, don't look down, go go go!
I cross the finish and stop my watch. I almost didn't even bring it.. now I can't wait to look. I am gasping for air and shaking.. I walk stiffly forward and gladly accept my medal. My breathing starts to slow down, cramping subsides, I move stiffly and grab the aluminum blanket, water, food and other food stuffs. The watch... I forgot to look at the watch. 4:39:24 it says. So close... all I knew was my prior PR was 4:39 something.. I couldn't remember what it was exactly. Given the inexact science of pushing the buttons at the right time on the watch, I didn't know if I actually PR'd or not.
I look up and there's my brother, he's still in the corral! I figured he would have been done 40 minutes before me. Turns out he finished 25 minutes before me, not the hour or more I expected. He was stunned to see me there. I was stunned to be there! We hugged and shared the moment. He said BIL ran a 3:49 or something like that... a fantastic time, especially considering he was in incredible leg pain from mile 9 on. C had an OK race, but it just wasn't his day. We had no idea where T was. I hoped he was OK, I still felt responsible.
C went back to the family area to see off his wife and BIL and the kids. So the wife could go home with the kids and the hurting BIL. I hobbled over to the bag check area, got my bag and finally sat down on the grass to rest a bit. It was too warm to need to change to warm clothes, I enjoyed the day. Finally somewhat rested I hobbled back towards the finish. A friend from work found me and gave me a singlet with our company slogan on the back ("Go further, faster.") and a hug. It was good to see him.
C's family left and he came back to the fence as we waited for T to finish. I went to the port-o-let and just as I finish C calls me and reports T finished. C said he came over to C, gave him a hug and wandered off. Then he just sat down by the soup tent. He finished around 5:30. I found him and made him get up. Not a good idea to sit right after a marathon. I asked him how the rest of the race went. Shortly after I left him his family started appearing on the course, including his kids :) They found him at many different places along the course and gave him the energy he needed. He said he felt OK. He was moving slowly but he was moving. He was a bit dazed though. I walked him to the bag check, got his bag and asked him if he was going to ride home with his family. He said "I'm glad you're here. I totally forgot." He pulled his cell out of his bag and called his wife. They were ready to take him home. I walked him over to his family then went to find C.
C and I shared the bus ride back to the dome and the train ride back to the VA. We were both high on our runs, me especially so, I may have a totally unexpected PR! I really enjoyed that ride back to the car. Spending time with my brother basking in the glow of a race well run and the very pleasant surprise.
The next day we were finally able to see our official times. I did PR. By six seconds. It would have always bothered me if I was six seconds slower than the PR, what could I have done different. Instead, thanks to that anonymous woman and a CFI who won't accept anything but perfect, I ran my best race to date. It was a gift. The whole day was a gift. The weather, the race, the people I got to share it with.
I don't know why I had the race I had. The weather was perfect, but the Twin Cities course is not a PR course. The PR I ran beat my time at CIM, a race well known as a PR course. I ran 1000 miles the year I ran CIM. I trained diligently and did not skip weekend runs for racing. Not like this year. Not to mention, perfect weather didn't prevent the BIL's cramps or give my brother a PR time.Maybe it was taking the first 10 miles so easy while keeping with T? maybe it was weather, maybe it was experience as my coach says, maybe it was the weight loss, maybe it was just my day. I think it was a combination of all of the above. In the end, I don't think it matters. Sometimes life is full of surprises.
PS. Where was that 5 hour pace group? I asked T what happened to them. He said we were way ahead of them at the point I split up from T. I was running ahead of 5 hours the whole time and didn't even know it.
The plan was to run a 5-5:15-5:30 hour race with a friend of my brother's who was going to run his first marathon. I've paced one of my other brothers and one of my sisters through their first marathons at Twin Cities between 5:15 and 5:18 so I figured 5:15 was a safe bet. My long runs, such that they were, were well below that pace and my legs if not well trained, were extremely well rested.
I arrived the Friday night before and relaxed with by brother and his family and his brother in law (I guess my brother in law too). The brother in law was also a soon to be first time marathoner, but he was very fast. He had a very good chance to Boston Qualify during his first race if all went very well. Not many people even have a slight chance of BQ in their first race. He did. He was also very cool to hang out with, an enthusiastic runner and intelligent and funny person. It was great to meet a new family member (in spite of the fact we'd been family for 15 years or so? I'd never met him).
Saturday the bro in law (herein after referred to as BIL) wanted to drive the Twin Cities course. He'd read a lot about this 'hill' around mile 20 and was concerned. BIL lives near Dallas, not many hills out there. I didn't remember any hills and I'd run it twice before. My brother said there was a hill but it wasn't bad. Anyway, we went off to drive the course. It took hours. For one thing, the course wasn't exactly a straight line, it wasn't closed to traffic and it wasn't well marked. The course map, designed for those who just need a general idea of where it goes because all you have to do is follow the guy in front of you, wasn't exactly good for driving directions. We took the wrong turn or two, but we finally found the 'hill'. It was just a long incline before the finish. We saw the finish too... it would sure look different. A quick stop at the Expo to pick up our packets and see if we liked the official Twin Cities Merchandise (we didn't) and we returned to brother's house for the traditional pasta dinner.
We hit the sack early, we had to leave before 6:20 to make it to the start at the appropriate time. For a change I didn't have my usual dread of the next morning. Normally the night before a race I simply dread what I'll do the next day. I know it will hurt. I know it will be hard. I know it will take at LEAST four hours and this time I was planning on more than five. I hadn't trained. I was just here. And in a way that helped. I still knew it would hurt and be hard and take a long time. But this time I didn't have any pressure on myself. I knew I could finish, I was confident I would finish in the 6 hours allotted, I wasn't worried about doing a specific time. My plan was to run this guy through his first marathon as I've run two other people through their first ones before. The weather was predicted to be perfect.. highs in the 50s, lows in the high 30s. We wouldn't even have to stand in the cold, they open a sports dome for everyone to stay warm in before the start.
Race Day
The day starts clear and cold and me and the two tall guys head for the VA to park the car and meet the other tall guy (the friend - T) at the light rail. We meet up, me all of 5 foot somethin and three tall dudes. Brother (C) is 6'2", BIL is 6'4" and T is 6'7". As we wait a guy walks up and waits with us for the train. He asks the guys if they are in a basketball team! No, we defer, we're going to run a marathon...
We get to the dome and hustle inside to stay warm. We didn't have a ton of time, but we had enough to get warm. For me to go to the line free women's bathroom while the guys waited to use the men's room. Eventually T decided to go outside to use a port-o-let, he didn't want to wait any longer. I promised to find him by the 5 hour pace group and I'd catch up with them if the start happened before I found him. We stayed inside a bit longer, then it was time to head to the start. I shook hands with my super fast brother C and the even faster BIL and we parted ways. Promising to meet at the finish. Then I went to stand in the port-o-let line. The line took, as usual, forever.. but I wasn't worried, the race is chip timed and I knew I'd catch T at some point.
Port-o-let trip complete... I started to weave my way through the packed runners toward the 5 hour group. I gave up eventually.. it was warm in the pack and no point in pushing, I'd catch T eventually. The gun fires and 6 minutes later, I reach the start and start running.
I try to keep my pace at 9 minute miles.. I don't want to go faster and I wasn't in the fast part of the pack. The first mile passes easily. I keep to whatever pace doesn't have me breathing hard. The second mile quickly rolls by.. half way through mile 3 I finally spot T and the 5 hour group. I settle in with him and start chatting away.. the miles roll by without effort. My legs feel good and my breathing is steady. After 4 or 5 miles I notice T is starting to lag behind just a little, so I slow down, but its hard. I walk a bit and let him catch up. Then start up again... We got past mile 10 and I wasn't even phased. Mile 10 is typically a rough time for me, that's my mental wall. 10 miles is long enough to be tired and early enough in the marathon that there's another long 16.2 miles to go. This time though, no problem. I was having trouble slowing down. He drops back again, so I cruised along a bit and planned on walking at the next water stop and waiting for him to catch up.
It seemed like forever to him to catch up. When he did he said he was doing good and he felt comfortable at his pace. I figured the 5 hour group was somewhere just ahead of us so I thought he was on a 5 hour or 5:15 pace and told him so. Then I did something I never thought would happen. I asked if he minded if I went on ahead. My feet were just running away with me. He said sure. So I gave him my last bits of wisdom as an experienced 5 hour marathoner and off I went with a wave.
I wasn't worried about time, I figured the 5 hour pacers were somewhere ahead, so I just let my legs run as they wanted and monitored my breathing to make sure I wasn't going too fast. I walked the water stops and generally enjoyed the day. I listened to the conversations of the runners around me, the slap of feet on the pavement, the scrape of rakes on pavement as volunteers clean up cups at the water stops. The cheers and laughter from the sidelines as people urged their friends, family and complete strangers on. There were large golden leaves on the pavement where they fell from the trees. The air was cool and fresh. I was running, for a large portion of the race, under the approach path for jets landing at the airport :).
Everything was perfect aside from the most amazing abdominal cramps that started around mile 15. They hurt. The stopped me from running and forced me to walk. I thought it was because of the drink from the water stops (one I'd never had before) so I stopped drinking that stuff and drank water or the Gatorade I carried with me only. The cramps continued on and off for the rest of the race. When they were "on" it was a major effort of will to keep running. It hurt like hell, it hurt only slightly less to walk. I did a physical status check, nope, this doesn't feel like pancreatitis, its not my appendix, its just something I'd never experienced before. So, I figured my best course of action was to finish the race as quickly as I could.
Sometime around mile 15 I also realized I would easily make it to the finish under 5 hours. I didn't know where the 5 hour pace group went.. I figured they must be way ahead of pace too. That made me smile. I hadn't run better than 5 hours since Big Sur and that was JUST under 5 hours and more than 2 years before. So I ran... the running still felt good, the cramp did not.
I got to mile 20, the famous "wall", and felt no wall, only cramps and strong legs and lungs. I looked at my watch and I realized, not only would I finish under 5 hours, I would finish significantly under 5 hours. Heck, if I didn't have this cramping going on I would be sure of a PR! If I just ran 9:30 miles for the rest of the race I would have a chance of catching my little brother (if he had a really bad day).Things started getting hard at that point, the pull of a PR chance vs. the pain of the cramps. Hell, I went into this thing thinking it would take me 5:15 to run this race, not under 5. Why push it?
The cramps started to fade and I was able to run more often. It had been a long time since I'd had a PowerGel for fuel, so I had one around mile 21. That was a mistake, the cramps got worse. I was so close to a PR, a totally unexpected on. No chance of catching little bro unless he had a REALLY bad day. I started to call on whatever I could think of to keep going. I wanted that PR. It was in my grasp and mine to lose. I kept hearing my CFI's voice in my head repeating his mantra "close isn't good enough" and "don't just take the easy way because its easy". (It turns out his mantra is "No such thing as good enough." I guess I was close *laugh*).
About this time we are on "the hill"... that hill that I didn't remember as a hill. The one that seemed like a slight incline as we drove the course the day before. All of the sudden, it was a hill. A long one. People were walking more around me, when I ran I was passing almost everyone else who was running. I tried to distract myself by trying to figure out if the slope of the hill matched a Vy climb angle.. that failed. Cramp pain got more and less intense. Close isn't good enough, close isn't good enough, close isn't good enough. Oh f it. This hurts and this hill is long. I start walking again at mile 25.. so close, but I wouldn't get that PR after all.
All of the sudden this woman runs past me, "Come on, get running! she said and she kept going. I thought, "Look, I've only got a mile point two to go. I can handle this pain for that long, and the sooner I get done the better. Close isn't good enough!" Cramps be damned, I started running again, up the hill, past the other runners. Soon, very soon it seemed, we came around the corner and could see the State Capital in the distance. I see that same woman who got me going walking.. I passed her and said "You got me going, now its your turn, lets go!" She picked up the pace and started running again.
The last half mile of the Twin Cities Marathon is special, you see the glow of the State Capital dome right in front of you. Two fire engines have their ladders extended into the sky with a GIANT American flag across the course with a backdrop of a perfect autumn sky. The long slow uphill has become a downhill charge. Close isn't good enough. Close isn't good enough! Don't settle for less than my best. I'm worth it!
I flash down the hill as fast as I can, weaving my way through people walking and running. Passing everyone I can. My breath is burning in my lungs, muscles aching, cramps cramping, the finish closer and closer. I pass Kellogg Blvd and the road levels out. The final finish chute is ahead with people on all sides cheering. Oh this hurts! But I keep going, faster and faster... I hear the announcer saying the time was about 4 hours 45 minutes.. it took me 6 minutes to get to the start, a PR is in my grasp. Faster still! I cross the mat before the finish and I hear them announce my name. Last few steps, don't slow down, don't look down, go go go!
I cross the finish and stop my watch. I almost didn't even bring it.. now I can't wait to look. I am gasping for air and shaking.. I walk stiffly forward and gladly accept my medal. My breathing starts to slow down, cramping subsides, I move stiffly and grab the aluminum blanket, water, food and other food stuffs. The watch... I forgot to look at the watch. 4:39:24 it says. So close... all I knew was my prior PR was 4:39 something.. I couldn't remember what it was exactly. Given the inexact science of pushing the buttons at the right time on the watch, I didn't know if I actually PR'd or not.
I look up and there's my brother, he's still in the corral! I figured he would have been done 40 minutes before me. Turns out he finished 25 minutes before me, not the hour or more I expected. He was stunned to see me there. I was stunned to be there! We hugged and shared the moment. He said BIL ran a 3:49 or something like that... a fantastic time, especially considering he was in incredible leg pain from mile 9 on. C had an OK race, but it just wasn't his day. We had no idea where T was. I hoped he was OK, I still felt responsible.
C went back to the family area to see off his wife and BIL and the kids. So the wife could go home with the kids and the hurting BIL. I hobbled over to the bag check area, got my bag and finally sat down on the grass to rest a bit. It was too warm to need to change to warm clothes, I enjoyed the day. Finally somewhat rested I hobbled back towards the finish. A friend from work found me and gave me a singlet with our company slogan on the back ("Go further, faster.") and a hug. It was good to see him.
C's family left and he came back to the fence as we waited for T to finish. I went to the port-o-let and just as I finish C calls me and reports T finished. C said he came over to C, gave him a hug and wandered off. Then he just sat down by the soup tent. He finished around 5:30. I found him and made him get up. Not a good idea to sit right after a marathon. I asked him how the rest of the race went. Shortly after I left him his family started appearing on the course, including his kids :) They found him at many different places along the course and gave him the energy he needed. He said he felt OK. He was moving slowly but he was moving. He was a bit dazed though. I walked him to the bag check, got his bag and asked him if he was going to ride home with his family. He said "I'm glad you're here. I totally forgot." He pulled his cell out of his bag and called his wife. They were ready to take him home. I walked him over to his family then went to find C.
C and I shared the bus ride back to the dome and the train ride back to the VA. We were both high on our runs, me especially so, I may have a totally unexpected PR! I really enjoyed that ride back to the car. Spending time with my brother basking in the glow of a race well run and the very pleasant surprise.
The next day we were finally able to see our official times. I did PR. By six seconds. It would have always bothered me if I was six seconds slower than the PR, what could I have done different. Instead, thanks to that anonymous woman and a CFI who won't accept anything but perfect, I ran my best race to date. It was a gift. The whole day was a gift. The weather, the race, the people I got to share it with.
I don't know why I had the race I had. The weather was perfect, but the Twin Cities course is not a PR course. The PR I ran beat my time at CIM, a race well known as a PR course. I ran 1000 miles the year I ran CIM. I trained diligently and did not skip weekend runs for racing. Not like this year. Not to mention, perfect weather didn't prevent the BIL's cramps or give my brother a PR time.Maybe it was taking the first 10 miles so easy while keeping with T? maybe it was weather, maybe it was experience as my coach says, maybe it was the weight loss, maybe it was just my day. I think it was a combination of all of the above. In the end, I don't think it matters. Sometimes life is full of surprises.
PS. Where was that 5 hour pace group? I asked T what happened to them. He said we were way ahead of them at the point I split up from T. I was running ahead of 5 hours the whole time and didn't even know it.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Ooohh I'm an American in Munich... ooohhhh...
You all remember that song, Englishman in New York... well, I'm an American in Munich. Its strange being in a foreign country that I can physically blend into so well. I'm a standard American mutt of European descent. IIRC my dad's side is German and Russian, my mom's side is Greek and German. Coming to Germany I fit in rather well physically at least. I'm slightly more tan than the average German, but I wear the same type of clothes. So I look like I belong here.
Very different from going to places like Japan, Jamaica, or Mexico where, with a glance, they can figure out pretty quickly I don't speak the language. In the UK I do speak the language, just with a funny accent. Here, the only German words/phrases I know solidly are, hello, good bye, good morning, good night, sh*t and "I don't speak German". So people in the stores or the restaurant downstairs from my hotel/apartment room talk to me in German. I do my best to figure out what they're saying, then they hear my accent and switch to a bit of English for my benefit. I sure wish I knew more German. It is almost embarrassing to have to admit I don't fit.
I went grocery shopping last night for a simple dinner, my hotel has a kitchenette and, as it was my first night here, I wanted to relax. This picture shows what I purchased.
I'm still not 100 percent sure what was in that package of meat. I'm thinking now maybe it was turkey breast. It was OK though. It was fun wandering through the store looking at all of the different packages and food items. Some things I did recognize and some I did not. I noticed one major thing out here... you know how in the US some cities are considering banning plastic bags, well, it seems Germany has already. There isn't a single plastic bag blowing in the breeze, the grocery store didn't even give you the option. You could carry your stuff out by hand or buy a bag. Recycling seems to be almost a religion too. And no one is suffering as a result :)
In any case, so far I am enjoying the stay... the air is cold and fresh, the street clean, the people friendly (at least until they realize I'm not German) and the meat product was good. This weekend I will be able to visit Munich city proper. That should be cool.
Very different from going to places like Japan, Jamaica, or Mexico where, with a glance, they can figure out pretty quickly I don't speak the language. In the UK I do speak the language, just with a funny accent. Here, the only German words/phrases I know solidly are, hello, good bye, good morning, good night, sh*t and "I don't speak German". So people in the stores or the restaurant downstairs from my hotel/apartment room talk to me in German. I do my best to figure out what they're saying, then they hear my accent and switch to a bit of English for my benefit. I sure wish I knew more German. It is almost embarrassing to have to admit I don't fit.
I went grocery shopping last night for a simple dinner, my hotel has a kitchenette and, as it was my first night here, I wanted to relax. This picture shows what I purchased.
 |
I'm still not 100 percent sure what was in that package of meat. I'm thinking now maybe it was turkey breast. It was OK though. It was fun wandering through the store looking at all of the different packages and food items. Some things I did recognize and some I did not. I noticed one major thing out here... you know how in the US some cities are considering banning plastic bags, well, it seems Germany has already. There isn't a single plastic bag blowing in the breeze, the grocery store didn't even give you the option. You could carry your stuff out by hand or buy a bag. Recycling seems to be almost a religion too. And no one is suffering as a result :)
In any case, so far I am enjoying the stay... the air is cold and fresh, the street clean, the people friendly (at least until they realize I'm not German) and the meat product was good. This weekend I will be able to visit Munich city proper. That should be cool.
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