My History in the Marathon

So two days away from my running of the Skagit Flats Marathon, I've been pondering my strange history of my love/hate affair with the 26.2 mile distance.

I've run four marathons so far. The Skagit Flats will be the fifth. That's not so much, of course, but it seems like so, so much more. Maybe it's just the horribly long training periods that make it seem like I've done more than four of these things. I mean, I've been training since May 6th for the Skagit Flats. May 6th!! So it really shouldn't be surprising, with such a long training period, and then with the race itself being so disturbingly long, that some bad luck might occur during the prep and/or race.

My first marathon was in 1997. Wow. That was a long time ago. I was all of 30 years old, but in distance running years, I was just a little bouncing baby boy. I was all about 5k's and sprint triathlons back then. That marathon in 1997, the Seattle Marathon, was a total fluke. Jen and I somehow decided to try one and just did it. I was in no type of shape to run a marathon and my race time shows that. The Seattle course was not fun, I hated just about every rainy minute of it and it's really no great shock that it took me 13 years to try again.

My second marathon, in 2010, was the Eugene Marathon. I'll blame my friend Manny Balesteri, from Springfield and the UofO, for getting me back into the marathon after such a long break. He was, and still is, seriously into the distance and his love of the race made me wonder if it was really as bad as I had remembered it. Yeah, it probably was. I was in OK shape at this race, but still had not committed to the training that's required to actually race for 26.2 miles. I was well trained for a half here, but definitely not a full.

The third marathon, in Newport, was where I thought it would all come together. I trained hard for this one, following Pete Pfitzinger's marathon plan to the letter. I thought I could get a Boston time here, but after about 10 miles realized that was not going to happen. A very short time after that, I had the worst GI issues I've ever had in my life. And that was that. Somehow, this one is still my PR.

The fourth, and latest if not for long, was the CIM in Sacramento, CA. I hurt my ankle a number of weeks before the race and basically did no training at all for this one. Plus this was the Hurricaine CIM of 2012. I'm lucky I made it to the finish line.

Which brings us to the present day. And the Skagit Flats Marathon in two days. I've had three pretty good months of training for this one, over 600 miles total in June, July and August combined, and then two pretty bad weeks heading to the start line. I pulled a muscle in my leg and have just been nursing it along for about 10 days now. How much will it affect my race? Only time will tell.

Eventually it will all come together. The training, the nutrition, the race...everything. Not in two days' time and maybe not in the next race or the one after that. But I'll get it one of these days.

See you out there.

Want to Run the California International Marathon? Hurry!

As you may know...or not...the CIM pretty much sells out every year. And some years it sells out months early, like in August.

So head right over here and sign up. Fast!

And let's face it, there is literally NO CHANCE that you could get worse weather than we had last year.

Run for the Hills 30k Trail Run Race Review and Results

Little late on this one, but better late than blah, blah...

Just looking for results? Here you go.

So anyhoo...last week was the Run for the Hills trail run, usually just an 8k in the Bald Hill area, but a new 30k was added this year.



As I've mentioned before, I signed up for the 30k way back when before I realized I was going to be well into training for my fall marathon, and in fact, in my fourth week of the Hansons plan. My scheduled workout for the Sunday of the Run for the Hills was to be an easy 8 miles. Instead, I was staring at 18.5 miles with about 3000 feet of climbing. Ouch.



So the whole plan for this one was to go slow and not get injured. I still have nightmares of rolling my ankle at last year's Condor Trail Run, which scuttled my training for the California International Marathon. Plus, I didn't want to go full out and be so sore and tired that I'd have to skip my scheduled marathon workouts. So, as you can see here, I started conservatively...that's me, fifth from the very back as we head out from the start line.



The first hill we tackled was Bald Hill, which was fine as I run it all the time, but then we quickly moved on toward Fitton Green, which I don't run all the time, and it was steep going.

I moved past a few people and settled into my pace. It was an interesting course as there were a good number of out and back spokes. So you ended up seeing the same people over and over and could gauge if you were gaining or losing ground. I didn't much care, but for someone up front, I could see that it would be a good course to know exactly where you're at relative to the other runners.

There are a few "ankle-breaker" sections that aren't really "trail." They're more "beaten down weeds over mole hills." You've got to slow down a bit on those.



We finally made it way out on the trail through Fitton Green where it runs along Marys River. Although I walked plenty on the steeper uphills, I never felt too bad. My pace looked OK as long as I wasn't heading up the really steep stuff.



The race director had told us at the beginning of the run that they had decided against placing a water stop at the top of Bald Hill, which turned out to be a tough decision, for me, in retrospect. As we neared the end of the race, maybe a mile and a half to go, we came up the back side of Bald Hill and hit the summit. There was a race marker sign that read "straight." Unfortunately, it was placed about 15 feet in front of a "Y" on the trail. There was no "straight," there was only left or right. I figured maybe they meant to stay on the main, bigger, trail. Another guy at the top agreed with me and we started down the horse trail. About halfway down, I realized we had taken the wrong trail. That's a steep downhill - there was no way I was turning around and going back up. I knew where it came out, down on the bike path, and I knew we'd have to run a little extra to get back on track, but it seemed like the better option. As I came to the bottom of the trail, I came up on another runner who had taken the wrong trail as well. After the obligatory "wrong trail?" and "yep, wrong trail," we headed back on the bike path toward the Fairgrounds parking lot.



I definitely lost a couple places - I saw some people had already finished that were behind me pretty much the whole race - but what are you going to do?

Amazingly enough, even though I was pretty sore and tired, I managed through my Hansons workouts the entire week after the race. Didn't miss a one.

The shirt is clean and sharp-looking. Sort of a different feel for a tech shirt - definitely has more of a cotton feel. I'm not a huge fan of white race shirts, but it's pretty nice all the same.



Good race. With luck, I won't have to worry about marathon training next year and can really race it.

Thanks to Jim MacDonald for the photos.

California International Marathon Review and Results (CIM 2012)

"Call me Ishmael."

I thought of the first line of Moby Dick more than once on this swirling maelstrom of a race course at the 2012 California International Marathon. To further butcher a good metaphor, by the end of the race, I wasn't sure if I was Ishmael or the Great White Whale...

First, let's take care of some business.

If you're just looking for results, here they are. They're only unofficial results until Wednesday, I believe, then they should get the official results up.

And here's an article on the winners: Daniel Tapia and Alisha Williams, the first two American winners at CIM since 1999 and 2000, respectively.

Wow, what an experience this one was.

First, as you know if you're a regular R's reader, I simply was not ready for this race. I had injuries. And setbacks.

And if you recall, I had wondered publicly if one could run a marathon on no training. Well, according to my personal sample size of one: yes, you can. But it won't be fast.

So let's go back about a week before the race. It wasn't a secret - the weather forecast did not look good for the 2012 CIM. But it's one thing to look at an online forecast a week before the race.

And it's another to look out your Sacramento hotel window at 5:00am the morning of the race. The rain was coming down in sheets...and the sheets were being blown sideways by huge gusts of wind. It was ugly.

Here's a photo album of the damage the storms had done in the Sacramento area in the days before the CIM.

The third and final of the storms in that series to hit Sacramento was hitting, you guessed it, on Saturday night and Sunday morning.

But what to do except run the damn thing? Well, if I had lived in Sacramento, I may have skipped the whole thing. But I already flew down, got a hotel, rental car, etc, etc...I was running it.

So I put on my finest definitely-not-rain-proof-running-outfit and headed for the buses to take me to the start line. Jen snapped a picture of me in the hotel, looking like a kid heading to his first day of school in a new town, dry and happy.

So Jen drove me as far as she could, then dropped me off. I ran through the driving wind and rain, which in the dark before sunrise, had a scary biblical quality to it, and jumped on a bus to take me to the start line. There were supposed to be tents and such near the start line, but the wind was howling and garbage was flying through the streets; you really couldn't see much of anything. I scrambled to a strip mall next to a gas station, where I actually found decent shelter from the wind and rain. I vowed to stay there until 6:55am, five minutes before the starting gun.

In this photo gallery from the Sacramento Bee, the gas station in Photo #1 is just across from where I was hiding pre-race, and the shelter in Photo #2, is where I was huddled, trying to keep warm.

At 6:55 exactly, I sprinted out to the start line and got close to the 4:00 pace group. I tried to hide behind people, but the course started out directly, head-on, into the wind that was gusting up to 40mph. There was just nowhere to hide. See Photos # 13 and 14 in the gallery just above to see what I'm talking about.

They played the Star Spangled Banner, gave us a couple "good lucks" and we were off! The first two miles were IN. SANE. The wind and rain was hitting your face like hail, so you had to keep your head down, and hopefully had a hat on, so you could keep some rain off your face. Only that made it so you didn't see the garbage bags, gloves, t-shirts and sweatshirts that were coming back like missiles, blown by the wind. Cardboard garbage cans and plastic garbage bags were flying around. People were jumping and dodging trying to miss branches and palm fronds down in the street.

Crazy.

The wind was coming from the South, so as you can see on my Garmin map, it was either in our faces or blowing sideways across us the whole way. It was never behind us, on this point to point course, so it never helped us.

As befitting my horrid last two months of training, I went out fairly well, then faded oh so quickly right around the half marathon mark. I wanted to stay with the four hour pace group as long as possible and actually slowly moved up with the 3:55 group for quite a while. But after 13 miles, I faded back.

There were huge streams flying down the gutters during the entire race and every couple miles, there would be lakes that covered the entire street, like this.

There were also two sections where there were rivers - I'm not kidding here, these were 4-6 inch deep rivers flowing across the street. There was absolutely no way to get around them. You had to go right through them. If you were thinking right before you got to those rivers, "well, we can't get any wetter," you were wrong, weren't you?

Lots of good signs along the way, but my favorite was "Embrace the suck." I couldn't have put it any better.

I was having trouble meeting up with my support crew, Jen, but she finally found me at around mile 18. My quads were just trashed at that point - have I mentioned I didn't train for this race - and this series of photos is me telling her "no, I won't be finishing around 4:00, my quads are done." And her yelling, "But you're doing great, you've got a good time." And me yelling, "You don't understand, I'm done. Look for me at 4:30!"

And it turns out, that's exactly what happened. I totally seized up in the last six miles and was lucky to get across in 4:28:54.

And while Jen didn't get any shots of me in the first half of the race, when I actually looked like a normal runner, she did get me shambling across the finish line like a zombie.



The course itself was as advertised: up and down, but with gentle rollers and an overall downhill slant. I could see myself trying this one again...if I'm in shape...and the weather report is better.

So of course the sun came out at about noon and the rest of the day was positively beautiful. What are you going to do, right? Since we were flying back that night, and since our hotel wasn't allowing ANY late check-outs (and we couldn't get back there before noon), we found a local YMCA and I paid the day-use fee so I could take a shower!

Good race expo and great organization and volunteers there and at the race itself. Decent swag and a good looking black tech race tee. Also got some cotton gloves, a cinch backpack, a weird handband thing, and a big ass medal (B.A.M!), that you can apparently use as a coaster. It weighs about four pounds.

All in all, the race went as expected because I didn't have any expectations coming in. Being totally unprepared will do that to you.

But I'm not giving up. I'll roll my Boston goal to 2013 and I'll be back.

Next planned race: Corvallis Half Marathon in April. See you there.

credit for the opening video of the CIM to franzevna.

Weather Forecast for California International Marathon

It's not good, my friends. Not good at all.

Check it out right here.

Rain, floods, 30 mph winds, more rain, more floods, more wind.

Sounds like a great time to run a marathon, right?

I'm not too happy about this. Not that I'm expecting great things here anyway, but I've already had to put up with torrential rains at my last marathon (Newport) and my last Half Marathon (Runaway Pumpkin). I'm sick of running in the rain.

Think good thoughts, runners. Maybe the wind will be blowing in our direction. Remember, it's a point to point course.

I'm Back! Let's Get It On!

Well, sort of.

I went running for the first time in three weeks. Woot!

A four-miler on Friday and an eight-miler on Sunday. And the foot felt OK.

Unfortunately, the rest of my body felt like hell, but you take what you can get.

I should be able to get in eight or so runs before the CIM.

Let's get it on!

Running a Marathon without Training

Well, without "running" training anyway. So if you glance over to the right of the page here, you'll notice that for the second time in the last three weeks, I had a week with absolutely no running. Why? The ankle just won't heal up. I took almost two full weeks off before the Runaway Pumpkin Half, and the ankle didn't bother me terribly during the run, but after?

Yeah, it hasn't come back yet since that 13.1 mile jaunt.

So now, I'm biking and swimming every day. And I'll continue to bike and swim every day. Running? No. Maybe a 5k on Thanksgiving morning just to test it. And maybe not, depending on how it's feeling at that point.

Let's face it, I'm not going to be in any kind of running shape anyway - I mean that's just not possible at this point, so I might as well make sure the ankle is healed up by the CIM on December 2nd. I'd rather run out of shape on a healthy ankle than limp along, sort of in better shape, on a still-hurt ankle.

And yes, I am still running the CIM. There's no question there. I'm registered, I've got a hotel room, a plane ticket, a rental car...I'm running. Or walking...or crawling, if I have to.

Of course, the expected finishing time has been dropping daily as I see my last long run drifting off in the rear view mirror. I've gone from wanting to run my BQ 3:25 to wondering about 3:40, then thinking 3:50, and finally thinking it would be nice to break 4:00. In the next few weeks, we'll see if I drop my expectations even more. I hope not, but hey, there's no sense kidding myself.

So, can you run a marathon without training for a marathon? People say they have:

-A BBC report on running a marathon without training.

-Here's Sean Ogle, who apparently ran the Eugene Marathon with basically no training.

-Apparently, Peter Wilkinson of CNN ran a marathon, but only started training about two weeks before the race.

-Here's a Competitor article about how cycling is the best cross training exercise for running.

And before you say, "the R's has gone off the deep end - he's completely delusional," believe me, I already know I'm delusional. I would never try to run a race without putting in the miles...by choice.

Evaluating Running Goals After An Injury

Yes, the "dreaded" injury. In my case, this ankle right here:

If you recall, I rolled my ankle pretty good during the Condor 25k Trail Run. After I rolled the ankle, I believe I made a few mistakes. First, I ran the rest of the race after I hurt my ankle - about 13 miles on a bad ankle. Dumb, but I can be stubborn like that, I admit. I've never had an actual DNF in a race. I didn't want to start then. Then I took six days off - a good decision. Then I thought I could go ahead and run because it didn't feel really bad. Mistake number two. I definitely didn't do the healing any favors with that run. Now I'm on a seven-day stretch without running. It's feeling a bit better, although not great. Maybe 75-80%.

So the goals...

First, I'm signed up for the Runaway Pumpkin Half this Saturday, the 27th. Way back, when I signed up for the race, I figured it would be a nice little test as I move toward the CIM in December. About six weeks away from my goal marathon, so I could run the Half fast and try to PR, with plenty of time after to recover.

Now, I'm not even sure if I'm going to run the Pumpkin Half at all. If I do, the PR is out the window.

And of course, now I'm on my third week of basically no running. In the middle of my training program for my Boston Qualifier, the CIM. Sigh...I knew qualifying for Boston would be tough, I just didn't realize I'd have so many false starts.

So I'm having a tough time with my mental outlook right now. I'm trying very hard to take the long overview:

-Get the foot healthy enough to run on again,
-If possible, use the Runaway Pumpkin Half as an easy training run,
-Get back into the training schedule, but ease off a bit. Boston is not an option at this point, and I need to regain my running fitness more than my top-end speed, after being out for so long.
-Try to PR at the California International Marathon. A new goal, sort of, but still something to drive toward and focus on. And frankly, since I had such a horrible race at my last full, a new PR is still very much possible.

And since it's important to quit focusing on the negative ("damn foot, why won't you get better faster?"), and instead focus on the future ("so what spring marathon should I schedule?"), I went out and purchased the new Hanson's Marathon Method book. What's more inspiring than a new training plan to follow?!?

So, let's review:

-Wait! Don't rush it. Let the injury heal and get back into the training as soon as possible.
-Reset the goals. Make them concrete, objective, and most importantly, still difficult yet achievable.
-Find some inspiration to get you excited all over again. A new book, a new pair of shoes, sign up for a race that's six months away. Anything to solidly plant that new goal and improve the mental and emotional outlook.

And don't think about the foot. Quit thinking about the foot.

Mental Toughness and the Long Run

There's nothing else you can do that proves how much you want it. Nothing that shows how interested you are in getting a good time in a marathon that's still 12 weeks away. Nothing that shows how bad you want to get into the Boston Marathon.

Yes, I'm talking about the weekly long training run. Two or three hours out on the roads and trails, usually just me and the iPod, trying to put away 12, 15, even 20 miles.

It's amazing how many different ways you can think "I'd rather be doing anything else but running" over the period of two long hours.

So today I needed to churn out 14 miles. I mean, the mileage itself isn't really the issue. I know I can run 14 miles anytime, anywhere.

But then why is it still so hard to actually do it?

Let's check out the old pace chart from the run and see what it tells us:

I need to hit 7:50 pace in the CIM in December to qualify for Boston, so that means I should be doing most of my long runs in the neighborhood of 8:35 to 9:20. You can see from the map above, if you know Corvallis at all, that I pretty much steered clear of the hillier parts of town. It was basically a flat run, so I don't have that as an excuse.

I start out fine, maybe even a touch fast, but that's to be expected early, when the legs still feel good. I get into a bit of a rut in mile seven and eight, but that's not too strange for me either - that's about the halfway point. I always drop off a bit around there, until I can start to smell the barn, then I usually can pick it up. Which I do in miles 9-11, keeping the pace under 9:00.

But then I started to feel 45 years old. I started to wonder if I really wanted to do this for the next 12 weeks. I mean, really? And once you start asking those kinds of questions, you're in trouble.

So Mile 12 was 9:18, at the very top end of my needed training pace. I completely fell off the cliff on Mile 13 with a 9:49. Not that it was a surprise - I didn't want to be out there any longer. I was done.

No, the surprise was Mile 14. I was actually able to make a deal with myself. One last mile hard. Show yourself you want it. Show yourself you can do it.

I even found a mantra for Mile 14, "Lock it in," I told myself over and over.

And what do you know? It worked. I hit 8:24 for the last mile - mile 14 on the day. That was as fast as any mile for the run.

Did I feel good? Strong? Powerful and fast?

Yeah....no.

But I did it. And in the end, no matter what you have to say to yourself to get there, if you can say "I did it," than you had a good run.

Twelve weeks to go.

Back to the Marathon Training

Well, I definitely took it easy for a few weeks. Eased up on the mileage. Took a couple short vacations. Ate like a big, fat pig.

But now it's time to turn it back on. We're about 14 weeks from the California International Marathon. That means it's time to get busy.

I followed the 18 week Pfitzinger Plan for my last marathon. I enjoyed it, but it wore me out a bit. I felt like I was just about done after 14-16 weeks. I'm hoping by cutting it back by a few weeks, it will keep my old, old legs fresh. I'm also going to mix two training plans together this time around. Good idea? I'm not sure, but I feel like I'm faster over the last two months than I've been in more than a decade. I'm not ready to give up that speed. Not to mention, I'm still looking for PR's in the Fall Festival 10k in late September and the Runaway Pumpkin Half Marathon in late October. So I'm keeping a couple of the speed days a week from the Half Marathon Training plan I've been following lately. I'll keep the long days from the Pfitzinger plan. I think it will work.

We'll find out on December 2nd.

Is a Marathon Pace Group for You?

I've actually only run one race in my life with a pace group, and I loved it. I absolutely plan on taking advantage of the pace groups at the California International Marathon when I run it in December.

It looks like my Pace Leader will be one Erik Skaden, above, who appears to be an ultra stud. Marathon PR of 2:42. Good enough for me.

Check out this Runner's World article on the good points, and bad, of the marathon pace group.

See you at the CIM!