NCR 20 Mile Run--Race Report

Today, my bib number was 97 for the Charm City Run NCR 20 Mile Race.  I was on the last bus from the shopping center at Ashland and York in Cockeysville up to the starting line near the Maryland/Pennsylvania border.  I lined up a few rows back and settled in.  I ran a 2:29:57.  Life is good.  I met my goal and may never run this race again unless I have reason to pace someone else some day--for instance if one of my sons gets into running.  This is not a great weekend to have a 20 mile race.  But I've done it four times.

That is the short version.  Mission accomplished.  Near even splits (I ran the second half about 40 seconds slower than the first).  Continue to prepare for the marathon in Philly.

Now for the longer version.  

Today began with doing dishes from last night and walking the dog.  Then, I made a shift in what I was going to wear.  In any race before when I'd carried Gu or Stinger supplements, I'd worn shorts with big pockets.  The only shorts I have with big pockets are made of thick material and are heavy.  I got some advice to take some extra safety pins and pin the packets to my shorts.  Placing them on the inside to rest again my hips.  (Although the person giving the advice realized I have less "hips" than she does and that I don't have a sports bra to attach an extra one.)  That worked amazingly well, except for the one of the two packets I had during the race that ripped off the safety pin but didn't rip and I had a heck of a time with one wrist still not 100% mobile trying to get it open.  Nevertheless, it didn't cost me.

Then, I made the decision to race shirtless.  I've worked out shirtless before.  But I had never raced shirtless.  That meant attaching the number to my shorts.  Worked pretty well in the end.

With those adjustments taken care of, I consumed one Stinger and I drove to the shopping center at Ashland and York Roads.  There was no line at the porta-pottie, so I took a quick bathroom break.  I also took a quick selfie to show where I had my number pinned.  Then I waited.  I was there before 7 and didn't see a bus that I thought was supposed to come at 7.  There were a lot of people there for the bus that showed up at 7:15.  They got us all on but adults sat three to a seat.  The person sitting next to me in the very back row (which was made for even 2 kids at most) was in training for the JFK 50.  And many of the last people on the bus--mostly runners from Navy--ended up in the aisle.

The bus ride to the start took nearly 30 minutes.  The only good thing was that there was no line at the porta-potties there either.  Quick second use.  Another Stinger.  Jogged to the starting line.  I had forgotten how far up the trail it was.  At the starting line, I had to wait for the rest of the people from the bus to make it up.  By the time we started it was 8:09 according to my watch.  I saw some running friends I had not seen in a long time at the start.  That was great.

So, we began.  I jockeyed for position in mile 1.  One downside of having to walk up the trail to the start is that people who don't belong near the front based on their expected pace end up there.  Not too big a deal.  But not ideal.  We ran back past the parking lot where the buses had been and continued down the narrow section of the NCR trail.  First mile tends to be a little fast.  I ran it in 7:19.  Time to be a little more cautious heading into mile 2.

So, I really found my pace in mile 2.  I was not doing much passing at that point.  I was being passed by people.  I had to remind myself of one thing.  This was my race--not theirs.  Just stick to the plan. The goal was under 2:30.  While I believed I could run faster as that is only a 7:30 mile and I've held 7:20 for 20 miles in the past in marathons, I have not run marathons in which the starting temperature was 75 degrees with 89% humidity.  Second mile--7:29.

So, now I knew that the goal was just to hold that.  Still running along largely tree-lined paths, I continued to be passed by people here and there.  Some of whom would pull away.  That was okay.  Mile 3--7:31.

Mile 4 was, I believe the first water stop.  Took a Gatorade and a water. Drank the Gatorade.  Poured the water on myself.  Felt refreshing.  Life was good.  Mile 4 at 7:27.  Coming in just a bit under 30 minutes for 4 miles.  Exactly on schedule.

Mile 5--continued to be passed here and there.  Just kept running my race.  (You will see how much it became just "my' race later on.)  Ran it in 7:29.

Mile 6--first attempt at pulling a supplement off a safety pin.  Worked wonderfully.  Life was still very good.  Cruising along.  Ran it in 7:19.  Getting a little ahead of myself.  Don't know what made my break pace there.  But not too out of control.  Two years ago when I did this, I think each of the first six miles was faster than that and I went downhill starting at mile 12.  

Mile 7--7:24.  Not much to report.

Mile 8--this was the last time anyone passed me on the course.  I ran it in 7:26.  

Mile 9--I started to rein in people who were out ahead of me.  I don't know how many I picked off between the end of mile 8 and the end of the race, but it was nice that I was picking off and not getting passed.  I picked off some runners whom I know sometimes have better times than I do.  I picked off at least two Navy runners.  I picked off a couple people who had been just ahead since the start.  And I picked of one or two who had been way ahead at some point.  In any case, as I reached the trail mile 10 marker and the race mile 9 marker, I ran a 7:32.

Now it was time to really concentrate.  The easygoing nature of the pace for the first 8 turned into a battle of mind over temperature.  Mile 10 was another 7:32, but I reached the half way point with a little cushion between me and 1:15--half of the 2:30 I hoped to run.  During that mile I passed the point at which one training partner who was not running the race might have stopped out to say hi but there were other things to do on a Sunday morning.

Moving along, mile 11 was fine and I ran it in 7:27.  During mile 12, I consumed Stinger #4 for the day.  Maybe a little earlier than I should have.  And this one was messy as I had to try to open it without having the full use of my left wrist--still in a brace.  In any case, I came through in 7:26.  

 Up to this point everything felt fine.  Miles 13 and 14 were run in 7:26 and 7:25  Pulling a little faster.  Much like I had moved to a faster pace later in my training runs during the past several weeks.  Maybe a little too early.  Keys at this point: I passed the half marathon mark just around a 7:30 pace.  I made it through the first 14 in under 1:45.  Not just to hang on for the last six.  This was taking more concentration every mile.

So, mil 15 was okay at 7:32. I still felt like I was cruising mile 16 but apparently ran a 7:39.  Still, I came in under two hours but now the work got really hard.

Mile 17 was 7:43.  I slowed down particularly at the end as I passed the very familiar 2 mile marker on the trail.  I tried to get myself going again as I was slowing.  My stomach wasn't sloshing but maybe I had taken in too much liquid as I was getting a cramp in my side.  Mile 18 was 7:50.  I thought now that it would just be about finishing.  Maybe beating the 2:31 and change from three years ago.  Mile 19 has seemed short ever year I've run this race.  But my Garmin said 7:48.  And mile 20 (which is a full mile but my Garmin only recorded 0.93) was run at a 7:52 pace but in 7:17.

So, is the course off or is my watch off?  I don't know.  What I do know is that this was my PR.  I ran it in under 2:30.  Aside from any minor misplacement of the start or the turn around on the course, this is the same course I've run three times before.  So, I achieved my goal.

What else did I learn?  I compare this with the same race two years ago.  Temp was about the same to start although they day didn't get as warm two years ago.  I went out much faster and died by mile 12 and took over six minutes longer.  Today, I went out more slowly and held until mile 17.  And while I slowed down it was not by as much as two years ago.  Going out with a plan and sticking to the plan works much better than trying to excel too early.

Where does this put me? 1456 miles from the start of the year.  Still on US 54 heading west.  

What else did I think about?  I thought about not giving in.  I thought about all the advice from Shannon.  I thought about pushing with my multiple training partners.  I thought about my tattoo and how St. Sebastian didn't give in.  And I thought about Hebrews 12:1 that I saw posted this morning before the race and that is the motivation for a group called Team Persevere that I have mentioned before:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us rid ourselves of every burden and sin that clings to us and persevere in running the race that lies before us (from USCCB website)

I also thought about the second reading this week (Romans 12:1-2).  That says:

I urge you, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God,
to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice,
holy and pleasing to God, your spiritual worship.
Do not conform yourselves to this age
but be transformed by the renewal of your mind,
that you may discern what is the will of God,
what is good and pleasing and perfect.   (USCCB website)

My personal spiritual search is for what is right.  Am I perfect?  No, of course not.  But my search is through my running.  The relationship between my running and my spirituality.  My transformation given a focus on serving God and not doing all the things that the current society suggests but to focus on excellence.  

Finally, my bib number (that I started with) was number 97.  If we look to Mark 9:7, we find:

Then a cloud came, casting a shadow over them; then from the cloud came a voice, “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him. (USCCB website)

This serves as another note to myself to focus my spiritual search in the same way that I focus my running.  

And, last but not least, with the focus comes joy.  I want to share two pictures.  They show the joy with several fellow Back on My Feet runners who I actually know through several things each and then with a fellow blogger who writes So What?  I Run.  These pictures are after each of the four people in the pictures ran 20 miles.  Were we tired?  Yes.  Were we covered in sweat?  Yes.  Were we achy?  Yes.  But we were joyful at the completion of the race and what we had accomplished.  I should have gotten pictures with a few others--next time.

To conclude--today I focused and persevered.  As long as I continue to focus and persevere in both my physical and spiritual and friendship pursuits life will continue to be amazing.

1400 Miles from Home--and a Little

Today, I came back after my injury, ran 18 miles on the NCR trail at a 7:58 pace, and am now up to 1402 miles for the year.  Pretty cool to be up to that many miles already.  I am still on US 54 taking the long road through Kansas toward my ultimate destination.  The next time I'll be on a road other than US 54 I will be in Oklahoma on my virtual pilgrimage.  

Today's Gospel reading at church was one in which Jesus asks the disciples "who do you say that I am?"  The priest put this in a really interesting context.  He pointed out that if we don't try to give it some context then it is just an interesting historical reading and not tied to our lives today--which it should be.  Instead, he encouraged us to wonder why Jesus would ask this question. Was he insecure?  Was he curious?  Did he want to see what he had accomplished so far in terms of their understanding?  

No simple answers.  But Peter gave him an answer that led Jesus to announce that Peter would hold the keys to the kingdom of heaven. 

Notably, Fr Ray did point out a series of things that I found very interesting.  Knowing how well we are known by those around us is a natural thing to want to explore.  Partners (husbands and wives or any other variety) would want to know about each other.  Parents and children.  Friends.  Coworkers.  Many people would want to know what someone else thinks of them.

And the interesting thing is that the better you know the other person, the better you usually know yourself.  Everything I know about someone else can get turned into a question about myself.  Do I agree with this  if I don't, where do I stand?  Why?  What difference does it make?

And the most important way to learn--spend time.  I spend time with my running friends on the pavements or on the trails.  I spend time with Sherry in parenting, when we go out together, when we spend time just talking as couples do.  I learn about my children through spending time with them.  In the car.  In the kitchen.  Doing chores.  I learn about my faith by spending time.  Over the years I have read, studied, participated in student organizations, gone to mass, played in a worship band at mass, been a Eucharistic minister, taught Sunday school, and now serve on parish council.  All ways to learn about God.

But there are so many ways to learn about God.  When Father Ray asked if I'd seen or heard God this week, I could have said yes.  God is clearly present on the NCR trail--the natural beauty, peace, and serenity.  God is present in my son helping me to get bandaged after my fall.  God is present in my son getting ready to move into a dorm for his freshman year tomorrow.  God is present in so many ways in my life.  A bigger plan.  A bigger theme.  A call to follow and serve.

And while I was out on the trail today, I saw a number of people.  My friend Sandy was running north as I was running south and turned long enough just to say hello.  There were many other runners. Some made it as far north as I did from the same start.  Others I saw only as I was running south at quite a pace.  

And the most interesting thing I saw and a good opening line:

The morning's run had many interesting facets--the fact that the sun was not over the horizon as he started his first run since the injury and yet he went full speed ahead, the run all the way to the nine mile marker which he so rarely reaches for fear of boredom on a nine mile out and back run, and the two gentleman walking each with a pair of waders slung over his shoulder but with just one fishing pole between them as they prepared to enjoy a day fishing on the river.    

A Muddy Run

I sit here on Sunday morning waiting for my fourth (or fifth?) GMBC Father's Day race and look back over the week of running.  I ran a track workout on Tuesday that I wrote about.  But my symptoms of something (never figured our exactly what) kept me out on Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday. By Friday I was feeling well enough to run 2.5 miles.  I wanted just to get my legs going again.  And I didn't have a whole lot of time since I needed to work a 10 hour day before going to a crab feast.

Then, yesterday, I went for a 12 mile run.  I was back on the NCR trail for the first time in a long time.  Easy.  Relatively flat.  Relatively straight.  I ran 2 miles alone and then 10 with a long time running friend.  It was much cooler but still a bit humid.  It was not fast.  It was just a solid effort.

The trail was a bit muddy.  Not everywhere.  But in some spots there were massive puddles that were hard to get around without getting somewhat messy.  A bit challenging to avoid potential injury.  I even posted a picture of how muddy my one leg was.  The rain on Friday had been pretty amazing.

What does the muddy trail make me think of?  Plans interrupted.  Plans having to be thought through.  Plans having to be remade.  And having to deal with the results (i.e. being a mess) afterwards.

How does that fit with me?  Certainly this past week I have had to retrhink and replan a lot in light of the symptoms I had.  How does that fit in the case of my long term running friend?  She is back from another injury.  She may have spent nearly as much time injured as uninjured in the 3 years we have been running together.  She has had to rethink a lot.  Especially with respect to running goals.

Where do these miles put me?  These miles put me at a total of 941.6—on MO 42 on the outskirts of Belle MO.  Interestingly there is a Catholic church in this little town (popuation 1535 according to a Google search).  The churh is called St. Alexander.  There are numerous St. Alexanders in the church.  St. Alexander of Jerusalem (I'm not sure if that is the one the church in Belle is named after) was a martyr who developed a large theological library.  Big on reading.  Big on information.  Steadfast in faith.  

The Spirituality of Advent, Day 3, Week 2

Today I will write a short entry about preparation for my own mortality.  Last week, I mentioned the type of mass I would like to have.  Since I wrote that, I have listened many times over to Landslide--a song that was played at the funeral I attended eight days ago.  Since then, I have also listened many times over to Take My Hand, Precious Lord.  And last night, when I was playing my mandolin, I found the chords for it.  Interestingly enough, after I was comfortable with the chords, I thought about a song from an old Christmas special--Emmet Otter's Jugband Christmas.  The song was When the River Meets the Sea.  I felt so awful when I realized that this song was attributable to being sung by John Denver and written by yet someone else--and not just a song from a muppet-based Christmas special.  On top of that, it apparently was on the Muppet Show 1979.  

How does all of this relate to preparing for my own mortality.  I was thinking that this would be an interesting song to have as an additional part of a funeral mass.  It is so mellow.  It is not an unhappy set of lyrics but the music is sorrowful. And it talks about souls leaving the land peacefully.  And it talks about understanding.  And it has a sense of finality in the phrase "when the river meets the sea."  And the chord structure and even the melody are basically the same as Take My Hand.

There are probably two other things I should do to prepare for my own mortality.  Last week in the health economics class I teach, we spent a lot of time talking about organ donation.  I have never filled out an organ donation card, but there is no reason for me not to do so at this point.  Especially if my other desire is to be cremated and not to be buried.

And what to do with the ashes?  I have thought long about this.  There are many places I could think of to scatter them--far and wide. But I think that the most meaningful places would be one of three, or maybe a mixture of three--somewhere on Penn State's campus, somewhere near Lake Superior, or somewhere along the NCR trail.  Perhaps if each is allowed it would be interesting to do all three.  The most obvious choices on the Penn State campus would be near the statue of the lion, in East Halls, or near the library.  For Lake Superior--near Pictured Rock National Lake Shore.  For the NCR trail--it could be anywhere along the first seven miles (the most frequently run part of the trail for me) and perhaps even further north.  I'm friends with enough runners, that perhaps there could be something like the story described here.

OK.  My blog during a time of hope and preparation has been rather morbid.  Life is not always happy.  And sometimes really thinking about how I would like my life to be celebrated--to the degree that I have any control--is quite a reasonable thing to desire.  I have now shared everything I can think of.  The next thing to write about preparation is how an exploration of my conscious and my actions would lead me to make further improvements or to keep on keeping on.  We shall see.   

Hills and Analytics

Last night, I left my office at 4 and drove to Morgantown, West Virginia, to lecture at the West Virginia University School of Nursing today.  It was a very nice lecture with great questions and afterwards I had a quick lunch with the former Dean of the school who asked me how the idea of the writing to work out my stresses came to me.  Other than I have always written and it has helped me to work out my stresses over time, I didn’t know what to answer.  I suppose the 26 essays for a 26 mile race could be called cute or clever (the latter being her word for it) but I can’t imagine that I am the only one who has taken to writing a lot in some format.  All my format does it provide some coherence and gives me a sense of when I will reach my goal.

As the days go on we get more news.  The surviving brother accused of the bombing sent a text of “LOL” to his friend when his friend texted the accused that he looked like the suspect in the picture.  Apparently the young man had even bragged about knowing how to build a bomb.  And his friends tried to help to protect him.  All of this leads me to believe even more that the young man who my friends and I just thought was acting like a real jerk on April 15 at about 3 in the afternoon at the government center stop on the green line of the T may truly have been the surviving accused.  How many people out there would joke about such a thing?

But setting that aside, a drive from Baltimore to Morgantown is characterized by one very important feature.  There are lots of hills.  Now, the hills between Baltimore and Morgantown are bigger when you get closer to Morgantown. And if we were to think about them as hills on a race we could think of them as rolling hills rather than the mostly downhill first half of Boston and the four distinct uphills of the second half. 

Combine the analytic nature of what the investigators are finding about the continuing flow of evidence in Boston with the thinking about hills, and what do I get to write about today?  An analysis of my race.  How the hills affected me?  And how the hills brought on the unexpected.  How hills have repeatedly brought on the unexpected for me.  Yet how similar my last three races have been.  While this theme is only weakly linked to the negative events of the day that I am trying to toss aside like petals plucked from a flower, even simple reflection on the positive aspect of running the race itself will help me to take one step closer to putting the negatives behind me as well.

With that in mind, let’s look at what I ran—based on my Garmin watch.  One note before I start—the Gamrin tells me I ran 26.4 miles.  Perhaps I added a bit by running from side to side to get water at the different water stops.  I won’t ponder this too much because if my average pace was correct and I had just run 26.2, I would have qualified for Boston again next year.   Not that I have any thought of doing it again next year, it would simply have been nice to know that if I wanted to I could.

Setting that aside and focusing on how long it took me to get from the start to the finish regardless of how many miles I ran to get there it is interesting to note that my last three marathon finish times were all within 91 seconds of each other.  I ran 3:15:45 at the NCR Trail Marathon in 2011.  I ran a 3:14:25 at the Lower Potomac River Marathon in 2012.  And I ran a 3:15:56 at the Boston Marathon in 2013.  And that Boston run was with a lot more base but only 4 weeks that I ran between 40 and 50 miles and just 2 weeks when I ran more than 50 miles since the first of the year.  That was all I could manage and the runs were high quality, which was the focus on the training.  I can’t say how I would have done if I had run more miles.  And it doesn’t matter as I didn’t.  The training is done.  The race is done.  I ran exactly what I trained to run.

I can also look at splits and compare them.  The NCR trail marathon began just a bit faster than the Boston Marathon.  But I was able to run the NCR trail marathon much more consistently hanging around 7:20 until the last six miles.  And even the last six miles were held under 8 until the last 2 when we had to run uphill.  Of the three races to compare, the NCR Trail marathon actually had the slowest time at 20 miles, but I hung in well until the very end.

Lower Potomac also started a bit faster than Boston.  In fact, the time remained faster until the conclusion of mile 16.  I’d say I overdid it at mile 16 in Boston as I ran a 7:02.  But I don’t think it was really all that bad as I continued to run and even pulled a 7:10 at mile 22 in Boston (fastest mile 22 by far) but then closed with three miles at 8+.  What helped in contrast at Lower Potomac was the flatness at the end.

My body knew how to handle the mostly flat NCR Trail marathon but didn’t know what to do with that final uphill.  My body made the most of the flat ending of Lower Potomac to open the door to Boston in the first place.  In Boston, my body didn’t know what to make of the first 13 miles downhill and just had nothing left to give to try to pull those last three miles back down.  Through mile 20 was my fastest ever.  So I was doing something right in terms of the slower start and then picking up just as I had discussed with my main running mentor.  What was most interesting was that in the mile that included Heartbreak  Hill I still ran an 8:04 and managed to run a very respectable mile after that.  It was simply that I reached a point at which I really couldn’t get going “fast” again.  I realize that I know many individuals who would be hard pressed to run one 8:11 mile—let alone close out a marathon with that being the slowest mile.  But it was not fast for me.

If I had it to do over again—I don’t know that I would have done anything differently—except to find a way to dig a little deeper at the conclusion.   And if I ever do get a chance to do it again, the whole goal will be to reach the last five miles and put myself back up against the test.  Looking at the last three marathons the path to 20 and what I ran at 20 was highly variable.  The paths through the last 10K were also highly variable with one slowing down but not too much—one being somewhat slow and then really slow—and one being a mix of up and down in the last six. 

Just as I didn’t know what the hills would bring that day—either while I ran them or in the aftermath—and I did not know what the hills would bring today—other than a great opportunity to present my word—I look ahead to new challenges.  Understanding them somewhat in advance.  Being on the lookout for completely unanticipated events along the way.   Making the most of every opportunity and every challenge that presents itself.  And praying to God and for St. Sebastian’s intercession that the dreams and opportunities that motivate the journeys through the challenges will not ever be swept away from me like they were for so many on April 15.