Running with Dave

"Erin, I want to run my first half marathon."  Hard to believe the past BRRC club president, previous owner of Charm City Run Events team, and 4-time marathon runner, Dave Cooley has never completed a half marathon.  But then again, half marathons weren't really en vogue when he was an avid runner.

"And I wanted to see if you would do it with me."  My dear friend and running legend Dave asked me to help get him through his first half marathon.  Of course I said yes, now it was just a matter of picking the right race and seeing what he's made of.

Initially he was going to run the Baltimore half marathon, but set backs and injuries occurred that prevented this from happening.  So Dave settled on running the back portion of the NCR marathon relay, a race he founded over 22 years ago.

Dave trained for several months and I joined in whatever training runs I could to keep him on pace and to distract him from the discomfort the body goes through when its forced to do something it naturally does not want to do.  We would meet up afterwards and discuss strategy and race day prep and I would give him training tips.

Race day was right around the corner and with all the set backs Dave, 79 had encountered he only managed to log in a 9 miler.  I was a little concerned about this.  One, because of his age and two, because that's 4 more miles of unknown.  But his resolve forced me to believe that he could and would finish this race.  I predicted our finishing time to be somewhere under four hours.

I had just run the Philly marathon the weekend before and was still feeling the effects of it.  I re-damaged my foot and hoped that staying off of it for the entire week would somehow help me on Dave's big day.

I arrived at Sparks elementary right on time--8 am.  I saw several friendly faces and chatted with them for  a bit, but I knew I needed to cut it short so that Dave would know I was there and relieve some of his race day anxiety.  I found him and gave him a big hug, smiled at him and said, 'You so got this' (my signature mantra for any hard race I do).  Still playing race director, Dave had several duties to take care of before his personal race agenda could be conquered.

Promptly at 9 am, the race kicked off and Josh-owner of Charm City Run, Dave's mentee, friend, and first leg of the relay--took off.  Dave came back to me and we boarded the bus to the exchange point just south of Bentley Springs.

Weather-wise, we couldn't ask for a better day. There was a definite chill in the air, but the sun was shining and the trail had favorable conditions.  We walked the quarter mile to the exchange point.  We projected Josh would be coming in around 10:40, so when he arrived earlier than expected we both had to put our game faces on and go.

Josh gave Dave a hug and wished him luck.  I removed the chip from Josh's ankle and strapped it on Dave's.  We were off!

First we had to head north to the turn around and then head back down the trail.  We passed many of our adoring fans. Shouts of encouragement and sarcasm flew our way.  It was time for Dave to receive the positive banter of the spectators instead of merely being one on the sidelines.

Dave was strong for most of the race.  He pushed for three minutes then recovered for three and so on for up to 9 miles.  I fed and watered him.  I played receptionist while he focused on his performance.  I tried to ease his worried wife's mind by only telling her encouraging things about Dave's progress.

Even though we were going at an easy pace for me, it was still a lot of time for me to be on my feet right after completing my own marathon.  I was still on the mend from a nasty cold and my chronic foot issue was giving me trouble.  On top of that I received a message from my father that my grandmother wasn't going to make it and I should be prepared to say goodbye to her.  All in all, I had several things working against me.  But this day was about Dave and seeing his goal through.  Everything else would have to wait.

As we neared the end of the trail Josh came trotting up towards us.  He was checking on Dave and asking if he needed anything.  He and I focused on his work.  Dave's support team grew when his daughter, Terry joined the group.  All four of us cheered and encouraged as Dave's energy was quickly fading.  We climbed York road to where Audrey, Dave's wife was waiting at the top.  I told Dave that he should run past everyone and make them proud.  Somehow he found the energy to push past the pain and bring himself back to a jog.

The last stretch was along Belfast road.  A winding road with cars flying at you!  I did my best to stay in front of Dave to flag down cars and draw attention to the incoming runners.  Finally parked cars could be seen lining either side of the road-a sign that we were near the finish line.  I instructed Dave to give it one last push into the finish.  All four of us, Terry, Josh, Dave and I ran in to hear many cheers and congrats from all the people who have known Dave to be on the other end of the process.  He was once again just another dumb runner collapsing at the finish line.

Dave leaned on Josh and me and we received our medals, posed for pictures, and wrapped up in our space blankets.  Dave finished right around 3:20.

I kept hearing 'thank yous' from friends and supporters.  People were saying what a nice thing I did and how impressed they were that I did that.  To me, it was a no-brainer.  This is Dave Cooley, someone I have looked up to since I ran my first 5K.  He has been an invaluable friend who would do anything for me.  I can't think of a more deserving person and I am honored to be the one he chose to pull him through 13.1 miles.  He was the rock star that day and I, just the back up band.   Like a real star, he deserves all the credit.  I'm just glad I got to be a part of the party.

JOY

One more thing to cross of the list.  

I slept in a run down hotel and woke up at 3:30 am; the alarm was set for 4:00.  I laid there awake and hungry.  The dinner from the night before was from an upscale Italian restaurant which served minuscule portions.  The only reason I ate at this restaurant was to meet a friend.  I was tired of walking around Philly using my feet so I settled on eating where we were.

My friend Chris and I got ready for our race.  I stood in the shower hoping to clear up some of the congestion from the cold I couldn't shake.  I already had a week of sickness and lack of running working against me among all the other recent stresses I've encountered in my life.  I just wanted to get this race over with.

We drove into Philly, grabbed the first parking garage we saw and headed over to the race. It was dead at the race site.  We arrived around 5:30 for a 7:00 start.  I was surprised there weren't that many people out yet.  So we did what all seasoned runners do before a big race, we crashed the closest four-star hotel to use its facilities, drink their coffee and hang out in warmth before it was time to head over.

Around 6:30 we walked over to the runners area.  Chris and I went to check our bags.  Since we had different last names and the UPS trucks were organized alphabetically we parted with no formal 'good luck', 'goodbye', or 'here's the plan for when we finish'.  After checking my bag I stood in line at the porta pot.  At this point I only had my shorts, a sports top and my gloves.  It was cold and the ladies in line wearing their long sleeves and jackets laughed at me for shivering.  I smirked back and said, 'You'll be wishing you were me after the race starts'.  They decided I was right.

I went to my assigned holding bin.  I stood, walked, stood, walked and stood and walked again until my wave had its official start 15 minutes after the race start.  As I jogged slowly through the start banner and into the streets no smile ever crept onto my face.  The crowds cheered, but it didn't feel like it was for me.  Let's just get this race over with, I thought to myself.

I didn't set a firm goal on this race.  After I finished Shamrock in the spring and got my BQ I promised myself that the next marathon would be one I would enjoy.  I would run at a nice comfortable pace, I would high-five spectators, drink beer and mosey through the water stops.  Let me repeat that, I wanted to enJOY this race.  SPOILER ALERT: At no point did I enjoy this race.

Knowing I pulled off at 3:35 marathon, I knew I could still run a solid sub-9 minute pace without any problems so I was at least determined to finish under four hours.  For the first 10 miles or so I managed to keep a decent pace that would still get me in under four.  But my cold was still present and I do have a very mild case of asthma thanks to allergies and a case of pneumonia three years ago.  I quickly learned during this race that the more I coughed, the more my chest tightened.  There were moments when I was a little panicked that I would have to stop to catch my breath.  You hear horror stories of people with asthma dying because they didn't have their rescue inhaler.  As much I thought most of my asthma was mind over matter, I wasn't so bold as to throw all caution to the wind.

So I focused on my breathing and tried to remain calm all while trying to hold a sub-9 minute pace.  The race starts with the half-marathoners, so towards the end of 13 miles the race splits the runners.  Half-marathoners go right, full marathoners left.  I was just not enjoying this race.  I really considered just turning into the half marathon chute and calling it a day.  However, I didn't sign up to run a half marathon.  I could run a half marathon in my sleep with the worst cold and after knocking back martinis the night before.  No, I trained for this race, I invested time and money in this thing and I was going to get what I came for even if it didn't have the ideal outcome.

So I headed off to the left with the rest of the marathoners, the pack finally thinning out.  As I headed out to mile 14, 15, and 16 the elites were coming in.  This was a good distraction for me to focus on something other than my displeasure with this race.  I looked for my really fast friends like Jackie Truncellito, Dan Miranda, Christian Creutzer and Chris Liberto. The race kept having us do turn arounds and it was killing me--the legs dont want to stop and do a sharp turn with that much mileage under them.

I pulled off a few decent miles between 16-18 and I downed a beer which seemed to have little effect either negatively or positive around mile 19.  Again as I headed into the area of Philly called Manayunk (not the name of a restaurant as I had thought before) where cheering spectators were aplenty I just couldn't absorb their enthusiasm.  When I came back around to the beer stop I grabbed another cup just for the hell of it.  Our bibs had our names on them, so I would hear people call out my name from time to time, but it was shortly after this that I hear from the crowd, 'Hey, Erin you have nice tits!'.  Thanks random pervert freak from the crowd, not the kind of thing a woman needs to hear at this point in the race.

My pace was all over the place for the last 10 miles.  I went from running 8:30s to 11:00 and then back again.  I really ran the whole race, walking a very small portion, but my legs hurt, my mind resented me and everyone else.  I tried to make this race my own, but I could only focus on the disappointment I had with myself.  I was stuck in the negative and had no motivation to do anymore than the bare minimum.

Marino--I kept seeing this woman wearing this shirt.  It was a neon yellow shirt with stick-on letters spelling out her last name.  She was around me almost the whole race.  It was just after mile 24 that I saw her again and this time she was walking.  I shuffled up to her and said, 'Lets go!'.  She started to run and I told her I have been seeing her shirt the whole race.  She was instantly grateful.  She said, You and me are gonna finish this together, we are gonna get eachother through this.'  As we ran I could tell she was struggling.  For me, the race instantly became easy.  I had no problem running now and I could go whatever pace she needed, but I pushed her into a solid 8:45.  I knew she could do it, we were both doing it several miles ago.  She would slump over and I would remind her to run upright.

We pushed hard into the finish.  Marino (Laura) moaned and groaned but kept the pace and we crossed with our arms raised.  We both wanted to come under 4 hours, but knew it was a bust when we first met up.  Still we were both relieved it was over and grateful to each other for the help.  We hugged and I said I would look her up.  I limped through the chute accepting my medal and space blanket.  It was over and now I could just stop.

My closest friends know what I am going through and can probably understand why I experienced such malaise with this race.  Running is my stress reliever, but sometimes getting proper training in for a big event like a marathon is just extra stress an already over-stressed life doesn't need.  This was my second worst marathon, with my first marathon being the worst.  I have Boston in the spring and I hope between now and then I will learn to bring joy back into my life.  It lives in me, its just a matter of tapping into it.  I apologize for the depressing blog, but not every run can be a PR and at least now I learned what I need to do!

Hierarchy and running

Note:  I wrote this several months ago.  I didn't publish it immediately because I didn't want to be thought of as a whiny ingrate.  But I think the time has come for my story to be told, not because I'm angry but because I'm ready.  Of course I tie it into running; it always comes back to running!  :-)

Some of you may not know that I'm not just a runner.  Before I started running as a real sport, I trained in karate.  For almost ten years I have trained in a traditional Japanese-style karate.  I've punched over 10,000 times and kicked almost as many.  I do kata (forms) and I spar with full contact.  I earned my first degree black belt three years ago.

In a traditional style of karate there is a hierarchy.  In many ways this is very beneficial to modern society because it helps us to remember to respect those who have been doing something longer than we.  Traditional karate is a dying style because most people are looking for a good workout and confidence booster in self-defense and nothing more.  Its a shame, because it is the origin of karate that makes it most beautiful.

While a traditional style of karate still contains both a good workout and confidence booster, it also has a spirit that is infectious if you allow it to seep in.  Almost like a cult, you have to truly buy into the philosophies of your karate-do if you want to get the most out of it.  This is what puts the 'art' in your martial arts.

I have trained hard for many years.  I followed those who were senior to me in rank and respected their teachings of spirit, wisdom and art.  I believed in my art because I saw how it recreated me and lifted me to a new point of achievement and self-confidence. I have also lead and had those in lower rank look up to me as a teacher and leader.

You earn your title and rank by putting in the time and showing how you have grown as a karateka (one who practices karate).  Karate is good for allowing you to leave your personal life outside and to train equally with everyone.  We all wear white gis, no jewelry, no make up.  Our minds are open and our hearts are pure when we train together.

In my style of karate we are incredibly fortunate to have a grand master who originated our art.  He is a legend in karate and is still teaching today. People travel from all over the world to take his classes and to be in his presence.  If you are fortunate enough to be in his school, there is no doubt you in the presence of true greatness.

With a hierarchy, though, comes politics and with politics comes the risk of tangling a very delicate web of a simple philosophy.  My karate-do (the way I train in karate) I am not immune to this entanglement.  I have trained with greatness and I have seen greatness fall.  I have been powerless to the hierarchy.

I was invited to test for my second degree. I trained, I studied, I invested, I traveled, I rearranged my schedule and most importantly I was honest. I spoke out but my voice was trumped by those who are senior to me.  I did what I was told, but I still lost.  It wasn't enough, my seniors have spoken. I did not get to finish my test. With my confidence shaken and embarrassed in front of my peers, I shut up and I went home.

I sat on my sofa for a long time.  I cried a little and replayed everything in my mind.  I just didn't see how things could have ended this way, it didn't make sense.  There was only one thing I could do, I put on a pair of running shoes and I took off.  I don't know how many miles I ran or how long I was gone. I don't know where I went or what I thought, I just ran.  No one was going to tell me I wasn't good enough, no one could take that away from me.

I earn my level of achievement in running by putting in the time and devoting myself to improving, all on my own free will.  No hierarchy can take that away from me.  We earn our place on the leaderboard by training hard, putting in the time, and pushing ourselves past our own limitations.  If only everything else could be so simple!

Ultra PA Ragnar

It's not just running a total of 30+ miles.  It's not just only getting a couple hours of sleep.  It's not just getting in a car and sitting for hours after running a 10 mile leg and its not just eating quick, on-the-go junk-like foods that only tide you over for a short while.  Its combining all of this to create a running experience like no other.

I clearly learned nothing from my suffering from last year running on a regular Ragnar relay team since I agreed to up the ante and run an ultra Ragnar team instead.  An ultra cuts the team in half to just six runners who run two legs at a time ending with a total team mileage of 202 miles.

Our original cast of teammates was to consist of Capt. Christian, Baby Jeff, and Serge 'The Flying Frenchman', T (Tamara), Speed Queen (Brenda) and me.  First we lost Brenda to a major glute injury and had to scramble to find a female to replace her.  Then at the last minute we lost our beloved Coach Captain Christian to a plethora of injuries.

To take Brenda's place, not any old female runner would do.  Christian somehow recruited Anna Piskoka-one of the top 10 female ultra runners in the world.  Christian dubbed her the Polish Princess who is the most phenomenal runner I have ever met.  She is quiet, but sweet and an amazing teammate. We she runs, she glides; she's a machine.

With less then two weeks before the race and Christian being unable to run, he somehow finds another exceptional runner who amazingly surpasses even Christian in both experience and mileage.  The one, the only Henry Peck.

Coach Captain Christian

Even though Christian was discouraged by not being able to run, he still agreed to be our captain and driver.  We loaded the van at Serge's house around 8:30 and then hit the road.  It was just under two hours to Lancaster. Anna, living in PA, met us at the start.

After our safety meeting, a little Ragnar garb shopping, and some pre-race food and drink, T headed to the start.  At 11:30 the airhorn went off and 15 runners ran through the Ragnar blow-up structure.  Little T shot past most of the runners.  When her first leg was done, she got 13 kills-the most we would have the entire race.  This was the inaugural year for Ragnar PA, and there were only about 120 teams.

Next it was Anna's turn.  She glided through her leg and our van supported the whole way.  She seemed unable to escape the smell of manure.  Little did we know that we would never really escape the smell throughout the entire race.  Something about this time of year, all the farms were spreading it over the freshly harvested fields.  But it gets worse...

Henry and Anna

As Anna came in, I was on deck next.  I was jipped with my first leg and only had to run five miles.  It was the peak of the day with the heat and I roasted as I pushed through my teaser miles.  I handed off to  Henry and my turn was over just as quickly as it started.

I think we all felt the need to really push that first leg even knowing we had two more to go.  Everyone looked to be in top form.  Henry was pushing 7-minute miles, T and Anna weren't far behind that pace.  Jeff came after Henry running at 6:30s and last up was legendary Serge who shot out of the exchange almost in full sprint running 6:00 m/m.  We drove through Intercourse Village, and of course found it amusing taking pictures.  Then we passed Blue Balls Bowling alley.  Who are these people and how do they get away with these names?  The names were not the most entertaining portion of this stretch, however.  We were in amish country and Serge was actually racing a horse and buggy.  If anyone can out-kick a horse, its Serge!

The guys were so fast that the girls had little time before we were up again.  I had approximated when everyone would be running and it seemed like I had been too conservative.  We were easily 45 minutes a head of schedule.

Tamara took the slap bracelet/relay baton from Serge and started her second leg.  It was now dark so we had to wear our required reflective vests, head lamps and tail lights.  T started in the country and ended in Reading, PA.  Reading is a very sketchy town. We were pretty sure signs had been swiped and on top of that the vans were routed another way while the runners had their own course.  We got lost trying to get to T's exchange point.  I sent her a text telling her not to worry and we are on our way.  We lost about 10 minutes trying to get to her.

After we finally recovered T, Anna was on her way. We made sure to try and stay close to Anna as she ran though some rough neighborhoods in Reading.  This really was not a well-planned portion of the race and it was down-right dangerous for runners to be in that part of town at night. We carried our phones on these legs, which came in handy since keeping track of Anna posed more of a problem then we expected.

The course was routed out of the city temporarily and up a massive hill to a fire tower which overlooked the whole city.  As Anna climbed, we headed to the top for me to get ready for my second leg.  The view was amazing.  Reading's night lights sparkled below and you forgot for a minute how shady certain areas really were.

The air was getting cooler, but I was still okay in just a T-shirt and gloves.  Anna arrived, handed off to me, and I set out at 10:00 pm for my second and longest leg--14 miles.  Beginning at the top of a hill and heading down for what seemed like forever, I could not gauge the pitch of the hill in all the darkness.  Tie in that I was really scared of running in at night and I was flying down the hill.  I seriously thought about reconsidering running this portion of the race due to the isolation and blackness.  I was uncomfortable being out there by myself with nothing or no one in sight, but I was also too proud to admit it to my team.  After a few minutes in, I threw my gloves in the van and exchanged them for an extra flashlight. It felt a little better to hold a light that I could point at every questionable sound that came out of the brush along the road.

The entire first part of my two-part leg was down hill--a total of 4.6 miles.  Towards the end of this portion my quads were screaming at me.  I did my best to ignore them since I had another 9 miles to go.  I re-entered the town of Reading, and Henry being the dad that he is, was worried for my safety.  Honestly, living in Baltimore, I didn't feel it was unsafe and after finally leaving the utter darkness coming down the fire tower hill, I thought it was a relief to be back in civilization and street lights.

I ran for what seemed like forever.  As much as I appreciate my van checking on me, I needed to just be left alone in my head.  I needed to focus on surviving this run and the disruptions were breaking my concentration.  I wasn't running this portion for speed, I was running it to survive.

For some reason, the race routed my course off the main road and onto a dirt road that went through a farm even though it paralleled the road the whole time.  Not being able to see that well, I went slowly and noticed the water on the road a head.  The farm wreaked of the usual manure we have come to accept as the theme of this race.  What I quickly learned, though, was that the dirt road I desperately tried to navigate was strewn with the odorous fertilizer.  Add in the water and you get a lovely sludge of manure mud that is invisible in dim lighting.  Of course I tramped right through it!  After partially submerging one foot, I stopped and shone my light around looking for a dry path out of the manure lake I had somehow become surrounded by.

Finally I was back on dry land and paved roads.  Don't be deceived by the description 'rolling hills'; this just translates to endless uphill climbs and quad-killing downhills.  Rarely was anyone spared either throughout the entire 200 miles.  I climbed and quad-killed all the way in and finished around midnight.  Henry headed out and I fell asleep not waking until Henry was back again.  I have no idea how his leg went and that was all the sleep I got for the rest of the race.

All the stuff

The van was crammed with stuff and finding a place to stretch out and sleep wasn't easy.  I rearranged some things in the back and slept on top of bags of stuff.  In my almost comatose state, I heard Anna asking, 'What IS that smell?!'.  I had a sneaking suspicion, but I was too tired to worry about it.  Anna sniffed out the stench only to discover it was my shoes.  I don't know why I find this amusing, maybe because I was already annoyed that I had to run through the manure and I was the one who almost lost my cookies trying to navigate out of the poopy mine field.  When I woke later, I wrapped my shoes in plastic bags and hoped I could get the smell out at home.

Henry, Jeff and Serge then ran their second legs.  Serge was nursing a serious case of plantar faciitis and needed several minutes to warm up.  All the guys performed strong and once again it was the ladies turn.

After T and Anna had another dark run in the early morning hours, I was up.  I was still tired and my quads throbbed, but I was mentally ready to get my final leg over.  It was during Anna's run that we discovered we had caught up to our competition who started an hour and a half before us.  I knew I wasn't the runner to over come them, so I plodded along wincing on the downhills.

My run still seemed doable.  It's strange how one can go to thinking 'God, I still have to run 9 miles' to 'Hey, it's only 9 miles'.  My run was slow at just a 10 min pace, my legs were hurting, but I chugged through to finish at the high school where my cheering teammates waited for me.  I handed off the Henry and I was done!

It was on Henry's leg that our team overtook the competition.  Henry ran some serious hills for 17 miles. He is a phenomenal runner and was always hopping out of the van to run beside us, assisting in our hydration needs along the way.  He was the only one who seemed unfazed by the mileage and fatigue.

By now the sun was up and warming things quickly.  Henry handed off the Jeff who insisted running in a long sleeve shirt.  Jeff was on his longest leg of 16 miles and was not hydrating enough.  A guy who can almost always been seen running with a smile was looking quite miserable.  Both Anna and Henry knew that he was going to bonk and decided to pace him through.

Anna jumped out first and handed him gatorade.  She ran with him for several miles and then Henry jumped in next.  They were teaching Jeff Running 101: After the bonk it's time to walk, drink, run, repeat.  So over the course of several more miles this is what the trio did.

The van skipped ahead to Jeff's finish line so Serge could warm his throbbing foot up.  We anxiously kept our eye on the horizon looking for our threesome to come run/walking in.  They had quite a hill to conquer in the sun before they came down to the end.  Finally they all came in, Henry smiling and Jeff relieved it was over.  Serge took off on his final 10 miles.

Christian knew that Serge would be fine and that he didn't require anything from us.  Serge just needed to focus on the run.  We headed to the finish line to wait for Serge.  Finally we spotted him coming in.  All of us jumped in with him and ran towards the finish.  My quads said 'no', but I gave them no choice and we all pushed into the end.  We heard our team named called and it was wrongly announced that we were the first ultra team to finish.

We celebrated with beer and burgers and laid in the shady grass.  We reminisced about the race and exchanged stories with other teams.  One thing's for sure, running a Ragnar is an all-time high in team spirit!

As it turns out we were the first mixed ultra team to finish and fourth overall.  There is some speculation to the legitimacy of the teams that placed ahead of us; an ultra team must be 6 (or less) runners who each run two legs at a time, not one.  There is no doubt that my team gave it 100% and we rocked that Amish country side for all its worth!

Carrots and Iced Tea

It's such a simple thing--running.  You put on a pair of shoes and you just go.  It is the most simple and efficient sport out there.  Want to drop weight quickly?  Run.  Want to free your soul? Run.

It's a selfish thing--running.  Its time by yourself to be alone in the scariest place in the world--your head.  But it can also create unspeakable bonds with others just because you know you couldn't have done it without the help of another person. That person can be a total stranger, but they can also become your life support.

B and I met at the NCR trail.  People who know me, know I HATE that trail, but it does have it's perks.  Its flat for one thing.  It's also shaded and somewhat scenic.  You're isolated from roads and civilization and as you run along, if you're lucky, you'll hit cold pockets of air trapped beneath the trees which can be revitalizing on a sweltering day.

Brenda is always good to go whatever.  I asked her how far she wants to go and of course she said she doesn't care.  We agreed on 8 so I could get an even 30 in this week. We took off at a very brisk pace in the afternoon on a 95 degree day.  One of the bad things about the trail is the monotony.  Even though I had Speed Queen by my side, I quickly got bored.

We went up to six and back.  On the way back towards Sparks, I had to stop to pee.   B wanted to stop to hurl.  Whatever she ate did not agree with her.  "Hey Erin, come look at my carrots!"  Being totally unimpressed I walk over to see her remains, "God B, did you even chew them?" We took off for the remaining two miles.  Yeah, 'Hardcore' is our middle names.

It's hot and I just wanted the run to be over.  B ran in front pulling me along.  She does well focusing on someone in front of her, pulling her.  I get a little sea-sick watching the bouncing, so I looked over her shoulder and used the invisible cord to pull me along.

Remembering its always more encouraging to think about how far you've come and not dwelling on what's left, I say, "7.5 in" and then "a tenth left, lets give it all you got."  We push it in.  B stops, she's going to be sick.  I try to keep her moving and drinking water, she gets sick again.

Now it's time to do what pulled me through the run.  The sweet prize of the cool down.  We walk back to B's car and get our cups of iced tea.  We head down the steps that descend to the Gunpowder River. Strip the shoes off and wade in.  Iced cold beverage in hand I sit down and let the river run over me.  Ahhhhhh!

It's B's turn.  She walks over to me, hands me her cup and falls face first into the river.  We sit there in the river letting the cool water bring us down and chat for several minutes.  We talk about the amazing athletes we know and are privileged to have in our lives, we talk about men past and present, and we talk about our goals for the future.  She and I get it.

The run isn't just about the run.  It's the metaphor that we buy into.  I've heard some people who run say they don't consider themselves runners.  They say they don't really love it.  I agree, these people aren't really runners.  Not because they haven't completed a marathon or because they walk sometimes, but because they don't use running as a source to pull from within, they don't see it as who they are.  Fast, slow, long, short--if you run because it defines you and it helps you stay in touch with yourself, you are a runner.  Even if you only like 5K's and never run a marathon, if you know that the run is what feeds you, then you have crossed over into the runner's world. That's why I say the run isn't just about time on your feet, its about what comes before and after and sometimes, sometimes its about the carrots that come during.

Scht, scht

Time to dust off the running shoes and put some real miles on them!  Finally willed myself out of bed and out the door to the first Baltimore Marathon course run put on my Falls Road.

We met in the Inner Harbor by the Baltimore Visitor's Center.  What a great turn out!  I looked around trying to find B and KBF.  Instead of finding either I ran into Billy.  I haven't seen Billy since we were training for our Spring marathons, so I gave him a big hug and we agreed to run together.  Just as we were about to head on B aka Brenda aka Speed Queen shuffled up and we took off.

I introduced the two to eachother and we sunk into a comfortable pace.  Speed Queen (SQ) isn't just a nickname, the girl is fast!  But she's coming back from injury and was happy to go easy.  Billy and I trained together a few times before so we knew we were about the same pace pre-slacking off.

Running through the not so nice areas of Baltimore, we passed some condemned buildings and were greeted and encouraged by the early morning smokers out on the street.  Two miles in and Billy does a face plant.

Now, being the insensitive person that I am, I had to hold back a laugh.  He landed pretty hard on the curb and it really shook him up.  He cautiously clamored back on his feet looking around for what he tripped over.  I saw nothing and joked that he tripped over his feet or crack in the sidewalk.  I've certainly come close to the same thing more times than I want to admit.

Billy bends over to pick up a big coat hanger ring.  His feet were entangled in it and this is what threw him to the ground.  Poor Billy, he scraped his chin and knees and his finger was bleeding.  We spiffed him up with water and SQ's tushy wipes and started back at an easy pace.

There were always other people around so we weren't in any trouble of getting lost.  When we would come up behind another small pack of runners I would quietly say, "Scht, scht" and point around them.  This was our clue that we need to pass these people who are holding us up without actually saying the words, "Lets pass these polkies."

It was about mile 6 I spotted KBF aka Karen.  She jumped in late and was running by herself.  I introduced her to SQ and Billy and we all ran together occasionally splitting up and rejoining.  Glad I was in good company and still feeling good, we ran back to home base to refill water and thank Jim Adams for putting this on.

SQ and Billy were in the lead and KBF and I hung back.  We ran out to Under Armour and then turned back.  This gave us just over 11.5 miles.  KBF parked way out in BFN so I said good bye and headed back to home base hoping to see SQ and Billy.  But alas, they were gone, my guess putting in more miles.

I was secretly hoping one of the could give me a ride back, but I had to run it in to bring my total to 13.3 for the day.  That was juuuuuuuuuust right for my first long run back since I don't know when.  I guess I should start focusing on marathon training.  I'm signed up to run Philly, but the thing that's really got me concerned is doing the Ultra Ragnar Relay in October.  I'm on a team of really good, really competitive people.  Time to focus!

Dead Sprint

Ah yes, the Dreaded Druid Hills 10K.  Not a PR course, for sure.  I have put it off long enough and the horrible memories of this race have faded away.  I think it has easily been five years since I ran this event.  Like childbirth, you forget how miserable and painful it is so you will do it again; its nature's way.
I was lucky enough to get my race fee comped by the powers that be at Falls Running Store.  (Thank you, you know who you are.) So I had no excuses not to show up and run this event. The weather somewhat cooperated and it wasn't brutally hot and humid like so many years past.  Because the only thing worse than torturous hills is the addition of extreme heat!
For those that are not aware of this race, and most who read this are in the know; the DDH has seven unforgettable hills.  These hills are not thrown at you until after mile three.  It's always fun to hear the first timers around you comment on the pre-hills of the race.  They complain how horrible the hills in the first few miles are, but these baby speed bumps are not what the race is truly famous for being.
It's not that the hills are steep or long or winding to a never-ending peak, it's that they are all three of these combined.  Jim Adams, owner of Falls Running Store and race director, can always be found on the course right around the beginning of the nasty hills.  He makes himself available to hear your sarcastic thank you's, your vulgar cursing, and your wheezing gasps.  He knows you'll be back next year.
I set out to run this race at a pace that was comfortable and livable.  My running has not been at the forefront of my life these days so I wasn't shooting for any amazing time.  Plus this is the DDH we're talking about.  Theres not a lot of point to try and race your ass off on this excruciating course. So I ran at a strong, steady pace sans Garmin and only my regular watch.  I was hitting decent splits for a runner on the decline.  I climbed the hills and carried my own water.  I was out to survive and run, that's it.
It was the last mile the course of my race changed.  My friend Mitch jumped in all smiles.  I informed him that if he wants to run with me he has to be quiet, I needed to concentrate.  There were two women in front of me that I had played leap frog with throughout the race. "You are going to pass those two," Mitch says. Annoyed that he was telling me to do something I already planned to do, I said, "You don't get to tell me how to race."
I caught up with the first woman.  She was pleasant and encouraging, "Nice pace you're running!".  "Thanks," I say, "you too." I pull away from her and set my sights on the next one.
The woman in the green shirt and spandex shorts.  With only the last turn around Druid Lake I approach her.  She sees me beside her and picks up the pace.  I do the same.  She insists on being in the lead, but I refuse to let her have it so I lock on to her pace.  She kicks in another boost and so do I.  The finish line is less than 100m away.  She takes off and so do I.  We are in a dead sprint to the finish.  My heels are kicking my own ass.  I haven't pushed it this hard or wanted to beat someone so bad in a very long time! But I had to have her, I had to take her down!
I would say technically we crossed at the same time, but I got my tag torn first and that means my name will be before hers.  Hey, that stuff matters especially when I managed to pull my A-game out of nowhere and beat this woman who was most likely in my age group.
After we crossed the finish line, I turned to my competition and high-fived her and quickly walked off to bring myself down.  I had to walk for a bit to talk myself out of hurling.  I haven't pushed it that hard since my track racing days.
It's fun to race like that when you least expect it.  I was just running that event, but GreenShirt SpandexShorts made my race much more meaningful and memorable.  Thanks GS-SS! I think her name was Stefanie Gisler, and yes, she is the same age!

Lost stuff

Has anyone seen it?  I can't remember where I put it.  I've looked everywhere for it but am at a total loss.  I've lost my stuff.  What does that mean?  Well, as a runner you have 'stuff'.  This 'stuff' is what makes you move further and faster.  This 'stuff' motivates you to keep pushing the envelope and shoves you out the door.

I started writing for the Examiner over a year ago mostly just to keep myself motivated and inspire myself to keep up my running. It worked for a very long time and my running greatly improved.  I went from believing I was locked into a 10-minute mile for the rest of my life to nearly breaking a 7-minute mile in a 5K.

Not only did my running improve with my writing, but my knowledge about the sport, races, and the people involved, whether they be celebrity runners or inside contacts to companies and races.  Was I a local force to be reckoned within the running community?  No, but I did create a name for myself and I am proud to say I did it all by myself.

Now, make a list of all the stresses one can deal with in their life.  Take that list, cross of a death and a birth, and you come up with all that I am dealing with.  My running has always been a source of solace to help me cope with the stresses of life.  Just slap on a pair of shoes, head out the door, and solve the problems that stare you in the face.

These days, like looking for a lost contact lens, I find myself walking in circles feeling the ground in search of my 'stuff'.  Time is a big issue.  I get it now.  Working full time and training is an incredibly difficult feat to pull off. I still firmly believe that if you want to do something you will find a way to make it happen.  But, there are only so many hours in the day.  You can sacrifice sleep, but you running is going to pay for it.

How do you get your stuff back?  What else can be put on the back burner to get your miles in?  Nine hours of work + 7 hours of sleep + eating + bathing + time with family and or friends leaves you with little more than 30 minutes, or so it seems.  How do you find the time to train?  What sacrifices do YOU make to get your workouts in?  Who pays, what pays, so that you can get your sanity fix?  The price is steep; are you worth it?

I kinda BQ'd

Wow!  Has it really been since December that I last wrote about my running adventures?  Clearly my mind
has been in another place.  I've been running, I swear!  Writing?  Not so much.  Let's see if I can remember how to do both...

After running the Springfield Marathon, I was ampted to try and run a marathon that actually had crowd support and a real expo (not a rack of clothes and a free pencil).  I was determined to make sure all my ducks were in a row for this marathon.  I trained well with only a one-week sideline of major illness.  I made sure I logged in a 20 and 22 miler. I ran longer runs at race pace. I cut out alcohol for an entire week, and the most crucial piece was to employ my dear friend and coach Christian to pace me through my 3rd marathon.

After his return from a stress fracture, Coach Christian (CC) ran my last few long runs with me in preparation for my much-anticipated marathon.  He got me though an easy 22, he pushed me through the difficult last 5 miles of a 17-miler, and pace-ran a 13 mile taper run.  He had higher ambitions for me than I did; he thought I could run a marathon at an 8:10 pace.  I only needed an 8:23 to qualify for Boston; I had my doubts.

CC hooked us up with a sweet condo in Williamsburg and drove the whole way.  Already my coach had gone above and beyond the call of duty.  He even bought dinner!  We were all shocked to learn that instead of my own bedroom in the condo, I got an entire condo to myself!  That evening I treated myself to a cannoli in a gigantic whirlpool bathtub--just what an aspiring BQ-er needs!

The next day we awoke at 4 am to prep for the hour drive to Virginia Beach.  Vicky, CC's wife, was running the half marathon and needed to be there by 6:15.  We arrived with little traffic issues, dropped Vicky off at the bag check, and part ways.  CC and I headed over closer to our own start and miraculously (or illegally) snagged a parking spot in the Ramada parking lot.  Turns out this spot was only a block away from our start.  After we park, we realized the start balloon had been inflated at one end of the street had been barricaded by the VA police at the other end in lieu of the race.  If we had been minutes later, this parking spot would have been unreachable.

After three trips into the Hampton Inn for bathroom usage with doors clearly marked "NOT for public use, Hampton patrons ONLY", we headed to the car to lube up, strip down, and send last minute text messages to our friends and supporters.

CC and I headed out to warm up.  CC likes to run sans shirt, so he received many sideways glances in the wind-chilled sub 40 degree temps.  "Are you going to be embarrassed to run with me," he asks.  "No, it'll be more entertaining, Naked Man." He may be naked man to others but he's just Christian to me.

After a delayed start and a last minute decision to divide us into waves, we start the race around 8:17. We started the race with Kevin Hewitt pacing a friend with similar goals.  Kevin immediately made a bee-line for the porta pots after the race started.  Pumped with race adrenaline, CC followed Kevin and banged on the door of the porta pot.  "HEY MAN, LET ME IN!!!" he shouts just after Kevin runs in...too funny!  Hey, that's how we roll.

By mile 7-8 I am cruising at an 8:00 pace feeling like its a 10:30.  Things are going well.  We run through a military camp and I am in good spirits high-fiving all the troops.  Music is playing and I am just along for the ride. CC is wearing all the stats: pace, distance, elapsed time, all I have to do is follow him, he'll do the rest.

My friend and neighbor, Amber, joins us around this point.  CC has now adopted another runner to pull through.  To distract us, CC tells us stories of his crazy past.  It's hard to believe such a wholesome fella could have done such wild and dangerous things; it just goes to show that my theory is correct: Runners are insane, we run to keep ourselves tame.

We see Vicky at mile 13, then we see Michael Wardian sprint by shortly after headed into the home stretch, now we head into a lonely stretch of the run.  Still, I am in good company w/ CC and Amber.  We meet a pack of Erin's.  Our bibs have our names on them, so I get to hear over and over, 'Go Erin!'. Things are going well as we push all the way through to mile 20.

Even at 22 I am still feeling optimistic though tired.  It isn't long after that, though I feel extreme fatigue set in.  Amber is still running strong, she even downs a beer. Slowly, but surely Amber increases the gap.  Christian senses me pulling back.  Using his overly encouraging tone, he tries to push me back into our original pace.  All I want to do is punch him in the face, if only I had the energy..and could catch him!  He skips, and runs backwards trying to bring me back to the land of the marathoning aware.  All I want is this race to be over.

'Where is that F-ing boardwalk!', I think to myself.  Once I hit it, I plan to take off with everything I have. "I'm going to throw these F-ing shoes in the trash!", I pant out. "Lets get this race over and you can throw those shoes away," says CC.  We round a corner, CC pumps up the crowd so that hopefully they will inspire me to push on through.

Finally, we hit the boardwalk.  What?!  Did they want us to run the entire length of it?  I don't even see the finish line, I find an ounce of energy to pick it up somewhat, but not kill it just yet.  How much further do I have? "We have 4/10ths of a mile", CC informs me."C'mon!"

I finally see the finish line balloon off in the distance.  "Get behind me!" I summon up to words to shout to CC.  He catches on and falls into line.  "Move that beautiful behind!  C'mon Erin, bring it in!  Let's see what you got! Move it!" He shouts as I pick up speed.

The girl Kevin was pacing was pushing for a 3:29.  We leap-frogged the duo throughout the entire race.  Even though I only anticipated getting under a 3:40 we were ahead of Kevin and 'his girl'. "Kevin's girl is going to catch us!", CC shouts from behind.  That's all the motivation I needed.  As soon as I heard that I gave it all I had left.  I sprinted past cheering spectators, I heard Vicky's excited voice as I zipped by.  I was booking it in amazed I had anything left.  I wanted it to be over!

3:35:27-Yes, I qualified for Boston...but will I make it in?  Due to last years mad rush for race registration resulting in an record-breaking 8 hour fill, the BAA (Boston Athletic Association) had to revamp its rules to accommodate the coming years of race registry. The announcement of this predicament was made after I finished the Springfield marathon in November, AFTER I registered for the Shamrock Marathon in December but BEFORE I ran Shamrock.

I threw my hands up upon announcement of the new rolling entry rules. Even if you meet your qualifying time for your gender/age group there is still a staggered registration based on your qualifying time.  If you run 20 minutes under your qualifying time, you will be allowed first entry.  It then tapers back to 10 minutes two days later, then five and finally the actual required time to qualify-in my case 3:40.  Now...because I am 27 seconds over 3:35 I will be lumped in w/ the 3:40s so therefore I have just as much chance of getting in as anybody else even though I beat the standard by almost five minutes.  Let me repeat that...ALMOST!

CC was tracking our progress via Garmin.  We ran 26.4 miles (courses always measure long on a Garmin; USATF always cut the tangents when measuring a course to ensure the impossibility of running LESS than 26.2).  We maintained an 8:09 pace on average.  I am beyond thrilled that this was even possible for me.  I had days when breaking a 10 minute mile was a huge feat and never did I think this day would come.

If I get into Boston for 2012 or not, I am so happy with my race performance.  I ran that entire thing w/o stopping once.  CC was an amazing pacer; he was right on the money the entire time.  He knew what I was capable of even if I had my doubts.  He pulled me through and helped me fulfill and even push beyond my goal.  He is an incredible friend and I highly recommend him to anyone in need of an inspiring coach and mentor.

Thanks CC!!!