Friday, February 22, 2013

Rouge-Orleans Recap - Part I

It's somewhere around 3:30 in the morning. I've been up for a little over 20 hours.
I'm tired. I'm hungry.
It's dark. I can barely see the gravel path beneath me, let alone anybody else out here.  Some of them I know are too far ahead to be seen, and I don't have the time, energy, or desire to look behind me.
Sloping away to my left are cattle fields, lowing cows, and, occasionally, an old plantation home - complete with live oaks covered in Spanish moss. Immediately to my right, the inky blackness of the Mississippi River, over half a mile wide here.  I could, quite literally, throw a stone into it. There are plenty to choose from.
I don't have any food or water; just a small, blue, LED light.  I am legitimately terrified of rolling an ankle or losing sight of the path and tumbling down the side of the levee.
My teammates and van are 3 miles ahead of me.  I only have 3 miles left to go.
And I'm running, flat-out, as fast as I possibly can.

2 Years Earlier:

I first heard about the Rouge-Orleans relay & ultra-marathon 2 years ago.  I was inside one of our local running stores and overheard some people talking about it.  Naturally, I butted in.
"Rouge Orleans?  What race is that?"
"It's a relay race from Baton Rouge to New Orleans.  Along the levee."
"Wow.  How far is that?"
"126.2 miles.  The race takes 3 days.  It starts on Friday night, and ends Sunday afternoon."
"That's crazy!"

In the 2 years since that exchange, I've learned that many of my most rewarding experiences have started with the phrase, "That's crazy!"
However, I didn't know this then.

The Rouge-Orleans race is, indeed, a race from Baton Rouge to New Orleans.  It is run on the gravel levee of the Mississippi River.  You run at night.  You run during the day.  You run at night again.  If you give up halfway through, you are in the middle of nowhere.
Luckily, there are varying degrees of difficulty.  The easiest is to run it as a relay on a 6-person team.  Each member takes turns running around 4 miles, one after the other, until all 6 have run.  Then it starts over with the 1st runner again.  All told, each person runs 5 times and ends up averaging something like 21 miles.  Over the entire weekend.
You could also run it as a 3-person team.  This counts as an ultra-relay because each person runs just over 40 miles in total.
There's a 2-person team, as well.  Think: you run a half-marathon, I run a half-marathon.  You run another half-marathon, then I do.  Repeat 5 times.
Total distance per-person: over 60 miles.

Lastly, there is the team of one.
You might think this is the least populated option of the race, and you would be wrong.  This race is all about the solo runners.  The rest of us are just there for the ride.  You might think you're tired, running your 17th mile, until you pass someone who is on their 70th mile, running the whole race alone.  It is an awesome thing to see, and worthy of respect.
Here is a view of the course as seen in Google Earth.
I joked with a couple of running friends about it.  It still sounded crazy, but it also sounded fun, and almost doable.  A year went by.  We were all training for other races, other goals.  It was just talk, something fun to discuss on our runs.  But as that year's race approached, I found that I was paying more attention to it.  The race that year came & went.  The reports we heard about it sounded absolutely miserable.  It was very cold, very rainy, and (as always) very windy.  Now it didn't just sound crazy, it sounded brutal.

"Let's do it," I said to my running buddy, Don.  "Next year. I think we can do it."
Now, Don is a mathematician, so he has a very calculated way of looking at a problem in terms of numbers and data.  If something doesn't add up, he'll say so.  He's also a biologist, so he's versed in the subtle ways in which our bodies manage energy conservation and expenditure. Basically, if Don tells me that something is going to be "too hard" or "unlikely", I'll take his word for it.  What I failed to account for was the fact that he is also a runner and, like most runners, is prone to factor in various nebulous qualities such as "grit" or "drive".
Don thought about my proposal for a bit and finally said, "I think we can do a 3-man team."
"You're nuts," I said.

We looked at the numbers.  We knew our abilities, our maximum pace and our maximum distances.  But this race is tricky to gauge; we had never run a race like this, with so many starts & stops.  How fast can you expect to average?  Your recovery time between runs depends on how long it takes the other runners to complete their legs, which is dependent (in part) by how long it takes you to run.  Is it better to run roughly 8 miles at a time (3-person team), or roughly 4 miles (6-person team)?
The 3-person team is considered an ultra-relay because each person ends up running more than a marathon. Neither of us had ever run an ultra before.  The 6-person team sounded like it might actually just be a big party.  Some of the legs are only a couple of miles long, and teams have been known to booze it up during the relay.  Neither of us was interested in a party, and we were concerned that a 6-person team might be too easy, but we also had no idea what to realistically expect of ourselves come 2 o'clock in the morning.  "Hey, wake up. It's 2am. Go run 4 miles as fast as you can."  That, coupled with the idea of sitting in a van for 3 hours between runs, which is just enough time to start cramping up before having to get back out on the levee, made me start to wonder if I really knew what we were getting into.
In the end, I convinced Don to lower his expectations and do the 6-person team.  I said it was "reconnaissance" for the next year, when we would try to do a 3-person team.
He graciously agreed. 

The Bit Where We Assemble The Team: 

Don & I quickly began recruiting people for the team.  Our criteria was simple: ask people who we already enjoyed running with, and who were just crazy enough to want to do it.  I believe we added Aaron early on; he was the youngest member.  I think Tim, the oldest, was next.  Tim's got a few 50K's under his belt, so we were happy to have the experience factor.  We got a boost when our friend Edie, another seasoned ultra runner (100-milers!), said she would help crew for us.  That seemed to seal the deal, and we quickly rounded out the team with Randy and Eric.  Eric's wife, Christina (yet another ultra runner), graciously agreed to help crew as well. All we had to do now was think of a team name, and register.

That actually took a while.

First of all, it's $600 for a 6-person team.  None of us had that just lying around.
Secondly, we bounced a few name ideas around, but nothing seemed to stick.  We tried funny ones, motivational ones, lots of stupid ones.  Nothing.  The trouble, I think, was in finding a common identity that we all shared, other than "running" of course.  There was a lot of variation in our ages, occupations, and... shall we say, political/social leanings.  We joked early on that "religion and politics" were off-limits topics of conversation in the van, since we would be spending a lot of time there.  I believe it was on one of Aaron's & Don's runs together that they, inadvertently, came up with the name.  They were discussing the difficulty in finding a shared interest between us all, and Don said something along the lines of, "It's like the NRA meets NPR."
We decided that was it.  It perfectly represented our disparate personalities, while still poking fun at ourselves.  The most important part we determined, was that we use the word, "meets" between NRA and NPR, instead of something more antagonistic like, "vs."  This was about us getting along despite our differences.  Everyone liked this idea, and so I quickly registered "NRA Meets NPR" as our team.

One final note on the team.  The Rouge-Orleans race has several categories in which a team can register.  There's all-male, all-female, coed, masters, running club, military, family, you name it.  I believe the reason for this is so that there are greater chances for any given team to do well within their category.  There are also contests for best team costumes, best decorated van, best team video.  None of us planned on running in costumes, and decorating the van wasn't really an option; we were using Eric's company van which was already covered in decals & logos.
But we did have a secret weapon.  My nephew.
My nephew, Brennan, is a budding videographer.  He does the football videos at his high school, as well as some independent films for himself.  As an example of the quality of his filming & editing capabilities, I am providing a link to a short film (5 min) he made of the soon-to-be demolished skate park here in town.
Skaterz video
Hedging our bets on the assumption that the other teams' videos would consist of mostly phone-camera footage spliced together with some music, Brennan became the 9th member of our team (6 runners, 2 crew, and now 1 videographer).


Basically, we didn't train.  At least, not for this race.  We had several meetings to go over logistics, etc., and we talked about scheduling some sort of training run.  Either some runs over gravel, or otherwise trying simulate the conditions of the race - tired, 2am, headlights.
We never did.
This is not to say that we were unprepared, however.  Most of us had other runs and races on our calendar, so we were definitely in training.  Don convinced me that we should sign up for our 1st ultra-marathon in the Fall.  I did, but he ended up with a schedule conflict and couldn't make it.  Luckily for me, I had Tim and Aaron with me, along with Edie and Christina.  That race was worthy of its own blog entry, and I apologize to you now for not writing one.

The short version:
It was really hard, but Tim helped pace me to a sub-6-hour finish.
Followed by a lot of drinking.  The end.

The Competition:

Apparently, we weren't the only fools in town thinking about doing this race.  There were at least 2 other local teams being formed at this time.  It's a fairly close-knit community of runners here, so we all knew each other.  There was lots of friendly trash-talk going on between teams.  Some of the other team members had actually done this race before; most hadn't.
Each of the other 2 teams had people who we knew, hands down, were faster than any of us.  But, we felt that our team had a pretty consistent group of runners, and none of us were injured, burnt out, or over-trained.
Definitely not over-trained. 
As the weeks until the race turned into days, I started to get nervous.  Excited, yes.  But nervous, too.  How bad was this going to beCould we actually hold our estimated average pace?  What if one of us got hurt, or lost (it happens).  Was it legal to ride in the back of a utility vehicle w/ no built-in seats or seatbelts?  How uncomfortable would that be?
What have I gotten myself into?

Next up: The actual race.

Stay tuned for Part II.  There are cattle guards, alcoholics, police, and Foxes!
You won't want to miss it.

Friday, March 30, 2012

The Hero with a Thousand Paces

So, having just completed my second marathon, I've been thinking about how best to go about describing it.
I've already written about my first marathon here: The Great Train Wreck of 2011.
If you haven't read that post yet, you should.  Not just because I think it's relevant to this one, or because I think it's funny and that you might enjoy it, but also because I'm narcissistic and crave constant positive feedback.

Be sure to email me with detailed descriptions on the parts you enjoyed the most.

I did do much better this time around, however; which is just another way of saying that it makes for a much less-funny story than the last one.
I would love to be able to write a big, inspiring, tale of how I overcame great odds and amazed everyone with my stunning finish; especially since that didn't even happen.  Truth dictates otherwise, however.  I was 1,206th out of 3,699 people running the marathon (22,823 people, if you count the half-marathoners, which sounds a lot better, so I probably will).  Basically, I was just a blip in the middle of a sea of other runners.

Still, a lot can happen in 4+ hours, so you'd think there would still be lots of interesting stories to tell.  There was, of course, but it's mostly the same kinds of things that happened last time.
  • Funny signs ("Worst Parade Ever." was a good one).
  • I felt really good for the 1st third of the race.
  • I started to become rather tired in the middle.
  • I wanted to lie down and be trampled by the 2,493 people behind me.

I did try to entertain myself by reading other people's shirts.  I think you can tell a lot about someone (and the race), based on what their shirt says.  Using this logic, and some crude math, I determined that:
  • Many were running for, or because of, a loved one. 
  • Some people were actual cancer-survivors (woot!)
  • "Christ" and "Beer" were nearly equivalent reasons for running. 

Mostly, though, I did a lot of thinking.  By, "thinking", I might mean "trying not to cry", but only during the last 8 miles or so.  Naturally, I thought about how hard it was to do what I was trying to do.  But I also thought about why I was doing it.  And why all these other people around me were doing it.  Clearly, everyone has their own, though overlapping, reasons for being out there.  Deep down, we probably all share some element of a desire to see what we are capable of if pushed, but our reasons are as diverse as we are.  There's quite a difference between a drive to keep pushing yourself beyond your limits, and a longing to see what those limits may be, even if the end result is the same:  Queued up on all sides of me on a brisk Sunday morning about to run for hours.

We may have all been running the same course, but I can guarantee you that there were 22,823 different races going on that day.

I didn't really start thinking about Joseph Campbell's Hero's Journey  until the last 10 miles or so.  About the time that I realized I wasn't going to break the 4 hour mark, at least not without some serious steam on my part.

Just in case you haven't heard of it, and can't be bothered to click the Wikipedia link above, in a nutshell:
Joseph Campbell's term monomyth, also referred to as the hero's journey, is a basic pattern that its proponents argue is found in many narratives from around the world. ... Campbell held that numerous myths from disparate times and regions share fundamental structures and stages.
He, and others, go on to identify these recurring steps that appear in various myths, stories, films, etc.  "Star Wars" is a common example, but there are countless others.  Not every story has all steps, of course, and some focus more on certain stages than others.  In it's most generic sense, the Hero's Journey consists of a departure from the world, great trials & suffering, and a return to the world (usually with some treasure).  Naturally, it was during my period of "great suffering" that I began thinking about how this pattern might apply to my own run.
Obligatory Mandelbrot Set
The beauty of the Hero's Journey, however, is that it not only works on a personal level, but also at a multitude of scales.  Each day can be seen as a microcosmic example of the Journey, or one can look at your entire life as a heroic narrative.  In mathy terms, one could say that they are scale invariant, or self-similar like a fractal, or coastline.
Coastlines have lengths approaching infinity.  Google it.

And so concludes the ├╝ber-geek portion of this blog.

Anyway.  While it was tempting to compare this most recent marathon directly with the stages of the Hero's Journey (which was my initial plan), I think it works better for me to step back a bit and look at a slightly bigger picture.

2 Years Ago

The last 2 years have been a wonderful adventure for me.  New friends, new abilities.  Personal records have been met, broken, and redefined.

Many examples of the Hero's Journey begin with an accidental stumbling into a larger world (think: Alice in Wonderland's fall "down the rabbit hole").  Others involve a more deliberate search for adventure.  Campbell describes this early stage in the journey as "The Call to Adventure".
THE CALL TO ADVENTURE.  Something shakes up the situation, either from external pressures or from something rising up from deep within, so the hero must face the beginnings of change.
It was this latter case for me - an internal desire.  I'd been a moderate runner up until then; never more than a 10K.  But something was changing in my attitude towards running.  I wanted more.  Or, more specifically, I wanted to see if I could do more.

Continuing with Campbell's heroic stages, at this point the hero often comes across a guide to help them through their upcoming ordeals.  (Merlin, Obi-Wan, etc.)
MEETING WITH THE MENTOR.  The hero comes across a seasoned traveler of the worlds who gives him or her training, equipment, or advice that will help on the journey.
I don't have permission to post Edie's picture here (haven't asked), but I can't think of a better example of "supernatural mentor" than her.  Many of you in my local running community would agree, I'm sure.  Campbell goes on:
Once the hero has committed to the quest, consciously or unconsciously, his or her guide and magical helper appears, or becomes known. More often than not, this supernatural mentor will present the hero with one or more talismans or artifacts that will aid them later in their quest.
Basically, as soon as I had decided "I want to run more", a running store opens down the street, and it has Edie in it.  The nicest, friendliest, person you'll ever meet (unless you're a whiner).  Is she "seasoned", you ask?  Do fifty and one-hundred mile trail runs count?  I'm going to have to go with, "Indeed".
Ah... but did she present me with some sort of talisman, or magical elixir to assist me in overcoming my future challenges?

You betcha:

Now armed with a spirit guide and magical potion, the hero must leave the world as he knows it, and venture out into unknown territory.

CROSSING THE THRESHOLD.  At the end of Act One, the hero commits to leaving the Ordinary World and entering a new region or condition with unfamiliar rules and values.
Campbell refers to this threshold as an "entrance to the zone of magnified power".  Surely this is all metaphorical, of course.  The fear of leaving the confines of the known world for the unknown one merely represents the anxiety of every child who must eventually move beyond the bounds of their parental control.  Right?  I mean, there isn't really a secret land that you can disappear into, confront real danger (as well as inner demons), and emerge with new-found abilities, is there?

Think again.

It's called Chicot State Park.

Actually, to be more accurate, it's called "trail running".  I always forget if "trail" has the "a" before, or after the "i", but in this case I don't think it makes much difference.  It would be just as appropriate to call it, "trial running".  The result is the same.

They are dark, mystical places.  Guarded by fierce creatures.
Wild hogs, snakes, and these babies:
Guardian of the realm.
None Shall Pass!
Unless you have a big stick.

Ok.  So it also has lots of deer and bunnies, but still.  Look at this place.  I mean, you just know that Yoda is in there, right?
What's in there??
"Only what you take with you."
(seriously, there's no water or bathrooms.)

Much like Luke Skywalker's trip to Dagobah, your limits will be tested, fears & doubts will [must] be overcome, and you will emerge on the other side knowing a little more about yourself.  Perhaps a lot more.  In fact, anyone running with you will probably get to see a whole side of you that is best kept hidden from polite society.

Speaking of people running with you:
TESTS, ALLIES AND ENEMIES.  The hero is tested and sorts out allegiances in the Special World.
I don't think I made any enemies.  At least, none that I know of.
But allies? Definitely.
I'm sure there are crazier people out there in the world, but I doubt they can run as well.  What a fascinatingly strange and diverse mix of people I've met in the last 2 years.  Not just "met", but consider to be actual friends - to the point of being seen in public with them, or doing non-running related things together.  It appears that running, especially trail running, is the great equalizer.  It doesn't matter what you do for a living, or how much you make; your calves are just as filthy as the next person's calves.  And just as rock-hard, I might add.
We do have us some nice calves.

Now we get to the actual marathon.
THE ORDEAL.  Near the middle of the story, the hero enters a central space in the Special World and confronts death or faces his or her greatest fear.  Out of the moment of death comes a new life.

There is no question, in my mind, that the marathon was my Ordeal.  I don't need to even try to think of a better metaphor for something that can whittle me down to the barest essence of who I am, and then thrust me out, raw, into a crowd of cheering people.  If that isn't an example of a death and rebirth, I don't know what is.
As you run and the miles add up, you can feel bits of yourself falling away.  Not necessarily in a bad way, though it may feel like that at the time.  Oh look.  There goes my dignity.  Guess I didn't need that after all.  I tried to keep smiling and not look too downtrodden, especially when I saw the photographers along the route.  Not out of vanity, but as a reminder to try and be happy about what I was doing.
After the race, I did find one photo of me online that wasn't horrible.  I'm actually smiling and pointing at the camera, as if to say, "You did this."  I've never bought a race photo before, but I'm tempted to buy this one.  That's the only way to get a copy that doesn't have the word "PROOF" written across it.  Though, I kind of like that, too.  It's as though the photo itself is Proof of my journey through the Ordeal.
The other photos I found are much worse.  I look tired; I'm heel-striking; I'm making weird faces.
I've only run the New Orleans marathon, so I can't speak for all of them, but this one definitely seemed to get harder the further along you went.  Obviously, not just because you were running more.  I mean, the course itself seemed designed to eat away at your resolve.  It starts with bands and crowds.  Cheering and signs, galore.  You're running through shady neighborhoods of old New Orleans.  Then, there are less people.  Less signs.  You pass the halfway point.  The bands dwindle; they switch to country music.  Soon, you find yourself in a barren, shadeless plain of glaring white asphalt with overpasses.  That you run over. Twice.

You think I'm joking, of course.

So I Googled it for you.

These are representative Google Street-View screen shots I just grabbed.
Obviously, they aren't during the race, but they are from the actual route.

Somewhere during the first 6 miles or so.
Mentally add hundreds of people to this pic.

The last 10 miles looked like this.  With bridges.
Mentally add about 5 people to this pic.

The Boon

Did I finish?  Of course.  Did I think I was going to die?  Maybe.
During those last 10 miles, there was some serious inner-voice debates going on.  You really have to factor that into your training.  It's going to happen, and if you haven't experienced it in your runs leading up to the race, it might catch you with your guard down.  Regardless, even if you know it's coming, it can still appear to make some sense; almost sound reasonable.
This is hard.  We should just stop.
That's crazy.  I'm not stopping; I'm almost done.
Well, at least slow down.  We're not going to break the 4-hour mark.
I could slow down.  That might feel better.
You know what?  Half-marathons might be your thing.
Yeah.  I could just stick to half-marathons.  I'd be done by now.
Slow down.
Yeah.  Slow down.

So, did I break the 4-hour mark?  Nope.
Was I close?  Yup.

You have to keep a 9:10 pace in order hit 4 hours.
My average pace was 9:18.
Do I think I can shave 8 seconds off each of the 26.2 miles next time?  I can tell you one thing:  I sure as hell am going to find out.  I ran this one nearly an hour faster than my last one.  I think I should be able to cut off 4 more minutes...

Which brings us to the Prize.
I mean, what's the point of all this running and training?  There's got to be some tangible reward waiting at the end of all this, right?
THE REWARD.  The hero takes possession of the treasure won by facing death.  There may be celebration, but there is also danger of losing the treasure again. 

Well, not much chance of me "losing the treasure", but otherwise that description seems to be pretty accurate: near-death experience, medallion, celebration.
I don't think the plastic medal is the real reward.  I think it is symbolic of the reward, but what is the real boon here?  If it's not the medal, the photos, or the shirt, what is it?  I'm tempted to say that simply completing the race is the reward, but that doesn't seem right either.
The more I think about it, the more I'm certain of it.
For me, the race itself was the boon.  The race wasn't the ordeal, it was merely the final leg of the ordeal.  The last dash in a year-long process of tempo runs, long runs, intervals, cross-training, experimenting with different nutrition and stretches, salt-ratios, "lacing strategies" (seriously), and a myriad others.

All leading up to this:
Being Ready to run the New Orleans marathon.

By the time I stood in my corral at the starting line, I had already realized the boon.  I was primed and ready. I was the boon.  The rest was formality.
RETURN WITH THE ELIXIR.  The hero returns home or continues the journey, bearing some element of the treasure that has the power to transform the world as the hero has been transformed.

In almost every Hero's Journey, the hero must return with the prize.  It can be a physical object (like a treasure) or a magical ability.  Either way, it is symbolic of something more.  When you heed your own call to adventure and cross your threshold into uncharted and unfamiliar territory, you will face dangers and obstacles.  That is no surprise.
But you will also find allies and mentors.  Most importantly, you will find out something about yourself.  And when you do, you have to bring it home.  Bring it back to your world, and share it.  Be someone else's ally, or mentor.
Be the boon.

After all, what better proof is there of having survived your own Ordeal, completed your own Hero's Journey, than to be the very embodiment of that accomplishment?

That's all the proof you need.

Monday, February 6, 2012

The Great Train Wreck of 2011

Let me preface this post with the disclaimer that I consider myself to be a runner.  I realize that's a very broad term which encompasses everything from, "I run occasionally", to "I just qualified for the Boston Marathon".
I'm somewhere in between those two extremes.

I say this because I don't want to give the impression that I'm one of those "running deities" who can run 50+ mile trail races or sub-8-minute-pace marathons. I know people who can do those things, and they definitely inspire me to see how much more I can do.  But I'm not one of them.  Perhaps one day.
That said, I do run.  Quite a bit, to be honest.  Of course, that is subjective as well.  Compared to some of my running friends, not so much perhaps.  But I think it's safe to say that, in general, I run a lot.

I have attempted to run 1 marathon (last year).  I say attempted because, even though I did complete it, and was not carried across the finish line by ambulance or piggyback, it was pretty bad.  Train Wreck is the term I tend to use.  As in, "I would have preferred to be involved in a train wreck".  Also, I didn't actually run it.  There was a fair amount of walking, staggering, and whimpering involved as well.

Hmmm... Originally, this post was supposed to be about trail running.  But, perhaps it would be best to get some perspective on why I would be out running through muddy, hilly, and wild-animal-infested woods (for hours), first.  So... more on the trail running later.

Friday, January 20, 2012

Fancy Ear

This post is all about our dog, Gladys.  I figured there weren't enough pet photos on the internet, and felt I needed to do something about that.  We named her "Gladys", which is obviously an old lady name, because we wanted a name that she could grow into and figured that name would continue to work better for her as she aged.

We don't know what kind of dog she is.  "A happy one", is how we usually answer when someone asks us that question.  She is a rescue dog.  Not in the crawling-through-rubble-to-find-you-after-an-earthquake sense, but in the we-adopted-her-from-ARF-when-she-was-a-puppy sense.  ARF stands for Animal Rescue Foundation, and it's one of many here in town.  They brought her to a local Petsmart one weekend, and we couldn't resist.

Anyway, she's amazing.  I am biased, of course, so I am including some picture of things at which, I feel, she truly excels.

Snooze #1

Friday, January 13, 2012

At least there was king cake.

I don't know about you (obviously), but I spent most of my morning learning about multi-beam sensors, echo sounders, velocity profiles (and how they relate to water salinity & temperature), pitch/roll/heading/heave compensation, the application of tidal predictions, point-cloud binning & tinning, total propagation of error, and how many cases of beer it might take to actually affect the draught of a vessel in the water (hypothetically, of course).
All that before lunch.
Apparently, I am now an expert.  ;)

Sure, my work gets dull and monotonous at times.  But I have to remind myself how amazing it is that a "simple" work meeting like this to discuss some field equipment can combine both astronomy/physics (lunar cycles and gravitational pull), and quantum physics (GPS timing, and wave refractions).

It was certainly more interesting than the "safety meeting" we had right after.

OK.  Lunch is over.  Back to work.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

3 miles... make it 4. No, 5. And a parking tower.

There's a group of runners here that meet just about every Wednesday (and Sundays.... and some Saturdays.  Occasionally a Tuesday, as well).  Normally, I would join them, but other things came up, so I ran by myself on Tuesday, instead.
To be honest, it's not quite as fun running alone, but the weather had taken a slight dip into the "more favorable" temps, which was nice.  I was originally shooting for a quick 3 around the neighborhood.  Maybe 4 if I was feeling good.  I took off in a direction that led me away from my neighborhood, but with no real "route" in mind.  Hung out in the sub-8-min pace; felt really good.  Sometime during mile 2, I decided to head for a parking tower.  Got there right as I finished mile 2, so I took it as a good sign and drove straight in... and up.
I've noticed that my GPS doesn't do so well inside parking towers, so I tried to stay near the edges where it's more open.  Of course, this meant that I couldn't cut the corners.  :)
Apparently, this tower is 6 stories tall, because it went on forever.  Phew!  Tried to keep it near 8-min, but it was pretty steep.  Not sure about the accuracy, but I made it all the way up, and back down just as my watch crossed the next mile.  So, it's at least a mile then, right? (assuming the GPS cuts corners - which it does).
Well, if there's one thing about running a parking tower, it's that it feels So Good when you're done running it!  My next 2 miles were back under 8, and felt great.
Not bad for what was originally supposed to be an easy 3.  Guess someone had their Wheaties.

Let's just hope that can hold me until Saturday.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

14 Miler

Phew!  Glad that's over.
Met up with a fellow runner at 6:30am.  We did a big loop around town, hitting a few of the known water-fountains that we know of.  Interesting tid-bit:  I don't know if this exists everywhere or not, but there are at least 3 (I'm sure more) houses here that have water fountains installed at or near their mailbox.  To be honest, I don't know the owners, or if they are runners themselves.  But these water fountains are well known to the local running community... and appreciated.
We wanted to keep the pace under 9min, and ended up with an 8:35 average.  Pleased with that, especially since we had a little warm front come through last night.  It was in the mid-sixties and very muggy.  Thick fog our entire run.

Now, of course, I can't stop eating.  :)