Hail Meb too.

You will remember my friend Ashley. She is a running buddy of mine who moved to Nashville a couple of years ago.

In 2006, Ashley paced me the last ten miles to my then-PR at the NYCM. She also enabled me to finish the infamous Chicago 26.2 mile "Fun Run" in 2007 by finding me walking disconsolately at MP 24, barely ahead of the No-More-Running Police who were out on the course, and jogging me the rest of the way in. (I was sick when I ran that marathon, which didn't help with the 90 degree heat that day.) I hated her for the 17 minutes it took us to go the last two miles, but loved her afterwards for finding me and bringing me home.

Overcoming a continuing spate of injuries, and despite a current injury, Ashley ran her first marathon last weekend at the NYCM. She threw down a 4:14 while thoroughly enjoying her run, stopping to take pictures, text, high-five people, etc. She feels she could have gone faster (she was injured) but that's a good ground floor if she continues on in marathoning.

She had a wonderful experience, and who wouldn't at the NYCM? It is my favorite marathon, bar none. But there's more to the story.

Two posts ago I indicated how excited I was to hear that an American had won at New York for the first time since 1982. An American, Meb Keflezighi, who ran shoulder-to-shoulder with the best Kenyan in the world at MP 24 and then vanquished him in Central Park. Meb won convincingly in a PR of 2:09:15.

In my post, I included a picture of me with Meb a few days after he ran a sub-2:10 at this year's London Marathon. Meb is back.

At a post-race party in New York, Ashley met Meb herself. She said it was utterly thrilling. Ashley is the one on the left.

Anticipation of 2008

As the new year approaches, I find myself thinking about what I want to accomplish in 2008.

2006: Last year was a good year, primarily because I worked the track heavily. I broke four hours for the marathon finally, and set PRs at a mile, 2K, three miles, 8K, seven miles, 15K, ten miles, 20K, the Half, twenty miles and the Whole. I traveled to Florida to run in the Inaugural Walt Disney World Goofy Challenge and to California to run in the Inaugural Disneyland Half-Marathon.

2007: This year has been a gradual winding down for me, but I did PR at the marathon and 20-mile distances, won my age group in two races (including the only race that is run in my home town--bragging rights!) and ran sub-eights in a 10-mile race and during a 14.6 mile leg at the LPRM Relay (which included winning the coed division with my partner Bex). I traveled to California to run Leg One of the Lake Tahoe Relay on Bex's team. Most gratifying, I directed three different training programs for my running club. (Above: Bex was a coach in my club's 10K Training Program which I directed. At the Program's goal race, the Capitol Hill Classic 10K, she came in first in her age group in the sister 3K race.)

2008: What are my goals for next year? I have always had the goal of breaking 22 minutes in a 3-mile race (current PR, 22:09) and breaking 12,000 meters for a sixty-minute track run (current best, 11,800 meters). I would like to PR in the Half (current PR, 1:44:18) and break 3:45 in the Full. I would like to break 1:20 at another 10-miler and run a credible Leg Six (the awfullest leg) at the Lake Tahoe Relay for Bex's team. I would like to obtain coaching certification, and have one-half of the runners in training programs I direct meet or exceed their race goal. I would like my running buddy D to come back from serious injury so he can run the hills of SW with me again. I would also like to find another two running buddies similar to Bex and A, who both moved away this year, two dedicated runners and talented ladies who are about my speed with whom I enjoyed running immensely. (Above: A was a coach in my club's 10K Training Program. Last year she ran a 10K/3K double at the Capitol Hill Classic. This year she concentrated on the 3K and came in second, fifth overall.)

What are your goals for the coming year?

Two Days Off

It's baaack. Due to the pain returning in my injured foot after I did an intermediate run, a track workout and a recovery run (running home from the track) in one day, I took the next two days, Thursday and Friday, off. But on Saturday I had to lead the intermediate group in the TMG program I direct because both intermediate coaches were away. That band of runners was scheduled to do 9 miles.

Because of my sore foot, I was tempted to wave the group on down the trail and wait for them to come back in an hour and a half. I'm glad I didn't because the route I chose for them to run was on the Custis Trail, a hilly and not particularly well-marked trail. It's within a few miles of my house so I have run it dozens of times but most of the eleven athletes in my group didn't know the trail. The three runners in the lead managed to go to the turnaround point and return without incident (thus earning them an A+ in sign reading) but I took the rest of the group on a wrong turn and we got into city streets and went a mile before I sheepishly admitted we were lost.

Lost? Not me. Not lost really, because I knew exactly where we were by then since I live around there, but we were no longer anywhere near the trail. Like a guy finally having to ask for directions, I collected the eight runners following me, 'fessed up and had them backtrack to the trail. We got our nine miles done by turning around early to compensate for the distance we ran while lost.

That's what makes running exciting, seeing new places as you run along trying to figure out where the hell you are. I joked with my group that our adventure demonstrated why runners should always carry a fare card, so they can jump aboard a Metro to get back when they're miles off course.

I wore an ace bandage on my injured foot and it felt okay. After the workout, I went with Not Born To Run to wish Bex goodbye. (Left. The group Jeanne runs with at the TMG actually stretches before their runs. Jeanne is the flexible one in the visor.)

You're leaving? Bex was leaving town that very day for good. We went to lunch with her and E after they finished packing their car like a suitcase with the rest of their possessions left over after the movers left. It was packed, too. To squeeze that last box of Kleenex into the car, Bex had to pull the tissues out and throw the box away.

Jeanne was kind enough to treat us all to lunch as a goodbye to Bex after years of working with her and a thanks to me for hauling E's loveseat over to her house when Bex gave it away. Thanks Jeanne!

At the restaurant Jeanne and I and Bex were talking about marathons and times and saying off the top of our heads how you needed a 9:09 pace to break four hours, how a 3:50 was about an 8:48, and how you needed to run at about an 8:33 pace if you're going for a 3:45. It all was very stimulating for the three of us. (Right. Bex at rest during her seventh leg at Lake Tahoe.)

What are you talking about? I looked at E, the non-runner in the group. He's a terrific tennis player instead. He was politely smiling and looking like he was listening. I asked him what he was really doing while we were talking thus. He said, "Balancing my checkbook in my head."

I persisted, "What do you hear when we talk running like this?"

"I imagine it's like what our dog Nelson hears when humans talk," he explained. "It goes like this. Blah blah blah blah Nelson blah blah blah bad dog blah blah blah blah blah come blah blah blah no blah blah...."

E is a riot.

After lunch Bex and E left for the great state of Californi-yay. Permanently. Sigh.

You did what? A called from the new town she just moved to and said she had just completed her first 20-miler as she gets ready for Chicago. I was instantly insanely jealous. All I had done so far to get ready for Chicago was an ugly sixteen. (Left. A during her moving sale on Capitol Hill. She's the one on the stairs.)

But the very next morning, Sunday, I had my own 20-miler scheduled.

Moving A

One of my running buddies, A, moved out of town last weekend. She and I didn't get our planned last long run in. Sigh. (Saying goodbye to A after her last day at work two weeks ago.)

You'll remember, our supposed 16-mile run two Sundays ago turned into a 14-mile slog for me right up to the doorstep of heat exhaustion in the sweltering July heat. Fortunately I didn't step through that dangerous doorway thanks to A paying close attention to our surroundings and recognizing certain danger signals that were present with me. That's what running buddies do; the run itself isn't the supreme thing, safety is. We were going to do it right last Sunday, run sixteen miles on the same trail with an earlier start before she left town for good later that day.

I went over to her basement apartment on Capitol Hill on Saturday to help her with moving. Everything A was bringing to the bustling urban center in the south she was moving to had to fit into her car. Everything else was being discarded, either in a yard sale, on Craig's List, to charity, to friends or to the curb. Talk about a fresh start!

I helped A assemble a metal two-foot wide bumper skirt that attached to the trailer hitch on the back of her car so she could strap extra items such as her cherished rocking chair onto this platform. Since her tool box was a mish-mash of English and metric allen wrenches, we never could get the unit satisfactorily tightened because no wrench fit snugly as we turned the nuts onto the threads of the bolts. I felt like I was back in 1970, working on my 185 CC Yamaha Enduro in the courtyard of my coed freshman dorm in Boulder. Those were the days! Hey, we had a war we were all protesting back then too, along with a President who also wouldn't listen. But he actually had a more commanding presence than this current one W, which I take it stands for worst ever. Mission accomplished, anyone? Where's Dick?

A wasn't doing so well, having had her going away night-on-the-town party the previous evening, so we broke for lunch, dropping off gobs of clothing at a charitable outlet enroute. What a lodestone of nice apparel for all those rail-slender six-foot-three women who shop regularly at Martha's Table. Over lunch, we abandoned the notion of running our 16 miles the following morning. There was a lot A still had to do to be able to get out of town the next day. Running is life, but sometimes life intrudes. Sigh. (With H and A immediately after the NYCM. A paced me the last ten miles and enabled me to PR by 75 seconds when I was flagging. The mostly silent crowds in the Bronx broke into cheers when she came by. I wonder why?)

Revived by food, we returned to work. We used my pickup to drop off a dresser at someone's house just past Lincoln Park. We drove a teak and marble sideboard dry bar unit over to Dupont Circle and hauled that heavy sucker up to the third floor of a tall Brownstone. The recipient looked on worriedly every time A or I groaned as the two of us strained at each hellish turn in the narrow stair hallway. Let me tell you something, A is strong! She can be my moving buddy anytime.

We picked up A's friend Helika on the return trip, who was going to help with the packing. This was where I bowed out for the evening, to let the women do the fine work now that the brute work was done. Helika was a true friend because when I returned the next day, A's place had been transformed. Entropy had been curtailed as nearly everything was in a box or plastic bag. That had been a huge job.

Sunday was a whirlwind of packing the car like a suitcase. The back of the interior and the trunk were already done. A is so well liked in her neighborhood that on both days, an eclectic assortment of neighbors and acquaintances came by to help her with various tasks like breaking apart her bed unit and hauling the components away or loading the bumper skirt. By 4 pm the car was packed to the bursting point, with the load on the bumper skirt causing that platform sag to within four inches of the ground. There was space enough for A in the driver's seat, and barely space for Jake her dog in the passenger seat. That was a dog wild with neurosis for two days, following A around incessantly as things vanished from the apartment piece by piece. (Game faces on. My teammates and workmates G and A before the 2007 Capitol Hill Classic 3K. G won the 3K race twenty minutes after running the 10K version. A took off like a rocket hard on his heels and finished second, fifth overall. A did the double last year when she came in fourth in the 3K, a few seconds behind Bex who claimed the bronze in 2006.)

After a final goodbye, A drove away. Bye, A, I'll miss you. See you at Chicago.

(A made it safely to her destination. Go help her out at Chicago by making a donation to the charitable cause she's running for.)

A Precautionary Summer's Tale

A is leaving town for good so last Sunday morning I was going to do a last LSD with her, 16 miles, as we both get ready for Chicago in twelve weeks. I recently did 14 with A, and also a 15. A hasn’t done a 16 yet, ever.

I was late, showing up at 7:40 am for our 7:30 run. All I had to eat or drink that morning was two cups of diced fruit in heavy syrup. We got underway at 7:50 after stretching. I carried a half liter of water.

Two weeks earlier I had run 15 miles at a steady 9:00 pace that deteriorated to a 9:15 pace the last few miles. A kept us locked on 9:30s for this run.

We went southbound through Alexandria on the Mt. Vernon Trail for 8 miles and turned around. By now it was after 9 am and the day was heating up fast. My technical shirt was saturated and hanging heavily off me.

Going back I started getting really tired. I finished my water. I was also hungry. I hadn’t brought anything to eat.

A stopped in the comfort station at 12 miles and I gratefully walked a quarter mile til she caught up again.

Going through Old Town, I felt terrible. I couldn’t keep up with A anymore and I couldn’t talk to her through my heavy breathing. I couldn’t catch my breath and my jaw and shoulders ached. My heart was racing and I was really sweating. It was 92 degrees by now and humid. Shit, I thought, there are only two miles to go. Some recess of my mind said, there are two miles to go.

I didn't think I could make two more miles. Two more miles? How could this be? I stopped and started walking. A stopped also and walked besides me. She offered me her water which I waved off. She apologized for having ingested her one Gu a few miles back and not offering me half, not knowing I hadn’t brought any. I said that was ridiculous, I could have brought Gu.

I took off my hat and shrugged out of my shirt. Sweat was pouring off me. I felt like I might fall down so I went over to the grass and sat down. A urged me not to sit down but I said I felt "black spotty." The grass had turned from green to sepia toned. A sat down beside me, watching me carefully.

I drank all of A’s water. I sucked in long breaths. I kept apologizing to A for "ruining" her 16 miler. (Her first 16 miler.) She said that was ridiculous.

After awhile, I got up and walked it in. I couldn’t run anymore, although I tried. A walked with me for most of the way and then ran ahead to her car when we were close. She brought back some fluids, Gatorade and water. I sucked the warm Gatorade down and it made me feel much better.

We went out for a post-run brunch. I uncharacteristically ordered a steak and a soda. Afterwards I spent several hours in my bedroom with the A/C unit going full blast.

I am a veteran runner. I can do sixteen miles easily, if not well. Sure it makes me tired and sore but it shouldn’t make me quit. But this shows what a fool I had been.

This is a precautionary tale. The admonition pride goeth before the fall springs to mind.

A summer morning might seem benign but can be dreadfully enervating because of rapidly rising temperature and humidity. It’s potentially dangerous. Lessons for long runs in the heat are:

• Respect the weather, always.
• Hydrate before the run.
• Hydrate during the run (16 ounces wasn’t enough). (But don’t go crazy and over-hydrate.)
• Fuel your body (eat enough before the run, and bring some energy replenishment, if only as a precaution).
• Bring money (to buy water or for a transit ride or to use a pay phone).
• Run with someone.
• Stop when you aren’t feeling right and make sure people around you know that you’re feeling distressed.
• Wear some ID, maybe affixed to your shoe.

I was worried that A wouldn’t ever run with me again. Not to worry, we’re doing the same 16 on Sunday, before she drives out of town for the last time. This time we're going to start at 6 am. This time I won't be late. This time we're going to get 'er done!

A was a real sweetheart about it, a veritable lifesaver. I’m gonna miss her! So is the DC running community.



(Three perfectly lovely ladies. Not Born To Run and Bex say goodbye to A. We'll see you on the trails!)

ACLI Capital Challenge 2007

Two weeks ago I ran in the ACLI Capital Challenge, an invitational 3-mile race, where teams from the legislative (Senate and House teams), executive and judicial branches and the Fourth Estate (Print and Electronic media teams) compete. Each team has five members, one of them a woman, and has to be captained by a Senator, Representative, Chief, Judge or Bureau Head. All five members on a team are scored by the place they finish in the race, and those place numbers are added up. The team with the lowest total wins.

I said in a previous post that it was a low point of my running career. It was a depressing morning.

I have assembled the team for my agency for the last two years. Last year the agency head who was our captain won an award in his age category, Male Captain Over 60. Our team did well last year, coming in 15th out of 113 teams. I PRed at the 3 mile distance in 22:09. I was fourth on our team. A beat me by five seconds.

However, our captain was injured as a result of training for that race and this year he asked me to find someone else if I could. No other head of the agency was available, so he stepped up to the plate again. His injury was still bothering him and he could only train on a bicycle.

C replaced one runner who ran a 21:22 last year who couldn’t participate again. I thought I was ready for the race and felt confident I could break 22 minutes (7:20 pace). Ten days earlier I had passed the three mile mark in a 10-mile race in 21:57. I had been training fast 3-milers with A and I had bet her that I would beat her this year. I thought I was in the same league as her. (Training for the Capital Challenge with A and Jake on the W&OD Trail outside the Beltway in Fairfax, Virginia.)

The early Wednesday morning out-and-back gun-timed race in Anacostia Park SE was down a flat two-lane blacktop along the south bank of the Anacostia River. I was too far back in the starting chute to get a good break out of the gates. It took me 15 seconds to cross the start line. A was up front with G, our team’s ace, and they both got away cleanly.

The first half mile I had to run on the grass where the spectators were standing to get clear of all the slow moving runners. I did a 7:10 first mile by race time. I thought I was on track for my PR, with 10 seconds already in the bank. I also knew for sure that I wasn’t going to catch A, who was motoring. (A was ready for this race and, more importantly, its aftermath.)

The second mile was not so great. I started noticing how humid it was, which bothered me after the long cold winter. I did a 7:34. I thought I could still PR if I could step it back up the last mile. It wasn’t going to happen. I started crawling up the road thinking, I could stop and still do allright if I walked it in from here.

I let myself and my team down by sluggishly running a 7:45 last mile. I never picked it up. I finished at 22:30 (7:30), 21 seconds slower than last year. A year older, that much slower. (Entertainment was provided. A local juggler with a running problem. Instead of headphones, try this when you're bored with running.)

I had teammates looking to me for help in the scoring. I didn’t dig deep.

A year ago I finished in 165th place. This year I fell to 217th place, a veritable free fall.

Our rock star, G, poured it on for us. He was one full minute faster than last year, finishing in 18:14 (6:05). He improved his place from 43rd a year ago to 29th. (G came ready to play. How about finishing 29/670?)

A also stepped it way up, running 55 seconds faster than a year ago. She finished in 21:09 (7:03) and improved her place from 162nd to 145th.

Those two gave the team a combined gain of 31 places from a year earlier. I gave it all back plus some with my solitary loss of 52 places from a year ago. I also realized that A is seriously faster than me and when she runs with me, it’s nice that she lets me hang with her.

C ran an excellent time of 23:34 (7:51) in his first race.

However, the worst was yet to come.

As a veteran runner, a former EMT, and a coach, I tell people who run that Rule Number One is: Don’t Injure Yourself. But sometimes the mania of running causes me to use less than my best judgment. Our captain wasn’t close to 100% this year. I knew it. Still, he came to play. But I should have let the team lapse this year.

After I finished the race, I watched for our captain. Soon he came into view with A running alongside of him. She had gone back after finishing to encourage him. He was hurting, running on pure determination and she was watching him closely. Two hundred yards from the finish, he stumbled. A caught him and prevented him from going down in the road. Thanks for being there, A.

The medical personnel were there in a flash and checked out our captain as a precaution. Being the tough competitor and former 3:00 marathoner that he is, our captain insisted on finishing. Which he did.

He was okay.

We finished 36th out of 124 teams this year.

I walked the four miles back to work. It was an hour of reflection.

I was depressed for awhile about this event. How shall I put it? It was a personal letdown, which also let teammates down. I did not pull my weight, much less exert a positive influence. I exercised suspect judgment, and someone came close to getting injured.

So much angst over 21 seconds. You’re not supposed to feel this way about running. Fortunately I have running to help me get over it.