skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Today, my Forerunner 205 has logged my 100th mile exclusively from orbiting my house. I probably did not total 100 miles in any previous year since graduating from high school, so this is definitely a significant milestone in my return to running. Also consider that I have only owned my watch since the beginning of September, note the frequency of these runs despite longer distances involved (hard to believe I used to be satisfied jogging one 1.5 mile orbit a week) and remember that, during many of these weeks, these were hardly the only miles I have recorded.
Over the past few months, I have run more than 77 miles on road and trails that do not connect to my neighborhood...including three races that total the length of a marathon. I am pretty pleased. Hopefully rain and the upcoming snowboarding season will not derail my progress.
It has now been nearly a month since I completed my first half-marathon, and I have found it difficult to get back to a regular running routine. I have run a few 3 mile and one 5 mile orbit, but skip more days than I should. It certainly does not help that I have no races scheduled between now and next spring (largely because I want to leave weekends open for the frequent snowboarding trips I hope to make). My wife has not been a source of inspiration lately...since running the 5K, she has not been running at all. So, to help both of us, I push us out of bed and drive us back to the fire trail at the end of Crenshaw, hoping a trail run will get both of us back on track.
Our run starts fine, naturally gaining speed over the long two mile decline. Even my wife can maintain a sub-9 minute pace over this stretch. The uphill on the other side, however, proves more difficult than I remember...and both of us slow considerably. Before we reach the turn around point, both of us are walking. Our next descent isn't nearly as fast as the first...and, by the time we begin the two mile ascent back to our car, we both realize we will be walking most of the way.
As we complete our fourth mile, my wife and I notice a couple hiking up an adjacent hill...perhaps a shortcut to the park at the top. With our pace already shot, we agree to follow them. Unfortunately, when we get to the base of their hill, we do not find a dirt trail, but a steep incline covered in loose Palos Verdes stone.
At first, we embrace the challenge. This hill is a bit steeper than any we faced on the Point Mugu Trail Run (more than 45 degrees by my wife's estimate)...and the stones really make us work to find stable footing. We pause to take in the view. Fortunately, we can use our cellphones to snap some pictures. The weather couldn't be more perfect...sunny, but cool (in the mid-50's). The recently rain-cleansed air leaves only a slight haze between us and Catalina Island.
Continuing up the hill is a chore. I start wondering if this is a shortcut or a dead-end (the thought of descending upon the rocky path is scary). As we near what appears to be the top, more dirt is exposed, the incline gets a bit more forgiving, but the trail continues upward for a few hundred feet. When we reach the peak, we are not exactly at the park. The trail rejoins Burma Road.
I run back to the car and am happy to see that we indeed shaved more than a half mile off our planned five mile run. My wife's legs are burning, but I am feeling pretty good. I suspect I will not feel the same tomorrow morning.
Driving to this morning's event is a chore. There is no parking for half-marathoners near the start (Sunset Park in Coronado) nor at the end (Imperial Beach Pier Plaza). The only options are parking mid-course hoping to catch a shuttle bus that departs at 5:40am (open only to the first 200 participants) or having someone drop you off. Since my wife and friends are participating in the 5K, they can drop me off, but must give themselves enough time to drive ten miles to Imperial Beach, find street parking (there is no designated lot), and walk a few blocks to the start of their race. One would think the 5K would start later than the half marathon, but it does not. The 5K actually begins at 7:00am...a half-an-hour before my race! The event planners must assume that participants of the half-marathon do not carpool with people in the 5K.
Anticipating street closures between starting locations, we have given ourselves plenty of time to reach our respective courses. I get dropped at Sunset Park around 5:40am. It is cold...probably less than 60 degrees. I do not wear a jacket for fear of having no place to ditch it once the temperature warms up. The only place to take cover from the breeze are dozens of port-a-potties. I decide to grin and bear it, hovering near one of the light posts dotting the street. I can keep my hands and arms warm by touching the top of the post. I note that some runners arrive wearing plastic garbage bags. Clever.
Around 6:00am, my wife calls to tell me they have arrived at the start of the 5K. The streets have not yet been closed to traffic, so they did not encounter any delays.
The sun rises. Around 6:30am, sunlight slowly stretches across Sunset Park. As I thaw, I do some stretching myself. I also take a few short walks to grab cups from the water table since I left my bottle in the car. I would have been happier if event organizers invited Starbucks to cater the event...hot coffee sounds really good right about now.
The port-a-potties, which initially seem sufficient in quantity, are now backed up dozens of runners deep. Multiple lines weave chaotically within an area far too confined for such lengthy queues. Each visit now requires a fifteen minute wait. I am not sure if it is nerves or all the water I have consumed, but I frequent the facilities. There must be a better way to accommodate a few thousand runners.
The "wheelies" (hand cycles, wheel chairs, bicycles, and rollerbladers) are now ready to race. The announcer keeps repeating "do not cross the mat" to rollerbladers who are obviously not paying attention. Doing so would cause the chip they are wearing to start recording their personal time for the race...they are only hurting themselves. Their race starts at 7:15am.
I grab another cup of water to wash down a Gu Gel. I feel ready. Since this event benefits disabled athletes, runners with disabilities including those wearing prosthetic limbs will lead our race...and will be recorded on IMAX film. I find a spot between runners carrying signs indicating a "1:45 pace" and "2:15 pace". I hope to finish the race within two hours.
My first half marathon begins at 7:30am. I find it hard to establish my own pace with this many runners surrounding me (as was the case during the Nike Run Hit Remix). The beach is to our right, where it will remain for most of the run. I pass the IMAX camera, but suspect it has long ceased filming. I start weaving through the slower runners, but must keep checking my watch to make sure I do not go out too fast. Doing sub-eight minute miles this early could hurt my chances of enduring the full thirteen miles.
Hotel del Coronado marks mile 1. I pass the famous landmark in 8:17, a bit faster than my target (nine minutes per mile), but, since I feel comfortable holding this pace, I see no reason to alter my stride just yet. We are now on Southbound Highway 75 (Silver Strand Blvd) which has been closed to traffic so runners can spread across the lanes.
Around mile 2, I reach the first water station. I have decided to grab water at all stations and drink just enough to keep hydrated. I find it awkward to drink while maintaining my pace, but I do not want to miss a step. I have no idea how much liquid I actually imbibe before I toss my cup in the final trash recepticle.
As I near mile 3, I encounter a bit of headwind. A runner with whom I chatted earlier this morning warned that wind can be a problem, so I start regularly checking my watch to make sure I am maintaining my target pace. Sure enough, I have slowed a hair, but my three mile total is still under twenty-five minutes. I start wondering if my wife or friends were able to complete their 5K within this time...not a good thing to think about since I still have more than ten miles to go!
For the next few miles, the peninsula narrows so that beach exists on both sides of Highway 75. Mile 6 and stronger headwinds occur around the first incline on the course. I push to hold my pace up the hill, down a Cliff Shot with water from the station atop the hill, and extend my stride on the decline. I am pretty happy about completing my first six miles in less than fifty-one minutes...fairly certain I have set a personal record in my the 10K. Despite having more than half of the race ahead, I am now confident that I can finish it in under two hours.
The most discouraging moment in the race accompanies the tenth mile. This is the first time I can see the leaders of the race...through a fence to my right. Not only do they look much faster, they are running in the opposite direction! I had seen the out-and-back loop on our course map, but, from this spot, I could now better visualize the distance. That said, the beginning of the loop and the turnaround points are not within visual range. Have I mentioned how much I hate backtracking?
Before we reach the loop, our course briefly weaves through a residential neighborhood in Imperial Beach. Residents lounging upon their driveways cheer us on with encouraging comments like "You're almost done! Keep it up". One of the runners behind me starts laughing. Easy for them to say...we still have four miles to go! Even worse, I start feeling my bladder. I am afraid to stop for fear of not being able to regain my pace. I grab water and receive a free Cliff Shot at a station just before the loop trying to ignore the nearby port-a-potties.
The loop takes place on an asphalt path through the United States Naval Radio Station. I pass a sign that says "5K Turn Around" and start wondering why I did not run with my wife and friends. I have no idea how much further I have to backtrack. After an incline, I encounter rough asphalt. I see a rollerblader remove his wheels, frustrated that he cannot roll through this segment of the course. I cannot let anything discourage me. I see the turnaround point and the final water station. After beginning the trek back, I slow just enough to polish off one last cup of water.
For once, I am thankful that I am backtracking. The earlier incline is now a beneficial decline that helps me regain a strong pace for the home stretch. Shortly after returning to the residential neighborhood,
I see my friends, one holding a camera. Despite having run nearly thirteen miles, I somehow manage to pick up my pace. I overhear one tell the other to call ahead and notify my wife that I am coming. I now know she is waiting for me near the finish line.
I pass a few runners as the finish line enters view. I see my wife and give her a high-five as I go by. I achieve my fastest average pace of the day over the last two-tenths of a mile and cross the finish line strong. I am thrilled to learn that I have officially survived my first half-marathon in 1:53:35! I did it! And I am still able to walk!
Tuesday, I ran around my Honda dealership while my SUV was being serviced...an improvised run that included a couple of laps around Columbia Park, site of one of my high school cross country meets. Interestingly, this is the second time this week I have revisited portions of cross country courses. On Sunday, I actually touched two (Palos Verdes and South High).
I never thought I would say this, but I am starting to look forward to running my first half-marathon. I have run well more than 5 miles every other day this week and my pace has improved with each outing. My legs and feet feel good, my breathing is under control, and flat nines now seem very achievable. Heck, some of the hills I used to complain about no longer seem nearly as challenging as they had been (I managed my first mile in 8:33 despite having to climb the steep incline that begins my home orbit)...I just have to make sure not to go out too fast since the race is on a flat course.
This is my last post before the race...wish me luck!
The clock is ticking and my muscles are burning, but, seven days before my first half-marathon, I am happy to report that my training appears to be back on track. I have managed my first 12+ mile run in under a 10 minute per mile pace and on the rolling hills of the Palos Verdes Peninsula. If I don't do something stupid during the week ahead, I figure I should be able to complete next week's race averaging a respectable 9 minutes per mile. The entire course appears to be flat, near sea level. The only thing I am really concerned about at this point is the weather since we'll be in San Diego. I'm crossing my fingers because the current forecast suggests temperatures will be comfortable...within the 60's.
Getting back to speed has been as slow as the smoke clearing from the skies over Southern California. Sunday, my first attempt to run since the fires hit, proved to be far more difficult. I could not even maintain a 10 minute per mile pace for just 3 miles.
I have run twice outside since then, thankfully improving each time. I completed today's 5 miles with considerable elevation change and an improving pace over the final miles. Still, I have a ways to go to prep myself for the half marathon...now just 10 days away. I must tackle a 10-13 miler over the weekend and at a better pace than my previous attempt.
This week's fires have put my training on hold. Even today I can still smell the smoke in the air...and I get a mild hacking cough every time I come in from being outside.
Assuming I start running again this weekend, will I be able to get myself properly prepared for my first half marathon? I guess I won't know until I get out there and try.
With my first half marathon less than a month away, I decide to run 13 miles today. My non-runner friend is surprisingly willing to join me, so I set our pace at a leisurely 12 minutes per mile with planned stops around miles 4 (Palos Verdes High School's cross country course), 7 (my mom's house), and 10 (my friend's house) and choose a route that is mostly downhill until the final two miles. We carry water and consume gels or shot blocks at each break.
My friend starts feeling his knees around mile 7 and, when we reach his house, decides he has had enough. I realize my legs do not have enough strength for the hill I must climb to get home, so I decide to save myself for an attempt on a later date. 10.66 miles is nothing to sneeze at, easily both of our longest runs ever, but I still do not know what it feels like to go the distance. I doubt I will be attempting 13 next week since we will be attending an auto race in Monterey. Hmmmm....
My wife, friends, and I arrive early for our first true trail race. The sun has just begun to rise, it is unexpectedly cold for a crystal clear morning, and we cannot help but be overwhelmed by the size of the surrounding hills. We know the course climbs into them, but my crazy trail running coworker (who will be on the18K configuration of the course) confirms what we all fear...today's 11K will reach the peak.
I have done my research. I know that this run will be long and grueling with nearly 1,200 feet of elevation change. I have trained for both distance and elevation. I am familiar with trail obstacles, but mostly from running high school cross country. I know there are single-track segments almost from the getgo...meaning this is a strategic race not just by pace, but by starting position. My plan is to place myself somewhere in the middle of the pack so I do not get stuck behind walkers, maintain a pace between 10 and 11 minute miles for the first half, and then use whatever I have left on the final descent. My wife and friends merely want to finish. We each consume a Gu gel and sufficiently hydrate, watch the 18K runners begin their race, and then head to the starting line.
The actual race proves to be a bit more extreme. We start on a road that soon funnels us into a single-file trail, but, before we can establish our pace, unexpectedly come to a stop. Everyone must carefully cross over large rocks (perhaps a stream at some point during the year)...this is truly cross country terrain! Passing is not an option as the trail has become impossibly narrow as it continues uphill and is often penetrated by brush. We must carefully watch the ground as the trail is uneven and has lots of protruding rocks. I now understand why MP3 players are not allowed on our run...we must be very aware of each other at all times in case someone stumbles. Going over the edge would be bad. We also have been warned about poison oak, but can take comfort that rattlesnakes are not much of a factor this time of the year. When we reach what appears to be a staircase made of rocks, everyone must again slow to a walk. I am discouraged that I complete my first mile just under 14 minutes, but I really do not see how I could have done much better given the conditions.
At around a mile-and-a-half, the trails for the 18K and 11K races separate. Unfortunately for us 11K runners, our course continues its unforgiving ascent for another two miles. At times I find room to pass, so I start overtaking slower competitors. I am initially relieved to reach the fire road near the northern-most corner of the course, but the incline steepens. Perhaps I have pushed too hard too early. I must walk.
I stop for Gatorade at the first water station. Up until now, I have enjoyed the shade, but the fire road is completely exposed to the sun. I pour water on my head hoping I will stay cool. Leaving the station, I struggle to re-establish a running pace mentally unprepared for the trail to continue its ascent. I reach the three mile marker after more than thirty-six minutes on the course...I feel slow and grow fatigued. I keep telling myself that it is all downhill after the next bend only to discover another incline. In fact, I am fooled by several turns with barely any moments of respite. The only thing keeping me going is the view...I have never hiked these hills before. The rugged hills, lush valleys, and glimpses of the ocean are quite inspiring.
Then something wonderful happens. The incline no longer feels as extreme, my pace improves, and I pass the mile four mark in less time than I expect. I catch my second wind and regain my stride. The descent begins. I stop briefly for water at the final aid station. It is time to really start pushing myself.
I leave the fire road and start my way down the single-track Ray Miller Trail. Though my pace has now quickened, leaders of the 18K race (who started 15 minutes before us) have caught up and want to pass. Finding opportunities to do so is difficult, so I must scrape my legs along the brush to let them by. My stride really begins to open up, but I must remember to carefully to manage my speed because the trail makes sharp turns as it winds its way down the hill. The view of the Pacific Ocean and our base camp is spectacular, but I cannot fully appreciate the panorama as I do not want to go off the cliff. I use the runner in front of me as a rabbit and repeatedly decline his offers to let me pass. I am starting to feel blisters on my left foot, but am breathing comfortably, my legs are not hurting, and the sun really has not been a factor. Mile 5 comes and goes. Mile 6 goes even faster.
When I reach mile 7, however, I start to worry. First of all, I have incorrectly assumed that our 11K will be exactly 6.84 miles and we have not yet reached the bottom of the hill. I am not mentally prepared to go the extra distance and start to struggle. I give one final push towards the finish line. Reaching it requires a bit of careful navigation on very uneven terrain, so I am thankful not to hurt myself as I cross the line. What a relief to be done!
Though I did not quite reach my goal, I am pleased to have officially completed the 7.32 mile course in 1:12:32 (averaging sub-10 minute miles). I am even more pleased with how strongly I finished the race...it took me less than 24 minutes to cover the last three miles. It is hard to believe that I spent 45 minutes on the incline, but less than 30 on the descent! For males age 30-39, I finish 15th...49th out of 116 participants in the 11K.
My wife, friends, and coworker also complete their respective races strongly. My coworker finishes his 18K (1:40:24 for 21st in his 18K age/male group, 60th out of 190 overall), followed shortly thereafter by my friend (1:26:41 for 19th in our 11K age group, 93rd overall) and my wife (1:27:27 for 17th in her age group, 95th overall). We all agree this has been a worthwhile experience, far more interesting than a road race...and this definitely will not be our last.
Like the Nike run, this event includes a medal, t-shirt, and edibles. Today's menu includes Gatorade, water, Gu gels, Clif shots and bars, and a buffet breakfast. The buffet features runny eggs (full of shells according to my friends), tart oranges, under ripe bananas, Costco muffins, and Kripsy Kreme doughnuts (the announcer encourages us not to feel guilty about grabbing one), a meal that hardly knocks are socks off, but I am thankful we can refuel immediately after burning so many calories. On our way home, my wife, friends, and I decide to swing by Gardena and grab a bite at Pho So 1. Vietnamese beef noodle soup seems an ideal post-race meal...liquid, salt, carbs, protein, what more does a runner need?
After totaling nearly 25 miles last week (with only one day of rest), I have decided to take a less is more approach during the week of my first real trail race.
As planned, I began the week by returning to the 5 mile long (round trip) fire trail to give my wife and friends an idea of what they will face this Saturday. All of us got a decent downhill pace going, but we took it easy (i.e. walked) on the inclines...which was probably good since my legs were feeling the strain of my previous week's training. Unfortunately, I really needed a few days to get my legs feeling normal again, so I did not run again until today.
With the race only a couple of days away, I felt the need to give myself one last serious distance workout. I reversed my 7.1 mile orbit and took one shortcut hoping to make it exactly 11K, but fell short by 0.19 miles (one more refinement to this orbit and I think I'll have it). Surprisingly, I preferred this reverse direction probably because the incline, though much longer, is nowhere near as steep. Plus you can more fully appreciate the view when you go down Via Del Monte...it really is spectacular.
It has now been nearly a month since I completed my first half-marathon, and I have found it difficult to get back to a regular running routine. I have run a few 3 mile and one 5 mile orbit, but skip more days than I should. It certainly does not help that I have no races scheduled between now and next spring (largely because I want to leave weekends open for the frequent snowboarding trips I hope to make). My wife has not been a source of inspiration lately...since running the 5K, she has not been running at all. So, to help both of us, I push us out of bed and drive us back to the fire trail at the end of Crenshaw, hoping a trail run will get both of us back on track.
As we complete our fourth mile, my wife and I notice a couple hiking up an adjacent hill...perhaps a shortcut to the park at the top. With our pace already shot, we agree to follow them. Unfortunately, when we get to the base of their hill, we do not find a dirt trail, but a steep incline covered in loose Palos Verdes stone.
Continuing up the hill is a chore. I start wondering if this is a shortcut or a dead-end (the thought of descending upon the rocky path is scary). As we near what appears to be the top, more dirt is exposed, the incline gets a bit more forgiving, but the trail continues upward for a few hundred feet. When we reach the peak, we are not exactly at the park. The trail rejoins Burma Road.
Driving to this morning's event is a chore. There is no parking for half-marathoners near the start (Sunset Park in Coronado) nor at the end (Imperial Beach Pier Plaza). The only options are parking mid-course hoping to catch a shuttle bus that departs at 5:40am (open only to the first 200 participants) or having someone drop you off. Since my wife and friends are participating in the 5K, they can drop me off, but must give themselves enough time to drive ten miles to Imperial Beach, find street parking (there is no designated lot), and walk a few blocks to the start of their race. One would think the 5K would start later than the half marathon, but it does not. The 5K actually begins at 7:00am...a half-an-hour before my race! The event planners must assume that participants of the half-marathon do not carpool with people in the 5K.
The sun rises. Around 6:30am, sunlight slowly stretches across Sunset Park. As I thaw, I do some stretching myself. I also take a few short walks to grab cups from the water table since I left my bottle in the car. I would have been happier if event organizers invited Starbucks to cater the event...hot coffee sounds really good right about now.
The loop takes place on an asphalt path through the United States Naval Radio Station. I pass a sign that says "5K Turn Around" and start wondering why I did not run with my wife and friends. I have no idea how much further I have to backtrack. After an incline, I encounter rough asphalt. I see a rollerblader remove his wheels, frustrated that he cannot roll through this segment of the course. I cannot let anything discourage me. I see the turnaround point and the final water station. After beginning the trek back, I slow just enough to polish off one last cup of water.
I see my friends, one holding a camera. Despite having run nearly thirteen miles, I somehow manage to pick up my pace. I overhear one tell the other to call ahead and notify my wife that I am coming. I now know she is waiting for me near the finish line.
The clock is ticking and my muscles are burning, but, seven days before my first half-marathon, I am happy to report that my training appears to be back on track. I have managed my first 12+ mile run in under a 10 minute per mile pace and on the rolling hills of the Palos Verdes Peninsula. If I don't do something stupid during the week ahead, I figure I should be able to complete next week's race averaging a respectable 9 minutes per mile. The entire course appears to be flat, near sea level. The only thing I am really concerned about at this point is the weather since we'll be in San Diego. I'm crossing my fingers because the current forecast suggests temperatures will be comfortable...within the 60's.
My wife, friends, and I arrive early for our first true trail race. The sun has just begun to rise, it is unexpectedly cold for a crystal clear morning, and we cannot help but be overwhelmed by the size of the surrounding hills. We know the course climbs into them, but my crazy trail running coworker (who will be on the18K configuration of the course) confirms what we all fear...today's 11K will reach the peak.
