So I'd dumped my bottle, which was dry. I'd taken two Clif Shots, and i'd rounded the cone. I started chasing immediately. I was far back, too far back. I was in the high teens, I wanted to be top ten.
At thirteen miles, with the backs of three men right in my sights, I was at 1:31:34. That left me over 3:05 for the marathon, which wasn't cooing to work. My suspect Achilles tendons and hamstrings, sore for the last year since I hurt the right one on a training trip, all felt good. I opened it up and caught the three of them on the way to the fairgrounds. Next was a younger guy, in white, backwards cap on his head, who i'd seen was struggling as far back as the first turn around at the out and back. I went by him and quickly dropped him and set my sights on the next guy.
This was one of the great running race moments I have ever had. From mile 12.5, I simply turned up my effort a notch and the people in front of me dropped back, and they had no answer. Granted, there was still a guy twenty minutes ahead of me, running the kind of time I was once capable of. But I looked down the guys in front of me, I saw my family out there cheering me on, and I responded. When I got in the fairgrounds I was running hard. I passed one guy at t his point- I think it was here- who would not fall off the pace though. This was important, but not yet.
Popping back out of the trail grounds you almost immediately hit the downhill. I think a lot of runners miscalculate the downhill a bit- it's a serious downhill. You have to attack it, but you can't open up too much. You are pushing 15 miles and if you tear down the hill you will tear up your quads. So you really focus on form, and let a long but reasonable stride carry you down the hill.
You break around the corner and you are on the out and back again and there are a lot of half-marathoners going the other way, and spectators. The ski jump was out of sight at my back, and now I had a shadow, a runner in back pacing me, not like the first half of the race but different. He's using me...
And oh, you're lapping peole. Yes, they are probably walking but you've run 10 more miles than them. The people on the other side of the road are also quite a few miles behind. I reach across the middle of the road and sap hands with Darren McGeary's brother Dean, he yells 'Al' and then it's back to chasing the guys in front of me. From across the road a woman yells to me to drop my arms.
I am probably carrying them high. I know. Still, I have run 8 miles farther in the same amount of time as this woman has, and low so she can't hear me but definitely out load I say 'Bite me.' I am a completive person....
We passed another runner here, a marathoner, and now it was we. Not I. I was a two-car train, reeling people in...
Not what I wanted. I wanted to be working alone, but I wasn't, and there's nothing you can do in that situation but try to run your own race and is there a time it's ever harder than when someone else is working directly off your pace ? Not really. I mean, dictating the pace is easier in some ways to trying to follow someone, but like in a bike race, you would prefer to share the work and the guy behind me was not showing any interest in sharing the work. He was letting me do it all, breaking what little wind there was, giving him the opportunity to sit in behind me.
We head out on the out and back and I was in a really good rhythm. I picked off a couple more runners, and then went by the 'traditional' out and back.
That's right. Part of avoiding having you climb all the way back into town (why ?) is that the second out and back is rather severe out. The out on this route is always longer than you think. I was tracking four guys in front of me, which seemed like two guys too many. We ran and ran and ran. I know the entire length of the road, having ridden and run it all the way out to where it dumps you onto 86.
The turn around cone for the second back was within sight of 86, and the extra two guys I didn't think should be there ? They ran to the cones and kept going, then raised there arms and starting talking to the people camped out at the turn. Grrr....
Yeah, I was less than thrilled, having chased them down for no reason. But I went around the cone and set my sights on the next guy in front of me. The 19.0 mile mark was before the turn, and the 20 mile mark after. I went through that 20 mile mark and I felt really good. I have always been aware of that mark, and although I don't put any stock that there is anything special in 20 miles, I have struggled at that point.
I passed the mark and nothing changed. I was still running faster than the people in front of me, I wasn't struggling, my plan of a cliff shot every 40 minutes was working well, my stomach was good, my legs were holding up.
I was passing people now- occasionally, that were running pretty well, just not as well. I think my next pass came at about 21 miles, then there was more climbing, then I made one more pass on the back. There were still half marathoners all over the road, and on the other side plenty of marathoners headed out. That was the thing that changed after we hit the turn around, and I'll comment on that out of order. As I saw the people I had already passed, I was surprised by how much time I had put on them- no one was catching me.
No one but my shadow, that is.
I decided to attack on the hill back into town, figuring I would have 2 miles to either recover from a failed attempt or hold him off if I did get a gap.
Simply put, it didn't work. I attacked going up the hill, crested first, found myself very slowly gaining ground on the first woman, who was clearly losing time, and then I was passed. There was almost two miles left I think, when he made the pass and although we both started to close down the woman in front of us, he actually passed her, while I just kept getting very slowly and unsatisfyingly closer. We went through the turn-around from the first loop and then up the road you come down on at the start of the ironman bike. Although I was closing on her I was losing ground on my former shadow and I was spent.
I climbed the hill and headed for the speed skating oval and it seemed like maybe I had one more catch in me, but in the end I didn't. I ran as hard as could around the oval, the nearest guy behind me three minutes and change back, but the woman in front of me maybe 20 seconds in front.
I came around the oval, just like the ironman, and I felt pretty good. I was not blown up, I'd run a smart race, and while I was unhappy two people close in front of me were not held off or reeled in, as I crossed the line in 3:02:30ish I knew I'd run the second half of the race with about a 3 minute negative split, and that was something to build on.
I decided then and there I want to go back and do it again next year....
But what did I learn ?
Showing posts with label Lake Placid. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lake Placid. Show all posts
Monday, July 04, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Lake Placid Marathon, Part I
Let me start by saying that I have never been so relaxed at a starting line in Lake Placid.
That's probably because for the first time in my life I was actually standing at the starting line on pavement, as opposed to say, trying very hard to tread water in Mirror Lake.
This was huge really. I was at the starting line, for a marathon, and I wasn't nervous. It's kind of ironic. Despite my questionable swimming skills I usually get in the front at Ironman, so you could say I have about the same 2000 people at my back in that race as I did at the marathon and half-marathon. The difference is in a road race I can get off the line in a manner that encourages rather than inhibits self-preservation.
That's right. You basically can't hold a marathon outside of Boston or New York that isn't also a half marathon, and three-quarters of 2000 runners were in fact wearing the blue numbers of the half versus our bronze numbers. It's the same start and for most of the first loop we all run together. This presents a real challenge. After all, running a marathon and a half-marathon are totally different endeavors. I was doing my warm-ups and evaluating the top end of the half-marathon guys and it was pretty clear- there were some fast guys, college kids and whatnot, and that was going to make for a fast start on Main Street.
Not just a fast start either. A fast uphill start. Starting basically in front of the top end of the oval, it's a sharp uphill to start out and then a more gradual uphill through town and around to the top of the lake. If you look at the road around Mirror Lake the top of the lake is higher than the bottom, at least the road around it is. If you are doing IMLP, remember that the out on the second out and back at Mirror Lake is uphill going out and downhill coming back.
So it was going to be a quick start, and I didn't want to get sucked up in that. As a potential top ten marathon finisher, I thought I should start right on the line, and I did, but I didn't want to get drawn into the melee.
Overall, I did pretty well. I'd lined up my start up the hill and into town and of course, started running too fast.
I've always consoled myself with too-fast starts at every marathon by telling myself that I could either get the time earlier or later and might as well do it early, or that I could overclock the first mile and then still settle in and be fine. Only I know that isn't true. If the first mile is too aggressive it can throw off the pacing for the entire race. While it's true you should be able to run the first mile pretty much as you like and still recover a normal pace, that requires even more discipline than simply running a solid but unspectacular first mile. And the later option has fewer risks.
At about 3/4 of a mile I saw Darren McGeary, one of my closest friends from high school, on the right side of the road, up past the end of Main Street. I heard him yell my name and kept going.
I hit the mile mark at 6:34, for an uphill mile 1. Now, the worst part of this is that Mile 2 is a downhill. I could have run 6:34 easy on the second mile, but instead I had to back it off on the downhill mile to get back closer to seven minute miles- running hard uphill then easy downhill. Classic bad move. But still, I was able to use that downhill mile to get the race under control. I found myself chatting with one of the half-marathons about how he was carrying his arms too high (more on that later) and trying to run our own races.
This was definitely an issue by this point. Most of the athletes were either wearing race belts- more of us than the typical race, or they had their numbers pinned to the side of their shorts despite repeated instructions that numbers MUST BE WORN ON THE FRONT. (Have I mention how much I loathe the D-Tag and the 'wear on front' BS that comes with it ?) So people were going by me and I was struggling to evaluate half-marathon or marathon. Why ?
That's actually a good question and not one I can answer without admitting that no matter how hard I try to be a good athlete, a smart athlete, I am competitive. I shouldn't have been evaluating people at all, but I was, and yes, it's easy to fight the urge to let someone go when they are running the half. BUt not when they are running the whole marathon. Such as the woman that went by me between 2 and 3. I did check her out and instinct told me, as she put a major hurt on my pace, that she was going too fast. Of course I wanted to believe that....
We plowed out of town and I did a remarkably good job of keeping my desire to haul some ass down the big hill. That hill is a quad-ripper going down and there's no point that early in the race putting a hurt on your legs that you can't recover from.
Then we were on our way out of town, a lot of us, and I knew there were about fifteen marathoners in front of me, mixed in with dozens of half-marathoners. Someone settled in next to me, and despite my dislike of talking while racing, started talking. We started off with how his number was on the side of his pants, where I couldn't see it. He was a full-marathon runner, and he was from the Coast Guard Academy, just graduating. He asked me what I was planning to run as we went down the bottom of the hill and out onto the first out and back- the ironman out and back, and I said under three hours. But somehow, I'd slipped to a point that by around 6 miles, I was running a solid 7:02 pace. This made no sense, but that was that. He was looking to run 3:10. I was about 4 minutes over my pace. He was like 6 minutes under his.
It's a lot of pressure running with someone else in a marathon. You really want to do your own thing and you really, really don't want to talk. But you do. The kid- I mean at just over half my age, I think I am required to call him a kid- was nice. We joked about how when there are trees growing in your fields, you haven't planted crops in a while. I took water at the aid stations, but then just dumped it over my head. I was carrying my own bottle and it would last me through more than 12 miles.
I tried to encourage this guy to run his own pace, but he said he was going to do what he could while he could, which to me is not a great strategy, but hey, I have tried it more than once.
On the first loop the out and back ended at the same place, or about the same place, as the ironman. I had warned the guy I was running with that the 'flat' out and back wasn't. I've heard a lot of people suggest this section is flat, and well, if you take it as a whole, it's not far from flat. However, except for maybe the first mile, it's mostly rollers, and several of the hills are significant as far as what happens to your heart rate when you climb them.
There were a lot of people in front of us, and I wanted to close enough to the out and back to start counting the marathoners. I was steeling myself- at a plus 7-minute pace, it was going to be a lot.
That damn turn-around is always just a little farther than you think it's going to be. I counted more than a dozen guys and one woman in front of us, and the woman was at least 4 minutes ahead of me. That plus the pace I was running gave me pause, but I wasn't worried. I was drinking my electrolyte fizz, and taking a cliff shot every 40 minutes.
Some of the half-marathon people started coming back to me on the back of the out and back. This was a part of the course I was determined to stay disciplined on. There are a couple of short but decent hills and I was absolutely not willing to push. I was drinking regularly for the bottle of Electrolyte Fizz I carried on the first loop- I highly recommend trying some, and taking a gel every 40 minutes, which to this point meant taking one.
I still was running with the other guy from CT and he was holding up well, but I knew the hill back into town was coming. I hit the ten mile mark at over 70 minutes. I didn't panic- not yet, but on the other hand, I had a lot of work to do.
We turned back onto River Road and as soon as you turn, you are on the massive hill that so defines the run in the Ironman. That hill breaks people, that hill coaches tell their athletes to walk up. I attacked it, not hard, but steady, keeping my pace close to what it had been. The guy who had been running with me disappeared off my back. I would see him going the other way after turn-arounds but that was it.
I crested the hill and I felt pretty good, but I was behind and I knew I needed to be steady for a while longer but start taking some risks soon. I was quiet a ways back.
By 12 miles, the leading marathoners including the first woman was on her way back out, half a mile ahead of me in her case (and more for the top three men). I drained my bottle, reached the turn-around, and in about 15th place, tossed the empty bottle on the ground at Margit's feet. I waved to her and Ian as best I could, but as I rounded the cone i was looking at the people in front of me, and I wanted to start catching them.
Which I did....
That's probably because for the first time in my life I was actually standing at the starting line on pavement, as opposed to say, trying very hard to tread water in Mirror Lake.
This was huge really. I was at the starting line, for a marathon, and I wasn't nervous. It's kind of ironic. Despite my questionable swimming skills I usually get in the front at Ironman, so you could say I have about the same 2000 people at my back in that race as I did at the marathon and half-marathon. The difference is in a road race I can get off the line in a manner that encourages rather than inhibits self-preservation.
That's right. You basically can't hold a marathon outside of Boston or New York that isn't also a half marathon, and three-quarters of 2000 runners were in fact wearing the blue numbers of the half versus our bronze numbers. It's the same start and for most of the first loop we all run together. This presents a real challenge. After all, running a marathon and a half-marathon are totally different endeavors. I was doing my warm-ups and evaluating the top end of the half-marathon guys and it was pretty clear- there were some fast guys, college kids and whatnot, and that was going to make for a fast start on Main Street.
Not just a fast start either. A fast uphill start. Starting basically in front of the top end of the oval, it's a sharp uphill to start out and then a more gradual uphill through town and around to the top of the lake. If you look at the road around Mirror Lake the top of the lake is higher than the bottom, at least the road around it is. If you are doing IMLP, remember that the out on the second out and back at Mirror Lake is uphill going out and downhill coming back.
So it was going to be a quick start, and I didn't want to get sucked up in that. As a potential top ten marathon finisher, I thought I should start right on the line, and I did, but I didn't want to get drawn into the melee.
Overall, I did pretty well. I'd lined up my start up the hill and into town and of course, started running too fast.
I've always consoled myself with too-fast starts at every marathon by telling myself that I could either get the time earlier or later and might as well do it early, or that I could overclock the first mile and then still settle in and be fine. Only I know that isn't true. If the first mile is too aggressive it can throw off the pacing for the entire race. While it's true you should be able to run the first mile pretty much as you like and still recover a normal pace, that requires even more discipline than simply running a solid but unspectacular first mile. And the later option has fewer risks.
At about 3/4 of a mile I saw Darren McGeary, one of my closest friends from high school, on the right side of the road, up past the end of Main Street. I heard him yell my name and kept going.
I hit the mile mark at 6:34, for an uphill mile 1. Now, the worst part of this is that Mile 2 is a downhill. I could have run 6:34 easy on the second mile, but instead I had to back it off on the downhill mile to get back closer to seven minute miles- running hard uphill then easy downhill. Classic bad move. But still, I was able to use that downhill mile to get the race under control. I found myself chatting with one of the half-marathons about how he was carrying his arms too high (more on that later) and trying to run our own races.
This was definitely an issue by this point. Most of the athletes were either wearing race belts- more of us than the typical race, or they had their numbers pinned to the side of their shorts despite repeated instructions that numbers MUST BE WORN ON THE FRONT. (Have I mention how much I loathe the D-Tag and the 'wear on front' BS that comes with it ?) So people were going by me and I was struggling to evaluate half-marathon or marathon. Why ?
That's actually a good question and not one I can answer without admitting that no matter how hard I try to be a good athlete, a smart athlete, I am competitive. I shouldn't have been evaluating people at all, but I was, and yes, it's easy to fight the urge to let someone go when they are running the half. BUt not when they are running the whole marathon. Such as the woman that went by me between 2 and 3. I did check her out and instinct told me, as she put a major hurt on my pace, that she was going too fast. Of course I wanted to believe that....
We plowed out of town and I did a remarkably good job of keeping my desire to haul some ass down the big hill. That hill is a quad-ripper going down and there's no point that early in the race putting a hurt on your legs that you can't recover from.
Then we were on our way out of town, a lot of us, and I knew there were about fifteen marathoners in front of me, mixed in with dozens of half-marathoners. Someone settled in next to me, and despite my dislike of talking while racing, started talking. We started off with how his number was on the side of his pants, where I couldn't see it. He was a full-marathon runner, and he was from the Coast Guard Academy, just graduating. He asked me what I was planning to run as we went down the bottom of the hill and out onto the first out and back- the ironman out and back, and I said under three hours. But somehow, I'd slipped to a point that by around 6 miles, I was running a solid 7:02 pace. This made no sense, but that was that. He was looking to run 3:10. I was about 4 minutes over my pace. He was like 6 minutes under his.
It's a lot of pressure running with someone else in a marathon. You really want to do your own thing and you really, really don't want to talk. But you do. The kid- I mean at just over half my age, I think I am required to call him a kid- was nice. We joked about how when there are trees growing in your fields, you haven't planted crops in a while. I took water at the aid stations, but then just dumped it over my head. I was carrying my own bottle and it would last me through more than 12 miles.
I tried to encourage this guy to run his own pace, but he said he was going to do what he could while he could, which to me is not a great strategy, but hey, I have tried it more than once.
On the first loop the out and back ended at the same place, or about the same place, as the ironman. I had warned the guy I was running with that the 'flat' out and back wasn't. I've heard a lot of people suggest this section is flat, and well, if you take it as a whole, it's not far from flat. However, except for maybe the first mile, it's mostly rollers, and several of the hills are significant as far as what happens to your heart rate when you climb them.
There were a lot of people in front of us, and I wanted to close enough to the out and back to start counting the marathoners. I was steeling myself- at a plus 7-minute pace, it was going to be a lot.
That damn turn-around is always just a little farther than you think it's going to be. I counted more than a dozen guys and one woman in front of us, and the woman was at least 4 minutes ahead of me. That plus the pace I was running gave me pause, but I wasn't worried. I was drinking my electrolyte fizz, and taking a cliff shot every 40 minutes.
Some of the half-marathon people started coming back to me on the back of the out and back. This was a part of the course I was determined to stay disciplined on. There are a couple of short but decent hills and I was absolutely not willing to push. I was drinking regularly for the bottle of Electrolyte Fizz I carried on the first loop- I highly recommend trying some, and taking a gel every 40 minutes, which to this point meant taking one.
I still was running with the other guy from CT and he was holding up well, but I knew the hill back into town was coming. I hit the ten mile mark at over 70 minutes. I didn't panic- not yet, but on the other hand, I had a lot of work to do.
We turned back onto River Road and as soon as you turn, you are on the massive hill that so defines the run in the Ironman. That hill breaks people, that hill coaches tell their athletes to walk up. I attacked it, not hard, but steady, keeping my pace close to what it had been. The guy who had been running with me disappeared off my back. I would see him going the other way after turn-arounds but that was it.
I crested the hill and I felt pretty good, but I was behind and I knew I needed to be steady for a while longer but start taking some risks soon. I was quiet a ways back.
By 12 miles, the leading marathoners including the first woman was on her way back out, half a mile ahead of me in her case (and more for the top three men). I drained my bottle, reached the turn-around, and in about 15th place, tossed the empty bottle on the ground at Margit's feet. I waved to her and Ian as best I could, but as I rounded the cone i was looking at the people in front of me, and I wanted to start catching them.
Which I did....
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Last Big Workout
In about 45 minutes we start our last bug workout, two loops of the bike course followed by a short run on the course.
Today's swim is already over. When was the last time I swam at 6 AM ? At Yale probably six years ago.
Today's swim is already over. When was the last time I swam at 6 AM ? At Yale probably six years ago.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Bike Loop- Day 1
Just some quick notes on the bike loop we did:
Horrible speed wobble at one point on the first of the two steepest descents. We actually stopped to check our bikes. Each of us thought it was just us. We all thought we were going to crash !
Eric says I am still pushing the hills too hard, like I think I have something to prove and it hurts my running.
Horrible speed wobble at one point on the first of the two steepest descents. We actually stopped to check our bikes. Each of us thought it was just us. We all thought we were going to crash !
Eric says I am still pushing the hills too hard, like I think I have something to prove and it hurts my running.
Morning Trail Run
Just wanted to post a brief note that our hour forty-five minute trail run totally kicked ass this morning.
We went way off road through the bog and climbed up to a spectacular lookout. It was a blast and Eric did a great job keeping us all together the whole time.
We went way off road through the bog and climbed up to a spectacular lookout. It was a blast and Eric did a great job keeping us all together the whole time.
Tri-Camp Day Zero
After a four and a half hour drive, I got to Lake Placid about 10 minutes before the start of the optional swim that opened this year's camp.
I was not 100% sure I should get in- the thought of a major bacteriological sinus infection interrupting my enjoyment of camp wasn't high on my to do list, but after all, I'd driven up here for camp, to get in as much training as possible.
After swimming 1.2 miles, I was energized. It felt great. I just jumped in the lake and swam and except for when we stopped to talk at the turn around and I had to tread water, it wasn't that hard.
Dinner at Nicoloas on Main was great- I got to catch up with Big Rocks, who I haven't seen in a long time.
Now though, I'm looking at a two hour run on three or four hours sleep- yes, the sinus infection rolled in like an Adirondack thunderstorm. Hopefully, the run will clear my head.
Otherwise that loop of the bike course is going to be rough...
I was not 100% sure I should get in- the thought of a major bacteriological sinus infection interrupting my enjoyment of camp wasn't high on my to do list, but after all, I'd driven up here for camp, to get in as much training as possible.
After swimming 1.2 miles, I was energized. It felt great. I just jumped in the lake and swam and except for when we stopped to talk at the turn around and I had to tread water, it wasn't that hard.
Dinner at Nicoloas on Main was great- I got to catch up with Big Rocks, who I haven't seen in a long time.
Now though, I'm looking at a two hour run on three or four hours sleep- yes, the sinus infection rolled in like an Adirondack thunderstorm. Hopefully, the run will clear my head.
Otherwise that loop of the bike course is going to be rough...
Saturday, September 05, 2009
Lake Placid Hangover
If you asked me, I'd have said that you can't get a hangover from a place. The idea is a little silly.
I've been up to Lake Placid a lot. At least six times for the ironman, including the four I did there myself, plus camps and training trips. And Lake Placid is special for me because I grew up in upstate New York, spent most of my first 30 years there. Lake Placid reminds me of home, if home is where you grew up. Oh, the hills we had at home were a little less severe, their peaks a little less formidable, but I did grow up in the foothills of the Adirondack Mountains.
The last time we didn't go to Lake Placid for the Ironman, I didn't regret it. I remember being relieved, because July is one of the busiest times of the year for us at work, because the entire University is on ultra-high stress alert level due to orientation for new students, when the entire institution's staff is pushed to the maxed. And I suppose since the students tuition pays the bills, there's good cause for that. Being away when my department is responsible for providing services however, is very stressful.
Besides, the truth is I have trouble being at races I'm not doing. It doesn't matter if I trained or not, ready or not, mentally I'm always ready because the off switch I should have, the one that would be a healthy thing, is missing. That selfishness bothers me, and I try my best to compensate for it by being a good spectator, getting out there and rooting people on and being happy for them.
But come that third or fourth weekend of July, I feel myself pulled to the spot. I was so glad to be back there this year, even though I was going to watch the race, even though it was undetermined who was signing up for next year. Forgotten was any negative thoughts about the rain that had pounded down on us hour after hour last year, the pain, the expense. Something heavy just came off my shoulders when we pulled into the parking lot behind the condo. The sun was out, it was hot, bright, the place is just so- so fucking beautiful- I can't think of another way to describe it.
Sometimes there's something deeper inside us, some instinct, something that occurs at that first level below the thoughts we articulate.
That's Lake Placid.
And of course it's not, not really. It's just a place, and you see the beauty and not the warts when you're there for five days, when you don't have to get up and go to work in the morning, and when it's July, not January. Which isn't to say there's not a tremendous beauty to the place then as well, but when you start thinking Connecticut's summer is too short...
Being there was great, training there was great- going back next year will be great.
However, I'd felt kind of funky ever since I got back. Part of it is probably just having sighed up to race next year. Standing in line for four hours with Steve Surprise just to get into the race made that a big deal. Not an ordeal, just a big deal. That shifting sand of focus and the way priorities gets subtly re-shuffled...
But that's not really it. I'd just- it's sentimental, and silly- but I just missed the place. I thought it was just me.
And then one day last week Margit said to me that she really hadn't felt quite right since getting back from Lake Placid.
Maybe you can get a hangover from a place...
I guess the only cure for a hangover like this one is to remember all the great friends you have, to remind yourself that this home of your has plenty of nature beauty as well. That job you almost love most days.
And hydrate well. Always hydrate well.
I've been up to Lake Placid a lot. At least six times for the ironman, including the four I did there myself, plus camps and training trips. And Lake Placid is special for me because I grew up in upstate New York, spent most of my first 30 years there. Lake Placid reminds me of home, if home is where you grew up. Oh, the hills we had at home were a little less severe, their peaks a little less formidable, but I did grow up in the foothills of the Adirondack Mountains.
The last time we didn't go to Lake Placid for the Ironman, I didn't regret it. I remember being relieved, because July is one of the busiest times of the year for us at work, because the entire University is on ultra-high stress alert level due to orientation for new students, when the entire institution's staff is pushed to the maxed. And I suppose since the students tuition pays the bills, there's good cause for that. Being away when my department is responsible for providing services however, is very stressful.
Besides, the truth is I have trouble being at races I'm not doing. It doesn't matter if I trained or not, ready or not, mentally I'm always ready because the off switch I should have, the one that would be a healthy thing, is missing. That selfishness bothers me, and I try my best to compensate for it by being a good spectator, getting out there and rooting people on and being happy for them.
But come that third or fourth weekend of July, I feel myself pulled to the spot. I was so glad to be back there this year, even though I was going to watch the race, even though it was undetermined who was signing up for next year. Forgotten was any negative thoughts about the rain that had pounded down on us hour after hour last year, the pain, the expense. Something heavy just came off my shoulders when we pulled into the parking lot behind the condo. The sun was out, it was hot, bright, the place is just so- so fucking beautiful- I can't think of another way to describe it.
Sometimes there's something deeper inside us, some instinct, something that occurs at that first level below the thoughts we articulate.
That's Lake Placid.
And of course it's not, not really. It's just a place, and you see the beauty and not the warts when you're there for five days, when you don't have to get up and go to work in the morning, and when it's July, not January. Which isn't to say there's not a tremendous beauty to the place then as well, but when you start thinking Connecticut's summer is too short...
Being there was great, training there was great- going back next year will be great.
However, I'd felt kind of funky ever since I got back. Part of it is probably just having sighed up to race next year. Standing in line for four hours with Steve Surprise just to get into the race made that a big deal. Not an ordeal, just a big deal. That shifting sand of focus and the way priorities gets subtly re-shuffled...
But that's not really it. I'd just- it's sentimental, and silly- but I just missed the place. I thought it was just me.
And then one day last week Margit said to me that she really hadn't felt quite right since getting back from Lake Placid.
Maybe you can get a hangover from a place...
I guess the only cure for a hangover like this one is to remember all the great friends you have, to remind yourself that this home of your has plenty of nature beauty as well. That job you almost love most days.
And hydrate well. Always hydrate well.
Monday, August 03, 2009
Saturday Morning Mishaps- Bad Bottle Cage Installs
Maybe I should let the pros install my bottle cages from now on.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
IM Lake Placid
It's always a tough day when we are here in CT on race day. For me, for both of us to some extent, Lake Placid is the race, but a new job for Margit and a new furnace were enough to shelve plans to head up this year, although as late as yesterday Margit was still talking about me jumping in the car and driving up.
Instead, I got up and ran early so we could take Ian to the Beardsley Zoo. It was a beautiful morning, a little windy maybe but as I was running back up the road in Indian Neck and the sun was stretched out long across the still water, no boats moving yet it made me think about just how special it is up there- and how Branford in the morning, before the traffic gets going, isn't such a bad place either.
It's ironic- if you had told me when I was 18 that one day a year the world would kind of stop and the only place I'd want to be was the Adirondacks, I'd have laughed, living about 2 hours south in the foothills north of the Capital District. Running and biking about 1000 ft of climbing from my high school parking lot to Grafton State Park (biking on a 3 speed touring bike), I never really thought much about doing either in a race- I just happened to have a friend who lived off Route 2- and I can't say I enjoyed it. Of course, I also wouldn't have guessed that a year later, I'd be selling the family house and moving away for good, making coming back to Upstate New York a lot less ordinary.
We have a lot of friends doing the race this year- Howard Jones, Ken Osborne, and of course Steve, not to mention Chris Schulten, who judging by his top 40 position, just about ready to ask for that pro card...
It's such a tough course- harsh but fair ? I don't know. I just hope everyone has a great race, or had a great race, or enjoys being in one of the world's truly special places, doing a truly special race...
Instead, I got up and ran early so we could take Ian to the Beardsley Zoo. It was a beautiful morning, a little windy maybe but as I was running back up the road in Indian Neck and the sun was stretched out long across the still water, no boats moving yet it made me think about just how special it is up there- and how Branford in the morning, before the traffic gets going, isn't such a bad place either.
It's ironic- if you had told me when I was 18 that one day a year the world would kind of stop and the only place I'd want to be was the Adirondacks, I'd have laughed, living about 2 hours south in the foothills north of the Capital District. Running and biking about 1000 ft of climbing from my high school parking lot to Grafton State Park (biking on a 3 speed touring bike), I never really thought much about doing either in a race- I just happened to have a friend who lived off Route 2- and I can't say I enjoyed it. Of course, I also wouldn't have guessed that a year later, I'd be selling the family house and moving away for good, making coming back to Upstate New York a lot less ordinary.
We have a lot of friends doing the race this year- Howard Jones, Ken Osborne, and of course Steve, not to mention Chris Schulten, who judging by his top 40 position, just about ready to ask for that pro card...
It's such a tough course- harsh but fair ? I don't know. I just hope everyone has a great race, or had a great race, or enjoys being in one of the world's truly special places, doing a truly special race...
Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Independence Day 5k
Wow. A record crowd showed up for the 5K in Milford (USATF-CT Championship race #3). 400 hundred race day registrations, which was enough to blow through the all the registration forms, race goody bags, and force Marty to delay the race by twenty minutes.
I was certainly not expecting much. I did do three hour plus runs in the week since the Fairfield race, but not were speed workouts. With my knee being sore still, it's much easier for me to go out and ride- 60 miles on Sunday, 42 in 2 hours yesterday. I rode hard yesterday, pushing in the wind and going after some decent hills.
As the sanctions representative for USATF-CT and a member of the LDR committee, it's great to have such a large crowd for the race. As an athlete, well, the guys that show up because it's a USATF-CT race are better athletes (than me, that's for sure) and that means my name sinks down the results list like a stone.
Holiday races tend to offer one feature other races may not- costumes. Guys in red,white and blue top hats, suspenders or other patriotic gear. This year, I saw a guy in his late 60s or early 70s in cowboy boots. He started, unbelievably, in the third row. He apparently ran the entire race in the boots- no socks. I'm thinking some really scary blisters happened there.
The front was really tightly packed and as often is the case I wanted to get a team box going but there were only three of us standing right there. First Chad Brown was nice enough to move his feet a little, then I got some help from one of my teammates and managed to get off the line. My right foot had actually been turned out and back, which is not how you want to start a short race.
Sort of. The race featured some pretty serious false starts, which I won't go into because they were accidental and did not affect the finish. Meanwhile, although I was in the second row, the middle sagged backwards while the ends went forward. The race starts up a sort of sloping grade. Hill would be a strong word, but not much. I was in about 60th place as we took the first turn. I was behind a number of women, several kids in basketball shorts and high-tops, this guy Rodney with the the big head band, and possibly, although I can't confirm it, Doc Whitney.
It could easily turned into panic time, however, a number of people around me are people I should be either right behind or in the area of as I watch them run away, so I settled in. My knee had been bothering me all through the warm-ups, during strides, and I tried doing a knee-bend once and that was definitely a bad idea. However, as I started running hard- but controlled- it really didn't bother me. In fact, it might have helped me have a better race by forcing me to run a little slower.
I was just over 5:30 for the first mile and I seemed to be out-dueling people on the hills. There was a lot of back and forth and a few guys passed me, but I felt like I was having a good, controlled race. I hit 2 miles at 11:20 and still going ok. Marty saw me when I gave the V sign and he called out my name.
I was a little gassed in the last mile. I haven't run a 5K since Christopher Martins. I let one guy get passed me, but other than that, I held my won as we took the last turn. I was sure Kerry was bearing down on me and teammate or not, I didn't want any women beating me. That's silly, I suppose, but oh well.
I went through at 17:48. Wow ! First, it's kind of sad that 17:48 would excite me. Five years ago, I was still running sub-17s on really good days. Of course, I was probably running 5-6 days a week back then, still doing speed work, and so on.
However, it's a good time for me. The last time I broke 18:00 minutes was a 17:59 at Christopher Martins in 2005 and it was my fastest time since a 17:47 at the Corporate Challenge in August 2005. It was also 20 seconds faster than last year, although last year's race was my best training day before Lake Placid (I followed up the race with a 98 mile ride, my longest of the year outside the Ironman). 18:08 was the closest I had all last year, even the one race I won...
Better still, teammates of mine were the top man and woman- Kerry for the women, Oscar for the men.
But the biggest shocker of all- Charlie Hornak shaved his head...
I was certainly not expecting much. I did do three hour plus runs in the week since the Fairfield race, but not were speed workouts. With my knee being sore still, it's much easier for me to go out and ride- 60 miles on Sunday, 42 in 2 hours yesterday. I rode hard yesterday, pushing in the wind and going after some decent hills.
As the sanctions representative for USATF-CT and a member of the LDR committee, it's great to have such a large crowd for the race. As an athlete, well, the guys that show up because it's a USATF-CT race are better athletes (than me, that's for sure) and that means my name sinks down the results list like a stone.
Holiday races tend to offer one feature other races may not- costumes. Guys in red,white and blue top hats, suspenders or other patriotic gear. This year, I saw a guy in his late 60s or early 70s in cowboy boots. He started, unbelievably, in the third row. He apparently ran the entire race in the boots- no socks. I'm thinking some really scary blisters happened there.
The front was really tightly packed and as often is the case I wanted to get a team box going but there were only three of us standing right there. First Chad Brown was nice enough to move his feet a little, then I got some help from one of my teammates and managed to get off the line. My right foot had actually been turned out and back, which is not how you want to start a short race.
Sort of. The race featured some pretty serious false starts, which I won't go into because they were accidental and did not affect the finish. Meanwhile, although I was in the second row, the middle sagged backwards while the ends went forward. The race starts up a sort of sloping grade. Hill would be a strong word, but not much. I was in about 60th place as we took the first turn. I was behind a number of women, several kids in basketball shorts and high-tops, this guy Rodney with the the big head band, and possibly, although I can't confirm it, Doc Whitney.
It could easily turned into panic time, however, a number of people around me are people I should be either right behind or in the area of as I watch them run away, so I settled in. My knee had been bothering me all through the warm-ups, during strides, and I tried doing a knee-bend once and that was definitely a bad idea. However, as I started running hard- but controlled- it really didn't bother me. In fact, it might have helped me have a better race by forcing me to run a little slower.
I was just over 5:30 for the first mile and I seemed to be out-dueling people on the hills. There was a lot of back and forth and a few guys passed me, but I felt like I was having a good, controlled race. I hit 2 miles at 11:20 and still going ok. Marty saw me when I gave the V sign and he called out my name.
I was a little gassed in the last mile. I haven't run a 5K since Christopher Martins. I let one guy get passed me, but other than that, I held my won as we took the last turn. I was sure Kerry was bearing down on me and teammate or not, I didn't want any women beating me. That's silly, I suppose, but oh well.
I went through at 17:48. Wow ! First, it's kind of sad that 17:48 would excite me. Five years ago, I was still running sub-17s on really good days. Of course, I was probably running 5-6 days a week back then, still doing speed work, and so on.
However, it's a good time for me. The last time I broke 18:00 minutes was a 17:59 at Christopher Martins in 2005 and it was my fastest time since a 17:47 at the Corporate Challenge in August 2005. It was also 20 seconds faster than last year, although last year's race was my best training day before Lake Placid (I followed up the race with a 98 mile ride, my longest of the year outside the Ironman). 18:08 was the closest I had all last year, even the one race I won...
Better still, teammates of mine were the top man and woman- Kerry for the women, Oscar for the men.
But the biggest shocker of all- Charlie Hornak shaved his head...
Friday, April 13, 2007
Oh My God, the Water Is(n't the least bit) Cold
I heard a lot about the cold water at Ironman Arizone. To be fair, everything I heard about last year was undoubtedly true- I know people who did the race and it was cold- even the pros were wearing insulated caps on their head.
We got in early enough yesterday to get to the river and go swimming during the Gatorade swim. However, getting to the car rentals, and then even harder, getting a car seat for Ian, took too long. There's an automatic DQ for getting into the river outside the posted hours.
I got in this morning around 8:45 AM. I was pulling on my wetsuit and listening to a guy that was pulling a wool cap over his head and was wearing an Ironman Lake Placid sweatshirt talk about how cold the water was. I thought to myself that he must know what he's talking about, he's been to Placid. I went to put my Ironman Lake Placid finishers cap on and of course, it tore. Undetered, I wrapped it around my head, put my spare swimcap over it, and headed for the water.
It was not cold. It was not even remotely cold. It was not chilly. While it was not warm, it was at least as warm as the Yale pool. However, it is full of dirt, or something I'll pretend is dirt. Visibility is zero, and it has a weird toaster (taste+odor).
The ramp you may or may not be able to see in my Treo's pictures is a nice touch. I practiced climbing up it several times because after swimming 2.5 miles (I always like to do a little extra credit), I don't want to eat a ramp-face sandwich with a side of visit to the medical tent.
I was pretty psyched by the warm water. Then I had some ART. That deserves its own post.
By the way, here's a look at transition...
We got in early enough yesterday to get to the river and go swimming during the Gatorade swim. However, getting to the car rentals, and then even harder, getting a car seat for Ian, took too long. There's an automatic DQ for getting into the river outside the posted hours.
I got in this morning around 8:45 AM. I was pulling on my wetsuit and listening to a guy that was pulling a wool cap over his head and was wearing an Ironman Lake Placid sweatshirt talk about how cold the water was. I thought to myself that he must know what he's talking about, he's been to Placid. I went to put my Ironman Lake Placid finishers cap on and of course, it tore. Undetered, I wrapped it around my head, put my spare swimcap over it, and headed for the water.
It was not cold. It was not even remotely cold. It was not chilly. While it was not warm, it was at least as warm as the Yale pool. However, it is full of dirt, or something I'll pretend is dirt. Visibility is zero, and it has a weird toaster (taste+odor).
The ramp you may or may not be able to see in my Treo's pictures is a nice touch. I practiced climbing up it several times because after swimming 2.5 miles (I always like to do a little extra credit), I don't want to eat a ramp-face sandwich with a side of visit to the medical tent.
I was pretty psyched by the warm water. Then I had some ART. That deserves its own post.
By the way, here's a look at transition...
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