OK, I'm catching up with work BS and other stuff, as well as trying to regain my taste for beer and finding spare moments to lay very still and moan quietly to myself. I'll get a race report written tonight - in the meantime, send me yours, and I'll put those up, too.
So, because I was asked to do so, let's start on a low note (specifically, E):
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
showtime
in keeping with the marathon's green theme, this, from february 2005, gets recycled.
no iPod necessary tonight. i'm at the bar at halcyon, lovely cold amber bubbling in a glass before me.
tom petty's playing - an american girl. earlier, journey, separate ways.
the songs of my youth. my youth - what a weird phrase to use. few memories exist where the radio isn't playing. i remember life marked out in time with music, with rock and roll, on KLBJ, on Z-102, on cassette tapes and eventually cd's.
i'm riding high. i feel myself rushing towards the surface from the depths, like one of the bubbles in my beer, driving smoothly upwards towards the heavens.
i went to take this picture after work, a mission that has bugged me for days. my coworker felipe went with me, walked part of the way, stayed behind to make a phone call. i ran across and along the access road, free on our first clear and crisp day in weeks, running past the people and the cars mired in rush hour traffic. i ran instinctively to a point on the grassier verge, turned, brought the camera up to my eye, and there through the viewfinder was the sun, low in the sky now, backlighting a glowing brushstroke of a cloud, and there, the sign, yellow, saying simply, "showtime."
on tuesday, i was awash in emotions. maybe illness or fatigue, but a few times that day, i was overwhelmed, and i felt the warmth build up behind my eyes, before i'd push it all back. but one moment that day hit me more squarely, more firmly, as i drove up to the Runtex Store for Psychotic Running People, and saw the sign.
i had run my first half-marathon a couple of weeks ago. and as important as it was, as an accomplishment, and a catharsis, it still seemed like a part of the preparation for the freescale half-marathon.
so, i didn't understand why, as i saw the sign, but even now, thinking of it, i feel again the same warmth, the same tightening in the throat. and this time, the words on the page blur in my vision, and the ink itself begins to blur in drops on the page.
there is so much in a life, so much to feel and know and remember, but nevertheless, there are those moments and events that we single out, that resonate more deeply for us, that we know will linger.
so much of life is preparing, so often for dreams, worthwhile or misguided, that may or may not come true.
this thing, preparing for this run, is a small thing for some runners, a small thing in this life, certainly a small thing in this world, but still... so many miles. so much effort, so much wanting and needing. so much love and encouragement from so many people, lifelong friends, new friends, old loves, even strangers, even from a friend now gone. so much wanting to help, to be a part of something, so much help from people for that friend's daughter, for a little girl they may never meet.
i hear all the footsteps run, all the pavement and trail underfoot, i hear all those voices, i hear my own, cursing myself, praising myself, i feel everything of the last four months, i feel the echoes of preparations and hopes of a life already long but not done, all saying steadily, confidently, now, "showtime."
no iPod necessary tonight. i'm at the bar at halcyon, lovely cold amber bubbling in a glass before me.
tom petty's playing - an american girl. earlier, journey, separate ways.
the songs of my youth. my youth - what a weird phrase to use. few memories exist where the radio isn't playing. i remember life marked out in time with music, with rock and roll, on KLBJ, on Z-102, on cassette tapes and eventually cd's.
i'm riding high. i feel myself rushing towards the surface from the depths, like one of the bubbles in my beer, driving smoothly upwards towards the heavens.
i went to take this picture after work, a mission that has bugged me for days. my coworker felipe went with me, walked part of the way, stayed behind to make a phone call. i ran across and along the access road, free on our first clear and crisp day in weeks, running past the people and the cars mired in rush hour traffic. i ran instinctively to a point on the grassier verge, turned, brought the camera up to my eye, and there through the viewfinder was the sun, low in the sky now, backlighting a glowing brushstroke of a cloud, and there, the sign, yellow, saying simply, "showtime."
on tuesday, i was awash in emotions. maybe illness or fatigue, but a few times that day, i was overwhelmed, and i felt the warmth build up behind my eyes, before i'd push it all back. but one moment that day hit me more squarely, more firmly, as i drove up to the Runtex Store for Psychotic Running People, and saw the sign.
i had run my first half-marathon a couple of weeks ago. and as important as it was, as an accomplishment, and a catharsis, it still seemed like a part of the preparation for the freescale half-marathon.
so, i didn't understand why, as i saw the sign, but even now, thinking of it, i feel again the same warmth, the same tightening in the throat. and this time, the words on the page blur in my vision, and the ink itself begins to blur in drops on the page.
there is so much in a life, so much to feel and know and remember, but nevertheless, there are those moments and events that we single out, that resonate more deeply for us, that we know will linger.
so much of life is preparing, so often for dreams, worthwhile or misguided, that may or may not come true.
this thing, preparing for this run, is a small thing for some runners, a small thing in this life, certainly a small thing in this world, but still... so many miles. so much effort, so much wanting and needing. so much love and encouragement from so many people, lifelong friends, new friends, old loves, even strangers, even from a friend now gone. so much wanting to help, to be a part of something, so much help from people for that friend's daughter, for a little girl they may never meet.
i hear all the footsteps run, all the pavement and trail underfoot, i hear all those voices, i hear my own, cursing myself, praising myself, i feel everything of the last four months, i feel the echoes of preparations and hopes of a life already long but not done, all saying steadily, confidently, now, "showtime."
Thursday, February 12, 2009
taper madness in the workplace...
Before my first marathon in 2006, until, not coincidentally, a few days after my first marathon, I used to have a "real" lawyer job, a permanent one with benefits and suits and ties and all. Well, not really, because I worked for the state (sorry, Jenn). I was an attorney for the Board of Dental Examiners - we licensed and regulated dentists, dental hygienists, dental assistants, and propane accessories, or something to that effect. My office was on the 8th floor of the Hobby Building, across from Gingerman (which is why I still have sweet parking), and it looked out at Auditorium Shores. There, that week, I first experienced the full sweep of taper madness...
good afternoon, this is rob.
yes. yes, ma'am. i see. well, tell me what happ... oh, snap, i can see the finish line from my office. i didn't realize that...
what? oh, no, please, go ahead.
right. i see. so the dentist pulled the wrong tooth. because he was drunk. on absynthe. wow, that's different. real different. no, different is good. no, not so much for you, of course not.
ok, ma'am, i understand you're very upset, and in what you understand to be "pain." yes, ma'am, i made the air quotes. that was very perceptive of you. now, i grant you, you sound like you've got about 10 packets of banana blast gu in your maw, but i think you need to put this in perspective. now, i...
i'm sorry? hello, it's a carb replacement energy gel. well, maybe if you turned off matlock and got off your ass, you'd have known that.
uh, no ma'am, i said... if jews turned over and cottoned giraffes, you'd have known that. no, ma'am that doesn't make sense, but it's ok, i'm a runner. i mean, an attorney.
so, look, i feel for you, but i mean, it's not like you've got, say, an IT band problem, or a stress fracture, or plantar fasciitis. heard of that? yeah, i got that. i get these pains in my feet that go up my ankle, and they annoy me and make me want to kick my cats, if it wouldn't, you know, hurt my feet. plus, they'll sleep next to my legs the night before the run and keep the hammies warm. no ma'am those aren't small hams.
you can file a complaint online, on our website. you don't need to talk to me. especially today. i mean... are you... are you talking to me? are you talkin' to me? cause... i don't see anyone else that's running a marathon this sunday.
you know, i shouldn't even be at work right now. i mean, what the hell? i'm making calls trying to see what the hell the hold-up is with sunday. i think my calendar is slow. i should be home stress-testing my socks, and making sure there's no exposed elastic in the liner of my shorts. i should be hanging upside down in a vat full of icewater and listening to some ice cube, ac/dc, and mars volta to keep me mentally prepared. i shouldn't be here sneaking monopolova into my iced tea at work.
but here i am, listening to your petty problems. oh, a golf-ball sized abscess? oozing pus? yeah, well, i got a toenail i could show ya that'd make you gag. what? a fever? A FEVER? you wanna talk about hot - do you know the temp outside? it's 79 DAMN DEGREES! the wind is gusting up to 16 mph from the SOUTH! that's a headwind! what? why in god's name would anyone be going north on sunday morning? are you mental?
i need sunday morning's temperatures to curve smoothly from 38 degrees at 7:00 am, to 50 at about 11:30. i need low humidity. and a tailwind. i was promised a tailwind. i converted to catholicism two weeks ago just to get low humidity and a tailwind. so help me god, and i mean that literally, i'll go aetheist!
no, i'm not spending taxpayer money staying glued to weather websites. i opened a personal credit card to pay a meteoroligist to sit in my office and give me verbal reports every ten minutes, freeing me up to study the course map carefully during my work hours. i don't know, he used to work in portland, then there was something about a career day visit to the local highschool. not important, except it made him a little more affordable.
so, you know, it's easy for you to sit there and mumble, with very poor diction, i might add, "look at me, my 72 year-old negligently mangled mouth hurts, i might die from the infection. wahhhh." but sunday morning, while you're watching faux news and gumming some pureed scrambled eggs, ima be at about mile 14, schvitzing through whatever nike dri-fit shirt i finally decide on, hoping the bandaids hold on over my nipples, and trying to focus on the hot girl in the black tights in front of me, hoping it'll distract me from the weird twinge of pain in my left ass cheek.
yeah, you're damn right. no, don't cry, you didn't know. now you do. call me back on tuesday. afternoon.
good afternoon, this is rob.
yes. yes, ma'am. i see. well, tell me what happ... oh, snap, i can see the finish line from my office. i didn't realize that...
what? oh, no, please, go ahead.
right. i see. so the dentist pulled the wrong tooth. because he was drunk. on absynthe. wow, that's different. real different. no, different is good. no, not so much for you, of course not.
ok, ma'am, i understand you're very upset, and in what you understand to be "pain." yes, ma'am, i made the air quotes. that was very perceptive of you. now, i grant you, you sound like you've got about 10 packets of banana blast gu in your maw, but i think you need to put this in perspective. now, i...
i'm sorry? hello, it's a carb replacement energy gel. well, maybe if you turned off matlock and got off your ass, you'd have known that.
uh, no ma'am, i said... if jews turned over and cottoned giraffes, you'd have known that. no, ma'am that doesn't make sense, but it's ok, i'm a runner. i mean, an attorney.
so, look, i feel for you, but i mean, it's not like you've got, say, an IT band problem, or a stress fracture, or plantar fasciitis. heard of that? yeah, i got that. i get these pains in my feet that go up my ankle, and they annoy me and make me want to kick my cats, if it wouldn't, you know, hurt my feet. plus, they'll sleep next to my legs the night before the run and keep the hammies warm. no ma'am those aren't small hams.
you can file a complaint online, on our website. you don't need to talk to me. especially today. i mean... are you... are you talking to me? are you talkin' to me? cause... i don't see anyone else that's running a marathon this sunday.
you know, i shouldn't even be at work right now. i mean, what the hell? i'm making calls trying to see what the hell the hold-up is with sunday. i think my calendar is slow. i should be home stress-testing my socks, and making sure there's no exposed elastic in the liner of my shorts. i should be hanging upside down in a vat full of icewater and listening to some ice cube, ac/dc, and mars volta to keep me mentally prepared. i shouldn't be here sneaking monopolova into my iced tea at work.
but here i am, listening to your petty problems. oh, a golf-ball sized abscess? oozing pus? yeah, well, i got a toenail i could show ya that'd make you gag. what? a fever? A FEVER? you wanna talk about hot - do you know the temp outside? it's 79 DAMN DEGREES! the wind is gusting up to 16 mph from the SOUTH! that's a headwind! what? why in god's name would anyone be going north on sunday morning? are you mental?
i need sunday morning's temperatures to curve smoothly from 38 degrees at 7:00 am, to 50 at about 11:30. i need low humidity. and a tailwind. i was promised a tailwind. i converted to catholicism two weeks ago just to get low humidity and a tailwind. so help me god, and i mean that literally, i'll go aetheist!
no, i'm not spending taxpayer money staying glued to weather websites. i opened a personal credit card to pay a meteoroligist to sit in my office and give me verbal reports every ten minutes, freeing me up to study the course map carefully during my work hours. i don't know, he used to work in portland, then there was something about a career day visit to the local highschool. not important, except it made him a little more affordable.
so, you know, it's easy for you to sit there and mumble, with very poor diction, i might add, "look at me, my 72 year-old negligently mangled mouth hurts, i might die from the infection. wahhhh." but sunday morning, while you're watching faux news and gumming some pureed scrambled eggs, ima be at about mile 14, schvitzing through whatever nike dri-fit shirt i finally decide on, hoping the bandaids hold on over my nipples, and trying to focus on the hot girl in the black tights in front of me, hoping it'll distract me from the weird twinge of pain in my left ass cheek.
yeah, you're damn right. no, don't cry, you didn't know. now you do. call me back on tuesday. afternoon.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
The Grand Finale
OK, so, I've left just the last I left the half marathoners at 12.5 and the marathoners at 25.4 or so, both at 15th and San Jacinto, where the courses rejoin each other. Clearly, you won't rally be reuniting at this point, but we've run this entire season as a team, sharing the experience of training, differentiated only by numbers here and there. When you get to this point, get it in your head that we're all back together here at this intersection as a team, and we're all heading for home.
You have this one last hill, but it's nothing, and you have, at most, a couple of laps of the track left. When Phillip and I ran Austin in 2006, the first for both of us, this hill was at mile 20 or so, which sucked severely.
And now, at the end of your race, you can't let it slow you down. Form form form, strong strong strong. At the top, you turn right onto 11th, and you get a downhill. Let it take you. Be careful and in control, because you'll likely be a little tight at this point.
Left turn on Congress, and it's glory time. Mandy's band is to the right, the crowds are all around, and let me tell you, they love to see a good finish, whether it's for first or four thousandth. You sped up coming down the hill - hold that pace coming out of the turn.
The finish line is closer this year - nice, right? It's about in front of Kellie's building, I think, just short of 9th Street. When you hit 10th, kick it up a notch. Adrenaline can even knock out cramps and a good deal of pain. Start picking runners in front of you and passing them, one by one. Run fast by being quick and relaxed - more like strides (not you, Laura) than sprinting - if you try to push yourself too hard, you risk pulling a hamstring or something. Stay relaxed and in control, and just finish strong. Run all the way through the finish, and get yer damned shiny, shiny medal.
OK, so of course, I've got more to say. I'll save some of it for race morning. For now, it's enough to say that you are ready for this race. You've put in the time and the work, and yeah, I'll put our training up against anyone's. It's taken a village - you've gotten what great coaches taught me, and some of the great coaches in Austin have been there for me when I had questions or needed help. You're a product of the absolute best of the Austin running community, in terms of experience and knowledge, and in terms of heart and soul - you came into this group understanding that we don't do elitist, we don't do uppity, we don't do rude, and we know the difference between being a team and having a mob mentality.
You're a product of each other's support, and each other's experiences, successes, mistakes, good runs and bad runs.
And who you are now is obviously a product of the work you've put in, and of the goals and hopes that made you take this task on, have gotten you through the tough workouts and moments of doubt, and have gotten you here, ready to get to the starting line.
Ultimately, I'm proud of the product, of you all as runners, but I am even more proud of all those things that shaped you. Times, distance run, even Boston or Olympic qualifying, are all inadequate measures of an individual, of their will and their character. "The will to win is nothing without the will to prepare." Running 13.1 miles or 26.2 miles is a stunt - an impressive one, but just a stunt. But training as you have, and committing to make the hard choices to do your best, is an accomplishment and a true testament to your character. And, I believe that it is impossible for that not to affect the rest of your life, and the people around you.
That's the point of it all, for me, and I hope for you. Have fun with the run Sunday - you've all earned it.
You have this one last hill, but it's nothing, and you have, at most, a couple of laps of the track left. When Phillip and I ran Austin in 2006, the first for both of us, this hill was at mile 20 or so, which sucked severely.
And now, at the end of your race, you can't let it slow you down. Form form form, strong strong strong. At the top, you turn right onto 11th, and you get a downhill. Let it take you. Be careful and in control, because you'll likely be a little tight at this point.
Left turn on Congress, and it's glory time. Mandy's band is to the right, the crowds are all around, and let me tell you, they love to see a good finish, whether it's for first or four thousandth. You sped up coming down the hill - hold that pace coming out of the turn.
The finish line is closer this year - nice, right? It's about in front of Kellie's building, I think, just short of 9th Street. When you hit 10th, kick it up a notch. Adrenaline can even knock out cramps and a good deal of pain. Start picking runners in front of you and passing them, one by one. Run fast by being quick and relaxed - more like strides (not you, Laura) than sprinting - if you try to push yourself too hard, you risk pulling a hamstring or something. Stay relaxed and in control, and just finish strong. Run all the way through the finish, and get yer damned shiny, shiny medal.
OK, so of course, I've got more to say. I'll save some of it for race morning. For now, it's enough to say that you are ready for this race. You've put in the time and the work, and yeah, I'll put our training up against anyone's. It's taken a village - you've gotten what great coaches taught me, and some of the great coaches in Austin have been there for me when I had questions or needed help. You're a product of the absolute best of the Austin running community, in terms of experience and knowledge, and in terms of heart and soul - you came into this group understanding that we don't do elitist, we don't do uppity, we don't do rude, and we know the difference between being a team and having a mob mentality.
You're a product of each other's support, and each other's experiences, successes, mistakes, good runs and bad runs.
And who you are now is obviously a product of the work you've put in, and of the goals and hopes that made you take this task on, have gotten you through the tough workouts and moments of doubt, and have gotten you here, ready to get to the starting line.
Ultimately, I'm proud of the product, of you all as runners, but I am even more proud of all those things that shaped you. Times, distance run, even Boston or Olympic qualifying, are all inadequate measures of an individual, of their will and their character. "The will to win is nothing without the will to prepare." Running 13.1 miles or 26.2 miles is a stunt - an impressive one, but just a stunt. But training as you have, and committing to make the hard choices to do your best, is an accomplishment and a true testament to your character. And, I believe that it is impossible for that not to affect the rest of your life, and the people around you.
That's the point of it all, for me, and I hope for you. Have fun with the run Sunday - you've all earned it.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Austin M&HM Race Plan: The Back Half
When we last left our intrepid band of questionably intelligent runners, the marathoners, clearly not understanding there was another option, took a left turn onto Exposition, while the only slightly smarter half marathoners took the shorter way back to the finish...
Half marathoners, skim through this - there's stuff to help you, too. Also, remember, if you're looking at the map, the mile marker marks the end of that mile, not the beginning...
Miles 11 and 12: The End of the Beginning
OK, so the marathoners are not off the dragon's back yet, but only have a little over a mile left to ride through it. You've all run it enough times that you'll probably unconsciously avoid potholes. And, for those of you who ran the Double Dragon, just think to yourself, "Well, at least I only have to do it once today."
Here, form, form, form. The road should open up a bit with the half marathoners turning off. Get out of the camber on the sides, and run the crown of the road, or at least out where it's a little flatter.
You get the short climb, then the long climb up to Windsor, then you've got a little reprieve until the big hill going up to Westover. Do not worry about your time here - this hilly portion is just a couple of miles out of 26.2. Don't burn yourself up now, when you could be conservative and have more in the tank later. Just get up the hill, balancing your pace and your energy output. Keep your head up, and your hips pressed into the hill. Roll all the way through your foot with every stride. There will be some crowd support here, but you should really be able to hear the crowd and the band at the top. Let that draw you up the hill.
When you get to the top, relax, shake it out. You've got another, oft-overlooked hill going up to 35th, and the climb to the peak of the bridge over Mopac is always a bit harder than I expect. Cherish this - it's not the last hill, but it's the last for another 9 or 10 miles, and it's the last of the hilly sections.
Now you get a downhill to Jackson, where you make a left turn.
Miles 13-18: Where the Hell Am I and What the Hell Am I Doing?
I always think this point is a little disorienting, which is bad, since I'm already only half Asian. HA! Sorry. Anyway, by this time, the initial excitement of the race has worn off, you enter neighborhoods where the crowds are spottier, and you've gotten through the section that people are stressed about, and that presented a set of challenges for you. From here on out, it's just a matter of running, and running, and running.
You can't lose purpose or discipline here, and your priority now is to get back on pace. If you feel good, you might be tempted to speed up, thinking it's flat from here on out. I would advise against that - it's not flat, for one thing - it's mostly a low, uphill grade until you get up to Great Northern, and then, of course, there's Great Northern. Really, you're not going to get significant flat or downhill until you turn onto Woodrow. And, there's always that other thing - you've got 14 miles left to run.
So, trust me, it's not as simple a calculation as it seems - "Gee, I've run the 12 hard miles, and I feel good. I should speed up." Well, maybe, maybe not. You've run 18, 20, 22 miles, and you should remember how the miles catch up to you quickly near the tail end of those distances. And, that four tacked onto the end of 22 aren't exactly a cakewalk. So, no matter how good you feel, just use these next four miles to see how you feel getting back on and staying on your marathon goal pace. If you dropped a bit of pace in the hills, that's fine - be patient, pick up just a little time on each mile until you get back to pace.
You'll take a right turn at 39th through a little neighborhood, then a left on Bull Creek. You hit the halfway point on Bull Creek, near 45th. Yihah. You cruise up to Hancock, take a right, go down a little hill and up a little hill. Again, just maintain pace.
Again, there's not a lot to say about these miles. You're running. You're trying to stay on the flat parts of the street, off the camber. It the sun's out, you stay in the shade. You're staying relaxed. If you feel things tightening up, change things up a little - butt kick lightly for a few strides, pull the knees a bit higher for a few, run slightly stiff-legged, kicking lightly out in front of you a bit.
There's a small incline up White Rock to Great Northern, then you enter, as I always think of it, what Douglas Adams might have called "the long, dark, teatime of the soul." Long and flat, the road itself is numbing, even discouraging for some people, and you're entering the true "middle miles" of the race. You've been on this road and on those miles, so you know them well. You know both better than the majority of the other runners out there. So, this is a good test of your where you're at with your pace. If you hold pace well here, and you get through mile 16 and up to Foster, and still feel just outstanding, then you can start thinking about turning up the pace, though I don't think I'd put too much effort into that just yet, at least not until you make the turn south.
If you do increase your pace, start planning in your head. Plan on just increasing your pace by just five seconds or so, and holding that pace up to mile 20, where you can reassess it then.
You might be at a point where you seriously doubt your ability to maintain your pace for the rest of the race. You're at an important decision point, and only you can truly make that choice. I will say that if you held on up to Great Northern, don't let your performance on Great Northern decide the rest of your race. It's a tough stretch of road. Just hold on, do your best, try to run comfortably for now, and make any real decisions after mile 18.5, when you've turned back south and into the downhills and flats.
At Foster, behind Northcross, you should see some crowds again, which should really help. You also know that you've hit the uppermost point of the course, and soon you'll be heading home. Let it boost you, but if you're considering upping your pace a little, again, think back to your training runs, and ahead to the final miles, and carefully weigh your decision.
Finishing mile 18, you're halfway down Morrow. Start looking at the ridiculous blue line we painted down the street - it'll be there for quite a while. Think of it as a big blue thread pulling you down the course.
Mile 18.5-24: Homeward Bound
I refer to the Simon and Garfunkel song, not the ridiculous Disney movie, though, if the ridiculous Disney movie works better for you... whatever.
At 18.5, you turn the corner south onto Woodward, and you're on your way to the finish. You're close to the end of the dreaded "middle miles", and the elevation profile finally starts trending downhill. This is another good spot to relax, shake out the arms, and hit the mental and physical "reset" button. If you're looking at the finish at this point, it's going to seem improbably far. You still want to break it into manageable chunks, a few or a couple of miles at a time. It's like when we do repeats - you don't want to think about the total mileage you have left, it's easier to think about the repeat you're on right then, and worry about the next one later.
These are flat to slightly downhill streets. If you struggled through the middle miles, try to regain a relaxed rhythm. If you're feeling strong, and have easily maintained your pace, you again have to choose whether to hold where you are, or give the pace a little nudge.
Most of us are going to have felt discomfort and maybe a bit of pain by now. We've all had little to large "dings" in the past six months, little to large aches and pains, and we all know what we really need to be concerned about, and what we can safely push ourselves through. If you're hurting here, don't dwell on it, but don't just try to ignore it, either - take a zen approach, or rather, a zazen approach. It's like meditation. People think they have to clear their mind, and they end up getting all mentally bunched up by trying not to think. Acceptance (but not resignation) is the better way - go through your body from head to toe. Think about how you feel. Look at it like you're picking up a shiny object, then put it back down. Go through it all, then be done with it.
I also know that all that zen stuff is a matter of practice, and sometimes just too hard to do. If it doesn't work for you, then just... don't give up, right?
Down Woodward and Arroyo Seco, left on Romeria, and back onto Woodrow, all the way to North Loop. Again, all you have to worry about is getting in, and/or staying in your rhythm and pace.
North Loop is a little challenge, but you're not running the full length of it like you did at 3M - this is relatively easy. If you've been struggling or just been holding on, let it take a little pace from you - conserve your effort to get you to the finish, or for where it's better used. If you're feeling good, try to minimize how much it takes from your time, but don't burn yourself up.
You turn right on Guadalupe, left on 46th. 46th kind of gently undulates ahead of you, up and down, and you can still see that blue thread of a line from last year, pulling you down it.
Left turn on Avenue H, right on 49th, and then, glory be, right turn onto Duval, and all it's glorious, perfect-decline downhills. You should start getting some more people out there cheering, and you're in more familiar territory, approaching the UT campus and all those students with their Sunday morning hang-overs. Take it all as a sign that you're close, you're out of the suburban and mental wilderness, and returning to center, where there's going to be lots of people supporting you.
There's a slight uphill just past 45th street. Don't think about the effort, think about the form. That will carry you through, and will make you feel stronger.
You're close. You have to make choices here about the balance between banking time and energy on these downhills, with the major thing in mind being what comes at the end of the downhill...
Mile 25-25.9: The Gut-Check, and the Flow to the Finish
OK. So, you knew before most people the changes in the course, and you ran the new course before most people, and you all know about Dean Keeton. Some of you ran the Human Race, that cruel August evening adventure, that had you running up this hill late in the race. From what I can recall, you marathoners have all run this, and run it well - you've beaten it, and on Sunday, you will not have run 24 miles just to be beaten by a hill that a bunch of out-of-shape engineering students and sorority girls jog up on a daily basis.
If you have not walked, or walked much, by now, then unless you get a cramp or something that really medically concerns you, you will not walk now. Be determined, pull your form together, decide you're going to look better and stronger than all the people dying around you. At the same time, when you see someone struggling up it with you, encourage them, tell them to keep moving, to come with you. Decide you're stronger, more experienced, and that you're there to set the example for the others. Don't push the pace, just be strong and steady. This is the hill that people will talk about, and you're going to be proud of how you took it on.
When you get to the top, it's time to think about finishing this damned thing. You've got a slight downhill shooting straight down the Drag. Trust that your breathing will catch up on its own coming off the hill, and maintain effort. Focus on being light and loose and striding easy.
At the left turn onto MLK, you've finished 25 miles, and you get the reward for your effort on Dean Keeton - an equally long downhill. Relax, and do what you can without burning out just yet.
Right turn on San Jacinto - a long, slight grind up to the last hill. It is too late to drop form or pace - hang on.
At 15th, the half marathon course rejoins you (though they will be long done). We'll finish together tomorrow...
Half marathoners, skim through this - there's stuff to help you, too. Also, remember, if you're looking at the map, the mile marker marks the end of that mile, not the beginning...
Miles 11 and 12: The End of the Beginning
OK, so the marathoners are not off the dragon's back yet, but only have a little over a mile left to ride through it. You've all run it enough times that you'll probably unconsciously avoid potholes. And, for those of you who ran the Double Dragon, just think to yourself, "Well, at least I only have to do it once today."
Here, form, form, form. The road should open up a bit with the half marathoners turning off. Get out of the camber on the sides, and run the crown of the road, or at least out where it's a little flatter.
You get the short climb, then the long climb up to Windsor, then you've got a little reprieve until the big hill going up to Westover. Do not worry about your time here - this hilly portion is just a couple of miles out of 26.2. Don't burn yourself up now, when you could be conservative and have more in the tank later. Just get up the hill, balancing your pace and your energy output. Keep your head up, and your hips pressed into the hill. Roll all the way through your foot with every stride. There will be some crowd support here, but you should really be able to hear the crowd and the band at the top. Let that draw you up the hill.
When you get to the top, relax, shake it out. You've got another, oft-overlooked hill going up to 35th, and the climb to the peak of the bridge over Mopac is always a bit harder than I expect. Cherish this - it's not the last hill, but it's the last for another 9 or 10 miles, and it's the last of the hilly sections.
Now you get a downhill to Jackson, where you make a left turn.
Miles 13-18: Where the Hell Am I and What the Hell Am I Doing?
I always think this point is a little disorienting, which is bad, since I'm already only half Asian. HA! Sorry. Anyway, by this time, the initial excitement of the race has worn off, you enter neighborhoods where the crowds are spottier, and you've gotten through the section that people are stressed about, and that presented a set of challenges for you. From here on out, it's just a matter of running, and running, and running.
You can't lose purpose or discipline here, and your priority now is to get back on pace. If you feel good, you might be tempted to speed up, thinking it's flat from here on out. I would advise against that - it's not flat, for one thing - it's mostly a low, uphill grade until you get up to Great Northern, and then, of course, there's Great Northern. Really, you're not going to get significant flat or downhill until you turn onto Woodrow. And, there's always that other thing - you've got 14 miles left to run.
So, trust me, it's not as simple a calculation as it seems - "Gee, I've run the 12 hard miles, and I feel good. I should speed up." Well, maybe, maybe not. You've run 18, 20, 22 miles, and you should remember how the miles catch up to you quickly near the tail end of those distances. And, that four tacked onto the end of 22 aren't exactly a cakewalk. So, no matter how good you feel, just use these next four miles to see how you feel getting back on and staying on your marathon goal pace. If you dropped a bit of pace in the hills, that's fine - be patient, pick up just a little time on each mile until you get back to pace.
You'll take a right turn at 39th through a little neighborhood, then a left on Bull Creek. You hit the halfway point on Bull Creek, near 45th. Yihah. You cruise up to Hancock, take a right, go down a little hill and up a little hill. Again, just maintain pace.
Again, there's not a lot to say about these miles. You're running. You're trying to stay on the flat parts of the street, off the camber. It the sun's out, you stay in the shade. You're staying relaxed. If you feel things tightening up, change things up a little - butt kick lightly for a few strides, pull the knees a bit higher for a few, run slightly stiff-legged, kicking lightly out in front of you a bit.
There's a small incline up White Rock to Great Northern, then you enter, as I always think of it, what Douglas Adams might have called "the long, dark, teatime of the soul." Long and flat, the road itself is numbing, even discouraging for some people, and you're entering the true "middle miles" of the race. You've been on this road and on those miles, so you know them well. You know both better than the majority of the other runners out there. So, this is a good test of your where you're at with your pace. If you hold pace well here, and you get through mile 16 and up to Foster, and still feel just outstanding, then you can start thinking about turning up the pace, though I don't think I'd put too much effort into that just yet, at least not until you make the turn south.
If you do increase your pace, start planning in your head. Plan on just increasing your pace by just five seconds or so, and holding that pace up to mile 20, where you can reassess it then.
You might be at a point where you seriously doubt your ability to maintain your pace for the rest of the race. You're at an important decision point, and only you can truly make that choice. I will say that if you held on up to Great Northern, don't let your performance on Great Northern decide the rest of your race. It's a tough stretch of road. Just hold on, do your best, try to run comfortably for now, and make any real decisions after mile 18.5, when you've turned back south and into the downhills and flats.
At Foster, behind Northcross, you should see some crowds again, which should really help. You also know that you've hit the uppermost point of the course, and soon you'll be heading home. Let it boost you, but if you're considering upping your pace a little, again, think back to your training runs, and ahead to the final miles, and carefully weigh your decision.
Finishing mile 18, you're halfway down Morrow. Start looking at the ridiculous blue line we painted down the street - it'll be there for quite a while. Think of it as a big blue thread pulling you down the course.
Mile 18.5-24: Homeward Bound
I refer to the Simon and Garfunkel song, not the ridiculous Disney movie, though, if the ridiculous Disney movie works better for you... whatever.
At 18.5, you turn the corner south onto Woodward, and you're on your way to the finish. You're close to the end of the dreaded "middle miles", and the elevation profile finally starts trending downhill. This is another good spot to relax, shake out the arms, and hit the mental and physical "reset" button. If you're looking at the finish at this point, it's going to seem improbably far. You still want to break it into manageable chunks, a few or a couple of miles at a time. It's like when we do repeats - you don't want to think about the total mileage you have left, it's easier to think about the repeat you're on right then, and worry about the next one later.
These are flat to slightly downhill streets. If you struggled through the middle miles, try to regain a relaxed rhythm. If you're feeling strong, and have easily maintained your pace, you again have to choose whether to hold where you are, or give the pace a little nudge.
Most of us are going to have felt discomfort and maybe a bit of pain by now. We've all had little to large "dings" in the past six months, little to large aches and pains, and we all know what we really need to be concerned about, and what we can safely push ourselves through. If you're hurting here, don't dwell on it, but don't just try to ignore it, either - take a zen approach, or rather, a zazen approach. It's like meditation. People think they have to clear their mind, and they end up getting all mentally bunched up by trying not to think. Acceptance (but not resignation) is the better way - go through your body from head to toe. Think about how you feel. Look at it like you're picking up a shiny object, then put it back down. Go through it all, then be done with it.
I also know that all that zen stuff is a matter of practice, and sometimes just too hard to do. If it doesn't work for you, then just... don't give up, right?
Down Woodward and Arroyo Seco, left on Romeria, and back onto Woodrow, all the way to North Loop. Again, all you have to worry about is getting in, and/or staying in your rhythm and pace.
North Loop is a little challenge, but you're not running the full length of it like you did at 3M - this is relatively easy. If you've been struggling or just been holding on, let it take a little pace from you - conserve your effort to get you to the finish, or for where it's better used. If you're feeling good, try to minimize how much it takes from your time, but don't burn yourself up.
You turn right on Guadalupe, left on 46th. 46th kind of gently undulates ahead of you, up and down, and you can still see that blue thread of a line from last year, pulling you down it.
Left turn on Avenue H, right on 49th, and then, glory be, right turn onto Duval, and all it's glorious, perfect-decline downhills. You should start getting some more people out there cheering, and you're in more familiar territory, approaching the UT campus and all those students with their Sunday morning hang-overs. Take it all as a sign that you're close, you're out of the suburban and mental wilderness, and returning to center, where there's going to be lots of people supporting you.
There's a slight uphill just past 45th street. Don't think about the effort, think about the form. That will carry you through, and will make you feel stronger.
You're close. You have to make choices here about the balance between banking time and energy on these downhills, with the major thing in mind being what comes at the end of the downhill...
Mile 25-25.9: The Gut-Check, and the Flow to the Finish
OK. So, you knew before most people the changes in the course, and you ran the new course before most people, and you all know about Dean Keeton. Some of you ran the Human Race, that cruel August evening adventure, that had you running up this hill late in the race. From what I can recall, you marathoners have all run this, and run it well - you've beaten it, and on Sunday, you will not have run 24 miles just to be beaten by a hill that a bunch of out-of-shape engineering students and sorority girls jog up on a daily basis.
If you have not walked, or walked much, by now, then unless you get a cramp or something that really medically concerns you, you will not walk now. Be determined, pull your form together, decide you're going to look better and stronger than all the people dying around you. At the same time, when you see someone struggling up it with you, encourage them, tell them to keep moving, to come with you. Decide you're stronger, more experienced, and that you're there to set the example for the others. Don't push the pace, just be strong and steady. This is the hill that people will talk about, and you're going to be proud of how you took it on.
When you get to the top, it's time to think about finishing this damned thing. You've got a slight downhill shooting straight down the Drag. Trust that your breathing will catch up on its own coming off the hill, and maintain effort. Focus on being light and loose and striding easy.
At the left turn onto MLK, you've finished 25 miles, and you get the reward for your effort on Dean Keeton - an equally long downhill. Relax, and do what you can without burning out just yet.
Right turn on San Jacinto - a long, slight grind up to the last hill. It is too late to drop form or pace - hang on.
At 15th, the half marathon course rejoins you (though they will be long done). We'll finish together tomorrow...
Monday, February 9, 2009
The Austin M&HM Race Plan, Part One
OK, so I still see no need to completely reinvent the wheel with this, though it is updated a bit from last year, due to course changes, and to the continuing process of figuring this course out. Half marathoners and marathoners share the first ten miles, of course, so let's get through those together first:
This is a different race…If you ran 3M, do not take this race for granted. This race is an entirely different experience. Race management at 3M was all about regulating pace, and getting through a very few gently sloping uphills. The Austin Half, and the first 12 miles for the marathoners, will be more about intelligence, maturity and patience as it will be force of will.
Despite the difference in the elevation profile from the old Freescale courses or from 3M, this course can still be fairly fast, if you manage it properly. Many people who ran their first half at 3M will actually run faster here, just with the benefit of that bit of experience. If you’re smart and patient about the hills, you won’t give up too much time, and you’ll get enough long downward slopes to recover and catch a little of that time back. If you fail to manage the hills, going at them too hard and fast, you will pay the price with your pace later, and you won’t get the full benefit of the downward slopes.
Prepare, Yada, Yada, Yada
I won’t rehash all the stuff from my previous novel on pre-race prep, but I will emphasize that you need to be PARKED, AND ON SITE AT 6AM. No excuses, no flexibility. The race is incredibly well organized, and has been planned to cover almost every eventuality. In its first year with the downtown start/finish, parking and traffic proved to not be a problem. But the facts remain – 13,000 runners will be trying to get to a downtown start/finish, and many routes into the race area will be getting sealed off after 6am. I know the traffic plan for the route, and can answer individual questions about the best routes to take from different locations. You can also check out the traffic guide, which should be online shortly.
Have a plan, and two backup plans, for how to get to the start, and for where you’ll park.
Make sure you pack your clothing drop bag the night before. Warm, dry clothes, a small towel (you should always know where your towel is), even some shoes for after the race. Put your ID and a bit of cash in your shoe or wrapped up in something where it won’t come out, so you can buy some extra food or drink after the race from the Farmer’s Market.
There are no pace groups for the half, but you can get in with one of the full marathon pace groups for the first ten miles. So, if you’re looking at a 2:15 half marathon, get in with the 4:30 pace group (NOT THE 2:15! HA!). The pace group leaders almost always do a great job of running a flat, constant pace, and there are two for every pace, to help ensure consistency. Still, be prepared to run your own race. For one thing, you might want to drop a little pace in the hilly sections.
The starting chute will be divided by signs into various per-mile paces. Use those to place yourself.
The Course: Slaying Dragons
So, I’m not a Harry Potter fan, and I got tired of Dungeons and Dragons really quickly, but I tend to think of challenging parts of a race course as dragons. In running and looking at this course a couple of years ago, I began to think of it as one dragon in three parts. I think you can do the same with the half marathon course, because I refuse to ditch the metaphor. That’s why the runs a week ago were called the Dragon.5 (NOT the Dragon "5", Eve, and you have no proof survives, um, exists, to the contrary), or the Double Dragon.
You can choose to view the dragon, this course, as your opponent, or your friend, whatever works for your psychology, but either way, you need to understand it.
You’ve run all of the course many times over, in pieces, but again, familiarity is one of your best weapons. Drive the course, study the map, the elevation profile, run through the course in your mind as much as you can. Let’s run through it here…
Mile 1-3: Enter the Dragon
The tendency of almost all runners, not just Amy and Susan, is to go out too fast, caught up in their own adrenaline, fooled by their fresh legs, and lured into the mob mentality of the people around them that are suffering from the same afflictions. It really is like an amped-up warrior charging a dragon head-on. It looks impressive until the warrior gets summarily bitten in half or burnt to a crisp.
IF YOU GO OUT TOO FAST IN THIS RACE, IT WILL SUCK MORE LATER THAN IT NEEDS TO.
You’re going to climb over 250 feet in about 3 miles. So, look at those first three miles as your warm-up. For those of you trying to run at a certain pace, you have to let yourself be a little slower, even if its 30 seconds or even a minute per mile - you've got to keep your effort low this early on, particularly going uphill. If you're starting to breathe quite a bit harder, back off, and just relax.
You have got to get it firmly in your head that using too much energy and muscle now is going to take more than its fair share from you later in the race. That 30 seconds you give up may allow you to run faster splits at the end of the race, whereas forcing yourself to not give up that 30 seconds might make you lose minutes at the end of the race. I have foolishly proven it time and again, myself - start a marathon shooting for a 4:10, when I should have gone for a 4:20 or even a 4:30, and end up running a 4:45. Especially if this is your first marathon, do it right.
Let the crowd slow you down – don’t waste too much energy trying to dodge around people. Look around, soak in the experience. Wave at the bands, the crowds, thank the police officers (but don't waste energy or breath yelling or speeding up in response to the crowds, either). Look at all the shops. Be aware of your surroundings – what’s the address of the San Jose Motel? Does Guero’s look open? What flavors are up on the Amy’s Ice Cream menu? What brand is the giant boot? Do what it takes to calm yourself, and slow down.
As for the hill on South Congress, it’s not as bad as it looks, if you treat it with respect. It actually breaks into several chunks, with short flats in between. Treat it as multiple short hills, and enjoy those little recoveries. Use these first hills to set the precedence for your hill-climbing form for the day. Head up, hips pressed into the hill ahead of you, arms relaxed but setting the pace for your legs.
When you get to about Mary Street, past the first mile, it seems to level off, but you still have a very slight grade all the way past Oltorf, through the second mile, pretty much to Cumberland. When a race starts on hills like this, it’s hard to get into a groove. It’s easy to get down on yourself and think you’re not running well, and that you’ll never make your pace. The dragon that is this course gets help from the dragons of fear and doubt that reside in us. You’ve got to do battle with them, too. Accept the course for what it is, know there will be ups and downs, and be confident in all the work you’ve put in. When you get a true flat or even a slight downhill, don't speed up, just relax, take a breath, and feel yourself recovering.
When you’re approaching the turn at Krebs, look up ahead to see how the crowd is shaping up around the corner. You don’t want to get caught too far inside, where you might be forced over the curb, and you don’t want to be pushed to the outside. Pick a line through the corner and stick with it. If it gets crowded in this or any other turn, be light on your feet in case they bump someone else’s, and if someone in front of you is pushing you in or out, give them a very light, quick touch on the elbow to let them know you’re there.
Left turn, then a right onto the Alley Known As Ft. McGruder. It might get tight, here, but not for long. Get through the last bit of hill, and look for the crowds there - we're doing everything we can to push that as a big crowd site. I wanted rock and roll, but there's going to be some school choir there. Whatever, maybe they'll rock "If You Seek Amy".
Once you get to South First, if you’ve been disciplined, then you’ve bopped the dragon soundly on the head. Great. Don’t get cocky.
Mile 3.25-6: Glide.
You turn right on South First, and start to drop that 250 feet back off over the next 2 miles. You still have to be smart, though – this stretch is just as dangerous as the uphills you just conquered.
When you turn the corner, I want you to think again about relaxing, shake your arms out, loosen your neck and shoulders, then focus on settling into an easy pace. This is where I think you should start feeling like you’re running a race, which just means getting your head together and settling into a rhythm.
Do not try to make up time. This is another stretch where people are going to ruin their day by failing to be smart and mature. If you run it properly, and with some restraint, you’re going to get some time back, and you’re going to bank some energy, as well. On some of the steeper downhill portions, you might even put the brakes on a bit – but not too much. You need to control your pace, minimizing impact, and keeping your turnover rate from getting so high you’re actually taxing your lungs and legs. But, you don’t want to be really jamming on the brakes, either, because you’ll burn out your quads. It’s like driving a car down a mountainside – you have to finesse the brakes so you control your speed without burning them up. You’ve all worked on finding that balance – do it.
You’ll come down onto level ground past Whataburger and RunTex. You’ll feel the incline going over the South First Street bridge, then you'll hear the crowds and the St. James Missionary Baptist Church men's chorus rocking it out as you turn left onto Cesar Chavez, for the better half of what we all know and loathe as the Dog Pound Loop.
Again, draw energy from the crowd support and the music, but don’t let it affect your pace. Thank the crowd with a smile and a wave, and store that energy away for later.
Miles 6-9.25 - The Part Where You Just Run
Once you turn left onto Cesar Chavez, you’re in for the long stretches that lay between you and the dragon’s back. Please don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten my overworked metaphor… you’re fighting dragons here, remember? At this point, you’re pretty much on the dragon’s neck.
I don’t feel there’s a lot to say about these bits of the course. That’s why there’s no clever titles for these miles. You just run, and you stay disciplined and patient about your pace. You’ll get some long slow downgrades, and a few shorter inclines. Maybe you feel pretty good, and you're wanting to go - if so, do the math, and remember some of your long runs where you might have felt great at eight miles, then a few miles later... not so much. Just stay relaxed, and hold your pace. This part of the course may be boring, but it’s not insignificant, because they set you up for the hills that start at Enfield.
At about 7.75 miles, after you come out from under the Mopac Bridge on Veteran’s, you have the hill that goes up by the fire station and up to Lake Austin Blvd., across from Magnolia Café. It’s steep and a little long. But how many times have you run up this? You’re on your turf now. You have the homefield advantage, and you should feel comfortable here. Just think about all those poor sods that are from Dallas or Houston, and wouldn't have a chance in hell at matching you on the hill workouts you've done. When you hit the street that comes down from RunTex, shake out the arms and hands, relax, and roll easily into the hill. When you see the fire station and Daily Juice (because your head's up, right?), I want you to think about your form, and about keeping your hips under you and pressing them into the hill. Reinforce that good form.
There’s about a two-mile stretch down Lake Austin. Again, this is old hat to you. It’s just not a big deal. It is boring. Sorry. This spot often sees some wind - if you start feeling the wind giving you a lot of resistance, tuck in behind a group of runners, and draft. It makes a difference, and it makes you feel that much smarter than everyone else.
Miles 9.25-10: On the Back of the Dragon
So, at the end of Lake Austin, you turn right onto Enfield, right into what all the fuss is about for those that whine about the course. But again, you’ve all been here, trained here. You marathoners ran it twice a couple of weeks ago. You’re on the dragon’s back, and there’s not much he can do about it. He will writhe up and down, but you’re just going to hold on, maintain your form, keep your wits about you, and ride the hills like you have in training runs before, for not quite a mile.
At Exposition, almost exactly ten miles in, the marathoners and half marathoners will split off. I’ll continue with the half marathon course for a ways here, and wrap up both courses tomorrow.
So, the half marathoners have just a 5K left. You’re sliding down the dragon’s back, but it's going to go up again. So, again, relax from the head down, shake out your arms, and take advantage of the downhill towards Mopac. Again, as before, do not fly down this. Strike that balance. Use this to relax and gather your strength for your finish. You’ll still pick up a little pace just naturally. You want to do that and regain your energy.
Miles 10.8-12.6: The Dragon’s Tail (Well, One of Them)
Coming out from under Mopac, you get a smallish uphill. Remember your form. Keep your head up, think about your hips, and focus on being smooth and strong.
When you get to the top, just past West Lynn, make a decision. If you feel like you’ve got a lot left in the tank, and can pick up the pace, then this is the time to do it. If you do increase pace, DO IT GRADUALLY. Keep it under control, and keep it smart - you’ve been through enough workouts that you should be able to feel what you have left in you.
Remember, too, that the dragon has one last true challenge for you – the uphill at mile 11.7 or so, coming off the Lamar Street overpass on 15th Street. It’s a steep one. Even the female half marathon winner a couple of years ago commented on being surprised by this hill. You won't be. You've run it, and you've run more hills, tougher hills, than most training groups do - it's not Wilke, and it's not as painful as the Spiridon Reverse Cowboy Rainbow Repeats.
There’s a long downhill coming into it – maintain a strong, but relaxed pace. At this point, let the downhill carry you a little more than you might have earlier in the race, but still, keep it under control. Remember back to the workout in Clarksville, on Pressler, on the street with the crazy yelling guy, where you maintained your form down the hill, and worked on a slightly quicker, relaxed turnover. Find that day's groove again.
Relax and gather yourself to take that big hill. Hit it, and let it take just a little off your pace. It’s steep, that’s OK - you'd rather be able to put more into that last mile. Hold your form together – on a hill this steep, if you run with your hips under you, when you hit the top, you’ll feel a release, and it’ll feel good as you transition into another nice long downhill.
When you reach the top, relax, take some good breaths, and remember – you don’t have to slow down, because the effort you needed to climb the hill just dropped off. Trust that, and let your breath come back to you as you go down the hill a couple of blocks. Feet light, relaxed, but a little quick. Get back on your finishing pace.
You get some flat and then a little downhill towards the turn at San Jacinto. Hold your pace, or, if you have it in you, pick up the pace again just barely, and gradually. Let the downhill carry you into it. If there’s someone that’s kept their distance ahead of you for the past several minutes, decide you’re going to slowly catch them over the next few blocks. When you catch them, pick someone else, and go after them.
At San Jac, you rejoin the marathoners. Tomorrow, we'll catch them up to you, then finish it together.
This is a different race…If you ran 3M, do not take this race for granted. This race is an entirely different experience. Race management at 3M was all about regulating pace, and getting through a very few gently sloping uphills. The Austin Half, and the first 12 miles for the marathoners, will be more about intelligence, maturity and patience as it will be force of will.
Despite the difference in the elevation profile from the old Freescale courses or from 3M, this course can still be fairly fast, if you manage it properly. Many people who ran their first half at 3M will actually run faster here, just with the benefit of that bit of experience. If you’re smart and patient about the hills, you won’t give up too much time, and you’ll get enough long downward slopes to recover and catch a little of that time back. If you fail to manage the hills, going at them too hard and fast, you will pay the price with your pace later, and you won’t get the full benefit of the downward slopes.
Prepare, Yada, Yada, Yada
I won’t rehash all the stuff from my previous novel on pre-race prep, but I will emphasize that you need to be PARKED, AND ON SITE AT 6AM. No excuses, no flexibility. The race is incredibly well organized, and has been planned to cover almost every eventuality. In its first year with the downtown start/finish, parking and traffic proved to not be a problem. But the facts remain – 13,000 runners will be trying to get to a downtown start/finish, and many routes into the race area will be getting sealed off after 6am. I know the traffic plan for the route, and can answer individual questions about the best routes to take from different locations. You can also check out the traffic guide, which should be online shortly.
Have a plan, and two backup plans, for how to get to the start, and for where you’ll park.
Make sure you pack your clothing drop bag the night before. Warm, dry clothes, a small towel (you should always know where your towel is), even some shoes for after the race. Put your ID and a bit of cash in your shoe or wrapped up in something where it won’t come out, so you can buy some extra food or drink after the race from the Farmer’s Market.
There are no pace groups for the half, but you can get in with one of the full marathon pace groups for the first ten miles. So, if you’re looking at a 2:15 half marathon, get in with the 4:30 pace group (NOT THE 2:15! HA!). The pace group leaders almost always do a great job of running a flat, constant pace, and there are two for every pace, to help ensure consistency. Still, be prepared to run your own race. For one thing, you might want to drop a little pace in the hilly sections.
The starting chute will be divided by signs into various per-mile paces. Use those to place yourself.
The Course: Slaying Dragons
So, I’m not a Harry Potter fan, and I got tired of Dungeons and Dragons really quickly, but I tend to think of challenging parts of a race course as dragons. In running and looking at this course a couple of years ago, I began to think of it as one dragon in three parts. I think you can do the same with the half marathon course, because I refuse to ditch the metaphor. That’s why the runs a week ago were called the Dragon.5 (NOT the Dragon "5", Eve, and you have no proof survives, um, exists, to the contrary), or the Double Dragon.
You can choose to view the dragon, this course, as your opponent, or your friend, whatever works for your psychology, but either way, you need to understand it.
You’ve run all of the course many times over, in pieces, but again, familiarity is one of your best weapons. Drive the course, study the map, the elevation profile, run through the course in your mind as much as you can. Let’s run through it here…
Mile 1-3: Enter the Dragon
The tendency of almost all runners, not just Amy and Susan, is to go out too fast, caught up in their own adrenaline, fooled by their fresh legs, and lured into the mob mentality of the people around them that are suffering from the same afflictions. It really is like an amped-up warrior charging a dragon head-on. It looks impressive until the warrior gets summarily bitten in half or burnt to a crisp.
IF YOU GO OUT TOO FAST IN THIS RACE, IT WILL SUCK MORE LATER THAN IT NEEDS TO.
You’re going to climb over 250 feet in about 3 miles. So, look at those first three miles as your warm-up. For those of you trying to run at a certain pace, you have to let yourself be a little slower, even if its 30 seconds or even a minute per mile - you've got to keep your effort low this early on, particularly going uphill. If you're starting to breathe quite a bit harder, back off, and just relax.
You have got to get it firmly in your head that using too much energy and muscle now is going to take more than its fair share from you later in the race. That 30 seconds you give up may allow you to run faster splits at the end of the race, whereas forcing yourself to not give up that 30 seconds might make you lose minutes at the end of the race. I have foolishly proven it time and again, myself - start a marathon shooting for a 4:10, when I should have gone for a 4:20 or even a 4:30, and end up running a 4:45. Especially if this is your first marathon, do it right.
Let the crowd slow you down – don’t waste too much energy trying to dodge around people. Look around, soak in the experience. Wave at the bands, the crowds, thank the police officers (but don't waste energy or breath yelling or speeding up in response to the crowds, either). Look at all the shops. Be aware of your surroundings – what’s the address of the San Jose Motel? Does Guero’s look open? What flavors are up on the Amy’s Ice Cream menu? What brand is the giant boot? Do what it takes to calm yourself, and slow down.
As for the hill on South Congress, it’s not as bad as it looks, if you treat it with respect. It actually breaks into several chunks, with short flats in between. Treat it as multiple short hills, and enjoy those little recoveries. Use these first hills to set the precedence for your hill-climbing form for the day. Head up, hips pressed into the hill ahead of you, arms relaxed but setting the pace for your legs.
When you get to about Mary Street, past the first mile, it seems to level off, but you still have a very slight grade all the way past Oltorf, through the second mile, pretty much to Cumberland. When a race starts on hills like this, it’s hard to get into a groove. It’s easy to get down on yourself and think you’re not running well, and that you’ll never make your pace. The dragon that is this course gets help from the dragons of fear and doubt that reside in us. You’ve got to do battle with them, too. Accept the course for what it is, know there will be ups and downs, and be confident in all the work you’ve put in. When you get a true flat or even a slight downhill, don't speed up, just relax, take a breath, and feel yourself recovering.
When you’re approaching the turn at Krebs, look up ahead to see how the crowd is shaping up around the corner. You don’t want to get caught too far inside, where you might be forced over the curb, and you don’t want to be pushed to the outside. Pick a line through the corner and stick with it. If it gets crowded in this or any other turn, be light on your feet in case they bump someone else’s, and if someone in front of you is pushing you in or out, give them a very light, quick touch on the elbow to let them know you’re there.
Left turn, then a right onto the Alley Known As Ft. McGruder. It might get tight, here, but not for long. Get through the last bit of hill, and look for the crowds there - we're doing everything we can to push that as a big crowd site. I wanted rock and roll, but there's going to be some school choir there. Whatever, maybe they'll rock "If You Seek Amy".
Once you get to South First, if you’ve been disciplined, then you’ve bopped the dragon soundly on the head. Great. Don’t get cocky.
Mile 3.25-6: Glide.
You turn right on South First, and start to drop that 250 feet back off over the next 2 miles. You still have to be smart, though – this stretch is just as dangerous as the uphills you just conquered.
When you turn the corner, I want you to think again about relaxing, shake your arms out, loosen your neck and shoulders, then focus on settling into an easy pace. This is where I think you should start feeling like you’re running a race, which just means getting your head together and settling into a rhythm.
Do not try to make up time. This is another stretch where people are going to ruin their day by failing to be smart and mature. If you run it properly, and with some restraint, you’re going to get some time back, and you’re going to bank some energy, as well. On some of the steeper downhill portions, you might even put the brakes on a bit – but not too much. You need to control your pace, minimizing impact, and keeping your turnover rate from getting so high you’re actually taxing your lungs and legs. But, you don’t want to be really jamming on the brakes, either, because you’ll burn out your quads. It’s like driving a car down a mountainside – you have to finesse the brakes so you control your speed without burning them up. You’ve all worked on finding that balance – do it.
You’ll come down onto level ground past Whataburger and RunTex. You’ll feel the incline going over the South First Street bridge, then you'll hear the crowds and the St. James Missionary Baptist Church men's chorus rocking it out as you turn left onto Cesar Chavez, for the better half of what we all know and loathe as the Dog Pound Loop.
Again, draw energy from the crowd support and the music, but don’t let it affect your pace. Thank the crowd with a smile and a wave, and store that energy away for later.
Miles 6-9.25 - The Part Where You Just Run
Once you turn left onto Cesar Chavez, you’re in for the long stretches that lay between you and the dragon’s back. Please don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten my overworked metaphor… you’re fighting dragons here, remember? At this point, you’re pretty much on the dragon’s neck.
I don’t feel there’s a lot to say about these bits of the course. That’s why there’s no clever titles for these miles. You just run, and you stay disciplined and patient about your pace. You’ll get some long slow downgrades, and a few shorter inclines. Maybe you feel pretty good, and you're wanting to go - if so, do the math, and remember some of your long runs where you might have felt great at eight miles, then a few miles later... not so much. Just stay relaxed, and hold your pace. This part of the course may be boring, but it’s not insignificant, because they set you up for the hills that start at Enfield.
At about 7.75 miles, after you come out from under the Mopac Bridge on Veteran’s, you have the hill that goes up by the fire station and up to Lake Austin Blvd., across from Magnolia Café. It’s steep and a little long. But how many times have you run up this? You’re on your turf now. You have the homefield advantage, and you should feel comfortable here. Just think about all those poor sods that are from Dallas or Houston, and wouldn't have a chance in hell at matching you on the hill workouts you've done. When you hit the street that comes down from RunTex, shake out the arms and hands, relax, and roll easily into the hill. When you see the fire station and Daily Juice (because your head's up, right?), I want you to think about your form, and about keeping your hips under you and pressing them into the hill. Reinforce that good form.
There’s about a two-mile stretch down Lake Austin. Again, this is old hat to you. It’s just not a big deal. It is boring. Sorry. This spot often sees some wind - if you start feeling the wind giving you a lot of resistance, tuck in behind a group of runners, and draft. It makes a difference, and it makes you feel that much smarter than everyone else.
Miles 9.25-10: On the Back of the Dragon
So, at the end of Lake Austin, you turn right onto Enfield, right into what all the fuss is about for those that whine about the course. But again, you’ve all been here, trained here. You marathoners ran it twice a couple of weeks ago. You’re on the dragon’s back, and there’s not much he can do about it. He will writhe up and down, but you’re just going to hold on, maintain your form, keep your wits about you, and ride the hills like you have in training runs before, for not quite a mile.
At Exposition, almost exactly ten miles in, the marathoners and half marathoners will split off. I’ll continue with the half marathon course for a ways here, and wrap up both courses tomorrow.
So, the half marathoners have just a 5K left. You’re sliding down the dragon’s back, but it's going to go up again. So, again, relax from the head down, shake out your arms, and take advantage of the downhill towards Mopac. Again, as before, do not fly down this. Strike that balance. Use this to relax and gather your strength for your finish. You’ll still pick up a little pace just naturally. You want to do that and regain your energy.
Miles 10.8-12.6: The Dragon’s Tail (Well, One of Them)
Coming out from under Mopac, you get a smallish uphill. Remember your form. Keep your head up, think about your hips, and focus on being smooth and strong.
When you get to the top, just past West Lynn, make a decision. If you feel like you’ve got a lot left in the tank, and can pick up the pace, then this is the time to do it. If you do increase pace, DO IT GRADUALLY. Keep it under control, and keep it smart - you’ve been through enough workouts that you should be able to feel what you have left in you.
Remember, too, that the dragon has one last true challenge for you – the uphill at mile 11.7 or so, coming off the Lamar Street overpass on 15th Street. It’s a steep one. Even the female half marathon winner a couple of years ago commented on being surprised by this hill. You won't be. You've run it, and you've run more hills, tougher hills, than most training groups do - it's not Wilke, and it's not as painful as the Spiridon Reverse Cowboy Rainbow Repeats.
There’s a long downhill coming into it – maintain a strong, but relaxed pace. At this point, let the downhill carry you a little more than you might have earlier in the race, but still, keep it under control. Remember back to the workout in Clarksville, on Pressler, on the street with the crazy yelling guy, where you maintained your form down the hill, and worked on a slightly quicker, relaxed turnover. Find that day's groove again.
Relax and gather yourself to take that big hill. Hit it, and let it take just a little off your pace. It’s steep, that’s OK - you'd rather be able to put more into that last mile. Hold your form together – on a hill this steep, if you run with your hips under you, when you hit the top, you’ll feel a release, and it’ll feel good as you transition into another nice long downhill.
When you reach the top, relax, take some good breaths, and remember – you don’t have to slow down, because the effort you needed to climb the hill just dropped off. Trust that, and let your breath come back to you as you go down the hill a couple of blocks. Feet light, relaxed, but a little quick. Get back on your finishing pace.
You get some flat and then a little downhill towards the turn at San Jacinto. Hold your pace, or, if you have it in you, pick up the pace again just barely, and gradually. Let the downhill carry you into it. If there’s someone that’s kept their distance ahead of you for the past several minutes, decide you’re going to slowly catch them over the next few blocks. When you catch them, pick someone else, and go after them.
At San Jac, you rejoin the marathoners. Tomorrow, we'll catch them up to you, then finish it together.
Friday, February 6, 2009
tapering
I just got a text from one of our marathoners: "Is it weird/bad that I cannot force myself to run this week?"
Mmm... no. Right about now, you're feeling the effects of running fewer miles. You're aware that the race is now not a matter of weeks away, but just one week. You may want to run more, you may feel weirdly unmotivated. people react a bit differently, but it's all the "taper madness".
What do you do? Run the long run tomorrow - it's just seven miles, it'll be over before you know it. It'll be flat, it'll be the last long run of this season with your friends. Enjoy it.
Next week, your runs are short and easy. Decide to get them out of the way. Yesterday, I parked at Doc's for my work happy hour, got out, and ran the first 10K of the course before joining my coworkers. Make each run a recon mission - run a part of the course. Visualize, think about what you'll need to be doing there, think about what it'll be like. Visualize the final miles, the specatators, the finish.
Over this next week, think about why you decided to do this in the first place. Think about how your motivations may have changed as you got deeper into training. Think about the doubts you had, the moments where you thought of giving up. Think about all the support you've had, all the miles you've run, all the times you've said "no" on a Friday night to going out, or another drink, or a heavy meal.
Our lives will go on this next week. But you have worked for six months for this race. You've earned the right to focus on it, to take refuge in it from everything else, at the very least, when you step up to the line on Sunday morning.
I will commit to posting something on here daily over the next week, much of it old stuff that a few of you might have seen on my personal blog. I do this to share, and yeah, because I'm a self-aggrandizing writer, but also because I want you to think about this whole experience.
The following is from October 17, 2006, just five days before the Chicago Marathon (yeah, we ran six days a week - it was an intermediate program):
tapering (five days to go)
emails are flying between my friends and me. no work is getting done. emotions are high. we want to be in chicago right damned now, regardless of the weather (though we update each other on the forecast twice a day). we want to be running it now.
marathoners call it "taper madness" - the wackiness that ensues during the two or three week period before a marathon when we back off the mileage and let our bodies repair and become ready. i ask melissa, a psychologist, if there's a biochemical basis for the weird psychosis. hours pass, i get more emails reminiscing about our favorite coaches, about weather, and finally, "sure. but you are asking me to think in order to formulate an intelligent answer to that. and, i just can't do that right now."
so, i'm left to my own devices. i eat a banana, and stare at the whopping third document i've reviewed today. a normal pace would have me at 60 or so. why are we all losing our minds?
simply put, running is a natural ability, but training for and running a marathon is not a natural thing to do.
we train for 23 weeks. close to a thousand miles run - 30, 40, 50, 60 miles a week. we run four or five days a week. an hour monday, an hour tuesday, a hard workout for an hour and a half on wednesday, cross training or a half hour run on thursday, over an hour on friday, long runs for hours on saturdays.
those hours are squeezed into mornings before work, appended to the end of workdays when you feel like you only have the energy to open a beer and keep the couch from floating away.
people that choose and stick with this path are not likely to say, "I can't," and the training reinforces that. on the other hand, we say it more now than ever - "I can't, gotta run." "I can't, I have a race."
we push ourselves six days a week, for 23 weeks. exertion and fatigue become constants, as does the simple act of consistently, persistently committing ourselves to creating discomfort in our bodies and pressing on anyway.
"The will to win means nothing if you haven't the will to prepare." - Juma Ikangaa, 1989 NYC Marathon winner
it's a compulsion, and if it didn't start as one, it became one along the way. every run says something about us, who we are and what we can do - not about our speed but about our will. sometimes, we're disappointed by how slow we were on a run or in a race, because we're competitive and because sometimes we lose sight of the fact that the time doesn't matter so much as how hard we pushed ourselves to get it.
one day, during a particularly hard workout on a high school
track, a kid leaned out a passing car's window, yelling some line i recognized from a movie about the day of judgment being on us, and asking, "how will ye be judged?"
the immediate response yelled back as i turned down onto the stratghtaway - "by what i do here today."
we watch the chicago marathon highlight video, and the sight of the runners and the cheering crowds shakes us. to some extent, it's adrenaline - fight or flight response positively subverted, adrenaline charges as we recognize the scenario. but we can't do anything with it right now, sitting at our desks, or at home.
we want the race, the pre-run jitters, we want to be surrounded by 40,000 other people who have made the same journey thus far, the same hegira from doubt and unchallenged limitations.
we don't know each other, we might not even like each other if we did, but almost everyone out there "gets it," and we are finishing a journey together, whether it takes us 2:10 or 6:10 to do it.
the thousands of spectators lining the course watch people go by, see the determination and pain, and to some extent, they "get it." some of them will be motivated, as i was two years ago, to make that same commitment, to see what they can make themselves do.
i think again of our head coach, steve sisson, saying that whether it's the first time you cross the finish line, or the 50th, you are not the same person that started it.
the clock, the calendar, are running too slow. my friends and i want and need sunday to get here, so we can do what we have worked so hard to do, as best as we can on that given day. we want to run, so we can cross the finish line and see who we will have become.
Mmm... no. Right about now, you're feeling the effects of running fewer miles. You're aware that the race is now not a matter of weeks away, but just one week. You may want to run more, you may feel weirdly unmotivated. people react a bit differently, but it's all the "taper madness".
What do you do? Run the long run tomorrow - it's just seven miles, it'll be over before you know it. It'll be flat, it'll be the last long run of this season with your friends. Enjoy it.
Next week, your runs are short and easy. Decide to get them out of the way. Yesterday, I parked at Doc's for my work happy hour, got out, and ran the first 10K of the course before joining my coworkers. Make each run a recon mission - run a part of the course. Visualize, think about what you'll need to be doing there, think about what it'll be like. Visualize the final miles, the specatators, the finish.
Over this next week, think about why you decided to do this in the first place. Think about how your motivations may have changed as you got deeper into training. Think about the doubts you had, the moments where you thought of giving up. Think about all the support you've had, all the miles you've run, all the times you've said "no" on a Friday night to going out, or another drink, or a heavy meal.
Our lives will go on this next week. But you have worked for six months for this race. You've earned the right to focus on it, to take refuge in it from everything else, at the very least, when you step up to the line on Sunday morning.
I will commit to posting something on here daily over the next week, much of it old stuff that a few of you might have seen on my personal blog. I do this to share, and yeah, because I'm a self-aggrandizing writer, but also because I want you to think about this whole experience.
The following is from October 17, 2006, just five days before the Chicago Marathon (yeah, we ran six days a week - it was an intermediate program):
tapering (five days to go)
emails are flying between my friends and me. no work is getting done. emotions are high. we want to be in chicago right damned now, regardless of the weather (though we update each other on the forecast twice a day). we want to be running it now.
marathoners call it "taper madness" - the wackiness that ensues during the two or three week period before a marathon when we back off the mileage and let our bodies repair and become ready. i ask melissa, a psychologist, if there's a biochemical basis for the weird psychosis. hours pass, i get more emails reminiscing about our favorite coaches, about weather, and finally, "sure. but you are asking me to think in order to formulate an intelligent answer to that. and, i just can't do that right now."
so, i'm left to my own devices. i eat a banana, and stare at the whopping third document i've reviewed today. a normal pace would have me at 60 or so. why are we all losing our minds?
simply put, running is a natural ability, but training for and running a marathon is not a natural thing to do.
we train for 23 weeks. close to a thousand miles run - 30, 40, 50, 60 miles a week. we run four or five days a week. an hour monday, an hour tuesday, a hard workout for an hour and a half on wednesday, cross training or a half hour run on thursday, over an hour on friday, long runs for hours on saturdays.
those hours are squeezed into mornings before work, appended to the end of workdays when you feel like you only have the energy to open a beer and keep the couch from floating away.
people that choose and stick with this path are not likely to say, "I can't," and the training reinforces that. on the other hand, we say it more now than ever - "I can't, gotta run." "I can't, I have a race."
we push ourselves six days a week, for 23 weeks. exertion and fatigue become constants, as does the simple act of consistently, persistently committing ourselves to creating discomfort in our bodies and pressing on anyway.
"The will to win means nothing if you haven't the will to prepare." - Juma Ikangaa, 1989 NYC Marathon winner
it's a compulsion, and if it didn't start as one, it became one along the way. every run says something about us, who we are and what we can do - not about our speed but about our will. sometimes, we're disappointed by how slow we were on a run or in a race, because we're competitive and because sometimes we lose sight of the fact that the time doesn't matter so much as how hard we pushed ourselves to get it.
one day, during a particularly hard workout on a high school
track, a kid leaned out a passing car's window, yelling some line i recognized from a movie about the day of judgment being on us, and asking, "how will ye be judged?"
the immediate response yelled back as i turned down onto the stratghtaway - "by what i do here today."
we watch the chicago marathon highlight video, and the sight of the runners and the cheering crowds shakes us. to some extent, it's adrenaline - fight or flight response positively subverted, adrenaline charges as we recognize the scenario. but we can't do anything with it right now, sitting at our desks, or at home.
we want the race, the pre-run jitters, we want to be surrounded by 40,000 other people who have made the same journey thus far, the same hegira from doubt and unchallenged limitations.
we don't know each other, we might not even like each other if we did, but almost everyone out there "gets it," and we are finishing a journey together, whether it takes us 2:10 or 6:10 to do it.
the thousands of spectators lining the course watch people go by, see the determination and pain, and to some extent, they "get it." some of them will be motivated, as i was two years ago, to make that same commitment, to see what they can make themselves do.
i think again of our head coach, steve sisson, saying that whether it's the first time you cross the finish line, or the 50th, you are not the same person that started it.
the clock, the calendar, are running too slow. my friends and i want and need sunday to get here, so we can do what we have worked so hard to do, as best as we can on that given day. we want to run, so we can cross the finish line and see who we will have become.
Monday, February 2, 2009
3M: Before, During and After...
Finally, right as Katie is about to leave town, dramatically cutting down her ability to rag on me for not getting the 3M pictures up...
From Friday's pre-race pasta gorgefest, at which I went nuts and ate many meatballs, pictures of pre-sweaty Team Spiridoners wearing their growed-up clothes:
From Friday's pre-race pasta gorgefest, at which I went nuts and ate many meatballs, pictures of pre-sweaty Team Spiridoners wearing their growed-up clothes:
Then, just as the wine and pasta had settled a bit, two days later, everyone showed up and kicked butt (except for Amy, who did her butt-kicking on a 22-mile run the day before, then showed up to cheer us on).
It was the first half marathon for Katie (2:17:38), Susan (2:04:55, in spite of being conservative for seven miles), and the singing duo of Amber (2:22:20 - you couldn't wait two more seconds? Ooh! That's what she said!) and Laura (2:22:16, beating the 2:25-2:30 prediction I made while eating my oatmeal Sunday morning).
(Apparently, Katie's mom likes to make signs. The wedding pictures must have been interesting...)
Super mad shout to Lounell. At San Antonio in November, she came in at 3:00:17 a PR over her 3:02:30 at 3M in 2007... ... Yesterday? 2:48:26. What the hell, Lounell? No, I'm sorry, WTF, Lounell? That is amazing. And you looked smooth and strong at the end, too.
Jim, Eve, and Kellie all motored through it with their usual smooth efficiency (spending too much work time on the email to look up more times on this slow system), and Paul came cruising through, maybe at the tail end of things, but looking strong and ready for the marathon.
Mirsa, who continues on the low-pro (where are you?), was out there, and ran it in 2:12:42.
Sarah led the way for all of us, blazing the race in 1:49:26, which I think she said was a PR for her, coming in ahead of Christina's 1:52:02 (though Chirstina maintains her Spiridon-record 1:47:27 from last year).
Phillip and I didn't see each other before the race, though I saw him duck behind a bush just before the end of the first mile, and played leapfrog with him past mile 5. Yet, by some weird, freak accident, we tied each other - 1:58:47. Phillip has raised the idea of synchronized running as an event... Stay tuned for that.
Afterwards, we were brought right back to the eating and (light) drinking with mimosas and tacos at the Screaming Goat...
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