DCTriGuy

2009-01-27T21:06:00.008-05:00

EX2 Adventures Backyard Burn Series
Race #4
December 7, 2008
Prince William Forrest Park
Triangle, VA

Previous Best: N/A
Goal: Unable to move up in the overall standings, the goal is to beat Vega and Phil with an added bonus of possibly beating Jason and take 1st overall.

A dusting of snow and temps in the upper 20s increased the adventure factor of the Backyard Burn Finale held yesterday at gorgeous Prince William Forest Park. Hundreds of athletes took on the challenge and braved the elements, running a course of wide fire roads, streamside single-track, and almost no pavement. In an all out effort to make one last push in this years series Phil and I set the bar high, but would we be able to meet it? Two weeks after I blew up in the NCR Trail Marathon, my training has been light, but I've continued to do the speed/track work every Wednesday morning. Is it enough? Am I rested? Did I eat too much turkey at Thanksgiving?

PRE-RACE/WARM UP
Another cold morning, but luckily registration and packet pick-up were inside a little shack this time. Since I had to be at my cousin's house for a XMAS brunch, I drove seperately this time allowing myself a few moments of zen and peace before I warmed up in the bitter cold. Today's race would prove to be a challenge from a competitor stand point. All the usual suspects had shown up along with Lawrence Buckley and Sean Ward. After Race #3's results (5 of the top 6 times all came from our Age Group M30-39) adding these two gentlemen would prove difficult. I must say, running these races has been great. Every week, we know who our competition is. We may not train together or run together, but we certainly race together. I'll be sad when it's all over, but for now...it's on! Again, I can't move up in the standings but as of right now I'm 2 for 2 against Phil and 1 for 2 against Vega. I would like to put another win under the old belt, but time will only tell. Today's course is hilly with some difficult patches, but nowhere near the last two races. It will come down to an all out effort to win.

RACE
The start of the race was downhill and if you've run with me or followed my race reports, I'm not the fastest starter in the world...especially if we're going downhill. However, if I can just keep everyone in sight I'll be OK and with the long wide trails at the top of the race this didn't prove too difficult. Jason had taken off at a quick pace with a pack of 5 runners including Phil and Vega close behind. Then Lawrence passed me too. My mantra was repeating over and over in my mind..."Just keep them in sight, Just keep them in sight...just keep..." I'm not sure if it was the rest or the marathon, but before too long I was catching back up to the pack. Luckily, what goes down must come up on this race course, and though I may not be the fastest man up a mountain, I'm certainly one of the faster guys up a hill. Hurray for HILLS!!! Slowly and methodically I picked up the pace and pushed up every hill. These guys all had almost 4 inches on me in height so there was no way I could out pace them on the flats so I pick and choose my moments to surge. We near the road and I had already passed Lawrence, then another guy who was probably a 5 miler, then it was just us. 100yds. or so ahead stood Micheal and Phil along with the kid who kept placing 1st in the M20-29 group. He had beaten all 3 of us every race thus far, but what today a different day? Maybe.

We darted back into the woods and the kid made his move. Phil and Vega kept close together and I was now only 10-20yds behind them. Should I make the move to catch the kid or stay behind my competitors? I stayed, figuring if I blow up chasing him, these two could over take me. Smart move? Yet to be determined. Phil and I both let Vega take the lead and force him to dictate the pace -- my strategy was to strike at the first moment of weakness. Stride after stride we were a pack of banshees in the woods flying past the occasional weekend warrior out for a hike. And then it happened, Vega pulled up. Concerned, Phil and I both called out to make sure he was alright and after a confirmation that he was OK, we made our move. It wasn't a sprint, but it was enough to force the issue...Michael was either sick or cramping and we took advantage. Step after step Phil and I assured ourselves we were carving out a lead, but then something happened. Ahead in the distance, not directly ahead where the kid was running, but further away in the forest I spotted Jason. JASON! what was he doing in my sites? Surely, something was wrong? Never at any point during our races did we see Jason this late in the race. He was struggling. He was struggling!!! I knew then and there that beating Jason was a possibility. I quickened the pace and passed Phil, but first things first -- I had to catch the kid. Branch, twig, turn, jump, corner...branch, twig, turn, jump corner...I was in a Super Mario Bros. game! Yet stride after stride I was gaining ground. What was once a 500yd. lead was no down to only 150 yds. I looked ahead across the stream and up the next hill - he was out sight but only just turned the corner. If I only knew how far away the finish was I could gauge my kick. I'm climbed to the top of the hill: left, right, left, right, lefffffffftttttt!!!!!!!!! Thump! was the sound my body made as it hit the forrest floor. And my only reaction at first was "Uhhhhhuhhhhuhhhuhhh!" The wind was knocked out of me, there was dirt all over and if I didn't know any better, my kneecap was busted. GOD DAMN BRANCH!!! For a split second I took my eyes off the path and clipped a stupid branch. As quickly as I could, I got back up and hobbled along the path. It was then that Phil crested the top and yelled at me to keep going. I WAS! -- at least as best as I could. What was once a diminishing lead quickly became an insurmountable obstacle. It was all for naught, yet I was pissed. 100yds later my body's adrenaline surged thru my veins and I was off. FUCK!!! I had him, I HAD HIM! Time was running out and I had no idea how much further to the finish line. I peeled around the corner and there it was: 1 mile to go. ONE MILE! Crap! It was too much and he was no where in sight, yet with two large hills looming, there was a chance. Puff after labored puff, my body surged up the hills, saw the bend toward the finish line and raced home. It was too late. The kid had already finished and I came in in a lonely 3rd place overall position. I turned and congratulated Jason on a great race and series and then turned at the last moment to see Vega surge past Phil at the very end. Vega had Phil's number and Jason had all of ours. In the end, the kid beat me by :39 and Jason by 1:21. Phil lost to Michael by :08. Next year...next year.

Next up: Colonial Williamsburg Half-Marathon: Feb. 22nd.

Kip Pierson
1:09:09
6:54 min/mile pace
3rd Overall
2nd in AG, M30-39

Overall Standings for the Series
1st - Jason Switzer 200pts.
2nd - Michael Vega 147pts.
3rd - Phil Schmidt 130pts.
4th - Kip Pierson 112pts. (not bad for only running 3 of 4 races)
5th - Jeffrey Furr 89pts.

Backyard Burn Series Race #3 Race Report

2009-01-26T16:06:00.015-05:00

EX2 Adventures Backyard Burn Series Race #3
November 16, 2008
Fountainhead Park
Fairfax Station, VA

Previous Best: N/A
Goal: After taking 3rd Overall and 2nd in AG at the 1st race, I've done the math. I need a 1st or 2nd place in order to alter the overall standings when all is said and done.

It's been 2 weeks since I ran back to back marathons and I'm feeling OK, but I've done some speed work and might be rundown. We'll see at Fountainhead. After what Phil reported from Race #2, it looks like Michael Vega might cause us some problems. We'll have to work together in order to beat them.

PRE-RACE/WARM-UP
Cold, cold, cold. That's how the warm-up was. Phil and I jumped in Travis' car and we promptly left Capitol Hill arriving at Fountainhead a little earlier than planned. Unfortunately, that meant more anxiety and more time to get cold. On the plus side, we had the Port-o-Johns all to ourselves. Ah, cold toilet paper in the morning...that's living.

Phil and I finally got up the nerve to check the course out running backwards thru the terrain checking out the finish area. If it was going to be close, we best be prepared -- and if the ending was any indication of what the rest of the course had for us, we were going to hurt...a lot.

RACE
Phil and I spotted Vega and Jason near the starting line along with the guy who's been beating us from the M20-29 age bracket -- we were all here, but how were we going to fare? The gun was promptly fired and we were off. Almost a 1 on the blacktop surface, a right turn into the woods and a dip into hell. The course was covered in leaves and with the recent rains from the previous two days, the highly technical terrain was only going to get harder. Up and down, the raced quickened to a pace I was unaccustomed to. Maybe at end or possibly in the middle, but the pace we were traveling at was too quick. I wasn't warmed up enough yet. Phil surged ahead of me, as did Vega, with Jason in the distance already gaining ground. 3 miles in I knew this course was going to prove difficult. At one point, I leapt across a stream Indiana Jones style barley making it as I clung onto the roots of some tree. This was madness. Mud, water and freezing temperatures were proving too much. If I didn't conserve now, I was done for. Mile 3 came upon us as we crossed the road and entered the 2nd half of the 1st loop. Nutrition had been provided, but with all my huffing and puffing I was barely able to swallow anything without choking. Hill after hill, stream after stream one's ability to sprint uphill and recover was put to the test. Without a strong core and an abundunce of speed/hill work, your day was done for. I was ready to punch the time card.

As we entered the part of the course Phil and I had just run on my mindset was "just keep them...him...someone...anyone in sight. Without a rabbit to chase, my desire was lacking. It was the first time in awhile I lacked the competitive edge that allows me to take on stronger competitors. As we ran up the final steep climb toward the end of the first loop, the course was taking it's toll. Phil, Mr. RAAM himself, pulled up and blew chunks! When I saw the course was tough, this is what I mean. Phil had run so hard and was pushed past his physical limit...and his body let him pay for it. As I passed him Phil spoke a few words of encouragement and returned to the ground. I was now in 3rd place behind Jason and Michael, but I couldn't even see them. The finish line came and went before I knew it and we were again on the open road. Vega was in sight, but Jason was nowhere to be seen. As I already predicted, I didn't take 1st or 2nd...or at the very least take 2nd while beating Vega, it was mathematically impossible to move up in the standings no matter how well I did in the final race. And here came Phil. A quick recovery and a few long strides later he was back in the race. But were we racing for 3rd and 4th or 1st and 2nd?

The knowledge of the 1st half of the course proved no more valuable the 2nd time around and my spirited waned. Why push myself harder than I needed? 3rd or 4th, I was relegated at best to 4th overall in the series. The race quickly became a fast training run. Phil was hurting and I was unmotivated and we were soon passed by another guy. Normally, I would chase, but he appeared too old to be in the M30-39 AG, so I let him go. Only later did we realize he was in our Age Group. CRAP!!! How could I let that happen? Two miles to go, we were working hard, but not too hard. Better to save a little for the last race than duel it out between us. It was then that Phil turned to me and said, "Hey, if no one passes us, let me win for the points. But if someone does get close to us, all bets are off." No problem. I agreed to the arrangement on one condition: He can't make me look bad at the end. My girlfriend was at the finish line, and though I would lose to Phil, he had to make it look good! 1.5 miles to go, 1 mile, 1/2 mile...we were nearing the finish and I said again, "You better make it look good." With a 1/4 mile to go Phil wasn't picking it up and with the finish line clearing only a few short strides ahead we had to go now. Phil failed to accelerate and with that I picked up the pace. If I was going to pull up at the end and let him win, he was going to have to work for it. Before Phil knew it he was no longer running, but reacting. 200 yds. to go and we were in a dead sprint. 100yds, 50yds, the bend in the finishing chute appeared. 25 yds! We were now visible to the entire crowd. As the crowd cheered and whistled at our last minute desperation attack I pulled up just enough and Phil made this faux breaking of the tape...only there was no tape. We laughed as did a few others as I turned to Phil and said, "I told you to make it look good!" Phil's response was priceless. "I didn't think you meant sprint!" It should be known, Phil was gracious enough to tell my girlfriend the whole story that I let him win. However, it didn't matter. Since there was no official finish line, the organizers gave us a TIE! We both came in 4th and were both awarded 4th place points! AWESOME!

Next up: BYB Series Race #4...the final course 12/6/08. I must beat Jason and Michael!

Kip Pierson
1:15:09
7:30min/mile pace (tough course!)
5th Overall
4th in AG, M30-39

Since we both took 4th this is how the podium looked...odd.
(Me, Phil, Vega, Jason, Other Guy)

Calling all Athletes, Calling all Athletes

2008-12-14T18:33:00.007-05:00

Since I never know what to ask for when XMAS time comes around my folks are always pressed for ideas, so I thought maybe some books on cycling or running. Problem is, I don't know if the book is worth it or not. For example, I just finished A RACE LIKE NO OTHER by Liz Robbins about the 2007 NY Marathon which I just ran which was great. Another good one for new and old Boston Marathon runners is called 26.2 MILES TO BOSTON by Michael Connelly. I have FIRST TRIATHLONS by Gail Waesche Kislevitz which is always great and a pleasant and interesting read to me was BOWERMAN and THE MEN OF OREGON by Kenny Moore (a biography about the legendary coach). I'm not looking for "TRAINING" books, but books about individuals and the sport of Triathlon, Cycling and Running.

I think there's a book about the quest to break the 4:00 mile barrier, but not sure if it's worth it. And I'm sure there are some nice books about the Tour de France which are great reads.

SO..........

What are YOUR recommendations???? Leave a comment.
(I'll be sure to let you know what my picks are.)

NY Marathon 2008 Race Report

2008-11-03T11:53:00.032-05:00

As always, I'm a sucker for a race, a bigger sucker for a marathon and the biggest sucker of them all for a race that is in NY as a guide for the Achilles Track Club of NY. And after the light week of training following the Marine Corps Marathon and the unusual spike of energy I felt on Monday morning, I was excited by the prospect of going at a faster pace in this year's NY Marathon. At the very least we would start with everyone else in the first wave (NY just started using waves this year: 9:40, 10:00 and 10:20 expecting everyone to cross the start line no later than 6 minutes after the gun goes off) and it would be a completely different experience than last year's 2-hour headstart. I was in for a fight, but a fight worth partaking in. Problem was, I've never guided a blind runner. I don't know any blind runners, let alone blind people. And I've only met two blind people in my life. So how was I going to run a 3:10 at someone else's pace not to mention holding a towel or string or something of that sort to connect us throughout the entire race? These were questions to which I had no answer.

The race came upon me sooner than expected and before I knew it I was standing at the Javits Convention Center in NY getting my bib number and spending more money than I thought was possible on merchandise - and for those who know how much I spent on IM Arizona gear, you know I have a problem. But what the heck, I like to enjoy the event and why shouldn't my creditors as well? (You're welcome VISA. I hope you enjoyed the NY Marathon as much as I did.) And great news!!! Russell, who is an employee of ACHILLES, a fellow actor, in charge of the guides for NY and one heck of a sweet woman, landed the jackpot for me. As I was about to leave and rest up for the night she informed me she landed a 2nd guide for my athlete Mario (Mariusz Golabek) and I. His name was Simon and he was the ACHILLES coach from Kenya. Unfortunately, the club from Kenya didn't get their VISAs and paperwork in on time, but Simon made the trip nonetheless. Oh, and he can do a 2:50 marathon (OK, now who didn't see that coming from a mile away...he's from Kenya, duh.) SWEET! My fears lessened with the ability to switch the tether between the two of us, I head to Brooklyn for an evening of relaxation. The only other issue tomorrow could be a language barrier, and with a Pole, a Kenyan and an American that shouldn't be too much of problem, right?...right?...hello?

With the added boon of daylight savings, I marched out the door towards the subway, removed the gook from my eyes, clung to my styrofoam container of oatmeal and waited for the "L" train. The 5am bus towards Staten Island and the sea of nearly 39,000 awaited me. It's amazing to me to see so many people out and about at that time in the morning, and even though this is NY, the site continued to impress. Luckily, ACHILLES has their own buses for all AWD athletes (Athletes With Disabilities) so the early morning hubbub was lessened greatly and we all enjoyed the ride. That would be the end of the joy. When we arrived, Staten Island greeted us with a wind chill that was unexpected, a temperature that froze your toes and a tent for ACHILLES that's protected from everything but the wind (someone had the bright idea to have the "open" side facing the wind...smart, real smart). We were 0 for 3 with over 3 hours to go before the start of the race. If things were going to get worse, I was clueless as to what it could be. But their was light at the end of our tunnel. Simon sat next to Mario on the bus and during the ride he discovered Mario was shooting for, at best, a 3:30 marathon, but realistically around a 4-hour run. Now I won't lie to you, mentally, I did the happy dance. And even better news, Mario isn't blind, he's visually impaired. He's a "close talker" -- out of necessity of course, which means no tether required. Woo-hoo!

Our long search for hot water, hot chocolate, hot coffee...anything hot ate up most of our time and before we knew it, we were stripping down to our racing shorts only to wait for another 30 minutes 'til the gun went off. Now, the amazing part of this year's race was, for me, that we were in the main pack. 3 waves, ours being the 1st, 3 corrals, ours being Orange and 3 runners: Mario, Simon and myself. As announcements were made clothes flew left and right from every runner, athletes relieved themselves at will and music was playing. We were jazzed. The mountainous climb of the Verrazano Bridge lay before us and we didn't care. We cared about the wind the might we across it, but the steep incline was welcomed - anything to get the heart rate up. The National Anthem, Mayor Bloomberg's well-wishs, the Gun and then...............Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York." It was incredible. We were all singing, dancing to the music, enjoying the moment and then we were off. The 3 minutes and 20 seconds it took us to get to the start wasn't too bad and a minute later the jubilation of the race was gone, the music was faint and we were racing. An 8:14 minute mile to start off. Not bad considering the uphill climb and with a 3:30 projection at best, we were looking to do 7:30's the whole way. Mile 2: 7:00. No big deal. With the massive downhill a fast mile would be expected and life was great, for all runners. It was a massive sea of paparazzi runners. Every 100 feet another would climb onto the bridge divider and snap a few shots: one forward, one backward, power off, place in fanny pack and go. Unfortunately, a forgot my camera back in DC, but with an originally predicted 3:10 pace, I couldn't afford such a luxury. Mile 3: 7:14. A perfect pace and with Mario removing his protective layering, we were now ready for a smooth sailing day...or so I thought. I'm not sure what went through Mario's mind, maybe he was excited, maybe he felt he was losing too much time by taking off his warm-ups or maybe he just can't read his watch, in any case, Mario took off like a bat out of hell. More specifically, a cat that effortlessly weaves and dodges its way through a crowd. So "effortlessly" that Mile 4 was a 6:45 mile! What in the world is going on? I was struggling. I wasn't warmed up enough to start doing 6:45 miles--my feet were still frozen from waiting on Staten Island for almost 3 hours. Besides, if you're gonna predict a 3:30 marathon at best, let's try to stick to the plan---6:45's are nearing the 2:55 mark. This is ridiculous. My only hope was to keep Mario in sight, thanks in large part to his yellow hat and once I was warmed-up, join him at his side. Yeah...that didn't happen so much. Before I knew it, Mile 4 had gone and so had Mario. Worst yet, the corrals were about to converge up ahead and my chances of find Mario in a crowd of 13,000 were much less than our starting corral of only 4,500. I wasn't expecting to do that kind of running nor was I warmed up to do it. At the very least we should pace ourselves so we can finish strong, right? No chance. Around mile 5 or 6 I was warm enough to start dropping some 6:45's myself guessing I would see him soon. I scanned the crowd dilligently for any yellow hats, but to no avail. At one point the course made a right hand turn which allowed me to see nearly a 1/2 mile ahead of us...no Mario. This adventure called "guiding" was turning out to be a failure. But lo and behold I caught back up to Mario a little before Mile 13. This was absurd. I had already wasted so much energy catching back up that I was unsure if my body could handle the overdrive that I was putting it in. In general, I'm a steady runner who will usually have negative splits and a strong kick at the finish, but with this morning's antics, I wasn't sure I would have ANYTHING left at the end. For those who aren't runners, I can only liken it to starting your car up on the coldest winter day and going from 0 to 60 in a few seconds expecting the car to perform in top condition---it doesn't happen. Your car needs to warm-up and so does my body. I truly thought that if there was going to be a 2nd Achilles guide at the halfway point as expected, I might just call it a day. No such luck - we couldn't find the 2nd guy. Oh well.

So there I was, running this erratic race/pace and I a feeling it's only going to get worse. Once I catch up to him and stick with him we proceed to do crazy miles: 6:45, 7:15, 7:00, 6:50, 7:22. $#$%%@!!!!! Let's just be consistent. It's like flooring the gas and then braking all in one motion. But I'm here to guide, right? I lose him again. Who's guiding who here? This time he had to relieve himself, which is OK, but tell me! I slow up and wait to successfully find him again only to lose him once more on the bridge. Is he ahead of me? Behind me? I'm not sure. He's the type of runner with bursts of speed weaving in and out of others and 5 minutes later getting paced by those same runners, to do it all over again a few moments later.

Finally, I assumed he was ahead of me and I took off to find him. No such luck and before I knew it, I had reached mile 22. It was at this point I thought to myself, "Hey I could set a PR for myself, but I thought better of it and decided to hold up and do some 8:00 miles hoping that if he WAS behind me I would find him. Nope. By the time I reached the 24th mile, I said "Screw it!" And took off for the finish. Dropped a couple nice miles and finished strong, honestly shocked to do a 3:10 with the lack of training an erratic energy wasting pace that happened all day. Later at the AWD tent a woman from Poland would come up to Janet and Genna while I was right there complaining that Mario didn't have a guide. I was a little upset, but explained to her the issues when you set a goal and do NOTHING to reach that goal. NO communication, NO pacing...nothing! Mario ended up doing a 3:19. A 1:32 1st half followed by a 1:47 2nd half. Clearly, his lack of pacing made him blow up at the end. He's a good runner, but you'd think he would understand pacing a little better. I guess the language barrier WAS and issue...not because I couldn't understand him, but because I was never close enough to talk to him. :) Oh well. Despite working harder than expected and a little frustrated, I still had a great time.

OH, and Simon, the other guide from Kenya - he was dropped even before I was around Mile 3. I guess genetics don't help you much when you get older. But still, a 2:20 marathon...that's crazy.

Overall, it was a wonderful day with great weather and a unbelievable crowd. Truly a marathon everyone should do...especially if you're from NY. (and yes Mr. McClure, that comment was geared towards you.)

Marine Corps Marathon 2008 Race Report

2008-10-31T08:07:00.027-04:00

So another year of training has gone by and my first full (well, that is debatable) triathlon season has come to an end. But before I could even think about what my fall racing series was going to be a received a phone call. ENTER Janet Patton and Genna Griffith: co-workers and colleagues in the acting world and more importantly all-stars for the ACHILLES TRACK CLUB of NY. You may remember last year when Janet (who was working on Nobody's Perfect over at the Kennedy Center with me) asked if I was interested in running the NY Marathon as a guide to a disabled runner through her organization up in NY. "So you want me to run the NY Marathon? One of the most prestigious racing events in the world, on your dollar and help guide someone through the race? Where do I sign up?" Forget the fact that I had just raced the Marine Corps Marathon the week before, getting to run in the NY Marathon would be unbelievable no matter how you participated. That experience was probably in my Top 5 of all-time experiences---so, why not do it again...this time twice. Run the Marine Corps Marathon and the NY Marathon, both as guides. If I could race one and then guide another last year, certainly guiding two races would be much easier...right?...right?...?

As my recovery time from IM Wisconsin stretched from 2 weeks to 3 weeks, which meant I only ran once and biked once during that time, I became a little worried about the marathons--not to mention I had committed to the Backyard Burn Series this fall. As you know, the BYB Series began on the 19th of Oct. with their first race so if all goes well, I would be racing every weekend except one until Thanksgiving. Overachieving? Not really...not if everyone does around a 4-hour marathon. Emphasis on EVERYONE. That luxury was quickly dispelled when I found out the gentleman I would be guiding in NY wanted to run a 3:10 marathon. Now I'm capable of running a 3:10 marathon---I might not walk the next day, but I could pull it out of my ass. But that would mean training needed to start ASAP with no hiccups. My goal: Get some long runs in of about 90-120 minutes long, continue my speed work at the track on Wednesday mornings, race the first BYB 10 miler and use Marine Corps Marathon as a training run for NY. Sound good? Great. Will it go according to plan? No -- Not when you find out that the gentleman you're guiding in MCM wants to do a 3:30 marathon. That's an 8-min/mile pace which isn't incredibly difficult, but it will allow very little time to recover for NY and run a 3:10 there. Panic sets in, but what can you do?

I met Neil the night before at the pasta party thrown by the Arlington's Station 5 Fire Department and was excited to hear he had also competed in IM Wisconsin last month. I was even more excited to hear he hadn't been running too much since the race and was hoping to only do around a 4-hour marathon (9-min/mile). With the weight of the off my back, I settled into to some late night discussions with a few of the athletes, pleasantly relieved I was going to have to run all out tomorrow. The race would indeed become the training run I had hoped it would be for NY the following week.

Race morning came sooner than expected and with the alarm buzzing and my clothes pack I dressed myself in my 2XU compression shorts and calf tights, threw on my hat, searched 30 minutes to find my gloves and headed out the door. Metro in DC opens at 5AM on the morning of the race and with our plan to meet at the Rosslyn Marriot Hotel, the morning would go smooth as silk.

Neil and I, along with Sarah - his girlfriend, walked down to the start line a little early to watch the handcrank athletes take off and then settled in for what should have been an easy day. With a little nip in the air, an extra T-shirt or jacket to stay warm at the start and an extra dose of the "Crazies" this year's marathon promised to be picture perfect. The weather forecast was probably the best I've seen for any marathon I've run and with the new course changes (running around Hains Point earlier in the race than usual) the race now provided the perfect PR opportunity for any seasoned marathoner. But I wasn't racing, just helping out Neil.

RACE

I'm often forgetful of why I race. My usual answer is because there's no hatred on race day. Everyone is out there wishing everyone well. There's a sense of community that only comes with understanding the sacrifice everyone has made to get there. But more importantly, it's a wonder to be a part of something grander and bigger than you could ever imagine. 30, 000 people congregating on to one tiny speck of the planet. An infinitely small space when looking at the big picture, but to my eyes the magnitude of the event itself is overwhelming enough to make your heart stop and wonder at the miracle that is life. You're reminded of all that you're thankful for and before you're done, the gun goes off and the race has begun. I'm not even "competing" but this sense of gratitude is unshakeable for the first few miles. It's hard to run up those early hills without laughing and crying at one another. One athlete dives across the street to kiss his wife and say goodbye to his son ensuring him they'll see each other again in a few short hours...hopefully even sooner. Another drops his gloves, he's misjudged the temperature. And several athletes misjudge their bladders. It won't be the last time you'll see a sea of runners relieving themselves in the woods, but two dozen at the edge of a parking lot - that doesn't happen too often. It's a day full of unabated shame and humility in which one could careless at how they look, rather how they finish. Today vanity takes a back seat to glory and in a world of Cosmo and Vanity Fair, it's a breath of fresh air. Today finishing is more important than winning, yet for some showing up is the most important of all. And today, allowing yourself to be pushed harder and farther than you could ever imagine is the name of the game. So what makes this race different than all the others I've run? I'm not caring. I'm not pushing myself. I'm not doing the calculations in my head, not carrying the one, not dividing by 2, no longer reconsidering my strategy - I'm taking it all in and loving it. Last year's NY Marathon was different, we had a 2-hour head start on the field which provided it's own beauty, but I had never been in the middle of the pack looking ahead at sea of runners knowing there were that many behind me too. I never had the chance to witness the trials of another runner, I was too worried about my own. But not today. Today I take it all in.

As we passed the spot where I made my choice last year to attempt a 3-hour marathon (and fail) I noticed we had been almost running for an hour. I had no idea. Neil and I chatted along the way, discussing everything from sports, to school to IM Wisconsin and when time allotted, we told some jokes. Most importantly, we had fun, and the first sign of the fun to come was the Key Bridge. What a sight! The cold morning air, combined with the rising sun and temperature had left the Potomac river a virtual river of fog. As we approached the bridge ahead and looked left, the belly of the beast had begun to engulf the bridge. Runner after runner made the turn and slowly disappeared, being swallowed whole by mother nature. For most is was an awesome sight and for others the zero visibility and lack of Georgetown up ahead loomed large in their minds. What lay ahead in the darkness and blindly fog was unknown - they were in uncharted territory. A perfect metaphor for the rest of their day.

With only the tip of Georgetown's tower looming overhead, the scenic race continued through the tree tunneled roads of the Macarthur Blvd. Beautiful to say the least. And as the sun began to blind us as we made the turn back to the Mall, the waves of steam escaping off the heads of those in front of us, it was just another reminder that body temperatures were rising and the 10 mile mark loomed ahead. It was around here that my job began. Not for Neil, but for a couple of handcrank athletes. They weren't from ACHILLES, but it mattered nonetheless. They were athletes needing assistance, and that's what I was there to do. So with a burst of speed and some fresh legs that I was unaware existed, I surged forward preempting the catastrophe ahead that was called...a downhill. For those of you who are familiar with Georgetown and the hill connecting M street to Macarthur Blvd. are certainly aware of the steep grade it possesses when heading out of town, but few know the harrowing quick descent it owns when you're in a handcrank wheelchair barreling downhill at 20-30mph while dodging a few THOUSAND RUNNERS! Needless to say, I say what could have been a disaster, sprinted past the "chairs" (that's what everyone calls them on the course) and shouted "Make a hole in the middle! Hole in the middle! Make a hole!" Easy enough right? Not when everyone is wearing a pair of headphones. I said it last year and I'll say it again. For the safety of everyone involved, you should not wear headphones in a race. But if you must, still be cognizant of your surroundings. WIth a nasal voice and a determined outlook, a path was made, the chairs were safe and I was out of breath. Thank God for water stops. Refueled with a little bit of Powerade and water, said goodbye to the two guys,spotted Neil and we were off again. We had hit a bit of an incline getting on to M Street so the chairs were slowing as we continued to maintain our pace of 9-min/mile. All was well...except my lungs. :)

A slight turn onto Rock Creek Parkway, running past the Kennedy Center and on towards the Lincoln Memorial we evaluated our level fitness and comfort. "If we continue to do this and feel good at the end, we can probably haul ass to the finish line over the last 6 miles," Neil said. "Sounds good to me." I reassured him, HE was going to set the pace, not me. I was just their for support. He nodded at this without making a sound and trotted along, found Sarah in the crowd, kissed her hello and caught back up. We were comfortable, we were getting confident, we were nearing the halfway point and we were happy to be getting through Hains Point without any problems. That might explain why we started doing an 8:45 mile pace. Now, 15 seconds is not a lot, but it was enough of a sign that both of us felt good. Great in fact--much better than expected. This run was actually shaping up to be a pretty decent training run. And then it happened. Mile 16.

I'm not sure how it happened, maybe it was just my need to help out, but my instincts took over again for the 3rd time that day. I began to clear the way for two more chairs. Now I'm not 100% sure, but I'm pretty confident that it was the same two guys from earlier in the day, but this time there was no hill, only the flat road surrounding the Mall. Ergo, they were traveling at speeds faster than everyone else and no one was getting out of the way. Time for another surge, only this time it wasn't just a surge. Neil came along with me - Neil had now become the guide instead of the guided. (Which makes sense since he finished IM Wisconsin at only the age of 22. CRAZY!) The dynamic guiding duo of Neil and Kip cleared the roads. "Move to your right! Make a hole! Chairs Coming!" Whatever we needed to say we said, however fast we needed to run - we did. And wouldn't you know it - the chairs got faster!!! (Sidenote - I think the reason I love guiding wheelchairs so much is that it's never boring. Slow on the uphills, fast on the downhills. It's a never ending roller coaster of speed work.) Mile 16, Mile 17, Mile 18. You concentrate so much on making people get out of the way that you're oblivious to the mile markers. We've done 3 miles already? That's insane. And before I knew it we were approaching Mile 19...a disastrous Mile 19. Why disastrous? Disastrous because I was an idiot. I was an idiot because I assumed I would only have to clear the road of runners impeding our way, not spectators too! I was an idiot to think that spectators who not attempt to cross the road in the middle of a race! I was an idiot to assume people would look both ways when crossing the road! I, apparently, was an idiot. (Have you picked up on the sarcasm yet?) And this wasn't just any woman, she was clearly over 200lbs. and she had fallen straight onto the midsection and then legs of this athlete. Legless and metal plates and screws in his right arm, the woman had just committed this guy to a death sentence. Chair #512 was in pain, but miraculously nothing broke. Not his arm, not his prosthetic, not his chair. It was miraculous. And had the woman not been in such deep remorse for being...you guessed it...an idiot, I would have gone off on her. But this was not the time nor the place, #512 was OK for the most part and the race was passing us by. We the moved the wreckage off the road, I stole a swig of her Vitamin Energy drink and we took off. (Hey, it was the least she could do.)

I looked for water for both the guys and had no luck, the next aid station was only a jelly belly stop and my guys were dehydrating. Even the little incline near the Smithsonian castle was proving too much for #512 and I already knew before they did that their race was a metaphoric uphill battle from here on in. And yet this whole time Neil was right there with me. Each time we hit the downhills he would eventually catch us on the uphills, it gave us a sense of purpose - To make sure these guys were taken care of. But soon our chivalrous acts were becoming less and less. #512 was having a hard time and with the 14th Street bridge looming ahead, I knew it was going to be rough. But what should I do? Stick with Neil and stay behind and make sure these guys made it in safely? I didn't make a choice. I didn't need to. Neil made the choice for me. He told me he was going to go up ahead and continue on. He knew these guys needed my help more and sacrificed himself for them. I asked him if he was sure, and he said, "Absolutely." I told him that once we finished the 14th St. Bridge we would catch back up to him...but it was never meant to be. I never saw Neil again during the race. I kept looking for him at all the turnarounds hoping to gauge how far ahead of me he was, but it never happened. I even entertained the idea that if the chairs were "OK" after the bridge, I would jump the race and join up with Neil making sure we finished together. I wanted to finish together, even if it meant I wouldn't have actually completed the whole race. I was OK with that, but it wasn't in the cards. I learned later Neil finished a respectable 4:10. Nice work considering he hadn't run over 10 miles since IMWI almost 7 weeks prior. I couldn't say that about my two new athletes. It was #512's first marathon and he had hit the proverbial wall. The 14th St. Bridge was killing him. I had flashbacks of Laura in NY last year when I had to help her up the hills at the end, but I didn't want to do that this time. I knew by looking in #512 eyes, he wanted to do this himself. No pushes, no pulls - just himself. It was awhile before we finished that section of the course, but it was over now and as we headed to the off-ramp I told him there was only one more hill to go...the end...Iwo Jima.

There's a beauty and a power knowing the course when you're racing, but it's something different when you're guiding someone else through it's pitfalls. "Just up ahead we'll do a turnaround. Only 1/2 a mile until we get water. Sharp right up ahead!" I looked for anything I could use to break up the race into smaller chunks for them. Mileage markers, turns, hills...they all became tools to motivate them to go faster. And now the biggest motivating factor came into play...they could smell the barn. After a quick bathroom break for the two of them we made the turnaround in Crystal City and headed back towards the Pentagon and eventually home. The finish line was only a few short miles away and these guys had been troopers, but #511 wasn't about to let #512 finish alone. He made have been stronger, he may have been faster, he may have even weighed less, but he was a friend and there was no way he was going to finish this race without his buddy. 23, 24, 25...the crowds were growing, 25.5. Only .7 miles to go, 26.......................And something happened that many did not see coming. #512 couldn't make the hill. His arms were too tired. What had become a victory on the 14th St. Bridge had now become the underlining cause of his defeat. He was trashed, tired and tried. To come all this way and come up short is heartbreaking. But somewhere, somehow #512 reached deep within himself and made his way up. Not up the hill, No. Up and out of his seat. With his left hand grabbed the front of his chair and with mine holding the opposite side, we both stood there looking up at what was in all practical terms, to him, the Mt. Everest of hills. But today there was no snow, no ice picks, no glorious mountain-top view of the world. There was only a medal and a Finish line...and I was his sherpa. I took one look at him and asked him, "Are you ready?" And with that he began what I consider the most inspiring .2 miles I have ever seen - that certainly anyone who was at that finish line has ever seen - and, in what I could only describe, as the most deafening feat anyone could witness. Deafening because there were only two sounds I heard. The first was each and every step that #512 took on his two prosthetic legs up that grueling climb and the other was the sound of jaws hitting the ground once they realized what they were witnessing. The crowd was stunned to silence. As each individual grasped the concept that this man was now out of his chair for the last few feet of this race after having been through sheer pain in the latter half was mind numbing to them. Literallly. As we shuffled up the hill you could hear the crowd get quieter with every step. I caught the eyes of one woman as her brain processed what was happening. And I raised my arm. Raised my arm so violently I thought it was going to come out of my socket. Raised it as to say, "Come on damn it! Start cheering!" And so they did, louder and louder as we neared the finish line. A lot of Marine Corps sayings were being thrown around every which way, none of which I understood except in sentiment. They were proud, they were happy, they were respectful, they were grateful this man had served his country and they were in awe. And then...nothing. It was over. He did it. #512 had done it. Congratulations were spread around and as I shook #512's hand I said,

"I'm Kip."

"I'm Zach."

"Nice to meet you Zach. Congratulations!"

And with a hug I continued up the ramp, grabbed my food bag and headed for the hotel.

Andrew Tong #511
Yelm, WA M30-34
4:37:16

Zachary Briseno
Fort Worth, TX M20-24
4:37:34

Neil Schalk
Richland, WI M20-24
4:10:00

Backyard Burn Series Race #1 Race Report

2008-10-22T21:54:00.002-04:00

EX2 Adventures Backyard Burn Series Race #1
October 19, 2008
Wakefield Park
Annadale, VA

Previous Best: N/A
Goal: With the series consisting of points given over the course of 4 races, I'd like to be top 3, but with missing Race #2 for the NY Marathon it might be difficult. Specifically, top 3 in this race.

Last year when Kirsten could nothing but talk about the Backyard Burn Series after every race and during every run on Sunday in Rock Creek Parkway, I paid attention to the next series of races and made sure I was competing. So did several others from the club. Specifically Travis and Phil - age group brethren.

With IMWI behind us I was having trouble getting myself off my ass to run any distance let alone some trails, but photographing Climate Ride inspired me once more to trudge on and so I did. A couple of hill workouts later with Phil and Hilary I was ready to tackle my first Trail Race ever. A few weeks earlier Phil and I had a great run in Rock Creek Parkway in order to tune up for this race, but with my latest run on The Mall leaving me lathargic and empty, I was worried I didn't have it in me to compete. Maybe I didn't take enough time off after IMWI...maybe too much. It's these very mind games that make competing in sports so attractive - because you don't just win on sheer talent, there's heart and determination figured into every win. Today's race would certainly have to possess a lot of the latter if I was going to reach my goal.

PRE-RACE/WARM-UP
The night before's antics at the Annual Pig Roast (a.k.a. another good reason to head to Eric's to eat and drink) provided a little more of an obstacle the next morning than anticipated (read: bathroom issues) and the previous day's tour at Ford's Theatre also left my legs wrecked. But, spirits were high as Travis, Phil and I all piled into my car and headed out for our very first Trail Race. It's always interesting to see other people's workout methods: how they warm-up, what clothes they choose to wear, what shoes, etc. For me, I knew I needed to do a few miles beforehand if I was to have any chance of competing, so I headed out on the course testing my footing with the Newtons and my choice of clothes. As I ran into Phil he warned me of the mainly single track course we were to take - if we wanted to make a move we would like have to make a bold choice or do it in the open field. Either way it was cold and since it's the first cold day to run in, I hadn't the slightest idea what to wear. Every year this happens: I put on too many clothes because I never remember what is appropriate for the given temperature. Longsleeves and hat? Longsleeves, gloves and hat? Maybe the pullover hat? What about tights? And on, and on, and on. Annoying! You'd think that someone who comes from a running background would know such things by now, but...nope - never remember. I should probably make a chart or something. Point being, I got back to the car with about about 3 minutes to the start and made a last second decision to change shirts, which also meant repinning the bib number since I forgot my bib number belt. CRAP! Hurry up! I run to the start and am as ready as I'll ever be...I think.

RACE
The beginning was just what I expected: a fast start to an already difficult race. I tried to hang with the main pack, but either I wasn't warmed up enough or we were going at a pretty good clip and just didn't have it in me (sidenote: it's difficult to gauge how fast you're going since you're on trails that don't have mile markers like a normal road race). In any case, I had Phil and the rest of them within sight while still having Sean Ward with me to keep the pressure on. Quick feet is the name of the game when running on trails and I learn that the hard way. Mile 1 - good, mile 2 - good, mile...and down goes Kip. Yep, completely tripped on a root, tumbled, did a shoulder role, popped back up and continued on. Sean would later say, "One minute I say you and the next, you were gone. Popped up and kept going." Yep, pretty much. With a group of about 8 runners ahead of our 3 person pack, I needed to be quick and gracefully, not slow and mediocre. We made it into the first clearing and I hadn't seen the 1st group in awhile - I figured they must be hauling ass, but by the time we made the straightaway for the next loop I caught a glimpse of the leaders. There were only 4 remaining ahead of me, but they had a pretty substantial lead on me, 4th place was nearly 90 seconds ahead and with the difficulty of the terrain, I was either going to win or lose the race based on my level of risk in the next loop.

Corners were cut sharp, logs were jump and rocks of any size didn't stand a chance of slowing me down---and yet, I couldn't see anyone ahead of me. The beauty, as I found out in my first Trail Race, about racing in the woods is that you're never really thinking about the distance. Your main objective? Don't fall...oops! too late for that, and catch the person in front of you. Racing is as much about strategy and footing as it is talent in these events. My only hope was to turn it on now and pray for the best. At several points during the 2nd loop I thought I had made a wrong turn--when you're all alone, you realize you never spent a single second looking up from the heels of the person in front of you. You don't know the course and once you've trailed off enough and have no in sight to chase, you're not just a runner, but a navigator as well. Needless to say...difficult, very difficult. I pass a water station with about 2 miles to go and yell at the volunteer, "How far back am I?" The answer: about 1 minute from 4th and 3 minutes behind 1st. CRAP! It was do or die time, and with a swig of water I took off hoping for second wind. As most of you know, my style of running is coming from behind in a race. If ever I was suited to kick ass, it would be at the end passing everyone with a late kick. 4th place was in sight and after some maneuvering and light stepping, I passed him while still in the woods. Next up, Phil and another guy in 2nd and 3rd. I see them ahead coming out of the woods headed for the finish and they're neck and neck. I head back into the woods for one last bit of heavy duty trail running lengthening my stride. The only way to catch them now is to make a move right here. And so I did. I emerged from the woods trailing about 100-150 yards behind Phil and noticed the other guy has taken off. No chance of catching him, but Phil...possibly. Inch by inch I close the gap expending a tremendous amount of energy and for once I think to myself, I my not have my kick this time--too much energy wasted catching up. Ergo, I sit on Phil's heel without his knowing and once we make the turn for the finishing chute I make my move. Is it enough? I'm not sure, but I don't look back. In the end, it was. 3rd Place overall and 2nd in the Age Group with Phil coming in a few seconds behind me. Later I would find out 1st place was 80 seconds ahead of me. Fast, but not impossible. I'm pissed and hungry for the next race, but happy and elated at the results. All in all a great start to this series. Unfortunately, I have to miss the 2nd race because I'll be up in Manhattan doing the NY Marathon this year again. So if I have any chance of placing in the top 3 overall for the series, I better finish no lower than 2nd in the final two races.

AWARDS
I don't often get to write this section, but today is different. And for all our talk about what an award should be, it should not be a trophy, a medal, a plaque. These things have no real use in this world other than collecting dust. But EX2 Adventures BYB Series thought about this and let's just say I could always use a nice pint glass. Yep, each of the top 5 athletes in each Age Group received a pint glass with the EX2 logo printed on it along with their respective place in the race. Awesome! How sweet is that? Finally, something I can use and be proud of when using it. Don't give T-shirts out as a free gift, give socks. Or a hat, or a pair of gloves. Something that people don't already have hundreds of. Luckily, EX2 Adventures are on the same page.

Phil Schmidt, Sean Ward and myself on the Podium!

And a special shout should go out to the DC Tri Club's little contingency of runners that showed up today. From what I counted, we had 9 or 10 runners there and 6 of us placed, with Phil Sean and myself taking 3 of the top 5 in the M30-39 AG. Unbelievable! Congrats to Julie Kennedy and AJ Morrison as well.

Now time to rest up for Marine Corps Marathon next week followed by NY Marathon the next. Yikes!

Kip Pierson
1:03:27
6:20 min/mile pace
3rd Overall
2nd in AG, M30-39

IRONMAN World Championships LOTTERY

2008-10-01T12:34:00.007-04:00

"Swipe goes the credit card" (sung in a Pop goes the Weasel tune). Well, for the 3rd straight year I'm throwing my hat in the ring for the IRONMAN World Championship Lottery. The Lottery, to be held on April 15, 2009, allows a few laypeople the chance to run with the big dogs on the big island in Hawaii. Unfortunately, this is probably the only way I could ever do this race. To actually qualify I would have to run at least a 10:05 and with my horrible swimming efforts, even if I swam a 1:15, bike a 5:30 and run a 3:20, my time would already be 10:05 without transitions---which could add another 5-10 minutes. Ergo, I would need a brilliant day, a tough course to nullify the competition and perhaps a whirlpool for a lake. The other option is win one of the charitable eBay auction slots. (Yeah, right. I don't have $30,000 to spare) Basically, this all adds up to a fat chance in hell. I have a better chance of winning the lottery than I do qualifying for Kona. So...let's enter the lottery. 150 domestic slots, 50 international slots, 5 physically challenged slots and over 7,000 entrants. $35 to enter plus another $50 to join the "Passport Club" which gives me 2nd chance--50 domestic slot and 100 "Passport" slots---150 slots in all. And this being my 3rd attempt, my hopes are pretty low, but you never know. See you all on April 15th.

P.S. If anyone wants to donate $30,000 so I can get a slot, that would be cool too.

IRONMAN Wisconsin Race Report

2008-10-01T12:33:00.029-04:00

IRO NMAN Wisconsin
September 7, 2008
Madison, WI
Previous Best: 13:54:12
Goal: With spotty training, breaking 13hrs is my focus.

(To be filled out later, but here are photos in the meantime)

PRE-RACE WEEK
It seems the more I read race reports, the more I'm convinced the real story isn't the race, but the journey that leads up to the race. In truth, the race itself is only a small microcosm in the grand scheme of things. Ususally the more interesting and compelling part is are the trial and tribulations people have to deal with before the race. The anxiety and fears building to a bubbling boil. This race would be no different. With only two triathlons under my belt, one of them IMAZ April 2007 and the other an Olympic distance this summer (NJ State Triathlon), what awaited me in WI was anyone's guess, but with much more knowledge than before, having ridden the bike all winter long and a better understanding of my limitations, this race would prove to be exciting if not encouraging. With that said, it was about to be the most hectic Pre-Race Week of my life. A good friend of mine, Ellen, got married just a few weeks prior to the race in Sutton's Bay, MI (the NW corner of the lower peninsula) and they were kind enough to hire me as their photographer, but they were having the reception back in Grand Rapids, MI a few weeks later. Everyone see where this is going? Right...so as said photographer, I shot the wedding, but I also agreed to shoot the Friday night reception. YIKES! Not a bad mistake considering the race was on Sunday, but certainly not the most sane decsision I've ever made. So here's the schedule: Fly into Milwaukee, WI on Thursday (much cheaper flights than Madison), have my parents pick me up (they were driving in from MI), do packet pick-up, get in practice swim, pick up the pick and then relax back at the hotel. Friday morning would be tentative as far as a workout was concerned, then get on a plane at the Madison airport headed for Grand Rapids for the reception. Spend the night in Grand Rapids, leaving EARLY Saturday morning, make the tailend of the practice swim in Madison, prep the bike and gear, make all appropriate Gear Bag dropoffs and then rest up for the big day. Oh, and once Monday rolled around, I was heading out to LA that afternoon for a photography conference until Thursday morning. When it was all send and done, I think I was on 12-14 separate flights that week. Exhausted and drained, I prayed these sacrifices wouldn't show up too much in my overall time. But who knows? Only time would tell. On the other hand, for those who silently chastised me for biting off more than I could chew, think of it this way: By shooting the wedding and sacrificing a part of my race, I was able to pay for the entire trip to WI and LA from the money I earned shooting the wedding. Ergo, without the wedding I wouldn't have been able to financially afford the race. Either way, I was glad to be at the wedding as a friend and as a photographer. The photographs rocked!

With flight schedule after flight schedule checked and accounted for, my epic juggling of all
things logistical began to run its course and before I knew it, I was on my way to WI. First up, after landing safely of course, packet pick-up and then a practice swim. Usually the practice swims sessions are during the morning hours, but since the Lake Monona was public, we could swim at any time--at your own risk of course. Unfortunately, today would be riskier than normal. It was raining in Madison - and though the eye of the storm had already passed - the water was extremely choppy. Nonetheless, I was told the water was a decent temperature and I figured what the heck...I'm going to be wet anyway, why not? Besides, if race conditions were going to be anything like this, I better get all the practice I can right now. As I jumped into the water I realized this was not going to be easy. And after a 60 minute, 1 mile swim (yes, I said 60 minutes for 1 mile) I began to panic. I hurried back to the hotel and got on the DC Tri Club Forum immediately:

What does one do when swimming in tidal waves. I'm only kidding...slightly. Today was my first day in the water at IMWI, and though it rained all day (and still is) and the weather prediction is slightly better for Sunday, I'm a little concerned for Sunday.

We all know I suck in the pool, but today was a completely different beast. Going out was OK, but when I made the turn at the final buoy it became quite difficult. I felt like I was going nowhere. I was tossed and turned every stroke. Half the time I'm kicking with my leg out of the water and the other half my arm enters the water near my hip because of the waves. (The waves were white capping at moments).

WHAT DO I DO?

Do I just suck it up and deal with it? Is there a special technique for choppy water? Am I that bad of a swimmer? (The answer is YES) But truly, do I just plug away? A couple of points I just stopped after I took the 6 mouthful of water and said "What the F**K!

Here's to hoping the water is calm on Sunday.

I was lost and concerned. More importantly, I was tired and it showed the next morning. So I forwent my Friday swim and boarded the plane headed to Grand Rapids thinking only of my sore body and my propensity to be dead weight in the water. I swam a 1:39 in AZ last year, which isn't good at all, but now I was looking at barely making the cutoff of 2:20. I was worried.

The reception went well and it was great to see old friends and crazily enough, I even saw new friends from DC all the way in Grand Rapids...crazy! But it was great mainly because I wasn't thinking about the race. I had a job and a task to do and as long as I stayed focused, I would be alright. That is until I had to fall asleep. They say the most important night of sleep is the evening 2 nights before a big race...not the night before. If this was true, I was screwed. With all the partying and snoring of all the guests, I managed to eek out a mere 3-4 of sleep before being wisked away to the airport. I was in trouble. Feet sore, back still hurting from Thursday's swim it was time kick it into overdrive: Sleep with a little bit praying on the side.

I had made the decision the night before not swim on Saturday, but I wasn't entirely certain that was the best option. Though I was tired, I certainly wasn't mentally prepared to tackle that swim. Thursday's practice swim left a bad taste in my mouth...literally...and now I was doomed to relive that in my mind. Luckily Phil had just arrived in WI and wanted to know if I wished to join him for one last swim. That was all I needed. I texted him back "YES" and immediately called my folks and arranged for them to bring my wetsuit, cap and goggles with them to the airport. Our destination now wasn't the hotel bed, but the water. And THANK GOD! we did. What an easier swim. With the whitecaps subsided and my fears alleviated, I could now focus on preparing for the race instead of preparing for my death. I was 18 hours away from my 2nd Ironman.

PRE-RACE
The morning of was pleasantly calm and with my new found appreciation for compression tights I was ready to race. Wetsuit? Check. Racing Kit? Check. Special Needs Bags? Check. Bike and Run Gear Bags? Check...only because I was late to drop them off the night before. Sanity? Sanity?....Sanity? Well, we can't always be perfect. :)

I strolled into Transition after dropping my bags off and took note of which aisle I was positioned in. More importantly, I noticed that Phil and I were right next to each other in transition. His bib number - #498. My bib number - #497. This meant that our bikes and bags would be right next to each other. Additionally, it also meant that since I had borrowed Eric's TT helmet our bags looked exactly alike. Not good...well, not good for Phil. Fine for me. He's the faster swimmer by far, so if there was going to be a screw up, it would happen on his end, not mine.

I headed to the bike corral and found Phil there making a few last minute adjustments. I did the same. Taped on a few more Hammer Gels and Endurolytes, removed the plastic bag protecting my handlebars from any rain and placed my water bottles in their cages. I warned Phil about the helmet issue and he said, "No worries, I've marked my bag with some blue tape on the handle so I'll know it's mine." "Nice idea," I replied. "Very smart." (I learned later that Phil had indeed picked up my bag heading into T1---too funny!) And that was it. It was now a waiting game. Sit down and relax, head off to the bathroom for the morning ritual, sit down and relax, head back to the bathroom. - all routine. We put on our wetsuits, stretched some more, introduced my parents to Phil and we made our way down to the start.

SWIM (2.4 MILES)
Like a mass of lemmings headed to the edge of the cliff, the athletes slowly shuffled into the water. In the past my thought was to hold back as long as possible before getting in the water, conserve as much energy as possible - but this year I said screw it. Nearly 10-15 before the gun was to sound I made my way into Monona Lake...and let me say, "Thank Heaven!" I was calm I was focused and most importantly I was acclimated to the water BEFORE I had to swim. The latter fact alone is reason enough for me to get into the water early from now on. The swim had me scared, but my hopes were to just beat my abismal 1:39:19 from IMAZ, if I could pull off a 1:30 I would be ecstatic. But with a new found exuberance in the water, I was happy. This might be a fun day after all. I looked to the shore as the crowd roared with anticipation, then the sea of swimmers roared. We were about to embark on a journey and later today we would all be an Ironman. BANG!

With what is normally categorized as a human washing, with the water turning, the tide shifting and the bubbles stirring, the race began. Snap! went my cap as I was trounced by another swimmer. Crack! A shot to my nose. Pushing and pulling, we were salmon swimming upstream. A jolt to the ribs here and a nip at your toes, the water became a violent colliseum of gladiator swimmers. I hadn't experienced anything like it. I was so slow in IMAZ that I was never in a pack, and this year I THOUGHT I had positioned myself behind the better swimmers...but I guess not. It was a nasty, constant battle the entire first lap. Surely it would lessen on the 2nd lap. Alas, it was not to be and we continued to jostle under the water. The worst was at the turns - every athlete trying to cut off those few precious seconds and yards by taking the inside track. Was it worth the risk? I deemed it a worthy NO, and headed for the inside inside track - I swam on the inside part of the buoys. As long as I made the turns it didn't matter. I was not alone in my thought process and was accoompanied by what seemed to be over half of the field. Stroke, stroke, kick, PUNCH. Stroke, stroke, kick, PULL SOMEONE's FOOT. It was a controlled chaos. Any unseasoned swimmer would have given up instantly, and though I may not be the most seasoned, I was certainly here to fight back all day long.

The funny part about the 1st part of an Ironman (The Swim) is you never know how you're doing. You don't really have time to check your watch, you're attempting to stay calm and relaxed and yet your objective is to get out of the water as fast as possible. For me the objective is magnified by my inability to swim anywhere near a decent time. The longer I'm in the water, the further I fall to the end of the pack.

As I spotted the final turn and headed for home I had a gut feeling that I was around a 1:38 at best. It didn't feel much different from IMAZ and although I attempted to stay straight and glide my way through the water, I was certain my pace was only a slight improvement, if anything. Stroke, stroke, kick. The exit for the beach seemed a mile away. Stroke, stroke, kick. No more punching and pulling...thank God! Stroke, stroke...sand? SAND! Get up and run!!! I stood up in the water and headed for the exit. My googles removed, I looked at the clock: 1:24:10!!!!!!! A 15 minute improvement! HOLY SHIT! 1:24:10??? That's incredible! How did I do that? At best, the very best, I figured a 1:30, but not this. Excited and pumped up, I headed for T1.

1:39:19 IMAZ 2007
1:24:10 IMWI 2008
1559th overall (still at the back of the pack)

T1
T1 was interesting to say the least. The changing area was at the top of the Terrace, but the olnly way to get up there was through what they called the Helix - the circled 4 story parking garage ramp. We just swam 2.4 miles and now I need to run up what? This better count towards the 26.2 miles later on. Nonetheless, I was on cloud nine coming out of the water, stipped my wetsuit off and ran like hell up the ramp. "Go KIP! GO!" I heard from the crowd. I looked to my left and it was Mom and Dad. I'm pretty sure she yelled something obscene since she didn't expect to see me that soon and then I did something I hadn't planned on doing...I threw my wetsuit at her. I didn't toss it at her, I threw it at her. Over the heads of 3 unsuspecting spectators, dab smack it the kisser. "Put it in the car!" I yelled as I sprinted away. I thought to myself, "If you're going to do a 1:24:10, you better realize your racing this thing today!" And so I was.

As for the actual transition goes concerning clothes, shoes, helmet, etc. Enough cannot be said about the support staff and volunteers at this event. I sat down to put on my shoes and before I knew it some guy with rubber gloves had pulled out everything in my bag asking me "What's Next?" A personal assist in T1? This was amazing! I thanked the gentleman kindly and went on my way. The time may seem long, but so is the run to the bikes. Next time I'll be sure to run to my bike, THEN put my cleats on. You'd probably only say about 20-30 seconds, but it adds up at the end of the day.

7:30 IMAZ 2007
8:03 IMWI 2008 (slower, but not comparable)

BIKE (112 Miles)
Here's where the race is really won or lost. You either go out to hard in the beginning and blow up or you go out to slow and have too much energy at the end of the day. The former puts you in a world of hurt physically, while the former puts you in a world of hurt mentally. Either way, the elusive balance between pushing and conserving is what you need, but you don't always find it.

With nearly 1600 athletes ahead of me, I made short work of those around me and headed for the front of the pack. A hard, long winter of training on the bike gave me confidence that I could tackle a 6-hour leg, but with all the mitigating factors, I was unsure, but I had to try. To let a good swim go to waste would be a crime (a good swim for me that is) so I set off attempting to fuel up and fly by.

From what I gathered, most athletes considered this bike course to be harder than Lake Placid and since I've trained on the LP course a couple of times, I was cautious of hammering it early on. The last thing I wanted to do was to destroy myself early on, but my body was telling me something else. Mile after mile I began passing rider after rider. Now to say I didn't draft would be a lie, but with that many people in a pack, there's no way NOT to draft. It's the one problem of being a good biker and runner - you're always having to negotiate traffic. Nonetheless, I put my head down and picked off people one by one. 19.3 mph...smooth sailing. There were rollers, there were climbs, there were a couple of flats and there were also Pirates. What more could you want? (The Pirates were located at one of the aid stations near the latter half of the course. Everyone had a Pirate costume on and when you threw your empty bottles away, they actually had goals, nets and targets to shoot for. So small and so insignificant, yet it was my favorite thing of the day. When I got back to that spot on my 2nd loop, it provided the smile and energy I needed to push on, because I was hurting.) We went through a little town where the race was busing people out to and I was on cloud nine again. Flying through the field, I heard Mom & Dad scream (though I never actually saw them) and made the turn for loop number two. What I didn't know, was that I had the wrong directions.

Somehow, someone forgot to inform the field that there would be a massive headwind for the entire 2nd loop. Slapped with the backhand of reality, our dreams of setting new PR's were smashed to pieces. My only consolation lived in the Time Trial helmet I had borrowed from Eric. As the wind whipped by, my helmet cut through the forceful gales, however, my helmet alone could not save me. My overall speed dropped 2mph to a dismal 17.3. We were all hurting. Even my back.

Around mile 70-75 Mother Nature called me up and with the constant wind in our faces I made a judgement call: Get off now, use the port-o-john, stretch and pick it back up. I got as far as "Get off now." The moment I stepped off the bike my lower back seized up on me. I was in pain. Hunched over, the race is done, throw in the towel pain. Somewhere along the line I was pushing it too hard in the big gear and my lower back was paying a price. Stretching did not help, standing did not help. And as I was consoled by fellow riders I realized the day was done. My quads were beginning to spasm on me - a sign that I was either dehydrated or bonking - and my back would not let me push the pace. My goal now was to relax and enjoy the rest of the race. PR of no PR, I needed to come to the realization that it was over. A few more minutes of rest and I decided to give it one last go. I was going to finish the race no matter what, but "racing" was no longer an option. I clipped in at a measely 10mph, unable to pull up on the pedal nor get out of the saddle with the fear of cramping. I was a wounded athlete headed for enemy territory without any cover. I was a goner. Pedal, pedal, pain, pain. Pedal, pedal, pain, pain. Pedal, pedal...pedal, pedal? I can't believe it, my back was relaxing. My legs were still cramping, but my back was better. I was back in the game and though my 10 minute break would cost me, I was elated to continue on. Maybe not as fast as I wanted, but IT'S ON! Though I had to attack every hill/mountain by staying in the saddle, I pushed on. The Terrace in sight, I took stock of my situation. The run wasn't going to be pretty, but it was going to be. Like a horse smelling the barn, I pedaled home to a respectable time. 15-30 minutes slower than I would have liked, but overall, solid, very solid.

7:27:25 15mph IMAZ 2007
6:07:10 18.3mph IMWI 2008 (I wanted a 5:45, perhaps a 5:30 on a great day.)
688th place/bike overall

T2
Back up the Helix that we started down 112 miles ago, the only excitement here was when I got off the bike, I was running. Last year my foot cramped immediately. Tight back or not, I was racing! Woo-hoo!

7:27 IMAZ 2007
4:46 IMWI 2008 (You can even tell the I was better trained this time from the Transition time.)

RUN (26.2 Miles)
Shoes, hat, socks, gu packets, a tiny fanny pack and swig of gatorade. Everything you need to conquer the marathon - sans a fresh pair of legs and some extra salt tablets. Step, step, cramp. Step, step cramp. It wasn't debilitating, but it was painful. Daggers stabbing and slicing through my quads, my usual running gait was impossible. The only solution lay in a quick step stride increasing my cadence t0 around 100-120 steps a minute. An uncommon stride, but the only way I could push on. I passed Phil around mile 3 or 4, wished him good luck and pressed on. The run was pretty great, a two loop course around University of Wisconsin's campus including two laps around Camp Randall Stadium and a plethora of Michigan State Fans. (I wore my MSU racing gear instead of the normal DC Tri Club gear for two reasons: 1. The DC Tri Club gear is a little to tight on me and therefore doesn't breathe as well as I'd like it to - leading to overheating and 2. More people recognize the MSU gear leading to more cheers...ergo, I have more people who are watching me, and I can't let them down, can I? I know it's a weird psychological thing, but whatever it takes, right?) My original plan of 8-minute miles went out the window pretty quick, probably while I was on the bike, but somehow I managed to pull off a few of them at the top of the run. However, if was looking to finish this race in one piece I was going to have to reevaluate my pacing. 8:30's? Possible. 8:45's Likely. 9:00's? Hopefully not, but I'd still take it. I refused to walk the hills though most did, I continued to drink water and gatorade at every aid station and even began a new ritual - putting ice under my cap and even down my jersery (front & back). I found that, as the race wore on, my need for ice and water increased frequency, but the aid stations did not. So, whenever I needed some ice, I just zipped open my jersey and PRESTO! Yeah, I know it might seem disgusting, but it was a lifesaver. Mile after mile, I plodded along the course taking an expected and planned break for a 100 yards at the 21st mile and continued on. My pace was slowing slightly, but not dramatically and my dream of finishing the race while there was still daylight was about to come true. 22, 23, 24. I was feeling good. 2.2 miles to go and began to kick it in. Kicked it in at a nearly 7 minute mile pace until the end and I caught everyone that was in sight. Crossed the line with my arms held high, my jersey zipped up and legs completely dead. It was a PR by over 2 hours.

4:32:33 10:25 mile/pace IMAZ
3:55:10 8:59 mile/pace IMWI
267th place/ run overall

At the finish line I found my folks, or rather they found me, being held up by a couple of volunteers, I got my picture taken with my medal and was taken off to the food tent. Nearly 30 minutes later I gathered my wits and began for the exit. Gathered my gear and headed back to the hotel - not before heading to Pizzeria Uno's a late night victory meal. It was just my folks and me, but that was all that was needed. We ordered some wine, ate some pizza and I had a smoothie. I was stuffed and exhausted - and I need to be on a plane in Milwaukee in the early morning. It was time for bed. It was time to recoup. And it was time to rest. Afterall, Ironman Lake Placid is only 10 months away and a 10:45 is within my grasp. :)

Overall: 11:39:19
476th overall
101st/267 overall 30-34M
PR by over 2 hours

NJ State Triathlon - 2008 USAT Mid-Atlantic Regional Championships

2008-10-01T12:28:00.014-04:00

NEW JERSEY STATE OLYMPIC DISTANCE TRIATHLON 2008
July 27, 2008
Trenton, NJ
Mercer County Park
Previous Best: N/A
Goal: Finish with a strong run and really push the bike. Also, have fun.

After a long winter of strong training my hopes were looking good for a strong season, but with back to back shows and dueling rehearsals, training took a back seat to work and the inevitable "real world" took hold of my life. I had to withdraw from the Columbia Triathlon due to a previous time commitment and a minor calf injury back in late February had seriously derailed my efforts to conquer Ironman Wisconsin in September. And before I knew it the club championships were here during one of the busiest months of the year. Luckily, Kevin and I went up to Lake Placid the week before to see the race and do a little training--but I hadn't been in the pool in almost 4 months. What does that mean? Even though I've never done an Olympic distance triathlon, I'm not looking to PR.

PRE-RACE WEEK & PRE-RACE
After a long week of work, Kevin & I headed up to Butler, PA for the bi-annual Kelly Family Reunion and a night game at PNC Park, which meant we had to leave in the early evening on Saturday, drive through the night to NJ, find the park, pitch a tent (illegally, that is) and somehow get up after only a few hours of sleep. No problem, right?

Well, with lack of sleep and a late start, race morning wasn't going great either. We packed up the tent and drove to the other side of the park to transition and the start of the race that awaited us. To be honest, I really didn't stretch, warm-up, plan, etc. Would it play a part? I don't know, but Kevin was having trouble finding water to put in his water bottles but luckily for me Joe Coyne had extra to share. How long 'til the start? How many people? How long/large is the course? How could we not draft on the bike? All questions to be asked and answered in due time. But first, the swim.

SWIM
With the temperature of the water too warm, race officials informed all participants wetsuits would not be offically allowed, but if you choose to wear one, you could race but not for any overall/age group awards or team points. And with no possession of a wetsuit, the decision suited Kevin and I just fine. So after what seemed to be a 25 minute wait at the ol' port-o-john, I headed down to the start, took a dip in the water, inhaled my last full water free breath for the foreseeable future and was off. Lining up alongside my club favorites, I had more than my share to keep up---and by "more" I mean too much. Quickly I found myself struggling at the top. Unable to find a rhythm and clearly undertrained in the pool, I began to struggle. Any winter swim training had evaporated which was to be expected, but what wasn't to be expected was the major cramping in my left calf muscles with 1/4 of a mile to go. As I pulled up lame in the water, my heartrate skyrocketed as my muscles began to seize. Seconds from screaming for help, the muscle finally relaxed and I continued on though I started to see colors...pink in particular. It was the first wave of the women. Was I really that slow? Yes. And as I crawled out of the water as one heaping pile of S*@t! the clock confirmed my overall lack of preparation and dehydration.

Swim: 41:25 (12 minutes behind Kevin in his first triathlon)

BIKE
Throwing myself up the little incline and into transition, it was a miracle my feet weren't split open by the gravel parking lot we had to traverse to get our bikes. Once I grabbed a swig of my bottle and dressed myself I was off. Kevin's bike was obviously gone (we had set up our stations in transition close to each other so I knew his whereabouts, but not how far out he was) and my main goal was to attack the bike course. I haven't actually tested my new bikes legs I acquired over the off season, so it was important to push the envelope while still leaving some left for the run--and quickly my plan went into action. Smooth in execution, I began to pass most cyclists (sans 2 or 3 who had passed me) with overall my confidence growing, but the lack of a bike computer put me at a disadvantage. Unaware of how much further we had to go, I questioned how fast I took off and without seeing Kevin and TJ no longer in my line of vision, I was concerned I wouldn't be able to hold my speed. But the oasis arose around the corner and as I dismounted and sprinted into transition with only two things perplexing me: first, Kevin's bike was already racked and two, there was something going on with my side.

Bike: 1:02:48 - 22.2mph (fast avg. mph in any bike leg for any of my previous races--Awesome!)

RUN
Kicking off the bike cleats, well, pulling and yanking is more like it, I took inventory of myself and took off to the sounds of Rachel Wadsworth and a few other DC Tri members cheering me on. "How far is Kevin ahead of me?" She paused to think..."He's came through awhile ago. Probably ten minutes." TEN MINUTES! Crap! In the world of a 10K race, 10 minutes is a lot. At best, if I ran a 40 minute 10K race, I had to have Kevin falter a little on the run or I was done. With the shoes laced up and the cap on tight, I took off. Weaving in and out of the other runners I felt that nagging pain in my side begin to worsen. Step by step and breath by breath, my stride began to suffer. Mile 1 was on track, but something was wrong. Kevin and I passed each other on the out and back portion, but it wasn't my legs giving me problems, it was my rib. Or rather my ribcage muscles. Had I pulled and oblique muscles? Tore a muscle? I was beginning to wonder. My breathing became erratic and I began to weaze. I was a running orgasmic noise. My stealth like gait gone as I made little gasping yelps of pain with each step. Again, something was wrong. Thoughts of IMWI flashed in my head--Should I quit? Can I finish? Am I going to need a medic after the race? For those who know me, I never give up during a race, but this was different. It was, by far, the worst pain I have ever felt while running. And to top it all off, I thought my IRONMAN dreams for this season were done. What to do, what to do? The answer: WALK. That's right walk. I had no choice. Either this was the worst stitch caused by either a lack or excess of fluid or I was headed to the emergency room. Fortunately, it was the former, but unfortunately, I was WALKING! I saw Eric Goetz ahead of me and began to shuffle along, attempting to find a miracle on the trails...and it came. Slowly, the pain subsided and I began my assault on the final few miles. Head down, hips forward and my arms in motion I inched closer and closer to the final mile when I finally spotted Kevin again. It wasn't to be. As I did the calculations in my head, it was impossible---the little shit beat me in his first triathlon! But the race wasn't over. I figured, if I couldn't beat him, I could certainly ruin some other athletes day by taking them down in the last 1/4 mile. Humidity rising and sweating dripping off my visor, I rounded the final corner onto the straightaway and headed for the finish line playing cat and mouse with two other runners. With a tug here and a push there, I laid the hammer once more in the final stretch of a race and blew by the few individuals looking for last second glory. For them, it was not to be. (notice there's no pictures of me crossing the line: Too fast for you Mr. Photographer?) Once again, if I have you in my sights with a 1/4 mile, you're mine. Unfortunately, the race was not mine. Kevin had won. (which I'm completely proud of--he's by far a better swimmer than I am and with a 12 deficit out of the water, the race was already his. He's come a long way with only more PR's to come)

Run: 42:43 6:54 mile/pace (my 2nd mile was almost a full minute slower than every other mile)

Overall: 2:31:33
21st in age division 30-34M
154th Male
184th Overall

REHAU Resolution 10K Race Report

2008-01-08T14:42:00.001-05:00

REHAU RESOLUTION 10k 2008
January 1, 2008
Leesburg, VA
Ida Lee Park/Morven Park Estate

Previous Best: 38:25/6:11 min. miles @ Veterans Day 10K 2003 (DC)
Goal: To have fun (secretly, I want to place)

The first of the year always brings new goals, and for most, they take the form of weight watching, stemming off procrastination or the occasional call to increase one's vocabulary with that ever so thoughtful "Word-A-Day" calendar you received from grandma. For the few of us who could easy be labeled workout addicts, we consider doing a 10K race with an added difficulty bonus of setting it within 8 hours of your last New Year's Eve drink---(for some that figure should read 8 minutes). With the list of DC Tri runners already signed up for the race, Mariana convinced me to sign up for the race--and for those who know me, that's not too hard. So I, in turn, convinced Kevin to the same. So with the two of us, that made a grand total around 8-10. So guess how many showed up for the race. If you guessed two, you'd be correct. That's right, Mariana didn't feel well so Andrea doesn't come, Phil wakes up to late, Laurel is still on "California Time" (whatever that means), Paul texts me at 5:30am saying he's out because he hasn't been to bed yet and Guillermo has wrecked his knee. Ergo, Kevin and I are the only ones who showed up. How is that possible?

So, for a 10:20am race, Kevin and I head out to Leesburg (passports and all--Leesburg is frickin' out there---we had to pay tolls even...ridiculous!) around 8am so I can get a feel for the course.

WARM-UP
After arriving at Ida Lee Park to pick up our race numbers, we come to find out that the race is really a 10:40am start and not the 10:20am start the website had advertised. Small and minute to some, but for me, it meant waiting around that much longer before I could properly warmup and check the course out. A few shovels of more of my oatmeal (Trader Joe's Cinnamon Spice...hmm...goodness) and a little more stretching, Kevin and I take a look at the course. Holy crap!!! This is a cross country race. We had no idea. No roads, no paved cement, no nicely If I had my spikes from high school, I would have used them. To kill even more time Kevin has taken up a second job as an "excavator"---mining cardboard boxes filled with nutritional supplements such as Clif shots and Larabars (this will play a greater part later in our story). He would disappear every few minutes only to reappear each time with a hat full (yes hat full---not hand full) of goodies, seeking the keys to the car to "export" all the new wonderful minerals he had discovered to the new world--or in this case, our house. By race time he had half a bag. Nice work! But, time to get serious.

RACE
After checking out the competition and asking around for race predictions I came to the conclusion I should be near the front. Not the very front, but right behind the lead pack. (Plus, after checking results in years past, I had an inkling that I might be able to do well.) BAM! The gun goes off and we tear down the hill. Loose grass, gravel narrow bridges and large divots litter the field. One false step and you're done for. The pace quickens as gravity becomes your best friend for some and worst enemy for others. With a quick turn into Morven Park we approach our first hill and already the leaders have opened a substantial gap. My heart rate is soaring with every effort to stay with the leaders (sidenote: I've never worn a Heart Rate Monitor for a race before so I was unsure what to expect.) and with more hills to come I have to reevaluate my game plan. With the 1 mile marker within site, I spot through the trees the leaders who have widen the lead even more now (the winner came in at 33:17). The pace is too much and my heart rate is 183--way above anerobic threshold, and with the muddy trails coming up, I don't expect it to lower. As we hit a straightaway I take an inventory of where I am. It looks like around 18 or 19th place with a couple of guys jockeying for position right at my heels. Normally after two miles into a 10K, the positions are solidified and people find themselves hard pressed to pass me---and this time proves no different. As we come to the first water stop I attempt to give myself a little respite before making an attack in the 2nd half, grab a little water (and by little, I mean a few drops after most of it spilled on the kid handing me the cup--sorry kid). With my heart rate floating around 183/184, I realize that any chance to lower it has become null and void due to all the hills. So with a my abs already in pain and a significant lack of oxygen I attempt to pick off my competitors one by one. Or more accurately, one by....................one.............by........................one. Heading into the 2nd half of the race, I can feel the pack slow up, either I've made the right adjustments or they have succumbed the grueling pace. Probably a combination of the two. And with more hills in the 2nd half of the race, I have a feeling I can make a dent in the leaders. HR still around 183, we turn the corner after mile 4 only to hit a massive hill and we're all working overtime. I pass my first runner and I'm probably around 17th place with a new found source of energy. Hills being my strong suit, I know I can catch some of these guys, but will the wind play a factor? Time will only tell.

As we reach mile 5 I've passed two more runners with three hills left including the finish line---and with my knowledge of the course, I begin to make my move. I can't imagine what my HR is now, but I don't have the time or energy to even take a peek. As I lengthen my stride the next runner falls without putting up a fight (one of the 16 yr. old kids at the beginning who went out too hard) and now the only guy in my sights is a man in red with a 200yd. lead. Out of Morven Park we come and his lead has dwindled to 150yd. and as we head back into Ida Lee Park he makes a move that is sure to cause me panic. As we make the turn, Mr. Red glances over his left shoulder and sees his downfall on the horizon. I'm done for. I attempt to stay hidden, but it's over. Mr. Red feels the threat and turns on the juice. It's on. We both pick up the pace and it's on. My only hope is I started my move earlier enough. As we headed back of the minefilled grassy knoll from the start of the race my HR is skyrocketing as I pump my arms with all my might. The hill is no doubt a challenge, but how much I don't know. As the finish line approaches it's clear, Mr. Red has too much of a lead on me on my coop has failed. A 200yd. lead dwindled to a few yards, but it's over. I fall to Mr. Red. And crossing the finish line seven seconds behind him, I only pray he's not in my age group. It was a lofty goal, but probable had I started to make my move a few seconds earlier. Live and learn. With failure now imminent, I continue my surge to the finish line, hearing my name called out to the cheering crowd and am greeted with an ample dosage of dry heaving well deserved. It's not a PR, but an honest showing---a 12th place 39:05.

POST RACE
After a few minutes of making a strong attempt to keep my breakfast in me, my dry heaving subsides and my cool down begins. The amount of lactic acid in my lungs is evident as I cough with each deep breath. After retrieving my jacket from the car to keep warm, I grab some more clif shots and head back to see Kevin cross the finish line. It's been over a month now that Kevin has been working out with the DC Tri Club, making morning swim workouts at Eastern Market pool, heading out for runs on his own and even joining Gold's Gym to ensure he can compete in USAT's National Challenge Competition and I have to say, he's been doing great. Significant weight loss and improved strength are clearly obvious, and his devotion to making 2008 his triathlon debut have been clear to all---but how will he do at this race? His previous best and only 10K race was the Lawyers Have Heart (2005) 10k race in Georgetown with a 58:23 9:29 mile/pace (60:23 gun time) on a hot July day. But with the course as punishing as it is, plus a great deal of wind, it's unclear where he'll place. As I stagger back to the finish line the toll the race has been exacting on everyone becomes apparent. Most competitors have enough juice left in them to make one last ditch effort to overcome that unknown runner in front of them, but not today. Most have been weakened beyond a final "kick" and for those who might be capable physically, they have succumbed to the final hill mentally. At the Lawyers Have Heart 10K race in 2005, I too ran the race. Being mostly an out and back course, it was easy to assess the field and keep your eye on other runners at the turn around. More importantly, when I headed back in Kevin was able to clearly see me up in the front pack as we passed each other. This time there would be no friendly wave, no "Go, Kip!", no brotherly check-up on how the other was doing. We were both blind out there, unfamiliar as to how the other was progressing. I had pushed it too hard at the beginning, the exact thing I told him not to do---but would he listen. There always comes a point in a race where you want to give up, hold back a little, take a breather---that's the challenge, that's the race in a nutshell. Overcome that moment of pain and you win. Don't, and no matter how you place, you sort of lose. I know I had that feeling and almost gave up---but I didn't, I was just hoping Kevin did the same.

45:00, 46:00, 47:00...no sign of Kevin. 48:00, 49:00, 50:00...nothing. And then in the distance I can see...Michael Chiklis in the distance??? (For those who don't know, Kevin looks like Michael Chiklis) No, it's Kevin off in the distance making his way toward the creek and through the mine field grass. "Come on!!! Let's go!," I shout. He can hear me---he knows I'm watching. I drop my banana and shots blocks and run down the hill shouting at him. "Let's go! Pump those arms! Catch him!" And inevitably he does what I say. His stride lengthens, his arms and legs are moving like pistons and he's determined to pass everyone in front of him. Unfortunately, as life goes, everything isn't a fairytale. Inevitably, whatever I say or yell at him, can be heard by all. The Catch 22 of cheering someone on. That gentleman way ahead of him now knows he's being gunned down. "Noooooo!!!!! You weren't suppose to hear me...only Kevin was." And it was on. A mad dash between 36 year-old James Harden and 27 year-old Kevin Pierson. Up the last hill and across the finish line. Mr. Harden had beat an all out sprint by Mr. Pierson, by two seconds.

Kevin crossed the finish line and as he simultaneously gasped for air and dry heaved and realization had begun and he began to cry. When I tell people this story most ask why? Why? Why? He pushed himself to his limit. He set a PR by almost 8 minutes and posted a respectable time. He challenged himself to become better. And because crossing that finish line was a confirmation that all of his efforts in the past two months had succeeded. He's lost 21 pounds. Been more focused than I've ever seen him and most importantly he put himself on the line for all to see. Win or Lose, he took a risk to toe the line and compete. It's an emotional feeling to push yourself to the point of exhaustion. There are no walls. Only you, your will, your doubts, your fears and the ground beneath you. It's a question of who will show up that day and who will win. And for now, his "will" hasn't missed an appointment yet.

As I said before, it wasn't a fairytale story ending. But a fairytale story beginning? Absolutely.

Kevin Pierson
Clock Time: 51:08
Chip Time:50:43
8:10 mile/pace
94th overall
3rd in age division

Kip Pierson
Clock Time: 39:08
Chip Time: 39:05
6:18 mile/pace
12th overall
1st in age division

AWARDS
On a quick note, they were awarding only the top two in each age division unlike most races who usually award the top three. So unfortunately Kevin wouldn't be rewarded---or so we thought. When we finally got to the Male 30-34 age group awards, my name was read aloud and applause filled the gymnasium as I collected my lovely leather portfolio with built in paper pad and calculator? WHAT!!! This is absurd. Who the hell uses this crap. I'll tell you who....NOT ME!!! They were giving away raffle prizes for free oil changes and $75 gift certificates to jewelry stores---that's a prize. I didn't get a prize, I got crap. So we decided to make up our own prizes. Remember Kevin's side job of excavating? Well, it just so happened that there was a lot of work to be done after the race. The beauty of a small race is most of the food afterwards is just left there for someone to take home. (ENTER Kip & Kevin) One woman kept handing us clif shots, another told us to just as many as we would like and an old gentleman in a lawn chair said, "Sure, go ahead." OK then, we will. And so we did. To make a long story short. Kevin and I both ended up with 4 1/2 boxes of Black Cherry flavored clif shots and a large amount of Larabars. I'm not talking about the boxes at the bike shop, I'm talking about the cardboard boxes they are shipped in. All in all we each ended up with over $350 in nutritional supplements. Now that's what I call a first place award.

NY Marathon Race Report

2007-11-06T01:30:00.001-05:00

NEW YORK MARATHON 2007

Pre-Race: The week after Marine Corps wasn't too bad. A little stiffness, only 10 shows this week, and my cold had been conquered. What I didn't expect was the extra drama that would ensue. On the Tuesday morning show I proceed to hit my head on a metal beam in on of the boxes on stage. For those who have seen the show, it was during the Hamster Rap. (If you didn't see it and you're confused, you should be) It wasn't just a tap, it was a NFL helmet to Hamster helmet hit. The concussion type. After writhing in the wing, I go back on stage, dizzy and finish the show. EMS was there after the show and deduced that, "No, I did not have a concussion. But, yes, that I was stupid." Being cleared to continue, I finished out the week with a bump on my head and some tightness in my neck. No big deal, I'm tough. Right?

Thursday rolls around and all I have to do is two shows, catch the 2pm bus, pick my number up, buy something at the expo and take the bus back. Well, with a 12:30pm show starting 5 minutes late, I arrive at the bus station at 2:03pm. Just in time to see the bus back out of the parking spot. Perfect, I actually made it. I run outside wave to the driver to indicate I'm on that bus and he then proceeds to give me the "neck slashing" move that all the NBA players were fined for a couple of years back. Evidently, I didn't know I was playing a game, but nonetheless, I was just given my 2nd technical and tossed out of the bus riding game. The driver stares forward and refuses me entry in the lane and drives away the win. So much for goodwill.

Game plan change: The 3pm bus won't get me there until 7:20pm, 20 minutes after they close. And if I drive, which would suck, I couldn't guarantee my arrival due to traffic. Plus I would have to park, get gas, etc. The only option that might work is the train. So $117 later, I catch the one-way train and arrive in NY at 6:30pm with half an hour to spare. (Though it was expensive compared to the $35 round trip bus, having an electrical outlet and room to use the computer was incredible. I got so much work done.) After dashing off to the Convention Center, I get in line behind a couple other people at the Achilles Track Club table to register.

SIDE NOTE: The Achilles Track Club (ACT) is an organization that provides disabled athletes the opportunity to race. And with there partnership with the NYC Marathon they recruit runners to be guides for athletes in order to provide safety, help getting drinks and food, and additional assistance when needed. The deadline to sign up as a guide was back in September, but since my friend (who was the understudy for my show) works for them, once she found out I was a good runner, gave me an application to fill out and personally handed to the head honcho in her office. For your assistance you get to run the race for free, a finisher's medal at the end, a T-shirt to race in and the regular runner's goody bag (Official race shirt included). You can check them out at http://www.achillestrackclub.org/

So though Janet got me in, I was only given a "Standby" slot, which meant if someone didn't show up or needed additional assistance, I would step in. Plus, there are guides at the halfway point to assist other guides and athletes should they need extra help as the race goes on. So I wait patiently as another worker chats me up. Asked if I was a guide and I said yes. Asked if I run a lot....yes. Just ran MCM. How'd you do? 3:03. What? You did a 3:03? Yeah...." This conversation becomes important very soon. Finally, the woman processing the ACT guides and runners gets my confirmation letter, sees that I'm a standby and starts to run down the list of things a standby does when all of a sudden you sees my name. "Oh, you're KIP!" "Yes," I replied...worried what that excitement meant. And then I found out. I, Kip PIerson, went from DC Tri Club guy and 3:03 marathoner to rock star status in a flash. The entire crew went into hyper-drive. They were making phone calls, checking lists, checking them twice, having covert conversations all while I stood right there. My picture was being taken...I didn't understand what was going on. And then it hit me. I was to be paired to one of there special athletes, Laura, who's 18 and doing her first marathon with a goal time of 3:15. WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!! A 3:15? Are you kidding me? There's no way I can do a 3:15 after MCM. I yelled, "Are you CRAZY!?!?!?!? (on the inside) and just nodded my head as if everything was just fine. What had I gotten myself into? I'm screwed! I got my bib number, all the information packets on what's expected of a guide and was determined now to spend some money. If I'm doing a 3:15 in NY, you better believe I'm getting some merchandise to boot. After dropping $200 and perusing the all the vendors and headed out the door to catch the 9pm bus back home only to get stuck in traffic and arrive in DC around 2:30am. So much for resting up for Sunday. Yet, despite it all, I was truly excited about the whole thing...from running the course, being the NY, helping out....I couldn't have been more excited. Except maybe the 3:15 part.

After an extremely easy 7 mile run on Wednesday and taking it easy down at Hains Point Thursday morning, I closed my show with two performances on Saturday and caught the 6pm bus up to NY. On the way, I phoned Karen Lewis (the woman who best knows Laura) and she told me that 3:15 was no longer an option and that we were now looking at a 5 hour marathon. Whew!!! But still, five hours on your feet running is probably longer than I've ever run before in my life.

Got into NY just fine, headed out to Brooklyn to stay with a friend and before you knew it 4:30am was here. Thank God for Daylight Savings Time--I needed the extra hour, which made about a total of 4 1/2 hours of sleep. Got dressed as fast as I could and headed out the door to 36th and 5th Ave. by 5:30am. Met up with Laura who's a sweet girl from Orlando, FL and her Mother. It turns out Achilles has and Achilles Kids Program as well and Laura is the first one to do the marathon. She also lost her father a year or two ago and was dedicating this race to him. Even though I may not be religious, I am spiritual, and couldn't help but pray that everything would go well for us both.

Luckily, Laura was in great spirits as were the rest of the guides and athletes, which provided me the opportunity to relax and ask questions that were on my mind. If she has to use the restroom, what do I do? Are there handicap port-a-johns? Should I help at all? Push? Encourage? Get water/gatorade for her? I hadn't a clue, but everything would known soon enough. And if I didn't know, someone else could help me understand.

The ride out to Staten Island was great. It gave us time to meet and chat, tell some good jokes and become familiar with one another---and by the time we got off the bus, I could time she was nervous, but glad I was going to be with her the whole way through. I couldn't help but get excited myself. I was like a kid in a candy store. 5 boroughs, 5 bridges, one of the most spectacular races in the marathoning world and we would get a 2 hour head start. How awesome is that? You get to traverse these bridges by yourself. I can't tell you how excited I was. There were so many parts of NY I had never been to before and now I had the chance to soak it all in. No pressure. No worries about breaking 3:00. Just enjoying my time out there with Laura and helping her cross the finish line.

RACE:
8am came soon enough, and this time there were no long lines for me at the port-a-johns, so we were good to go. We had already straped her in and were ready.The gun went off, camera crews were everywhere and the ATC Athletes were stars.

8:03am The realization that the Verazanno Bridge is a mile uphill sinks in. I notice that her big ring is in the lowest gear, but her small ring is in the largest gear. I try to suggest that maybe she could go lower, but she says it's as low as it can go. Oh well, it just might be a long day. I'm thinking maybe 6 hours. Plus, it is damn cold on that bridge! Laura is having issues getting up the bridge, but we keep telling her that she's halfway there and this is the hardest it will be. With a little help here and there we near the top and you must remember what goes up must come down. I surge ahead in an effort to make it to the bottom before she does---fat chance---and by the time we hit the bottom were 2 miles down and already 40-some minutes into the race. At this pace, we could be out here for a long time. Laura's friend and fellow hand cyclist Nadine (see picture), checks in to see how we're doing and I relay the whole lower gear issue. She tries to explain it to her, but to no avail. Looks like we're doing this whole race in only 3 gears. Shit! This is going to be tough on her.

9:00am Nadine has bike malfunction. Her right handle which is made specifically for her paralyzed hand in order to strap it in---snaps! She has a guide of her own and knowing we were struggling to begin, we forge ahead knowing she'll catch up.

9:30am Nearing the halfway point of Brooklyn, Nadine catches up to us---her right hand strapped in with medical tape. A poor man's fix, but what are you going to do---complain or play on? Nadine choose to play on, even though it was painful and meant it wasn't going to be easy. It's around this time the crowds start to show up in larger numbers and Nadine is great about cycling ahead and telling the crowd that "Laura's coming! Laura's coming! Let's hear it for Laura. It's all about Laura today!" And the crowd would respond. It was good thing I had my orange shades on---I couldn't help tear up. She was right, it was Laura's day and the crowd was cheering for her and her alone. Who else could they be cheering for? I noticed her smile would brighten and her pace would pick up too. TIP #5: If you're not racing, be a spectator. The love, time and energy you give is immeasurable. It could be your scream, your yell, your words of encouragement that make the difference. I realized for the first time, it's not just you who's racing. You have a whole slew of teammates 26.2 long, and you bet your ass they are with you no matter what. Be a leader and cheer. It was also around this time we went by Paul and Mariana. I can't tell you what a joy it was to see them out there that early. I know it wasn't for us, but it was great. (Thanks for yelling guys!)

9:45am The elite wheelchair athletes came flying by----flying by. The returning champion had a huge lead followed by another gentleman and then a flock of 6-8 more who were tucked in and drafting. Did I tell you that they were flying? Fun little fact: I never knew that the wheelchair elite have guides too. But their guides are guides in the pure sense and on actual road bikes flanking each one and blowing their whistle to ensure their safety.

10am We near the halfway point and Nadine has already given me the sign to help out Laura. Though one day I may have thought it was cheating or unfair, today I felt compelled to give her my all so she could continue. So with a low seat back, I bend down and push her up the hill. Like the burning in your legs from tough squat workout or a ride up Mt. Weather, my legs winced and yelped for forgiveness. I silently answered grunts of apologies, but trekked along. I knew at this point, every hill from here on out she was counting on me.

13.1 miles into the race and I get some relief. Nadine has dropped her guide miles ago and now I'm watching out for both of them while periodically having pulling Laura over to readjust her in the seat. It appears the leg harnesses are too long and every couple miles we must pull over and correct the problem. So out come 3 more guides from the tent, one for Nadine and two for Laura. Though I didn't need help, I wasn't about to shun them away and at the very least they could help take turns pushing her up the hills. Oddly enough though, at this point the in the race, Laura was my athlete and I was hers. We were in this together. As they would help I ran up ahead to each corner pointing which way to turn. Yelling if she needed water or gatorade and dashing ahead to cut down on time lost. I even made her eat some food. Without it we would be sunk. Tip #6: Carry extra salt tablets and Gu's with you. Most AWD don't know nearly about nutrition as they should, especially having to be out there for several more hours than we're use to. Though they might be weary of "new" things, they need to eat something. Try to carry multiple flavors.

Mile 16--We near Manhattan and as we attempt to take the bridge the elite women came by us neck and neck. Apparently, from watching the replays, they were like that the whole way. It was amazing! You normally see them at the start and BAM! there gone. But actually being on the course run alongside them gave me such an appreciation for their level of talent. As we headed into Manhattan I instructed the other two guides to run ahead, because this bridge was a long one. And no sooner had we reached the top, she was gone. So what else is there to do but run? And run I did. As I made to the bottom of the bridge, turned the corner and hit the straightaway (which was flat if not slightly downhill) I caught Laura nearly 1 1/2 miles ahead of me. SHIT! Ok, here we go. So I ran, and ran, and ran...and wouldn't you know it--I was running with the elite women---not the elite-elite, but 15-30th place. How awesome is this! And I was holding my own, not for 26.2 miles, but right then and there. As I caught back up to Laura, Nadine had checked to see if Laura was in good hands and I said, "Absolutely." Nadine's hand had begun to numb and she could no longer keep the slower pace that Laura was achieving. As more and more elite runners had passed I would look over and yell some words of encouragement to them and to my surprise they did as well. I was dumbfounded, these women may not have been leading the race, but they were close enough in my book---and to take the extra effort to say "Ditto," "You too," "Nice job!" "Let's go Achilles!"----it was inspiring. TIP #7 Sometimes the bigger you are the more impact your encouraging can have. Just ask Laura and I.

Mile 18--Sirens are blazing, horns are honking and a pack of motorbikes are forming behind my left shoulder. The lead men. Not one, not two, not three, but 9 guys came rolling by. I've never seen such fluid movement in such a large mass. It was like that old Nike commercial with the runners moving as if they were a flock of geese. It was simple and elegant. Truly, a work of physical art.

12pm---We hit the Bronx and I can tell Laura is fading. I have to remind her on the hills that she needs to help me out and she obliges. The further we go the more comfortable and faster I get at readjusting her. I point out every downhill so she has an immediate goal insight. She knows we getting near the end. And thank god for the rolling hills. Not for me, but for her. I can push her up and once she's down onto the next hill I follow shortly behind. I've become her Calvary on every uphill.

Mile 22--We can smell the barn, the crowds are getting larger and we're loving. At one point Laura yells, "Is that the park? Oh my God, that's the park. I can't believe we're already here." But with the park comes more hills and it's going to take everything she's got to finish.

Mile 23--We drop our two extra guides. They can't keep up. There's no holding us back. I surge up the hills and as she's flying downhill and take off to catch up to her yelling "Cycle on your right, cycle on your right!" People must think I'm crazy. And as I'm running I notice I'm keeping up with these runners and I have been for a few miles. Not only that I'm passing them on the downhill. Not only that, as I push Laura uphill we're passing everyone. What is going on here? It's about 40 extra pounds I'm pushing and we're passing people? This is crazy. I wave my hands in the air and the crowds are going crazy for Laura and for me. I could have stayed like that all day long.

Mile 24 1/2--Downhill almost turns into tragedy. I can only yell so far and as she takes off downhill runners are getting in her way as I frantically scream "On your right!" The turn is up ahead and she's hit. Her one wheel comes off the ground and the corner is to sharp for me to see anything. I haul ass down the hill passing everyone to find Laura not at the corner but up ahead. She made It! I don't know how, but she made it through. And as I passed it was a spectator on the road she hit--Not a runner. TIP #8 If you are kind enough to cheer others on, get the FUCK out of the road. When cops and officials say stay on the sidewalk--that is why they say it! She could have seriously been injured.

Mile 26--As we near the end I'm amazed at how much I have in the tank after only a week of rest. A PR at MCM and I'm running 6:00-6:20 miles at the end. Again I push her up the last hill as I wave my arms in the air and the roar of the crowd explodes for her. I give her one last surge and sprint ahead riling the crowd up with 100 yards to go. I look back and scream at her to push hard. You're almost there. I'm jumping up and down like a damn hyena and I feel no pain and neither does she. I'm practically bursting with emotion and then it happens. Laura Arocho, 18 years old from Orlando, FL becomes the first Achilles Kid to ever complete the NY marathon in 4:54:04. And I can proudly say that this was one of the coolest things I've ever done in my life. Completing IMAZ, qualifying for Boston and now this. On so many different levels, I had the time of my life.

Post Race:
I got up early and went to the merchandise store at Tavern on the Green--not to buy anything else, but for $20 I got my name engraved on my medal and under time it says "Guide." I love that medal.

I'm going back next year. I had the option to sign up for IMFL yesterday and I said no. Why go down to the muggy FL temperatures and kill yourself in a race when you can come to the cool autumn skyline of NY and kill yourself for someone else.

I encourage us all to go. You have a fall marathon you say, make it Chicago, you'll be rested by then. If you're doing Philadelphia, look at it as a training run. And if you're doing MCM, just be dumb like me and give it a whirl. It will be the smartest dumb thing you will ever do.

Laura Arocho
Bib # W524
Chip Time: 4:54:04
11:13 mile/pace

MCM Race Report

2007-10-29T23:00:00.001-04:00

Hello fellow DC Tri Club members! And welcome to my first race report.

I know RR's are a tradition, but my initial reaction when I joined the club was, "Race reports, how egotistical is that!" Yet, I find myself reading each and everyone of your reports to the point of exhaustion (even reading your old race reports on your personal blogs into the early hours of the morning, only to find myself having to be at Hains Point in less than two hours). And frankly, reading those reports has helped me become a better triathlete and competitor---I couldn't have done IMAZ without them (thanks Eric---your website http://conquer3.com/ proved most helpful). But what has compelled me more than anything was my need to share one of the best experiences of my life, yes---my life, and hopefully inspire some of you to join me in this journey next year. So now I embark on my own journey into race reporting which will hopefully begin a long relationship with my own personal blogging. Here we go....

MARINE CORPS MARATHON 2007

Previous Best: 3:09:14 Philadelphia Marathon 2003
Previous Worst: 4:54....Frederick Marathon 2003 (got hypothermia at mile 20 after being in 19th place after 18 miles)
Previous Best @ MCM: 3:29:17
Goal: Qualify for Boston again and/or break 3:00:00
Marathon race #: 9

Pre-Race:
The drama the accompanies great races isn't usually the race itself, but the drama that occurs prior to the race. The journey to get to the start line makes or breaks a storied run and my week leading up to the race was no different. A little less than two weeks away from the MCM I did my last hard run of about 17/18 miles with my brother on my side riding his bike. And let me tell you, had MCM been that day, I would have broken 3 hours easily. Fast forward three days later to Thursday and I can't run to save my life. I little run of only 7 miles proved to be an enormous task. Something was wrong. I was getting a cold. I pop every pill imaginable, attempt to get extra sleep and pray to every deity known to man and then some. In addition, I'm doing the show at the Kennedy Center---and wouldn't you know it, I have 12----yes 12---shows the week before the race. ARGGHHHHH!!!! It doesn't matter if the shows only a 70 minute whirlwind of a show or a 3 hour show---it's 12 times you have to get the adrenaline up, and 12 times you have to crash afterwards. So needless to say I'm worried. The dilemma comes down to this: Do I try to qualify for Boston or do I make an attempt at breaking 3 hours and possibly blow up? And if I BONK, do I bonk so bad that I miss qualifying for Boston altogether? Did I mention my parents are coming into town race weekend? Oh yeah, that's sure to be a stress reliever. (Truly though, it was great to see them--they got to see my show, my brother's show at the new Shakespeare Theatre, see the race and then have dinner Sunday night before flying out that evening---I figured if I'm doing a marathon, so will they.

Thursday:
Packet pick up time. I always recommend going the first day to avoid the crowds--and I was right. No added stress here.

Friday:
Shows go well, still tired, it's been raining all day, but luckily a friend comes into town to help out this weekend with whatever I need. (thank you Emily) I get my massage from my Brazilian gay masseuse Reinaldo around 1pm and I'm feeling great----Yet, as many of you know I'm also a photographer and I have a prior engagement to shoot the Helen Hayes Auction from 5pm to 11pm. That's right, standing on your feet for six hours shooting people who have too much money. It was a great event, but I kept looking at my watch counting the minutes until I'm in my bed---because they always say it's not the sleep the night before the race that's important--it's two nights before. OK, done. I'll be home by 11:30pm and be asleep by 11:40pm. Things always go according to plan, right? Remember it was raining all day and into the evening----unfortunately I didn't follow the weather channel close enough because it was raining in my basement as well. An inch of water had collected in not only the hallway, but my room as well. Apparently the drain, along with all the leaves blocking the hole, could not handle the large amount of rainfall in such a short period of time and proceeded to drain into my little cave dwelling. It's already midnight now as I mop and soak the floor---I have to be at Dulles at 7:40am to pick my parents up. Luckily my running gear isn't soaked, but with such an excess amount of water, I have to use every towel I can find and even enlist my dirty laundry in the war on TERROR!!! (translation: flood water). It's 2:30am before I fall asleep...7am comes very soon.

Saturday:
I step out bed directly into my sandals, pick up my wet shirt off the floor.....wait, why is my shirt wet? Wait, why is the floor wet? FUCK!!!!! The basement was flooded, AGAIN!!! Apparently after cleaning/clearing the drain, it rain hard throughout the night and Tada!!! More flooding. So I clean it up as fast as I can and head off to pick my parents up, late of course, and head to breakfast. The lack of sleep is not helping with my stress, but I can't do anything about that now. Fortunately, my folks will see the first of my 3 shows today and then head off to see my brother leaving me until I see them on the course in the morning. With 1:30pm, 4pm and 7:30pm shows I'm tired which means I'll be asleep quickly and home soon enough to lay out all my clothes for race. As my OCD kicks into high gear, I'm certain I'm ready to race---at what pace, I still don't know.

Sunday (race day):
Well, I've got sleep, I've eaten my breakfast (Trader Joe's Cinnamon Spice Oatmeal and a banana) and head to the metro. Living on Capitol Hill makes things pretty easy so my nerves are at a low frequency and the metro arrives promptly. So far so good. We get off at Pentagon City and I see Rachel Wadsworth, say hello, and notice people are getting ready near the Metrocard machines. SMART! Stay warm, dress here, stretch a little and then check your bag. Perfect, right? No. Little did I know, the start of the race was at least a mile away once we got out of the metro. My "time cushion" slowly began to dwindle. How long is this going to take? I didn't want to run, but I knew this was cutting it close---and yet there were thousands of runners around me. Tension began to fill the air along with the heavy scent of Ben Gay. By the time I get to bag check I've got 20 minutes until the start-----and I still haven't sent "my daily fax." I spy some port-a-shitters and do the math. 30 people, 20 minutes.......carry the 2......that's less than a minute per person. This wasn't going to work. If I wanted to be at the start and near the front I would have to take measures into my own hands--not literally. But the need to "make a conference call" outweighs all. And if I want to qualify for Boston, this has to happen. What to do? What to do? Look right, there's more people. Look left, there's more people. Look extreme left and there's trees. Look rig..........trees??? Slightly covered??? Possibly??? Are you kidding...absolutely. (Disclaimer: I'm 30 years old and have never graced nature with my "presence" or "presents"--whichever you prefer) TIP #1: Always have a terrible, old T-shirt to keep you warm at the start that you can afford to throw away. It will keep you warm and ready, plus it doubles as great substitute for TP. A couple minutes later and a few pounds lighter I run towards the start line---and it's almost another 1/2 mile away. This is ridiculous!!! By the time I reach the front I have about 3 minutes to spare. I position myself around the 7:00 mile group and begin to focus until I notice a larger women who's about 30-40lbs. overweight....in front of me. What the HELL is she doing here??? TIP #2: Be honest with yourself about where you are going to finish. For those of us who have trained months at an attempt to qualify for BOSTON or set a new PR, these people who believe it's alright to position themselves anywhere in the corrals truly mess up the logistics for everyone running. It's not only unfair and rude, it's unsafe. After a few maneuvers and a couple of do-si-dos, I positioned myself even further up near the front. Now it's me who might get trampled.

RACE:
I was warned the first 6 miles were hilly and they were right. A 7:20, 7:20, 6:40 for the first three miles followed by a 7:10 and 6:50. Chaotic? Yes. Stressful? No. Difficult to determine your pace? Absolutely. With my previous best a 3:09:14, I've never been at the front of the pack, never seen the wheelchair cyclists before out on the course and never knew how to run alongside one. With all the hills, the wheelchair athletes had a hell of a time getting out in front and staying out in front in the beginning. TIP #3: Do not wear headphones during the race. Too many times I saw cyclists barreling down the road yelling "On your right!" and no one moving because they were listening to some IPOD thingy. It's extremely dangerous for all involved. Granted, some people who didn't move were just oblivious to everyone around them, but what I fear the most is someone who's naturally oblivious and wearing an IPOD. Around mile 4 or 5 I caught up with the 3:10 pacer (qualifying time for me for Boston). With his little swarm of men attached at his hip and his 3 balloons marked 3:10 on his wrist so all could see, I became antsy. This was too slow and now I was boxed in. I point to the side to warn the runner on my right that I want out and he obliges. I merge running lanes, make a little surge and clear the pack. I just decided to go for 3 hours. It hadn't even occurred to me while I was doing it, but once I pulled ahead of the pace group, conscious or unconscious, I had made my decision. 3 hours was the time to beat and there was no turning back.

Once we hit the Kennedy Center I was in my rhythm and as I passed the Lincoln memorial my parents were there on the left, along with my brother, cheering me on. Things were going great, passed a few wheel chair athletes and kept a steady 6:49/6:50 mile pace. The weather was great, not too cold, and definitely not to hot. TIP #4: Wear some cotton gloves at the beginning of the race. It will keep your hands warm before you start and provide a nice wicking material for sweat, water, gatorade, etc out on the course. Plus, it can provide a barrier between your hand as you spill that millionth cup of water that day. Eventually you won't need the gloves and you can throw them on the ground. (Surprisingly, you'd be amazed at how much lighter your arms will feel after you discard them. It will give you some renewed energy. Heading back down Independence towards Hains Point you could begin to feel the wind pick up, but not distressingly so. Pacing was still consistent and I knew my friend was at mile 16 help pace me down the home stretch. Plus he was carrying a bottle for me so I wouldn't have to deal with the water stops---if elite athletes can have their own personal water bottles at the tables, why can't I have one myself? I feel no shame in this.

Hains Point: With my friend in tow, we ventured forth...backwards around Hains Point (how weird is that?) and by the time we hit the Marina side the wind began to retaliate for our refusal to give her the respect she was due in the previous 17 miles. Scorned by our indifference to her power, she struck back and fiercely. I took cover beyond the biggest runner I could find in front of me. Drafting illegal you say? Not in running. As I dodged and weaved from one Clydesdale to another the 14th St. bridged that had loomed in the distance stood before me. This was where things went wrong in 2003, but today would be different. With the wind at out backs, the 14th St. Bridge was a shadow of it's former self from years past. Flying up the hills as I am want to do I continue to surge past runner after runner. I even dropped my friend who was there to pace me. Determined not to left the wind affect my overall time, I knew I would need to make up some time from Hains Point and a slow start (mile 1-2). With that in mind, I surged as best I could. At the very least I knew, but tried not to say it, I had Boston in the bag. At mile 23, my friend found me again and we chugged along methodically picking off my competitors. Downtown was behind me, Hains Point and the 14th St. Bridge were as well, so was Crystal City now and soon the Pentagon. It's a great motivation factor when you have family at the race. You don't want their trip to be for naught. Mile 25 was here. My friend graciously fired up the crowd as I followed behind him. One mile to go. I could see the finish line, but it was on the other side of the road. For a brief second I entertained the idea of jumping the barrier, but at this point in the race I questioned whether I still had my "mad hops." (that's street lingo--for all you really white people) Thinking better of it, I run and run only to question...."WHERE THE HELL IS THE TURNAROUND!!! THIS IS RIDICULOUS!!!" After an aneurism and a mild panic attack, the turnaround came with my friend yelling at me to move my ass. This was it. The home stretch. With a little over a 1/2 mile to go I began my late surge. It always amazes me how good my kick is at the end of a race--no matter the distance. To date, I've only run against a couple of guys I know that have a better kick than me. That's not to say I'm the best runner, but if I have you in my sights near the end, I'd be the odds favorite to win. It just an issue whether I have you in my sights or not at the end. Needless to say, my kick did not fail to deliver, especially up Iwo Jima. And with my parents and brother there to cheer me on, I surged past a slew of runners, pumped my fist at the end and was elated. (You can actually check out the video of your finish online---and oh boy, how dorky was my fist pump and grunt? I nearly laughed for 10 minutes at how dumb I looked. In the 3:00 to 3:15 video, fast forward 3:45 into the video. I actually cross the line 3:03:49.)

Although the wind and my cold proved to much overcome, I still finished with a 3:03:36---almost six minutes faster than my PR in 2003 in Philadelphia on a much flatter course. I was 230th out of over 20,000 plus finishers and as of this posting, I'm actually 229th. Maybe I'll check again in another month and I'll be 228th. As my friend caught up to me I grabbed my medal and began to cry. I never know why, but I do. And today was no exception. It could have been that my parents and brother were there to finally see me run a great race (they were in Boston in 2004, the abysmal heat oppresive year to see me run a 3:49) or perhaps it was not knowing what the day was to bring and yet having it turn out great. I don't know for sure, but even as I write this, I begin to tear up again. I guess that's why I do this stuff. Maybe it's why we all do. And funny enough, I know I can break 3 hours. I'm so close that I don't even think it's an issue. If you want to know a secret, forget 3 hours, my new goal is 2:55.

After crossing the finish line and getting my picture taken another friend found me, Janet, and she informed me I had been given a slot for the NY Marathon the following Sunday to be a guide for an AWD (Athlete with Disabilities). I was beyond happy. But now it was time to rest, drink fluids and get my massage. After all, I still had two shows to do that day at The Kennedy Center. A 1:30pm and 4pm. Then it was off to dinner afterwards with family and friends. And let's just say I only needed one glass of wine. And now NY.............................

MARINE CORPS MARATHON 2007
Bib #11796
Clock time: 3:03:50
Chip time: 3:03:36
7:00 mile/pace
229th overall
217th male
44th in age division