NJ State Triathlon - 2008 USAT Mid-Atlantic Regional Championships

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

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

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

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