I haven't talked about my running here since the Dipsea, because there really hasn't been much to talk about. My grand intentions to log some substantial mileage this summer has fallen pretty flat. Since I was injured for several weeks in April, I figured I'd keep training hard after the Dipsea, and gear up for some summer races. Following that race, I was both physically and mentally tired, so a week later I decided to back the training off and start building some base mileage. I backed off, but just haven't gotten back on track yet. There hasn't been a big reason for my inconsistency, just a lot of little reasons. I had a minor reaggrivation of my sprained ankle, a busy weekday schedule, felt a little sick for a few days, went on the Mt Whitney trip (which certainly doesn't count as slacking off). I've been running most days, but just don't feel like I've been training. With the exception of one week where I managed 59 miles, most weeks haven't been less than 40.
Looking at the big picture, I'd rather be enjoying the sport and running well when I'm 40 than have a couple big years of racing, then be too injured or burned out to keep running.
I did run 2 races this summer off my limited training. West Valley decided to enter a distance medly relay (DMR) at a meet in San Francisco. The DMR consists of a 1200, 400, 800, then 1600 meter leg. I was asked to show up at practice the Tuesday before to "try-out" for the race, even though I was supposed to be resting. Still I agreed - it sounded fun - and ran a 600 meter time trial with Alex Mason (a very fast 800 meter runner, but who was coming back from a long injury break). I basically sprinted all out & ran 1:29, 1 second behind Alex. Our teammates were thoroughly entertained/amused/impressed with the effort, that they decided Alex & I would both run. So I ran the 1200 meters to lead us off & managed a 3:15 split - not bad off no speedwork!
The next race was the JP Morgan Corporate Challege - a 3.5 mile race organized by company teams. I represented the Wells Fargo team for the 4th year in a row & had my best finish yet for this race finishing in 8th place running 18:32 for 3.5 miles. I was happy given my current fitness, but still waiting for the year when everything comes together in this race.
I'm spending this week with Dana's family at the beach in New London. Hopefully all these little aches and pains will go away, and I can get down to some good running!
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Mt Whitney
A couple months ago a buddy who I've worked with at Wells Fargo with for several years emailed me out of the blue and said "hey, I have a permit to hike Mt Whitney, want to join?" Well hell yeah! The highest peak in the continental US, could you come up with a better summer activity?
On a Thursday in July, 4 of us headed to Kirkwood for a day, first to acclimate to altitude at 7800 feet. The next morning we drove south to Lone Pine, CA - back down to 3000 feet and 100+ degree temps - to spend the night and get ready for the big hike.
Because summer thunderstorms can be treacherous in the Sierra Nevada’s we got a very early start. We left the hotel at 2am, and on the trail at 2:45! The hike starts at 8300 feet, and it was pitch black dark, except for our headlamps. There were definitely people who started earlier because the only thing we could make out in the distance were headlamps on the trail above us.
Around 4:30 I could make out my first traces of the mountains above, and shortly after 5am I was the first one in our group to turn my headlamp off. At 5:50 we were watching the sunrise from 11,000 feet. Just after 6am, we arrived at the 12,000 foot trailside camp, where many hikers were just waking up to start a shorter summit hike.
I was feeling pretty good up to 12,000 feet. I could certainly tell the air was thinner, but wasn’t huffing & puffing and the legs still felt pretty good. The next leg was where it started to get harder. We climbed up a long section of trail to 13,700 feet which included 96 switchbacks. I was happy to have the trail flatten out for a bit as we caught our first views toward the west of Whitney into Sequoia national park.
Next was a brief downhill, then the last push up to the 14,494 foot summit. The trail was beautiful, but we just seemed to slow down as we were stepping on and over lots of granite rocks and as the air was so thin. From 14,000 feet to the summit it didn’t take more than a few steps to get my heart beating out of my chest.
At 9:50, we were standing at the summit! I was pretty exhausted at this point, and it took a few minutes of recovery to fully enjoy it. Mt. Whitney itself just looks like a big pile of broken granite rocks. It’s actually much less impressive looking than some of the jagged peaks nearby.. but, Whitney is the tallest!
The way down was much easier on the lungs, but was brutal on the legs. In the last couple hours, my feet were just killing me every time I took a step. It was a great sense of accomplishment to get back to the car around 3:30, know we’d hiked 22 miles & 6000+ feet up & down in a single day!
Back at the hotel in Lone Pine it was 106 degrees! It felt like an oven just standing in the parking lot, but boy that pool felt good. A couple hours later we rewarded ourselves with burgers, ice cream, a couple beers, then bedtime.
On a Thursday in July, 4 of us headed to Kirkwood for a day, first to acclimate to altitude at 7800 feet. The next morning we drove south to Lone Pine, CA - back down to 3000 feet and 100+ degree temps - to spend the night and get ready for the big hike.
Because summer thunderstorms can be treacherous in the Sierra Nevada’s we got a very early start. We left the hotel at 2am, and on the trail at 2:45! The hike starts at 8300 feet, and it was pitch black dark, except for our headlamps. There were definitely people who started earlier because the only thing we could make out in the distance were headlamps on the trail above us.
Around 4:30 I could make out my first traces of the mountains above, and shortly after 5am I was the first one in our group to turn my headlamp off. At 5:50 we were watching the sunrise from 11,000 feet. Just after 6am, we arrived at the 12,000 foot trailside camp, where many hikers were just waking up to start a shorter summit hike.
I was feeling pretty good up to 12,000 feet. I could certainly tell the air was thinner, but wasn’t huffing & puffing and the legs still felt pretty good. The next leg was where it started to get harder. We climbed up a long section of trail to 13,700 feet which included 96 switchbacks. I was happy to have the trail flatten out for a bit as we caught our first views toward the west of Whitney into Sequoia national park.
Next was a brief downhill, then the last push up to the 14,494 foot summit. The trail was beautiful, but we just seemed to slow down as we were stepping on and over lots of granite rocks and as the air was so thin. From 14,000 feet to the summit it didn’t take more than a few steps to get my heart beating out of my chest.
At 9:50, we were standing at the summit! I was pretty exhausted at this point, and it took a few minutes of recovery to fully enjoy it. Mt. Whitney itself just looks like a big pile of broken granite rocks. It’s actually much less impressive looking than some of the jagged peaks nearby.. but, Whitney is the tallest!
The way down was much easier on the lungs, but was brutal on the legs. In the last couple hours, my feet were just killing me every time I took a step. It was a great sense of accomplishment to get back to the car around 3:30, know we’d hiked 22 miles & 6000+ feet up & down in a single day!
Back at the hotel in Lone Pine it was 106 degrees! It felt like an oven just standing in the parking lot, but boy that pool felt good. A couple hours later we rewarded ourselves with burgers, ice cream, a couple beers, then bedtime.
Monday, June 28, 2010
The 100th Dipsea Race
The long anticipated day finally arrived, the 100th running of the Dipsea Race. The Dipsea - first run in 1905 (with a few years missed during the great depression and World War II) - celebrated it's centennial as the 2nd oldest footrace in America behind the Boston Marathon. The race is rich in history, and has a cult following of Northern California runners who have competed for decades. I ran my first Dipsea last year largely out of curiosity, but have been dreaming about the 100th running since I crossed the finish line at the 99th!
I'd say there's two main aspects of the Dipsea that makes it so unique. First, it's the most beautiful and toughest cross country race in America. The 7.5 mile distance isn't so intimidating, but add to that 2000+ feet of climbing and descending, hundreds of stairs to climb up and fly down, narrow trails, uneven footing, and a lot of poison oak. Over the course of the race, you look up at beautiful Mt. Tamalpais, run under giant redwoods at Muir Woods, and stare down at the Pacific, that is of course if you're able to take your eyes off of the trail right in front of you. Second, the Dipsea is a handicap race. Each age & gender group has an assigned starting time with the youngest and oldest runners starting first at 8:30 am, 19-30 year old men starting last at 8:55 am, and a different group starting every minute in between. At 32 years old, I started at 8:54 - a 1 minute head start over the "scratch" group. Then whoever gets to the finish line first is crowned the overall winner. There are no age group awards, just coveted black numbered t-shirts that are awarded to the first 35 to finish. Based on the format, runners of ANY age have a shot at winning. If you don't believe me, read on!
My preparation for the Dipsea started with a long build up of base mileage throughout the winter with increasing workout intensity in the early spring. But my training hit a snag when I sprained my right ankle and had to miss most of April. My initial emotions told me that I had lost any shot of running well and winning a black shirt. Even if I managed to maintain/regain my fitness in time, I was worried that my ankle would never be strong enough to handle a tough run over the extreme course. I went to physical therapy to strengthen the ankle, and when I started running again, I had 7 weeks to get ready. I figured 1 week to jog, 1 to run, 4 to really train, then 1 to taper. With just over two weeks to go, I felt my fitness was finally coming around and my confidence boosting. I was going to be ready!
The race starts gently enough as you run on a flat section from downtown Mill Valley, but that's over quickly as you hit the first of the 688 stairs a quarter mile into the race. After the stairs, you continue uphill & crest Panoramic Highway. Then it's the first downhill section as you descend on a single track trail, then a road, then a steep narrow trailed called Suicide. After that you enter Muir Woods, almost back down to sea level. That's where the real fun begins. You cross a creep on a narrow foot bridge, then it's 2+ miles uphill gaining over 1300 feet, ending with Cardiac Hill. After Cardiac you wind along a gradual downhill trail for about a mile, before the technical downhill sections of The Swoop & Steep Ravine. Then there's one last short, but typically painful uphill know as Insult Hill. Finally in the last mile runners take their favorite routes back to Highway 1 before finishing in the Stinson Beach parking lot.
Even though the course is constantly changing, I like to break the race down into three sections: The start to Muir Woods, Muir Woods to Cardiac Hill, and Cardiac to the finish. The first part is about finding a rhythm - running fast without burning too much energy, the middle section requires the most fitness and toughness, and the finish is about managing very technical descents when you're very tired.
On to the race...
I was relieved to shake off the nerves and sleep well the night before. I warmed up with some buddies, and felt ready to go. Since this was my first year in the invitational section (I was in the dipsea runners section last year which starts behind all of the invitational section), I didn't know what to expect in terms of the congestion from passing runners out on the course. Mark McManus, who won 3 fastest time trophies from 2006-2008 and was second overall last year, was starting in my group, so the game plan was to follow as closely to him as practicable for the first sections of the race. He would know better than anyone how to navigate and pace his way through the crowds.
The nerves really started to hit as we lined up for our 8:54 starting group, but I knew I was ready for today, and that I had a long race ahead that wouldn't get all that difficult until it got really hard heading up to Cardiac Hill. As the whistle blew, I tucked in right behind Mark & Stephen Donahue (who finished 9th overall last year) as we headed up the steps. I found the congestion on the stairs manageable in the invitational section, unlike last year in the Dipsea Runner's section last year it was almost impossible just to keep running. As we ran up the 3 groups of steps, then continued uphill to Panoramic Highway, I was feeling well under control. This wasn't easy, but it wasn't all that painful yet. I let Mark & Stephen go a few seconds ahead of me, but they were still in contact.
As we crested the first climb and headed downhill on the first real section of single track trail, I found myself held up by some slower runners. I seemed to lack the rhythm to find a spot to pass on the side while keeping a steady pace on the uneven downhill terrain. Like I often do in races, told myself to relax, and got myself around some of these runners - to the right, to the left, or wherever I could. As I looked up, Stephen was getting closer to me again. That gave me confidence that I was moving well down the hill.
After that we hit a downhill section of road. Downhill running has been a real weakness of mine in terms of cross country races over the past year. I never seem to keep pace with comparable runners when we hit long and/or steep downhill sections of races. I had tried all sorts of variations to my stride, but finally in the weeks leading up to the Dipsea I found that a short quick turnover was the ticket to moving fast while conserving energy. On this section of the race, I just looked up for the best lines to pass between people, and kept those legs moving. As we neared the next trailhead, I realized I was actually catching back up to Mark... on the downhill!
Next up was suicide, the first really technical part of the course. I couldn't keep up with Mark's technical downhill skills, in fact after this point, I never saw him again, but I managed to find a way to pass slower runners as I bombed down, and caught right up with Stephen by the end.
As we hit the footbridge at Muir Woods, my split was 15:25. I'd run over a minute faster to this point than last year! Part of the reason was less congestion in the invitational section compared to the dipsea runner's section, but still a good sign. Now onto the fun part, the 1300 foot elevation gain up to Cardiac Hill. From my training, I found it never worked out to hammer the first steep section out of Muir Woods (known as dynamite). It just took too much energy when there would still be so long to go. So I settled into what felt like a painfully slow pace, but still kept me passing runners quickly. As we climbed out of Muir Woods, Stephen started to pull away slowly, but I needed to run my race so I let him go. As we transitioned into the middle section of the climb, I starting hitting what I considered an annoying amount of congestion for the first time. I'm not sure the congestion was actually worse, but I think I'm catching more competitive runners, and it's at a point when I'm having to work really hard to run a slower pace (because of the uphill). The half way rock marks the spot where you're roughly half way up the climb, and half way through the race time wise. This had been my mark to pick up the tempo and start to push harder up the climb. If you're really awake, you can take advantage of some rolling sections to run fast, while other runners might be take a breather. My most disappointing part of the race is that I "fell asleep" here when I should have been running aggressively. Several people have told me not to waste too much energy being overaggressive trying to push people out of your way. I took it too far the other way by not doing what I needed to do when I got caught up by people blocking the trail. So bottom line is I wasn't moving fast on the sections I should have been flying on.
As I reached the top, I was feeling better than last year, but not as well as I did in some of my training runs. I downed one cup of water, dumped another on my head, and hit the split on my watch. My time of Cardiac was a disappointing 20:39 - over 30 seconds slower than last year, but the total split of 36:04 was still 37 seconds faster than last year.
From here the trail starts gradually downhill for the next mile. Finally the crowds had thinned out, but I could see several runners up ahead. Then something unwelcomed happened. As I wound up my pace on the downhill, I felt a piercing side cramp. I couldn't even exhale without a loud grunt. It was so loud that a runner just ahead turned around to see what horrible animal might possibly be hunting him down. I tried pressing my rib cage - no relief. Then for some reason tried a deep cough... momentary relief! I few breaths later I tried again, then a few breaths later it was gone! Finally! Time to roll!
Now I'm just looking ahead for the next runners to lock onto. There was a pack about 200 meters ahead that I'd catch a glimpse of on straight sections of the path, and I was reeling then in quickly. Right around the 5 mile mark, a volunteer said "you're in 38th, the black t-shirts are just ahead." This was a shot of excitement. I quickly caught the next three runners, and told myself "you're wearing a black t-shirt!" I just wanted to make that number on the shirt as low as possible. Each time I passed a runner, I counted down my place – one tiny bit of motivation at a time to propel me toward the next person.
Unfortunately one of the next runners I passed was the 2007 Dipsea champ, Jamie Rivers (at the time Jamie Berns). Last year Jamie married one of my occasional training partners – the 2008 Dipsea champ Roy Rivers. Both Jamie (59) & Roy (53) are part of the Tuesday night Pelican Inn running group. A few of the older runners in the group have been gathering for Tuesday runs since 1985! The past two years, I’ve met with the group for the grueling Cardiac Hill time trials in the weeks leading up to the race. This year, the group formed the Pelican Inn Track Club to take a shot at winning the team title for the 100th Dipsea. While I’m very loyal to my West Valley Track Club, my normal team doesn’t compete at the Dipsea, so I was happy to team up with this other fantastic group to run my favorite race.
Both Jamie & Roy have given me lots of advice about running the race (except for maybe their favorite short cuts – I may never know). When I went out to practice the downhill steps of steep ravine the Thursday before the race, I saw them both of them out on the same section of the course, inspecting the conditions and surveying the course one last time before the race. As I was struggling to find a rhythm down the stairs, Jamie gave me some great advice to just visualize keeping my chest forward out over my feet. It was a slight adjustment, but it made a huge difference, allowing me to take up to 3 steps at a time. Both of them have been had given me so much encouragement as I fought back into fitness the month leading up to the race.
When I passed Jamie on the course, she was walking with a noticeable limp. But even with what must have been considerable disappointment to fall out of contention, she was cheering on every runner who passed her. I just thought it was a great demonstration of what a true Dipsea champ is all about. It turns out that Jamie was trying for her 14th black t-shirt which would have broken a tie for the most ever won by a female. At our Pelican Inn dinner two nights after the race, it was my turn to encourage her – I have no doubt she’ll be high on the podium last year.
* running toward the swoop
After I passed Jamie, I started recognizing some of the Pacific Association master’s men and open woman as I passed them and continued to count down. As we hit the swoop - a steep section similar to suicide - I was briefly held up by a PA runner who I recognized, but then returned to aggressive tactics yelling "LEFT LEFT LEFT" which pretty much scared him into giving me the little bit of room I need to let gravity do its magic. I made easy work of the next couple runners as I counted my position 29th, 28th.
Then onto steep ravine, which is the most technical downhill section with steep uneven steps. The steps were still a bit wet and slippery just 10 days ago, but after a very warm week they were finally dry. I slipped twice here last year, just avoiding a real fall both times. But this year, I was finally dialed in taking 2-3 stairs with each step. 27th, 26th... Then I saw something unexpected. As I'm flying down the stairs, I see an older man clawing his way out of the ravine back on the trail! Good news is he was ok, but just a reminder of how treacherous that course can be!
As I cross the foot bridge and head toward insult hill, someone yells out "Let's go Gus." Oh man! My buddy Gus Gibbs has made up the 1 minute headstart I had over him. I pushed the pace up insult hill. His footsteps briefly faded, but as we crest the hill and get our first view of Stinson Beach, he's right back on me. Man he must be flying on the downhills! I stay in front of him on the first of two very narrow short single track sections off the highway, but before the final single track, he passes me and quickly pulls away. As we rejoin the highway heading into the sprint to Stinson Beach, I'm in 20th place. I see Gus and Stephen Donahue way up ahead, but too far to have any chance. Then I catch a glimpse of a runner in his 60s (who turns out to be Jerry Edelbrock who owns a pile of black T-shirts). But he's so far away! My rational psyche tells me not to even bother launching a hard kick, but I keep telling myself that he's much older and isn't running nearly as fast as I am. We make the last turn and I really dig in and see him coming back to me quickly. With about 50 meters to go, I finally know I have him so I try to savor the last few seconds of the race as I hear the announcer say "WE'RE GOING TO HAVE A PASS... IT'S JAMEY GIFFORD."
* one last runner to chase down
* driving toward the finish
19th Place in 52:40 (a clock time of 51:40 w/ my 1 minute head start). 49 seconds faster than last year!
The elation sunk in immediately. I remember thinking "I want my black shirt now!" but of course would have to wait a couple of hours until the awards ceremony. So I rubbed down with tecnu (to wash off the poison oak) - I got it bad the next week anyway. Then I went for a painful cool down jog - oh yeah... I had run hard today! And finally enjoyed a couple beers with my Pelican Inn teammates.
* post race treats!
* the Pelican Inn Track Club
* Dana & I enjoying the post-race
At the awards ceremony, they count down the black shirt winners starting with 35th placeDipsea winner, 72 year old Russ Kiernan finished right in front of me, and I had a great time chatting with him throughout the ceremony. My training buddies Mark McManus finished 6th, Alex Varner 4th (along with the fastest time trophy), and Roy Rivers 3rd. Standing in front of the stage as they handed out the awards was so special for me, and clearly was for everybody else up there.
* the black shirt winners
* Russ Kiernan
The winner was quite a shock to many. Last year 7 year old Reilly Johnson took covered the course in 1:27 along with the maximum 25 minute head start to finish 199th. This year, 8 year old Reilly would get the same 25 minute head start for the final time - or I should say the final time until the year 2068 when she turns 66. Reilly, who had done her 3rd grade history report on the Dipsea Race, was inspired to train for a black shirt. As the tiny runner she practiced and trained, her parents came to a shocking conclusion. She could win this race! Reilly started the race in the first head start group with former champion Melody-Ann Schultz. The two would push each other for the entire race. Running down the swoop, Reilly stumbled. Melody-Ann was right behind with no where to go, so she scoops her up and "C'mon darling, get up!" Reilly passed Melody-Ann again on insult hill, and held her off by 8 seconds to win the 100th Dipsea Race.
* the two leaders
* Reilly Johnson sprinting toward victory
The final award was so touching. Sal Vasquez holds the distinction of being the greatest Dipsea champion, hands down. Sal won 4 years in a row from 1982-1985, after which they added a winner's penalty (head start minutes reduced following a Dipsea championship). He followed it up with wins in 1990, 1994, and 1997. But after 1997 Sal never returned. Finally this year Sal, although unable to race due to injuries, traveled to the Bay Area to be part of the 100th Dipsea celebration. Just before announcing Reilly Johnson as the champion of the 100th Dipsea, the announcer called Sal Vasquez on stage to present the award. Sal, lifted up the tiny girl to the microphone so that she could thank her family. Reilly had an ear to ear grin, but tears in her eyes. I think every grown man who cared about this race was a little chocked up. Reilly's black t-shirt fell below her knees. When they took pictures on stage, Melody-Ann Shultz and Roy Rivers had to help her hold the up the trophy. Her actually time on the course was 1:12:30. Just a phenomenal performance for someone that age. I'm pretty sure her actual time was faster than most of the men in their 20s were able to run the course.
* Sal Vasquez holding Reilly Johnson
* the top 3
I was extremely satisfied with my race. I had steadily improved as a runner from the prior fall through early Spring, but after my injury a good Dipsea race was seriously in doubt. Even though my race wasn't perfect by any stretch (although I don't know of any runner who's ever said they ran a perfect race), I definitely think I made the most of the amount of time I had to prepare for the race and the fitness I had on raceday. I was also happy for Dana. It was great to have her share what's become a huge part of my running. In her first race, she ran a very solid 1:22 and looks forward to racing next year!
348 days until the 101st Dipsea...
* Back home & very tired. I wore my black shirt the entire day.
I'd say there's two main aspects of the Dipsea that makes it so unique. First, it's the most beautiful and toughest cross country race in America. The 7.5 mile distance isn't so intimidating, but add to that 2000+ feet of climbing and descending, hundreds of stairs to climb up and fly down, narrow trails, uneven footing, and a lot of poison oak. Over the course of the race, you look up at beautiful Mt. Tamalpais, run under giant redwoods at Muir Woods, and stare down at the Pacific, that is of course if you're able to take your eyes off of the trail right in front of you. Second, the Dipsea is a handicap race. Each age & gender group has an assigned starting time with the youngest and oldest runners starting first at 8:30 am, 19-30 year old men starting last at 8:55 am, and a different group starting every minute in between. At 32 years old, I started at 8:54 - a 1 minute head start over the "scratch" group. Then whoever gets to the finish line first is crowned the overall winner. There are no age group awards, just coveted black numbered t-shirts that are awarded to the first 35 to finish. Based on the format, runners of ANY age have a shot at winning. If you don't believe me, read on!
My preparation for the Dipsea started with a long build up of base mileage throughout the winter with increasing workout intensity in the early spring. But my training hit a snag when I sprained my right ankle and had to miss most of April. My initial emotions told me that I had lost any shot of running well and winning a black shirt. Even if I managed to maintain/regain my fitness in time, I was worried that my ankle would never be strong enough to handle a tough run over the extreme course. I went to physical therapy to strengthen the ankle, and when I started running again, I had 7 weeks to get ready. I figured 1 week to jog, 1 to run, 4 to really train, then 1 to taper. With just over two weeks to go, I felt my fitness was finally coming around and my confidence boosting. I was going to be ready!
The race starts gently enough as you run on a flat section from downtown Mill Valley, but that's over quickly as you hit the first of the 688 stairs a quarter mile into the race. After the stairs, you continue uphill & crest Panoramic Highway. Then it's the first downhill section as you descend on a single track trail, then a road, then a steep narrow trailed called Suicide. After that you enter Muir Woods, almost back down to sea level. That's where the real fun begins. You cross a creep on a narrow foot bridge, then it's 2+ miles uphill gaining over 1300 feet, ending with Cardiac Hill. After Cardiac you wind along a gradual downhill trail for about a mile, before the technical downhill sections of The Swoop & Steep Ravine. Then there's one last short, but typically painful uphill know as Insult Hill. Finally in the last mile runners take their favorite routes back to Highway 1 before finishing in the Stinson Beach parking lot.
Even though the course is constantly changing, I like to break the race down into three sections: The start to Muir Woods, Muir Woods to Cardiac Hill, and Cardiac to the finish. The first part is about finding a rhythm - running fast without burning too much energy, the middle section requires the most fitness and toughness, and the finish is about managing very technical descents when you're very tired.
On to the race...
I was relieved to shake off the nerves and sleep well the night before. I warmed up with some buddies, and felt ready to go. Since this was my first year in the invitational section (I was in the dipsea runners section last year which starts behind all of the invitational section), I didn't know what to expect in terms of the congestion from passing runners out on the course. Mark McManus, who won 3 fastest time trophies from 2006-2008 and was second overall last year, was starting in my group, so the game plan was to follow as closely to him as practicable for the first sections of the race. He would know better than anyone how to navigate and pace his way through the crowds.
The nerves really started to hit as we lined up for our 8:54 starting group, but I knew I was ready for today, and that I had a long race ahead that wouldn't get all that difficult until it got really hard heading up to Cardiac Hill. As the whistle blew, I tucked in right behind Mark & Stephen Donahue (who finished 9th overall last year) as we headed up the steps. I found the congestion on the stairs manageable in the invitational section, unlike last year in the Dipsea Runner's section last year it was almost impossible just to keep running. As we ran up the 3 groups of steps, then continued uphill to Panoramic Highway, I was feeling well under control. This wasn't easy, but it wasn't all that painful yet. I let Mark & Stephen go a few seconds ahead of me, but they were still in contact.
As we crested the first climb and headed downhill on the first real section of single track trail, I found myself held up by some slower runners. I seemed to lack the rhythm to find a spot to pass on the side while keeping a steady pace on the uneven downhill terrain. Like I often do in races, told myself to relax, and got myself around some of these runners - to the right, to the left, or wherever I could. As I looked up, Stephen was getting closer to me again. That gave me confidence that I was moving well down the hill.
After that we hit a downhill section of road. Downhill running has been a real weakness of mine in terms of cross country races over the past year. I never seem to keep pace with comparable runners when we hit long and/or steep downhill sections of races. I had tried all sorts of variations to my stride, but finally in the weeks leading up to the Dipsea I found that a short quick turnover was the ticket to moving fast while conserving energy. On this section of the race, I just looked up for the best lines to pass between people, and kept those legs moving. As we neared the next trailhead, I realized I was actually catching back up to Mark... on the downhill!
Next up was suicide, the first really technical part of the course. I couldn't keep up with Mark's technical downhill skills, in fact after this point, I never saw him again, but I managed to find a way to pass slower runners as I bombed down, and caught right up with Stephen by the end.
As we hit the footbridge at Muir Woods, my split was 15:25. I'd run over a minute faster to this point than last year! Part of the reason was less congestion in the invitational section compared to the dipsea runner's section, but still a good sign. Now onto the fun part, the 1300 foot elevation gain up to Cardiac Hill. From my training, I found it never worked out to hammer the first steep section out of Muir Woods (known as dynamite). It just took too much energy when there would still be so long to go. So I settled into what felt like a painfully slow pace, but still kept me passing runners quickly. As we climbed out of Muir Woods, Stephen started to pull away slowly, but I needed to run my race so I let him go. As we transitioned into the middle section of the climb, I starting hitting what I considered an annoying amount of congestion for the first time. I'm not sure the congestion was actually worse, but I think I'm catching more competitive runners, and it's at a point when I'm having to work really hard to run a slower pace (because of the uphill). The half way rock marks the spot where you're roughly half way up the climb, and half way through the race time wise. This had been my mark to pick up the tempo and start to push harder up the climb. If you're really awake, you can take advantage of some rolling sections to run fast, while other runners might be take a breather. My most disappointing part of the race is that I "fell asleep" here when I should have been running aggressively. Several people have told me not to waste too much energy being overaggressive trying to push people out of your way. I took it too far the other way by not doing what I needed to do when I got caught up by people blocking the trail. So bottom line is I wasn't moving fast on the sections I should have been flying on.
As I reached the top, I was feeling better than last year, but not as well as I did in some of my training runs. I downed one cup of water, dumped another on my head, and hit the split on my watch. My time of Cardiac was a disappointing 20:39 - over 30 seconds slower than last year, but the total split of 36:04 was still 37 seconds faster than last year.
From here the trail starts gradually downhill for the next mile. Finally the crowds had thinned out, but I could see several runners up ahead. Then something unwelcomed happened. As I wound up my pace on the downhill, I felt a piercing side cramp. I couldn't even exhale without a loud grunt. It was so loud that a runner just ahead turned around to see what horrible animal might possibly be hunting him down. I tried pressing my rib cage - no relief. Then for some reason tried a deep cough... momentary relief! I few breaths later I tried again, then a few breaths later it was gone! Finally! Time to roll!
Now I'm just looking ahead for the next runners to lock onto. There was a pack about 200 meters ahead that I'd catch a glimpse of on straight sections of the path, and I was reeling then in quickly. Right around the 5 mile mark, a volunteer said "you're in 38th, the black t-shirts are just ahead." This was a shot of excitement. I quickly caught the next three runners, and told myself "you're wearing a black t-shirt!" I just wanted to make that number on the shirt as low as possible. Each time I passed a runner, I counted down my place – one tiny bit of motivation at a time to propel me toward the next person.
Unfortunately one of the next runners I passed was the 2007 Dipsea champ, Jamie Rivers (at the time Jamie Berns). Last year Jamie married one of my occasional training partners – the 2008 Dipsea champ Roy Rivers. Both Jamie (59) & Roy (53) are part of the Tuesday night Pelican Inn running group. A few of the older runners in the group have been gathering for Tuesday runs since 1985! The past two years, I’ve met with the group for the grueling Cardiac Hill time trials in the weeks leading up to the race. This year, the group formed the Pelican Inn Track Club to take a shot at winning the team title for the 100th Dipsea. While I’m very loyal to my West Valley Track Club, my normal team doesn’t compete at the Dipsea, so I was happy to team up with this other fantastic group to run my favorite race.
Both Jamie & Roy have given me lots of advice about running the race (except for maybe their favorite short cuts – I may never know). When I went out to practice the downhill steps of steep ravine the Thursday before the race, I saw them both of them out on the same section of the course, inspecting the conditions and surveying the course one last time before the race. As I was struggling to find a rhythm down the stairs, Jamie gave me some great advice to just visualize keeping my chest forward out over my feet. It was a slight adjustment, but it made a huge difference, allowing me to take up to 3 steps at a time. Both of them have been had given me so much encouragement as I fought back into fitness the month leading up to the race.
When I passed Jamie on the course, she was walking with a noticeable limp. But even with what must have been considerable disappointment to fall out of contention, she was cheering on every runner who passed her. I just thought it was a great demonstration of what a true Dipsea champ is all about. It turns out that Jamie was trying for her 14th black t-shirt which would have broken a tie for the most ever won by a female. At our Pelican Inn dinner two nights after the race, it was my turn to encourage her – I have no doubt she’ll be high on the podium last year.
* running toward the swoopAfter I passed Jamie, I started recognizing some of the Pacific Association master’s men and open woman as I passed them and continued to count down. As we hit the swoop - a steep section similar to suicide - I was briefly held up by a PA runner who I recognized, but then returned to aggressive tactics yelling "LEFT LEFT LEFT" which pretty much scared him into giving me the little bit of room I need to let gravity do its magic. I made easy work of the next couple runners as I counted my position 29th, 28th.
Then onto steep ravine, which is the most technical downhill section with steep uneven steps. The steps were still a bit wet and slippery just 10 days ago, but after a very warm week they were finally dry. I slipped twice here last year, just avoiding a real fall both times. But this year, I was finally dialed in taking 2-3 stairs with each step. 27th, 26th... Then I saw something unexpected. As I'm flying down the stairs, I see an older man clawing his way out of the ravine back on the trail! Good news is he was ok, but just a reminder of how treacherous that course can be!
As I cross the foot bridge and head toward insult hill, someone yells out "Let's go Gus." Oh man! My buddy Gus Gibbs has made up the 1 minute headstart I had over him. I pushed the pace up insult hill. His footsteps briefly faded, but as we crest the hill and get our first view of Stinson Beach, he's right back on me. Man he must be flying on the downhills! I stay in front of him on the first of two very narrow short single track sections off the highway, but before the final single track, he passes me and quickly pulls away. As we rejoin the highway heading into the sprint to Stinson Beach, I'm in 20th place. I see Gus and Stephen Donahue way up ahead, but too far to have any chance. Then I catch a glimpse of a runner in his 60s (who turns out to be Jerry Edelbrock who owns a pile of black T-shirts). But he's so far away! My rational psyche tells me not to even bother launching a hard kick, but I keep telling myself that he's much older and isn't running nearly as fast as I am. We make the last turn and I really dig in and see him coming back to me quickly. With about 50 meters to go, I finally know I have him so I try to savor the last few seconds of the race as I hear the announcer say "WE'RE GOING TO HAVE A PASS... IT'S JAMEY GIFFORD."
* one last runner to chase down
* driving toward the finish
19th Place in 52:40 (a clock time of 51:40 w/ my 1 minute head start). 49 seconds faster than last year!
The elation sunk in immediately. I remember thinking "I want my black shirt now!" but of course would have to wait a couple of hours until the awards ceremony. So I rubbed down with tecnu (to wash off the poison oak) - I got it bad the next week anyway. Then I went for a painful cool down jog - oh yeah... I had run hard today! And finally enjoyed a couple beers with my Pelican Inn teammates.
* post race treats!
* the Pelican Inn Track Club
* Dana & I enjoying the post-race
At the awards ceremony, they count down the black shirt winners starting with 35th placeDipsea winner, 72 year old Russ Kiernan finished right in front of me, and I had a great time chatting with him throughout the ceremony. My training buddies Mark McManus finished 6th, Alex Varner 4th (along with the fastest time trophy), and Roy Rivers 3rd. Standing in front of the stage as they handed out the awards was so special for me, and clearly was for everybody else up there.
* the black shirt winners
* Russ Kiernan
The winner was quite a shock to many. Last year 7 year old Reilly Johnson took covered the course in 1:27 along with the maximum 25 minute head start to finish 199th. This year, 8 year old Reilly would get the same 25 minute head start for the final time - or I should say the final time until the year 2068 when she turns 66. Reilly, who had done her 3rd grade history report on the Dipsea Race, was inspired to train for a black shirt. As the tiny runner she practiced and trained, her parents came to a shocking conclusion. She could win this race! Reilly started the race in the first head start group with former champion Melody-Ann Schultz. The two would push each other for the entire race. Running down the swoop, Reilly stumbled. Melody-Ann was right behind with no where to go, so she scoops her up and "C'mon darling, get up!" Reilly passed Melody-Ann again on insult hill, and held her off by 8 seconds to win the 100th Dipsea Race.
* the two leaders
The final award was so touching. Sal Vasquez holds the distinction of being the greatest Dipsea champion, hands down. Sal won 4 years in a row from 1982-1985, after which they added a winner's penalty (head start minutes reduced following a Dipsea championship). He followed it up with wins in 1990, 1994, and 1997. But after 1997 Sal never returned. Finally this year Sal, although unable to race due to injuries, traveled to the Bay Area to be part of the 100th Dipsea celebration. Just before announcing Reilly Johnson as the champion of the 100th Dipsea, the announcer called Sal Vasquez on stage to present the award. Sal, lifted up the tiny girl to the microphone so that she could thank her family. Reilly had an ear to ear grin, but tears in her eyes. I think every grown man who cared about this race was a little chocked up. Reilly's black t-shirt fell below her knees. When they took pictures on stage, Melody-Ann Shultz and Roy Rivers had to help her hold the up the trophy. Her actually time on the course was 1:12:30. Just a phenomenal performance for someone that age. I'm pretty sure her actual time was faster than most of the men in their 20s were able to run the course.
* the top 3
I was extremely satisfied with my race. I had steadily improved as a runner from the prior fall through early Spring, but after my injury a good Dipsea race was seriously in doubt. Even though my race wasn't perfect by any stretch (although I don't know of any runner who's ever said they ran a perfect race), I definitely think I made the most of the amount of time I had to prepare for the race and the fitness I had on raceday. I was also happy for Dana. It was great to have her share what's become a huge part of my running. In her first race, she ran a very solid 1:22 and looks forward to racing next year!
348 days until the 101st Dipsea...
* Back home & very tired. I wore my black shirt the entire day.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
It's been 100 years, now there's 1 day to go
The wait is almost over for the 100th Dipsea Race. Friday night, Dana & I picked up our bibs. It was so cool to see it say "100th Running of the Dipsea Race" at the top. What started as a bet over beers at the beach in the early 1900s quickly turned into the toughest and most storied cross country race in the U.S.
My participation seems like a bit of a coincidence. In early '09 I was running with a buddy who he was entering that year's race to guarantee a spot for the 100th race. I thought, hmmm... sounds fun, maybe I'll do the same. I got a spot in the 99th running through the lottery system, and a good race easily qualified me for this year. Sometime between receiving my entry confirmation in '09 and toeing the starting line last year, I fell in love with the race. I was introduced to the Pelican Inn runnres (a group of guys that first started meeting for runs back in 1985). The original - now silver haired - crew has been joined by younger runners over the years. I also read about the past and recent history of the race, and have been dying to be part of it ever sense. I've been dreaming out the 100th race since I cross the finish line of the 99th!
My long build up hit a snag, when I missed most of April with a sprained ankle. Training was frustrating at times in early May, but I kept pressing hard. Finally the last couple weeks, everything has come together. My training runs on the course kept getting faster, while feeling easier. Tomorrow I'll run my second Dipsea, but first time out of the Invitational section.
If you don't know about the Dipsea Race, it's very unique. The time you start the race is based on your age/gender handicap, then you run approximately 7.5 miles with over 2000 feet up & down over treacherous terrain, then finish in Stinson Beach. First person across the line wins. People I normally don't compete against - particularly younger and older runners - become rivals thanks to the handicaps. There's no age group awards, black t-shirts (with numbers) for the top 35 to finish. I can't wait to try mine on!
My participation seems like a bit of a coincidence. In early '09 I was running with a buddy who he was entering that year's race to guarantee a spot for the 100th race. I thought, hmmm... sounds fun, maybe I'll do the same. I got a spot in the 99th running through the lottery system, and a good race easily qualified me for this year. Sometime between receiving my entry confirmation in '09 and toeing the starting line last year, I fell in love with the race. I was introduced to the Pelican Inn runnres (a group of guys that first started meeting for runs back in 1985). The original - now silver haired - crew has been joined by younger runners over the years. I also read about the past and recent history of the race, and have been dying to be part of it ever sense. I've been dreaming out the 100th race since I cross the finish line of the 99th!
My long build up hit a snag, when I missed most of April with a sprained ankle. Training was frustrating at times in early May, but I kept pressing hard. Finally the last couple weeks, everything has come together. My training runs on the course kept getting faster, while feeling easier. Tomorrow I'll run my second Dipsea, but first time out of the Invitational section.
If you don't know about the Dipsea Race, it's very unique. The time you start the race is based on your age/gender handicap, then you run approximately 7.5 miles with over 2000 feet up & down over treacherous terrain, then finish in Stinson Beach. First person across the line wins. People I normally don't compete against - particularly younger and older runners - become rivals thanks to the handicaps. There's no age group awards, black t-shirts (with numbers) for the top 35 to finish. I can't wait to try mine on!
Sunday, June 6, 2010
The Road Mile
This morning I took a slight detour from my Dipsea training to run the San Rafael Road Mile - a new addition to the Pacific Association schedule. I hadn't even committed myself to running this race until the night before, but figured what the heck, it would be fun to race my first mile since college, and it should be a good final sharpening for the Dipsea in a week.
Before the race, I had NO IDEA what to expect. I've become increasingly confident with my fitness over the past two weeks, but that fitness has been focused toward hilly trail running, not fast road racing. I'd only run a small handful of track workouts since resuming my training in late April. My only speed work at all was a set of 6x200 in 29-32 at the end of a workout.
The course was slightly net downhill. You start on a downslope, make two right turns as you pass the finish line at the 1/4 mark. Then it is 3/8 (~600 meteres) on a gradual upslope, the a 180 degree turn and 3/8 of a mile downhill to the finish.
I watched the masters race a half an hour before the open men's race, and noticed that most the runners were not dying at the finish. I tweaked my strategy from "don't go out like a bat out of hell" to "don't go out like a bat out of hell, but don't be afraid to push hard to the top of the hill".
As we started I jumped fast off the line, then told myself to stay composed on the downhill first quarter mile. As we made the 2 right turns and headed back uphill, a few runners passed me - including Gus Gibbs & Alan Jackson of the Rebels. But feeling good around 600 meters, I picked up my knees and tried to keep them in contact, as well as keeping my eyes on Todd Rose just head of them. At the half mile mark, I'm still feeling good and kept pressing and moved around Alan with the turn around 200 meters away. Before the race, I told myself to take that turn hard because it was likely to be a spot where tired runners would lose momentum. As I banked into the 180 degree turn I almost ran right into the back of a Transports runner who sure enough had slowed around the turn. If there was a spot of the race where I cost myself some time it was from the turn around until about 300 meters to go as I wasn't pressing the downhill hard enough. Alan blew by me (triggering a memory of his decisive downhill move at the Humboldt Half Marathon), along with another runner. Finally I told myself to go, and held my spot to the finish line. Final time 4:30.
I don't think my time was a particularly grand performance, but I'm very happy with how I competed. I finished right with a group of guys who beat me by 1-2 minutes at the 10K last weekend. Overall it went surprisingly smoothly considering I hadn't raced the distance in 8 years. Based on what the front runners ran, it seems like somewhat of a slow course will the hill and the turns.
The Dipsea is 1 week away. I'm ready & I'm excited!
Before the race, I had NO IDEA what to expect. I've become increasingly confident with my fitness over the past two weeks, but that fitness has been focused toward hilly trail running, not fast road racing. I'd only run a small handful of track workouts since resuming my training in late April. My only speed work at all was a set of 6x200 in 29-32 at the end of a workout.
The course was slightly net downhill. You start on a downslope, make two right turns as you pass the finish line at the 1/4 mark. Then it is 3/8 (~600 meteres) on a gradual upslope, the a 180 degree turn and 3/8 of a mile downhill to the finish.
I watched the masters race a half an hour before the open men's race, and noticed that most the runners were not dying at the finish. I tweaked my strategy from "don't go out like a bat out of hell" to "don't go out like a bat out of hell, but don't be afraid to push hard to the top of the hill".
As we started I jumped fast off the line, then told myself to stay composed on the downhill first quarter mile. As we made the 2 right turns and headed back uphill, a few runners passed me - including Gus Gibbs & Alan Jackson of the Rebels. But feeling good around 600 meters, I picked up my knees and tried to keep them in contact, as well as keeping my eyes on Todd Rose just head of them. At the half mile mark, I'm still feeling good and kept pressing and moved around Alan with the turn around 200 meters away. Before the race, I told myself to take that turn hard because it was likely to be a spot where tired runners would lose momentum. As I banked into the 180 degree turn I almost ran right into the back of a Transports runner who sure enough had slowed around the turn. If there was a spot of the race where I cost myself some time it was from the turn around until about 300 meters to go as I wasn't pressing the downhill hard enough. Alan blew by me (triggering a memory of his decisive downhill move at the Humboldt Half Marathon), along with another runner. Finally I told myself to go, and held my spot to the finish line. Final time 4:30.
I don't think my time was a particularly grand performance, but I'm very happy with how I competed. I finished right with a group of guys who beat me by 1-2 minutes at the 10K last weekend. Overall it went surprisingly smoothly considering I hadn't raced the distance in 8 years. Based on what the front runners ran, it seems like somewhat of a slow course will the hill and the turns.
The Dipsea is 1 week away. I'm ready & I'm excited!
Monday, May 31, 2010
Catching up
I have to say the 'ole blog has been suffering from some neglect considering it's been 5 weeks. Fortunately it hasn't been a lack of running to report on, but rather a busy and tiring work schedule. Our new business is off to a good start, and I'm very excited about my roll. Of course if you've read the papers you know that the financial markets have been in a bit of turmoul this past month, as fears of a European meltdown have spilled all around the globe. For a trader in my business, market volatility typically creates profitable opportunities. But when you're dealing with potential events such as large as large sovereign debt defaults, the dreaded term contagion sneaks in - meaning fear in one market pours over to most others. At a time like this diversification has little benefit because asset classes tend to become highly correlated, decoupling into risky assets - stocks, corporate bonds, energy & industrial commodities, and in this case even the Euro, and into non-risky assets - in this case US treasury bonds & at times gold. With markets behaving badly, I've had to spend up to 10 hours a week longer at the office than normal evaluating and managing the risks in our portfolio. But enough of the boring stuff, because luckily getting my evening runs and workouts has been a great unwind for me.
On Saturday May 1st I saw one of the greatest distance running thrills of my life at the Cardinal Invitational at Stanford. At this same meet in 2001 I was standing on the edge of the track when Meb Keflezhighi broke the American 10K record running 27:13. On this Saturday, former Oregon runner Galen Rupp had his sights set on beating the 9 year old record. Rupp - well more his coach Alberto Salazar - had created some controversy before the race as he wavered between running the Oregon relays the night before (which had a bad weather forcast), Stanford on Saturday (which had a severe polin count), or a last minute race set up just for him on Saturday in Eugene. To the delight of Northern California residents, he chose to race at Stanford, joining one of the deepest 10K fields on US soil in years. In addition to Rupp, collegiate 10K record holder Sam Chelenga, Kenyan Daniel Salel, Chris Solinsky, and behind them a who's who of US 10K studs were all running.
After a conservative first lap, the race developed as expected with Rupp tucking in behind his 2 pace setters clicking off staggering 65 second laps (which was the record pace). The group hit the 5K split in 13:34 - right on pace. It was still the 2 pacesetters followed by Rupp, Chelenga, Salel, and Solinsky still tagging along for the ride. By the 4 mile mark, the 2 pacesetters had dropped off, and Rupp chased after history with 3 runners still in tow. Rupped stayed on pace at first, but as he neared the end of 5 miles, the pace fell a second or two off target. At this point, I was debating with my buddies in the stands whether or not Rupp would get the record. I still had faith thinking that with 4 runners still in contention that the final mile would be fast enough.
With 4 laps to go, the crowd was suddenly buzzing about Chris Solinsky. The 6'2", 160 pound runner (which is very large for an elite 10K runner) was making his debut at the distance and was looking completely comfortable at US record pace with a mile to go. Chris had been a high school & college national champion. He had been an elite post collegian, but not yet a national champion at that level. With 3 laps to go, Solinksy surged past the 2 african runners and tucked in right behind Rupp. Could he possibly be in contention for the win here??? Coming off the turn with 2 laps to go, Solinsky moves out on Rupp's shoulder and after a slight delay surges into the lead. By the backstretch he had opened up 10 meters, with Rupp surging after him. With 2 Americans flying through the night with 600 meters to go, we all knew the record would fall. Solinsky hit the bell lap and the announcer calls out his split of 60.2 seconds - and he looked effortless doing it! The clock read 26:03. Now the real kick began. The last time down the back stretch there was no question that he would win the race and break the record... only a question of what time would he run. As he hit 200 meters to go, there was a new possibility, COULD HE BREAK 27 MINUTES?? In the last straightaway, Solinsky lifted his knees, pumped his arms, finally showed his first signs of fatigue, but never slowed. He crossed the line freezing the clock at 26:59.60!! I doubt there's ever been quite an eruption from the Cobb Track grandstands. Gupp finished 4th in 27:10 - under the old American Record.
In the days following the race, bloggers and message board posters tried to accuse Rupp of bad sportsmanship somehow. Both runners quickly put an end to it. The race video clearly shows Rupp congratulating Solinsky. You can't blame Rupp for not jumping up and down and celebrating, but he showed class afterward. The next day, Solinsky gave Rupp credit for leading through the toughest part of the race, and acknowledged he wouldn't have broken the record otherwise. Then later in the week in an interview Rupp conceded that he was of course disappointed, but happy for his buddy Chris (as they both run for Nike in the Portland area). What a great time for US distance running with Ryan Hall, Meb, Dathan Ritzhenheim, Matt Tegencamp, Galen Rupp, and now Chris Solinsky running at a world class level.
Here's a great video of the race - if you haven't seen it, I'd highly recommend watching at least the last mile of the Flotrack video (middle link at 22 minutes). Note you'll have to let it load for a few minutes before jumping ahead.
http://www.letsrun.com/2010/solinskyvideo0502.php
On a slower note, my running is back on track after the sprained ankle. I started jogging the last week of April, and was consistently training by mid may. It was a struggle at first, but the past two weeks I've felt consistently strong. I ran Bay to Breakers as a tempo hoping to still match last year's time (I fell about 20 seconds short running 42:08 for 12K). Then this morning, I ran 33:45 for the Marin 10K. My first thought was great, just ran the same crappy time as last year. I was running good splits early on (10:25 at 2 miles and 15:50 at 3 miles), but slowed badly in the 2nd half. But a few hours later I think that's somewhat encouraging I matched last year's time, since my training has been focused almost entirely on hill stregnth for the Dipsea. Plus the morning was pretty warm by the end of the race.
I'm feeling good about my chances at the Dipsea. I think when I taper back, my crash course fitness plan will be well timed to win my first black t-shirt... and hopefully one with a low number on it :)
Here's a pic I took of the AR 10K race with 500 meters to go...
On Saturday May 1st I saw one of the greatest distance running thrills of my life at the Cardinal Invitational at Stanford. At this same meet in 2001 I was standing on the edge of the track when Meb Keflezhighi broke the American 10K record running 27:13. On this Saturday, former Oregon runner Galen Rupp had his sights set on beating the 9 year old record. Rupp - well more his coach Alberto Salazar - had created some controversy before the race as he wavered between running the Oregon relays the night before (which had a bad weather forcast), Stanford on Saturday (which had a severe polin count), or a last minute race set up just for him on Saturday in Eugene. To the delight of Northern California residents, he chose to race at Stanford, joining one of the deepest 10K fields on US soil in years. In addition to Rupp, collegiate 10K record holder Sam Chelenga, Kenyan Daniel Salel, Chris Solinsky, and behind them a who's who of US 10K studs were all running.
After a conservative first lap, the race developed as expected with Rupp tucking in behind his 2 pace setters clicking off staggering 65 second laps (which was the record pace). The group hit the 5K split in 13:34 - right on pace. It was still the 2 pacesetters followed by Rupp, Chelenga, Salel, and Solinsky still tagging along for the ride. By the 4 mile mark, the 2 pacesetters had dropped off, and Rupp chased after history with 3 runners still in tow. Rupped stayed on pace at first, but as he neared the end of 5 miles, the pace fell a second or two off target. At this point, I was debating with my buddies in the stands whether or not Rupp would get the record. I still had faith thinking that with 4 runners still in contention that the final mile would be fast enough.
With 4 laps to go, the crowd was suddenly buzzing about Chris Solinsky. The 6'2", 160 pound runner (which is very large for an elite 10K runner) was making his debut at the distance and was looking completely comfortable at US record pace with a mile to go. Chris had been a high school & college national champion. He had been an elite post collegian, but not yet a national champion at that level. With 3 laps to go, Solinksy surged past the 2 african runners and tucked in right behind Rupp. Could he possibly be in contention for the win here??? Coming off the turn with 2 laps to go, Solinsky moves out on Rupp's shoulder and after a slight delay surges into the lead. By the backstretch he had opened up 10 meters, with Rupp surging after him. With 2 Americans flying through the night with 600 meters to go, we all knew the record would fall. Solinsky hit the bell lap and the announcer calls out his split of 60.2 seconds - and he looked effortless doing it! The clock read 26:03. Now the real kick began. The last time down the back stretch there was no question that he would win the race and break the record... only a question of what time would he run. As he hit 200 meters to go, there was a new possibility, COULD HE BREAK 27 MINUTES?? In the last straightaway, Solinsky lifted his knees, pumped his arms, finally showed his first signs of fatigue, but never slowed. He crossed the line freezing the clock at 26:59.60!! I doubt there's ever been quite an eruption from the Cobb Track grandstands. Gupp finished 4th in 27:10 - under the old American Record.
In the days following the race, bloggers and message board posters tried to accuse Rupp of bad sportsmanship somehow. Both runners quickly put an end to it. The race video clearly shows Rupp congratulating Solinsky. You can't blame Rupp for not jumping up and down and celebrating, but he showed class afterward. The next day, Solinsky gave Rupp credit for leading through the toughest part of the race, and acknowledged he wouldn't have broken the record otherwise. Then later in the week in an interview Rupp conceded that he was of course disappointed, but happy for his buddy Chris (as they both run for Nike in the Portland area). What a great time for US distance running with Ryan Hall, Meb, Dathan Ritzhenheim, Matt Tegencamp, Galen Rupp, and now Chris Solinsky running at a world class level.
Here's a great video of the race - if you haven't seen it, I'd highly recommend watching at least the last mile of the Flotrack video (middle link at 22 minutes). Note you'll have to let it load for a few minutes before jumping ahead.
http://www.letsrun.com/2010/solinskyvideo0502.php
On a slower note, my running is back on track after the sprained ankle. I started jogging the last week of April, and was consistently training by mid may. It was a struggle at first, but the past two weeks I've felt consistently strong. I ran Bay to Breakers as a tempo hoping to still match last year's time (I fell about 20 seconds short running 42:08 for 12K). Then this morning, I ran 33:45 for the Marin 10K. My first thought was great, just ran the same crappy time as last year. I was running good splits early on (10:25 at 2 miles and 15:50 at 3 miles), but slowed badly in the 2nd half. But a few hours later I think that's somewhat encouraging I matched last year's time, since my training has been focused almost entirely on hill stregnth for the Dipsea. Plus the morning was pretty warm by the end of the race.
I'm feeling good about my chances at the Dipsea. I think when I taper back, my crash course fitness plan will be well timed to win my first black t-shirt... and hopefully one with a low number on it :)
Here's a pic I took of the AR 10K race with 500 meters to go...
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Cleared
I saw the doctor on Tuesday & we agreed it was time to start running! I had spent 3 weeks on the sidelines with a sprained ankle. During the time, I got on my road bike 4 - 5 days a week. Some of my rides were really enjoyable, but overall it was tough to motivate. It just take longer to workout, there's a equipment to deal with, and on top of that work has been busy - meaning a lot of 6am to 5pm days.
The ankle is feeling almost 100% now after PT, icing, anti-inflams, etc... I've run 3 times so for this week, and now the problem is getting my butt back in shape in time for the Dipsea. I have a couple races in May, so I'll try the race my way back in shape strategy. Mentally I just need to stay motivated and not let myself get frustrated that I've lost a lot of the fitness I built up year to date.
The ankle is feeling almost 100% now after PT, icing, anti-inflams, etc... I've run 3 times so for this week, and now the problem is getting my butt back in shape in time for the Dipsea. I have a couple races in May, so I'll try the race my way back in shape strategy. Mentally I just need to stay motivated and not let myself get frustrated that I've lost a lot of the fitness I built up year to date.
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