The Shoes
At the August Fun run I ended up winning a pair of shoes. Mark Romero graciously gave them to me after his name was called after I joked about them being my size. I think I also promised to run if I had good shoes. In truth they just went on a shelf in my office in case I got the urge to run. Fast forward to October. Josie kept pushing her half marathon on her blog and through a steady stream of emails. On a lark I emailed a form back to her with my name on it trying to enter the ‘couch potato’ division.
My wife has been running in the fun run series for a while now and occasionally takes the dogs out for a few laps around the neighborhood. I went with her once. It didn’t take.
Josie took my entry form seriously and demanded $25. I didn’t have the heart to back out and decided to start training. Unfortunately I made that decision Halloween night at 10pm. The extent of my training was unlocking the rec center to get my shoes off the shelf, lacing them up and trying them on. It was getting pretty late so I headed home at a pretty good pace, in my truck. At least eh shoes fit.
On Saturday morning I ate a quick power breakfast (frosted flakes in whole milk)and loaded up my gear (shorts and shoes) to go to the park. It was a little awkward trying to explain to all of the runners there that I wasn’t there to time the race, but to run. It was even harder to answer the comment “I didn’t think you were a runner”. For the record: I am not a runner. I might occasionally chase a soccer ball or Frisbee but running for the sake of running rarely crosses my mind, and never in a good way.
I found my way to the top of mink creek. Everyone in my van was talking excitedly about their last marathon or half marathon, training schedules and best times. I was trying to avoid interaction and be un-memorable. At the top parking lot I avoided pictures and groups taking pictures fastidiously. I didn’t want there to be any hard evidence that I had started the race, in case I didn’t finish. Government workers always try to maintain plausible deniability. When I worked for a service company an acronym we used for some customers was D.A.K. or denies all knowledge. i.e.: Customer DAK of gaping hole in wall. I wanted to DAK that I was there to run if I ended up dead by the golf course.
Moments before the start I stripped down to shorts and the mandatory fun run shirt and took my place in the back of the pack. I thought that since I didn’t know how to pace myself, I don’t even own a watch, that I would just attach myself to someone that looked knowledgeable- but also preferred to run in the back. Everyone else seemed to have a heart rate monitor/watch/GPS but I remained undeterred. I did have brand new shoes, they had a grand total of 50 meters on them when it was time to go.
Fortunately Bridget Marshal had her usual timing (not quite late, not quite on time) and I attached to her for about 5 miles until I got a feel for the pacing. She made lovely conversation and we sauntered along at a pleasant pace through the beautiful fall hills on a perfect morning. I had heard these things were hard, but I was feeling pretty good. The course is about 7 miles of downhill (1300 feet downhill) and the balance is flat to slightly rolling. I bid farewell to Bridget and stepped up my pace a little, because I am not very smart.
I was pretty excited to pass the halfway mark because not only was I still alive but I was slowly passing people. My wife was out running errands (picking up the PA system, checking stations….) and kept informing me in a rather surprised tone that some people were behind me. She even started counting and giving me updates. "You passed 11 people so far" The night before we tried to guess my time Vegas style. I placed the time to beat at 2:30:00 and she took the Over. I based this on the last 5K I ran in 1997. It was a hair over 20 minutes, I multiplied by 4 to get the mileage right and adjusted a minute for each intervening year.
At the half way mark I was pacing just under 2:20:00 and feeling OK so I upped the pace again. Much to my surprise I started passing a few folks. I think most of the passing took place at aid stations. I think drinking water just adds weight to my already significant load, so I took it light. A few other people also took rest stop in the portable toilets not knowing that every minute spent in the blue room takes 10% of your lung capacity away for the next 24 hours.
At mile 11 there was an aid station with all sorts of goodies. I passed on the whiskey but did take a handful of licorice, a candy bar and some water to wash it down. I have to admit this was half because I don’t know how to take a hit of carb gel without gagging. While I was perusing the treat selection my muscles were rebelling by ceasing to work on command anymore. The cramps and tightening started to take a toll and I was feeling pretty terrible after my pit stop. At least the candy entertained me until I met my wife on the course a bit later.
She was all fresh and cheery and jogged easily alongside me pushing our stroller and talking like the effort was no big deal. I thought I was putting up a pretty mean pace. The final hill was a real challenge when my left leg ceased to work for a few yards. I tried to cry exclusively out of my left eye so Mindy couldn’t see. I coaxed my leg back to life by telling it this would never happen again and we could sit down in only a few yards. The finish was maybe 200 meters from the top of the hill. I cruised (not the right word) in at 2:03:?? and felt horrible. I could barely walk, marginally hobble and didn’t feel very social. Mindy pampered me and brought everything I required.
The food was excellent and plentiful and the weather held nicely. I was almost an hour behind the winner but managed to pass quite a few people somewhere along the way.
Josie announced that next year I was in charge of the race, much to my relief. Though I did act like I wanted to race again, for good PR. In truth my awesome running shoes will likely have just 13.2 miles on them next year in October when the Just Cuz rolls around again. But maybe not.
At the August Fun run I ended up winning a pair of shoes. Mark Romero graciously gave them to me after his name was called after I joked about them being my size. I think I also promised to run if I had good shoes. In truth they just went on a shelf in my office in case I got the urge to run. Fast forward to October. Josie kept pushing her half marathon on her blog and through a steady stream of emails. On a lark I emailed a form back to her with my name on it trying to enter the ‘couch potato’ division.
My wife has been running in the fun run series for a while now and occasionally takes the dogs out for a few laps around the neighborhood. I went with her once. It didn’t take.
Josie took my entry form seriously and demanded $25. I didn’t have the heart to back out and decided to start training. Unfortunately I made that decision Halloween night at 10pm. The extent of my training was unlocking the rec center to get my shoes off the shelf, lacing them up and trying them on. It was getting pretty late so I headed home at a pretty good pace, in my truck. At least eh shoes fit.
On Saturday morning I ate a quick power breakfast (frosted flakes in whole milk)and loaded up my gear (shorts and shoes) to go to the park. It was a little awkward trying to explain to all of the runners there that I wasn’t there to time the race, but to run. It was even harder to answer the comment “I didn’t think you were a runner”. For the record: I am not a runner. I might occasionally chase a soccer ball or Frisbee but running for the sake of running rarely crosses my mind, and never in a good way.
I found my way to the top of mink creek. Everyone in my van was talking excitedly about their last marathon or half marathon, training schedules and best times. I was trying to avoid interaction and be un-memorable. At the top parking lot I avoided pictures and groups taking pictures fastidiously. I didn’t want there to be any hard evidence that I had started the race, in case I didn’t finish. Government workers always try to maintain plausible deniability. When I worked for a service company an acronym we used for some customers was D.A.K. or denies all knowledge. i.e.: Customer DAK of gaping hole in wall. I wanted to DAK that I was there to run if I ended up dead by the golf course.
Moments before the start I stripped down to shorts and the mandatory fun run shirt and took my place in the back of the pack. I thought that since I didn’t know how to pace myself, I don’t even own a watch, that I would just attach myself to someone that looked knowledgeable- but also preferred to run in the back. Everyone else seemed to have a heart rate monitor/watch/GPS but I remained undeterred. I did have brand new shoes, they had a grand total of 50 meters on them when it was time to go.
Fortunately Bridget Marshal had her usual timing (not quite late, not quite on time) and I attached to her for about 5 miles until I got a feel for the pacing. She made lovely conversation and we sauntered along at a pleasant pace through the beautiful fall hills on a perfect morning. I had heard these things were hard, but I was feeling pretty good. The course is about 7 miles of downhill (1300 feet downhill) and the balance is flat to slightly rolling. I bid farewell to Bridget and stepped up my pace a little, because I am not very smart.
I was pretty excited to pass the halfway mark because not only was I still alive but I was slowly passing people. My wife was out running errands (picking up the PA system, checking stations….) and kept informing me in a rather surprised tone that some people were behind me. She even started counting and giving me updates. "You passed 11 people so far" The night before we tried to guess my time Vegas style. I placed the time to beat at 2:30:00 and she took the Over. I based this on the last 5K I ran in 1997. It was a hair over 20 minutes, I multiplied by 4 to get the mileage right and adjusted a minute for each intervening year.
At the half way mark I was pacing just under 2:20:00 and feeling OK so I upped the pace again. Much to my surprise I started passing a few folks. I think most of the passing took place at aid stations. I think drinking water just adds weight to my already significant load, so I took it light. A few other people also took rest stop in the portable toilets not knowing that every minute spent in the blue room takes 10% of your lung capacity away for the next 24 hours.
At mile 11 there was an aid station with all sorts of goodies. I passed on the whiskey but did take a handful of licorice, a candy bar and some water to wash it down. I have to admit this was half because I don’t know how to take a hit of carb gel without gagging. While I was perusing the treat selection my muscles were rebelling by ceasing to work on command anymore. The cramps and tightening started to take a toll and I was feeling pretty terrible after my pit stop. At least the candy entertained me until I met my wife on the course a bit later.
She was all fresh and cheery and jogged easily alongside me pushing our stroller and talking like the effort was no big deal. I thought I was putting up a pretty mean pace. The final hill was a real challenge when my left leg ceased to work for a few yards. I tried to cry exclusively out of my left eye so Mindy couldn’t see. I coaxed my leg back to life by telling it this would never happen again and we could sit down in only a few yards. The finish was maybe 200 meters from the top of the hill. I cruised (not the right word) in at 2:03:?? and felt horrible. I could barely walk, marginally hobble and didn’t feel very social. Mindy pampered me and brought everything I required.
The food was excellent and plentiful and the weather held nicely. I was almost an hour behind the winner but managed to pass quite a few people somewhere along the way.
Josie announced that next year I was in charge of the race, much to my relief. Though I did act like I wanted to race again, for good PR. In truth my awesome running shoes will likely have just 13.2 miles on them next year in October when the Just Cuz rolls around again. But maybe not.
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