Archive for the ‘Running’ Category

Dear Asher & Avy, 

First off, I need you both to understand that I don’t really enjoy running. I do it for you. I do it so I won’t weigh 350 lbs. I do it so that I’ll hopefully still be around to attend your college graduation, to walk you down the aisle, to meet my grandchildren. Etc. etc. Blah blah blah…

So, all for you, I signed up to run the White Rock Half Marathon.

The night before the big day, I dropped you (Asher) off at Gramma & Granpa’s for the night, and met up with some fellow half marathoner friends from work for a pre-race carb extravaganza. We ate an exceptionally tasty pasta dinner at Patrizio’s on Preston & Mockingbird – Angel hair pasta with artichokes and sun dried tomatoes. Then it was straight home to try to get a good night’s rest.

I woke up at 5am to the dreaded sound of pouring rain. It was 45 degrees outside and wasn’t going to get any warmer. I dressed in shorts, a body armor long sleeved cold gear shirt, a light running shirt over that, light gloves and a head band that covered my ears. I was ready to freeze my ass off.  After getting dressed, I grabbed my rain coat, hopped in the car and drove over to Sarah’s (friend from work) house near Greenville Ave & Mockingbird to meet up with some other runners and carpool to Fair Park. We had some bananas and coffee, and headed off in the rain to the outright crappiest part of Dallas. Traffic was ridiculous and parking was worse, but we finally parked and made our way towards the starting line with the throngs of the other 26,000 racers. It was cold. It was rainy. It was generally miserable. But, I took solace in the fact that it wasn’t 85 degrees and humid. Give me cold and rainy over hot and humid any day of the week.

Hell hath no fury like a pre-marathon bathroom. Everyone has been hydrating like mad for 3 days straight in preparation for the race, and everyone has to pee – Right NOW. The lines are absolutely insane, and the lack of hygiene and cleanliness people have when they are in a hurry is disgusting. I lost my friends in the panic to find a bathroom and continued on the starting corrals on my own. By this time, it was about 7:40am and the starting line was still nowhere in sight. The people around me were starting to freak out, running around and shouting at no one in particular “Where is the #$%#$@ starting line.” I had no idea that runners use such colorful adjectives! I listened to my inner-cow and followed the herd, which soon made its way to the starting area. The mass of humanity trying to cram into the starting corrals was mind boggling, almost as mind boggling as the lack of planning that must have gone into getting that many people into said starting corrals. It was chaos. My corral was, luckily, near the front (B1). One death-defying leap over a 4ft chain link fence, and I was all corralled up and ready to race.

The rain let up as I sucked down a vanilla bean energy goo packet and some water at 7:50am and tried to mentally prepare myself for the beating my body was about to endure. I’d been training since June, but didn’t get in as many long runs as I would have liked too. I just couldn’t find the time. I blame the both of you. No offense, but having kids is a gigantic time-suck. Regardless, I felt pretty confident that I’d be able to make it through the 13.1 miles in one piece.  

I have to interject, at this point, that I run in Vibram 5-fingers. Hopefully you still know what they are. If not, google them. If they are all the rage, then you can brag to your friends that I was a man well ahead of my time. If not, just skip on down to the next paragraph. The 5-fingers force you to run with a mid-foot strike and, for me, they are much more fun to run with and easier on my hips and knees. As slow as I am, I need some help not landing on my heels the whole time. Anyway, while I was lined up in the starting corral waiting for the starting gun, I was getting peppered with questions from curious runners around me asking me how I liked them. Most were nice and genuinely interested, but a few had that smug “you’re an idiot” tone. Later on, during the race, one guy asked me if I was doing the whole or the half marathon. I responded ‘half’ and he laughingly said “yeah, running a full in those would be tough”. I had the urge to kick his feet out from under him. If there’s weather that’s perfect for the 5-fingers, it’s in the rain. Everyone with traditional running shoes had soggy socks. I didn’t have that problem. Suckers.

After the national anthem was sung (accompanied by some rather pathetic fireworks), the starting gun sounded. It took about 6 minutes of walking with the herd before I hit the official starting line and we were off. The first 3 or 4 miles were easy going, but I was getting passed by everyone and their mom, which made it extremely difficult to keep my slow pace of 10:30 per mile. I’m not sure if I got stuck in the wrong starting group or what, but I tried to stay as far to the right and out of the way as I best I could. Every time I looked down at my phone to see my current pace, I was way too fast. The rain started back up 2 miles in. It was a torrential downpour at first, but lightened up a bit as the race wore on. The rain didn’t bother me much aside from the water pooling up in my long sleeved raincoat. I had to keep ringing out my sleeves to keep them from weighing my arms down. After the race, I realized the “raincoat” I was wearing to keep the water off me was actually soaked through and weighed about 5 lbs. Next time I think I’ll leave it in the car.

The best part of the race was all the people that braved the cold and rain to come out and show support for the runners. Most of the course was lined by spectators offering their praise and encouragement as you pass by. I found myself energized by their cheers. Some even passed out water, orange slices, and tissues. On Turtle Creek I passed a guy that was handing out oranges, but I dropped it during the handoff. He grabbed another and hit me on a slant pattern down the sideline with a perfect spiral. Best orange I’ve ever tasted. At the 8 mile marker near Greenville Ave, there were some outstanding young gentlemen handing out cups of beer. It was delicious, although I’m not sure it was entirely legal to hand out or consume alcohol in a public street like that. God bless those courageous men.

I was still feeling pretty good at the 8.8 mile marker where the full marathoners and the half marathoners parted ways. The fullers (fullies?) turned left at Greenville Ave and headed off for White Rock Lake. The rest of us measly halfers turned right toward our finish line destination in the ghetto that is Fair Park. One poor young bastard ran by me at around the 11.5 mile mark and asked a guy in front of me “are you all running the half or the full?” The guy laughed and replied “Half. You missed the split about 3 miles back.”  The kid’s face turned white as he hurriedly turned around and sprinted back from whence he came. I guess he got to run the rare 32.2 mile marathon.

The rest of the race was a bit of a blur. Fatigue set in and my focus was drawn inward. I remember seeing a really tall African looking dude fly by me where the full and half marathon courses met back up. He was on mile 23, a mere 13 miles ahead of me and he was still running faster than I can sprint. Unreal.

At 12 miles, I realized that I’d have to run a sub 8 minute last mile to finish in 2:15:00. I picked up the pace as much as I could, but it was no use. I had nothing left in the tank. It didn’t help that the finish line was not the same as the starting line. The final stretch was a quarter mile down the same road back toward the starting line – a big yellow banner hanging over the road. When the runners (including me) saw that, they figured it was the finish line and began to go all out for the finish. It wasn’t until I got about 15 yards from it that I could see there was a sharp right turn and then another 500 yards or so to the real finish line. You could hear the shouts of disbelief as runners realized the finish line they saw was not really the finish line.

I made it across the line at 2:17:50. Going into the race, I didn’t really have a set goal. I just wanted to finish. I knew in the back of my mind that I could probably keep a 10:30 per mile pace, and that’s pretty much how it ended up, so I’m pretty happy with the results. I kind of wish I’d broken that 2:15 mark, but I guess that gives me something to work toward. I’ve already signed up for 4 half marathons next year. Yes, you read that right. FOUR. I am nuts.

The post-race activities were insane. As soon as I crossed the line, I grabbed a heat-blanket (4×6 sheet of light tin foil material smeared with ads) and headed for the indoor post-race area. It was only about 100 yards or so to get from the finish line to inside, but my body was already shivering violently. It was a great relief to get out of the cold. I grabbed my finisher’s medal and t-shirt, got my photo taken, and picked up a beer and a banana (in that order). I then went back to the entrance to wait for my friends to finish. Watching the runners come through the finisher’s area made for some terrific people watching. I saw people laughing, crying, and joking around. Most were limping and some could barely walk. I saw a guy with no arms or legs, just prosthetic blades. But all of them had a certain look of accomplishment and pride in their eyes. That was cool to see.

My friends Sarah, Maddie and Laura came through the finish about 20 minutes later. We all had a good stretch and decided it was time to go home. That’s when the real fun began. We headed towards the car and realized that we had no idea which way to go to get back to the car. If you’ve ever been to Fair Park, you know that it all kind of looks the exactly the same. Hopefully by the time you’re both old enough to care about reading this, they will have demolished the whole damn thing and built a new Cowboys stadium or something in its place. Anyway, we ended up wandering around Fair Park for about 25 minutes in the 40 degree pouring rain conditions with cramped up legs while freezing our asses off. We finally made it back to the car, changed into dry clothes and headed back to Sarah’s house. Unfortunately, her house was located right in the middle of the course so all the roads in and out of her neighborhood where closed. We spent another 45 minutes in the car trying to figure out how to get 4 miles to her house. But, at least we were dry and warm.

I rushed home to take Asher to hockey practice and laced up the skates with the kids for an hour session. I didn’t feel all that bad on the ice other than being a little stiff. After practice, it was off to get a post-race massage your awesome mom scheduled for me. It was heaven. Your mom and I then took the two of you to the Cheesecake Factory for dinner to celebrate my accomplishment and I gorged myself on a mushroom cheeseburger the size of my head. THAT cheeseburger made it all worth it! Ha.

Love,
Dad