Friday, May 11, 2007
Unplug Your Ears
After the Tucson Marathon last year, some friends and I were talking about how little the runners were talking to each other out on the course. We had all had those experiences in previous marathons where we made friends while covering the miles. But it seemed like people in marathons were talking to each other less and less.
We speculated on why that was, and the topic turned to headphones and earbuds.
In April I had the pleasure of running my first Boston Marathon, and was amazed by the crowds braving a Nor'easter to cheer, with incredible enthusiasm and energy, us marathoners.
Recently I ran a leg in the Big Sur Marathon Relay. I've run the full marathon at Big Sur twice, and the Relay four times. It's one of my favorite events.
It is a beautiful marathon, in every sense of the word. The visual beauty of the course can hardly be conveyed by pictures on the website. You can never get the full effect of the view from Hurricane Point until you've run there via the first twelve miles of the race. Even harder to understand, for those who haven't experienced it, is the auditory beauty of the Big Sur Marathon.
The sounds of the start are much like most marathons, the murmur and buzz of thousands of runners barely containing their excitement, the hushing of the crowd as the National Anthem comes over the PA system, the starter's voice, and the gun.
But much of the sound at Big Sur is unique. This marathon was the first to be called "the Musical Marathon" and undoubtedly inspired the others which are being created around the country.
The music at Big Sur is not just something to distract the runners, it is a part of the course.
A string quartet bids them to relax, and soothes their pent up energy as they cruise the first few downhill miles through the forest.
Taiko drummers pound out a beat to drive them on up the long hill at Hurricane Point. The grand piano congratulates them as they come down from the highest point on the course and echoes the beauty of the ocean cliffs and Bixby Bridge.
Marching bands encourage and carry them through some of the seemingly infinite rolling hills. A Dixieland jazz band celebrates with them as they approach the finish.
Then the finish, I suppose is once again like so many other marathons, people cheering their lungs out for the runners, names and home towns being called out as runners finish.
Runners may not be able to hear a musical group every step of the way, of course. There are quiet spots along the way where a runner can hear nothing but breathing, footsteps, and the Pacific surf.
And perhaps the occasional chatter of some fellow runners.
I'm not trying to criticize. Others have to make up their own minds how they want to experience life.
I would miss so much if I ran marathons with plugs in my ears.
I would also feel like I was being a little disrespectful to all of the cheering spectators, the musicians, the volunteers, to the Pacific Ocean, to shut it all out.
I would no more want to run with my ears closed than with my eyes closed.
Originally posted to my blog on YourRunning.com
We speculated on why that was, and the topic turned to headphones and earbuds.
In April I had the pleasure of running my first Boston Marathon, and was amazed by the crowds braving a Nor'easter to cheer, with incredible enthusiasm and energy, us marathoners.
Recently I ran a leg in the Big Sur Marathon Relay. I've run the full marathon at Big Sur twice, and the Relay four times. It's one of my favorite events.
It is a beautiful marathon, in every sense of the word. The visual beauty of the course can hardly be conveyed by pictures on the website. You can never get the full effect of the view from Hurricane Point until you've run there via the first twelve miles of the race. Even harder to understand, for those who haven't experienced it, is the auditory beauty of the Big Sur Marathon.
The sounds of the start are much like most marathons, the murmur and buzz of thousands of runners barely containing their excitement, the hushing of the crowd as the National Anthem comes over the PA system, the starter's voice, and the gun.
But much of the sound at Big Sur is unique. This marathon was the first to be called "the Musical Marathon" and undoubtedly inspired the others which are being created around the country.
The music at Big Sur is not just something to distract the runners, it is a part of the course.
A string quartet bids them to relax, and soothes their pent up energy as they cruise the first few downhill miles through the forest.
Taiko drummers pound out a beat to drive them on up the long hill at Hurricane Point. The grand piano congratulates them as they come down from the highest point on the course and echoes the beauty of the ocean cliffs and Bixby Bridge.
Marching bands encourage and carry them through some of the seemingly infinite rolling hills. A Dixieland jazz band celebrates with them as they approach the finish.
Then the finish, I suppose is once again like so many other marathons, people cheering their lungs out for the runners, names and home towns being called out as runners finish.
Runners may not be able to hear a musical group every step of the way, of course. There are quiet spots along the way where a runner can hear nothing but breathing, footsteps, and the Pacific surf.
And perhaps the occasional chatter of some fellow runners.
I'm not trying to criticize. Others have to make up their own minds how they want to experience life.
I would miss so much if I ran marathons with plugs in my ears.
I would also feel like I was being a little disrespectful to all of the cheering spectators, the musicians, the volunteers, to the Pacific Ocean, to shut it all out.
I would no more want to run with my ears closed than with my eyes closed.
Originally posted to my blog on YourRunning.com
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Boston and the Boston Marathon
Leading up to the marathon, all of the talk for those of us planning to go to Boston was about the weather. The forecasts gradually got worse and worse as the day approached, until flood warnings were out for the eastern seaboard and we were looking at the worst weather in the 110 year history of the Boston Marathon.
Storms. Rain. Freezing rain. 25 mph headwinds with gusts up to 50 mph.
I took a red eye flight to Boston on Friday night, arriving Saturday morning with very little sleep. Then I walked around the marathon expo with friends most of the day Saturday.
By the time I got checked into my hotel and got a shower, it was time for me to go to a dinner held by one of the founders of a company called AgaMatrix. The main product of AgaMatrix is a blood glucose meter. The dinner was a benefit for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Fund, and I was one of several diabetic runners participating in the Boston Marathon who were invited as guests of honor.
The dinner was a great experience. The guests of honor all talked a little bit about their experiences and what it meant for us to be there. Some of the stories were very emotional and I got pretty choked up when I had to say something about diabetes and running, and how much I appreciated the JDRF and their work to find a cure. I met a lot of great, interesting people at the dinner, diabetics and researchers and engineers working on medical technology.
But I spent almost the whole time at the dinner on my feet, and I didn't get back to the hotel until almost 11, and I was exhausted.
The next day, Sunday morning before the Boston Marathon, which is run on Monday, I woke up with the calf of my right leg knotted up in a painful cramp. I iced it, soaked it in the Jacuzzi, and massaged it, and I was sure I could run on it for a while, but I could still feel a knot in it.
So I was looking at running the race in a freezing rain storm, under-trained, with a sore right knee, right calf, and left hamstring.
One of the suggestions the Boston Athletic Association made to help people get through the terrible weather that was predicted was that runners should try to run with someone they knew, so runners could keep an eye on each other for signs of hypothermia.
I called Ben Clements, a diabetic who I had met at the AgaMatrix/JDRF dinner. Ben was a "charity runner" raising money for the Joslin Diabetes Center, so he hadn't had to run a qualifying time. Boston was going to be his first marathon, and from his description of the running he had been doing, I thought I could probably run his pace.
If we ran together, we could look out for each other. I knew if I tried to run with my friends from Arizona, I would soon be burned out. And Ben and I were both familiar with the issues of being diabetic.
Sunday was cold, windy, and rainy all day. There was even some snow, I think, coming down through the rain for a couple of minutes.
I had dinner with friends from Arizona, Jennifer and Lowell, at an Italian restaurant at the train station near the hotel. Jennifer always has the same thing before a marathon, spaghetti noodles with just butter, because she has a sensitive stomach. Lowell had spaghetti and meatballs. I can eat anything*, so I ordered the lasagna.
*Famous Last Words
I've never seen lasagna like I was served. It was like a bowl of tomato sauce with some cheese, tiny meatballs, and lasagna noodles, burnt at the edges. I think they ran out of lasagne, and just made something up.
It wasn't great, but it wasn't that bad, and I ate most of it. Later that night I realized that it raised my blood sugar much more than I expected, but I compensated with more insulin.
I woke up a little after 4 the next morning with a low blood sugar, 59. I ate a cereal bar and started to get ready to catch the shuttle at 6 AM to get to the train into Boston to get on a bus to the start around 6:30 or 7 AM.
Boarding the buses from Boston to the start in Hopkinton, it was raining, but not pouring down as badly as we had all worried. It stayed that way for the whole ride and after we got off the buses in the "Athlete's Village" to wait for the start.
My blood sugar was 192 on the bus, which is high, (normal is 80 to 110) but not terrible for starting a marathon.
The rain stopped during the walk toward the start with Ben. I tried to check my blood sugar again, but twice got error messages because the meter was too cold. Ben let me test with his meter and my blood sugar was 170. It looked good, a little bit high, but coming into a good range.
But I don't carry a lot of test strips during a marathon. I put a few in a little plastic bag, I had just used three to get one test done. I only had three left. For most marathons that would have been more than enough.
Ben and I started out taking it easy. There was no use trying to go fast anyway, with the huge crowd we were swimming in.
My legs were hurting from the very first step. Maybe the cold amplified the aches a little bit. The few things that hadn't already been hurting were bothering me. I was in pain, sore feet, sore calf, sore knees, sore hamstring.
If it wasn't Boston... I would have run anyway.
Ben and I were far enough toward the back that there were a lot of slow runners around us. I told Ben not to try to waste energy trying to dodge through the crowd, but to move up when there was an opening. Still it's also draining to be stuck behind someone going too slow for you. That can be tiring, too.
Somewhere around mile three, going from Hopkinton into Ashland, we came up behind a large, slower group of runners, and Ben said, "Catch you on the other side." He went to the left, I went to the right, and we lost each other in the crowd. I kept looking for him for a couple of miles, but I had to give up on it.
I saw his Team Joslin team captain, Jay Hewitt, another diabetic runner (and Ironman) near mile six, leaving Ashland into Framingham. Jay was running up from the back, and would finish in a much faster time than Ben and I had planned. Jay said that he had seen Ben and he was doing fine.
Here are the splits for the first 10K:
I've often thought that there is an opportunity for someone to do a photo essay for Runners World that shows a neglected side of marathon running. Any time you bring together thousands of people trying to get the maximum practical amount of fluid into their bodies, many of them are going to end up with some excess to get rid of.
There were many opportunities in this marathon, as in so many others, to take a snapshot of dozens of runners relieving their bladders with little or no cover. It started in the Athlete's Village and continued on through most of the course. Anywhere there were a few trees or bushes nearby, no matter how sparse, there were men standing facing away from the course, and women squatting facing toward the course.
I began to feel the need myself, and would have welcomed an open spot, but I just didn't feel that desperate. I wasn't in a terrible hurry. Near mile 7 though, leaving Framingham and heading toward Natick, there was a Wendy's, and a couple of Wendy's employees were out on the curb cheering and telling runners they were welcome to use the restrooms.
I ran into the restaurant, around to the men's room, and toward the one urinal next to the occupied stall. A woman's voice came from the stall, saying, "Sorry, I just couldn't wait." That seemed very civilized and lady-like knowing what was going on outside. I said, "I don't mind you using that one if you don't mind me using this one." And we both tinkled as quietly as possible.
I continued on at a comfortable, but not pathetic pace, but something was starting to bother me in my gut. After the ten mile mark, I was pretty sure I shouldn't have eaten the lasagna. I stopped by a porta-john, second in line, but ran on when it didn't seem like whoever was inside was going to give it up very soon.
It was still cold, and there were occasional gusts of wind, but I was warming up. I took my jacket off and tied it around my waist.
I was running and walking for a couple of miles, walking mainly to control the storm going on in my lower digestive tract, then running when the urges subsided. I was now on the lookout for an unoccupied porta-john.
Around mile 11 I started to hear the screaming of the famous crowds at Wellesley. I know the crowd was probably a tenth the size of what it is in better weather, but it was exhilarating anyway. It gave me goosebumps, or maybe I was just cold.
Anyway, I put my jacket back on and kept it on for the rest of the run.
Here are the splits for the second 10K:
At around fifteen miles, I finally found a porta-john just as a guy was leaving it. I hope the runners that followed me at a couple of those places appreciated how I cleaned them up. I'm not prissy, but I really had to clean a couple of them with toilet paper and hand sanitizer before I could sit down.
Kudos to the race organization for having every porta-john I saw, and I saw more than my share, well stocked with paper and sanitizer. It's those little things that can make the difference between a miserable time and a really miserable time in a marathon.
The next few miles were more of the same. I ran when I could. Then I walked when I had to in order to keep from having an accident, and looked for another toilet. Every stop, I was hoping that I had finally flushed my system of whatever was bothering it. But within a few minutes, the problem was back.
After a long stop near mile 17, after the start of the Newton hills, I decided to check my blood sugar. It wasn't that I felt anything. It was just that I was going so slow anyway, there was no point in trying to save time.
the test said 394. That's extremely high. I've had false highs from having energy gel on my hands before, so I washed my hands as well as I could at one of the aid station tables, and re-tested. This time I got 374.
I gave myself a fairly large bolus of insulin, not as much as I would have given if I wasn't in the middle of a marathon, but more than I've ever given myself during a race before.
Then I just started walking. My blood sugar was high enough to put me in danger zone of going into DKA, diabetic keto-acidosis, which is as bad as it sounds. I wanted to be sure I was out of that danger, that the insulin was in my system, before I started running again.
So I walked on for a few minutes before I started running again.
I can't be sure what happened with my blood sugar. Adrenalin can raise the blood sugar, and certainly being at Boston might have raised my blood sugar more than other races have. I was running slower than I planned, and downhill, so maybe I was just not burning calories at the usual rate. I had diarrhea, and that can be dehydrating, and dehydration causes the concentration of sugar in the blood to rise as the overall fluid level goes down.
After the next mile, which took a long time to cover, I had a couple more pit stops.
Here are the splits for the third 10K:
The next couple of miles were run/walked from porta-john to porta-john. I had wanted to dominate Heartbreak Hill, to show it who was boss. As it was, we pretty much left each other alone. The hill didn't bother me, but I didn't really challenge the hill.
I still had hopes every time I stepped out of one of those big green plastic booths that I was going to be able to come on like Superman, or at least run the rest of the race. I was fairly sure, near the top of Heartbreak, that my system was finally all cleared out. I ran about a hundred yards, then quickly ducked into another unoccupied toilet. But when I got out of that one, I was really done.
I used my last test strip and saw my blood sugar was 89, which is kind of low, especially if it's indicating a downward trend. And that was my last test strip. I had an energy gel and ran on.
And I kept running, albeit at close to an 11 minute per mile pace, to the finish.
I enjoyed this part of the race. I was back with a lot of charity runners and locals. Lots of family members and neighborhood friends ran out onto the course to cover a few blocks with Boston locals and students from Harvard and Boston College. Everyone, though tired, cold, and exhausted, seemed to be having a great time.
Maybe the crowds have been bigger in other years. But maybe the year I ran it, the crowds were whittled down to the true believers. I know they gave me a lot of energy and emotion in the last few miles.
I was also running with a lot of charity runners. Many had inspirational things written on their shirts about why they were running, and who they were running for.
Going up a little hill, I saw a guy barely moving, leaning into the hill and trying to run. Across the back of his shirt he had written, "For my BRO, Kicking back at Cancer!" It must have caught me at a weak moment. It brought tears to my eyes. I tapped him on the shoulder as I passed and said, "Way to go."
I saw him later in the hotel I was staying at. He was coming down the stairs sideways, very slowly, but he had a big smile on his face.
With two miles to go, I felt like my blood sugar was getting low, and I had another energy gel.
Here are the splits to the end of the race:
I went to the medical tent after the finish, and my blood sugar was 77 there.
It was not at all the race I wanted to run, I could call it a disaster, but I'm still glad I did it.
I just have to get back to Boston some day. I know I can do better.
Storms. Rain. Freezing rain. 25 mph headwinds with gusts up to 50 mph.
I took a red eye flight to Boston on Friday night, arriving Saturday morning with very little sleep. Then I walked around the marathon expo with friends most of the day Saturday.
By the time I got checked into my hotel and got a shower, it was time for me to go to a dinner held by one of the founders of a company called AgaMatrix. The main product of AgaMatrix is a blood glucose meter. The dinner was a benefit for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Fund, and I was one of several diabetic runners participating in the Boston Marathon who were invited as guests of honor.
The dinner was a great experience. The guests of honor all talked a little bit about their experiences and what it meant for us to be there. Some of the stories were very emotional and I got pretty choked up when I had to say something about diabetes and running, and how much I appreciated the JDRF and their work to find a cure. I met a lot of great, interesting people at the dinner, diabetics and researchers and engineers working on medical technology.
But I spent almost the whole time at the dinner on my feet, and I didn't get back to the hotel until almost 11, and I was exhausted.
The next day, Sunday morning before the Boston Marathon, which is run on Monday, I woke up with the calf of my right leg knotted up in a painful cramp. I iced it, soaked it in the Jacuzzi, and massaged it, and I was sure I could run on it for a while, but I could still feel a knot in it.
So I was looking at running the race in a freezing rain storm, under-trained, with a sore right knee, right calf, and left hamstring.
One of the suggestions the Boston Athletic Association made to help people get through the terrible weather that was predicted was that runners should try to run with someone they knew, so runners could keep an eye on each other for signs of hypothermia.
I called Ben Clements, a diabetic who I had met at the AgaMatrix/JDRF dinner. Ben was a "charity runner" raising money for the Joslin Diabetes Center, so he hadn't had to run a qualifying time. Boston was going to be his first marathon, and from his description of the running he had been doing, I thought I could probably run his pace.
If we ran together, we could look out for each other. I knew if I tried to run with my friends from Arizona, I would soon be burned out. And Ben and I were both familiar with the issues of being diabetic.
Sunday was cold, windy, and rainy all day. There was even some snow, I think, coming down through the rain for a couple of minutes.
I had dinner with friends from Arizona, Jennifer and Lowell, at an Italian restaurant at the train station near the hotel. Jennifer always has the same thing before a marathon, spaghetti noodles with just butter, because she has a sensitive stomach. Lowell had spaghetti and meatballs. I can eat anything*, so I ordered the lasagna.
*Famous Last Words
I've never seen lasagna like I was served. It was like a bowl of tomato sauce with some cheese, tiny meatballs, and lasagna noodles, burnt at the edges. I think they ran out of lasagne, and just made something up.
It wasn't great, but it wasn't that bad, and I ate most of it. Later that night I realized that it raised my blood sugar much more than I expected, but I compensated with more insulin.
I woke up a little after 4 the next morning with a low blood sugar, 59. I ate a cereal bar and started to get ready to catch the shuttle at 6 AM to get to the train into Boston to get on a bus to the start around 6:30 or 7 AM.
Boarding the buses from Boston to the start in Hopkinton, it was raining, but not pouring down as badly as we had all worried. It stayed that way for the whole ride and after we got off the buses in the "Athlete's Village" to wait for the start.
My blood sugar was 192 on the bus, which is high, (normal is 80 to 110) but not terrible for starting a marathon.
The rain stopped during the walk toward the start with Ben. I tried to check my blood sugar again, but twice got error messages because the meter was too cold. Ben let me test with his meter and my blood sugar was 170. It looked good, a little bit high, but coming into a good range.
But I don't carry a lot of test strips during a marathon. I put a few in a little plastic bag, I had just used three to get one test done. I only had three left. For most marathons that would have been more than enough.
Ben and I started out taking it easy. There was no use trying to go fast anyway, with the huge crowd we were swimming in.
My legs were hurting from the very first step. Maybe the cold amplified the aches a little bit. The few things that hadn't already been hurting were bothering me. I was in pain, sore feet, sore calf, sore knees, sore hamstring.
If it wasn't Boston... I would have run anyway.
Ben and I were far enough toward the back that there were a lot of slow runners around us. I told Ben not to try to waste energy trying to dodge through the crowd, but to move up when there was an opening. Still it's also draining to be stuck behind someone going too slow for you. That can be tiring, too.
Somewhere around mile three, going from Hopkinton into Ashland, we came up behind a large, slower group of runners, and Ben said, "Catch you on the other side." He went to the left, I went to the right, and we lost each other in the crowd. I kept looking for him for a couple of miles, but I had to give up on it.
I saw his Team Joslin team captain, Jay Hewitt, another diabetic runner (and Ironman) near mile six, leaving Ashland into Framingham. Jay was running up from the back, and would finish in a much faster time than Ben and I had planned. Jay said that he had seen Ben and he was doing fine.
Here are the splits for the first 10K:
mile| split | elapsed
| time | time
1 9:32 Downhill
2 9:17 18:49
3 9:03 27:53 Hopkinton/Ashland
5K 28:59
4 8:33 36:26
5 9:15 45:41 Levels out
6 9:16 54:57 Ashland/Framingham
10K 28:06 57:05
I've often thought that there is an opportunity for someone to do a photo essay for Runners World that shows a neglected side of marathon running. Any time you bring together thousands of people trying to get the maximum practical amount of fluid into their bodies, many of them are going to end up with some excess to get rid of.
There were many opportunities in this marathon, as in so many others, to take a snapshot of dozens of runners relieving their bladders with little or no cover. It started in the Athlete's Village and continued on through most of the course. Anywhere there were a few trees or bushes nearby, no matter how sparse, there were men standing facing away from the course, and women squatting facing toward the course.
I began to feel the need myself, and would have welcomed an open spot, but I just didn't feel that desperate. I wasn't in a terrible hurry. Near mile 7 though, leaving Framingham and heading toward Natick, there was a Wendy's, and a couple of Wendy's employees were out on the curb cheering and telling runners they were welcome to use the restrooms.
I ran into the restaurant, around to the men's room, and toward the one urinal next to the occupied stall. A woman's voice came from the stall, saying, "Sorry, I just couldn't wait." That seemed very civilized and lady-like knowing what was going on outside. I said, "I don't mind you using that one if you don't mind me using this one." And we both tinkled as quietly as possible.
I continued on at a comfortable, but not pathetic pace, but something was starting to bother me in my gut. After the ten mile mark, I was pretty sure I shouldn't have eaten the lasagna. I stopped by a porta-john, second in line, but ran on when it didn't seem like whoever was inside was going to give it up very soon.
It was still cold, and there were occasional gusts of wind, but I was warming up. I took my jacket off and tied it around my waist.
I was running and walking for a couple of miles, walking mainly to control the storm going on in my lower digestive tract, then running when the urges subsided. I was now on the lookout for an unoccupied porta-john.
Around mile 11 I started to hear the screaming of the famous crowds at Wellesley. I know the crowd was probably a tenth the size of what it is in better weather, but it was exhilarating anyway. It gave me goosebumps, or maybe I was just cold.
Anyway, I put my jacket back on and kept it on for the rest of the run.
Here are the splits for the second 10K:
mile| split | elapsed
| time | time
7 8:46 1:03:44 Framingham/Natick
8 11:22 1:15:06 Wendy's
9 9:06 1:24:13 Lake Cochituate
15K 30:44 1:27:49
10 9:09 1:33:23
11 9:38 1:43:01 porta-john
12 9:36 1:52:38 Natick/Wellesley
20K 30:23 1:57:26
At around fifteen miles, I finally found a porta-john just as a guy was leaving it. I hope the runners that followed me at a couple of those places appreciated how I cleaned them up. I'm not prissy, but I really had to clean a couple of them with toilet paper and hand sanitizer before I could sit down.
Kudos to the race organization for having every porta-john I saw, and I saw more than my share, well stocked with paper and sanitizer. It's those little things that can make the difference between a miserable time and a really miserable time in a marathon.
The next few miles were more of the same. I ran when I could. Then I walked when I had to in order to keep from having an accident, and looked for another toilet. Every stop, I was hoping that I had finally flushed my system of whatever was bothering it. But within a few minutes, the problem was back.
After a long stop near mile 17, after the start of the Newton hills, I decided to check my blood sugar. It wasn't that I felt anything. It was just that I was going so slow anyway, there was no point in trying to save time.
the test said 394. That's extremely high. I've had false highs from having energy gel on my hands before, so I washed my hands as well as I could at one of the aid station tables, and re-tested. This time I got 374.
I gave myself a fairly large bolus of insulin, not as much as I would have given if I wasn't in the middle of a marathon, but more than I've ever given myself during a race before.
Then I just started walking. My blood sugar was high enough to put me in danger zone of going into DKA, diabetic keto-acidosis, which is as bad as it sounds. I wanted to be sure I was out of that danger, that the insulin was in my system, before I started running again.
So I walked on for a few minutes before I started running again.
I can't be sure what happened with my blood sugar. Adrenalin can raise the blood sugar, and certainly being at Boston might have raised my blood sugar more than other races have. I was running slower than I planned, and downhill, so maybe I was just not burning calories at the usual rate. I had diarrhea, and that can be dehydrating, and dehydration causes the concentration of sugar in the blood to rise as the overall fluid level goes down.
After the next mile, which took a long time to cover, I had a couple more pit stops.
Here are the splits for the third 10K:
mile| split | elapsed
| time | time
13 9:30 2:02:09 Wellesley College
14 9:51 2:12:00
15 10:59 2:22:59 pit stop
25K 31:42 2:29:08
16 9:33 2:32:33 Wellesley/Newton
17 24:20 2:56:53 porta-john, blood tests
18 13:16 3:10:10 Woodland and Brae Burn Country Clubs
30K 55:40 3:24:48
The next couple of miles were run/walked from porta-john to porta-john. I had wanted to dominate Heartbreak Hill, to show it who was boss. As it was, we pretty much left each other alone. The hill didn't bother me, but I didn't really challenge the hill.
I still had hopes every time I stepped out of one of those big green plastic booths that I was going to be able to come on like Superman, or at least run the rest of the race. I was fairly sure, near the top of Heartbreak, that my system was finally all cleared out. I ran about a hundred yards, then quickly ducked into another unoccupied toilet. But when I got out of that one, I was really done.
I used my last test strip and saw my blood sugar was 89, which is kind of low, especially if it's indicating a downward trend. And that was my last test strip. I had an energy gel and ran on.
And I kept running, albeit at close to an 11 minute per mile pace, to the finish.
I enjoyed this part of the race. I was back with a lot of charity runners and locals. Lots of family members and neighborhood friends ran out onto the course to cover a few blocks with Boston locals and students from Harvard and Boston College. Everyone, though tired, cold, and exhausted, seemed to be having a great time.
Maybe the crowds have been bigger in other years. But maybe the year I ran it, the crowds were whittled down to the true believers. I know they gave me a lot of energy and emotion in the last few miles.
I was also running with a lot of charity runners. Many had inspirational things written on their shirts about why they were running, and who they were running for.
Going up a little hill, I saw a guy barely moving, leaning into the hill and trying to run. Across the back of his shirt he had written, "For my BRO, Kicking back at Cancer!" It must have caught me at a weak moment. It brought tears to my eyes. I tapped him on the shoulder as I passed and said, "Way to go."
I saw him later in the hotel I was staying at. He was coming down the stairs sideways, very slowly, but he had a big smile on his face.
With two miles to go, I felt like my blood sugar was getting low, and I had another energy gel.
Here are the splits to the end of the race:
mile| split | elapsed
| time | time
19 17:10 3:27:20 multiple stops
20 12:38 3:39:59
21 21:05 4:01:04 Crest of Heartbreak hill, pit stops, blood test
35K 47:58 4:11:46
22 10:44 4:11:48 ran to finish, downhill (more or less)
23 11:19 4:23:08 Newton/Brookline
24 11:32 4:35:01
25 11:24 4:46:25 Brookline/Boston, the giant CitGo sign
40K 35:54 4:47:40
26 11:49 4:58:14
26.2 5:52 5:04:07
I went to the medical tent after the finish, and my blood sugar was 77 there.
It was not at all the race I wanted to run, I could call it a disaster, but I'm still glad I did it.
I just have to get back to Boston some day. I know I can do better.
Training for Boston
When I came to Arizona I didn't know any local runners. I knew that it helped me run more consistently to do scheduled runs with a group, so I started going to a local running store, the Foothills Running Company, for their Wednesday night group run.
Most people there were relative beginners, slower even than I was. However, one runner, Jennifer, was running at my pace or faster. We both entered the Foothills store's training program for the 2005 Rock 'N' Roll Arizona Marathon.
We had a lot in common, a similar pace and things to talk about on long runs. We became and remain training partners and friends. The R'N'R AZ Marathon produced similar results to those Jennifer and I have had at several marathons since. Jennifer stuck very well to the program and ran a better marathon than I did.
I tried to do too many races during training, and wore myself out. Toward the end of the training program for the 2005 Rock 'N' Roll Arizona Marathon, I ran the Tucson Marathon on December 5, 2004 in 3:50:28, then the Desert Classic 30K on December 18, 18.6 miles in 2:27:44.
Then on January 9th, I had a lackluster race at Rock 'N' Roll Arizona in 3:52:07.
Jennifer and I both registered for Boston in 2007, and resolved to train for it together. We had a very loose plan for this training, but I had this crazy idea to do a set of races scheduled very close together in February.
You see, in 2006, I had joined a club called the Marathon Maniacs. As someone who had run three marathons in 90 days, which I've done several times, I was able to join as a bronze level maniac. That's the lowest level of mania allowed in the club. However, in the first three weeks of February of 2007, there were two marathons and an ultramarathon within driving distance of my house. Doing those races, in addition to the 2007 Rock 'N' Roll Arizona, would make me a Gold level Maniac, and I would still have the rest of February and all of March to get ready for Boston.
So Jennifer and I trained together until February, when I was supposed to do the three long races then get back on the training program.
I ran the Desert Classic Marathon on February 4 in 3:41:02, the Pemberton Trail 50K on the 10th, 31 miles in 5:00:27, then the Lost Dutchman Marathon on the 18th in 3:50:17.
I might have been okay if I had rested after the Lost Dutchman, but I wanted to get right back into training for Boston. I ran the four days after. The run two days after was a track workout, and the run after that was a very fast six miles. It hurt, but I didn't want to lose any training time. So I kept running. By the next week, my right knee was too sore to allow me to run normally.
There was no way I could do the distances and the pace that Jennifer needed to do to train for her race. I should have run about 200 miles in March, with a lot of those miles on 20 milers. I did only about 100 miles in March, with the longest run only 14 miles.
So my training for Boston was shot. By the time my right knee was starting to recover, two weeks before the Boston Marathon, my left hamstring was feeling strained. It didn't get any better as the big day approached.
Most people there were relative beginners, slower even than I was. However, one runner, Jennifer, was running at my pace or faster. We both entered the Foothills store's training program for the 2005 Rock 'N' Roll Arizona Marathon.
We had a lot in common, a similar pace and things to talk about on long runs. We became and remain training partners and friends. The R'N'R AZ Marathon produced similar results to those Jennifer and I have had at several marathons since. Jennifer stuck very well to the program and ran a better marathon than I did.
I tried to do too many races during training, and wore myself out. Toward the end of the training program for the 2005 Rock 'N' Roll Arizona Marathon, I ran the Tucson Marathon on December 5, 2004 in 3:50:28, then the Desert Classic 30K on December 18, 18.6 miles in 2:27:44.
Then on January 9th, I had a lackluster race at Rock 'N' Roll Arizona in 3:52:07.
Jennifer and I both registered for Boston in 2007, and resolved to train for it together. We had a very loose plan for this training, but I had this crazy idea to do a set of races scheduled very close together in February.
You see, in 2006, I had joined a club called the Marathon Maniacs. As someone who had run three marathons in 90 days, which I've done several times, I was able to join as a bronze level maniac. That's the lowest level of mania allowed in the club. However, in the first three weeks of February of 2007, there were two marathons and an ultramarathon within driving distance of my house. Doing those races, in addition to the 2007 Rock 'N' Roll Arizona, would make me a Gold level Maniac, and I would still have the rest of February and all of March to get ready for Boston.
So Jennifer and I trained together until February, when I was supposed to do the three long races then get back on the training program.
I ran the Desert Classic Marathon on February 4 in 3:41:02, the Pemberton Trail 50K on the 10th, 31 miles in 5:00:27, then the Lost Dutchman Marathon on the 18th in 3:50:17.
I might have been okay if I had rested after the Lost Dutchman, but I wanted to get right back into training for Boston. I ran the four days after. The run two days after was a track workout, and the run after that was a very fast six miles. It hurt, but I didn't want to lose any training time. So I kept running. By the next week, my right knee was too sore to allow me to run normally.
There was no way I could do the distances and the pace that Jennifer needed to do to train for her race. I should have run about 200 miles in March, with a lot of those miles on 20 milers. I did only about 100 miles in March, with the longest run only 14 miles.
So my training for Boston was shot. By the time my right knee was starting to recover, two weeks before the Boston Marathon, my left hamstring was feeling strained. It didn't get any better as the big day approached.
Deciding to run Boston and Qualifying
Grover Cleveland was president when the first Boston Marathon was run. Utah had just become the 45th state. Women couldn't vote, let alone run in the race.
The Boston Marathon is one of the oldest, most famous, continuously run annual athletic events in the world.
But before 1999, I didn't care about running the Boston marathon.
In 1997, I'd been a distance runner for many years, and probably like most people who have run over a mile, the marathon was something I wondered about. I may have been a little more reluctant than most distance runners to try a marathon because of my diabetes.
The little running I was doing, while generally good for my health, was sometimes difficult to manage. I had low blood sugars, I had high blood sugars, I sometimes had to start running with a high blood sugar to prevent a low blood sugar. I often had no idea what was going on with my body.
However, medical technology was advancing, providing important tools like home blood glucose meters. I was hearing more and more about diabetic athletes, some of them marathoners.
I have to admit that the fact that Oprah ran a marathon made it seem a lot easier in my mind.
So when a marathon was starting up in my home town, and I was rapidly approaching the age of 40, it seemed like a good time to try it, before I was over the hill. I ran my first marathon, Silicon Valley, on October 25th, 1998, in 4:27:23, and like a lot of first time marathoners, I felt like I could do better.
A lot of marathoners get hooked that way. Marathons hurt. After the first one we know it isn't easy, but we know we can do it better, so we keep trying.
After I had done five or six marathons, (I had run six by the end of October 1999.) Mom said, "Maybe some day you'll run Boston." I said something like, "Sure," but I thought to myself, "Why should Boston matter? Don't these other marathons count?"
I didn't decide I wanted to run Boston then. But the comment stuck with me, and maybe the seed was planted.
I decided that I needed to run Boston only after about 12 more marathons. I was 44 years old, and the Boston Athletic Association had just loosened the qualification standards for a few age groups. The qualifying time for a 45 year old man went up five minutes to 3:30.
I had run some fair times, and I was improving. I had run Big Sur, a very tough course, in 3:55, then three months later, San Francisco, another tough course, in 3:42, then three months later Silicon Valley in 3:44.
You can run the Boston qualifying time almost two years before the marathon you're going to use it to register for, so if I could run the qualifying time any time in the next year while I was 44, shaving 12 minutes off my best time, I would be able to run the next Boston.
So I ran five marathons trying to qualify that year, and none of my times was even close.
But I kept trying.
You could say I qualified in October of 2005, you could say I qualified in October of 2006, or you could say that I have not yet qualified for Boston.
October 1st, 2005, I ran the St. George Marathon in St. George, Utah, and was coming around the last bend when both of my calves cramped up, I hobbled in as fast as I could and finished in 3:31:21.
The required time was anything under 3:31:00, so I had missed it by 22 seconds, and that's the way I left it for a year.
In December I ran the Tucson Marathon in 3:39. In February of 2006, I ran the Desert Classic Marathon in 3:34. On October 1st, 2006, I ran the Twin Cities Marathon in 3:38. I was close, but not fast enough.
But I had been told that if you write to the Boston Athletic Association and explain how something caused you to miss your qualifying time, they will often let you in. A friend of mine had done this when he lost his timing chip on the course at the Tucson Marathon. He missed his qualifying time by a lot more than 22 seconds, but they let him in.
So I sent in my Boston registration with my time from St. George and a letter explaining that as a diabetic, I have to test my blood sugar during the race, and it takes longer than 22 seconds. My registration was accepted.
The Boston Marathon is one of the oldest, most famous, continuously run annual athletic events in the world.
But before 1999, I didn't care about running the Boston marathon.
In 1997, I'd been a distance runner for many years, and probably like most people who have run over a mile, the marathon was something I wondered about. I may have been a little more reluctant than most distance runners to try a marathon because of my diabetes.
The little running I was doing, while generally good for my health, was sometimes difficult to manage. I had low blood sugars, I had high blood sugars, I sometimes had to start running with a high blood sugar to prevent a low blood sugar. I often had no idea what was going on with my body.
However, medical technology was advancing, providing important tools like home blood glucose meters. I was hearing more and more about diabetic athletes, some of them marathoners.
I have to admit that the fact that Oprah ran a marathon made it seem a lot easier in my mind.
So when a marathon was starting up in my home town, and I was rapidly approaching the age of 40, it seemed like a good time to try it, before I was over the hill. I ran my first marathon, Silicon Valley, on October 25th, 1998, in 4:27:23, and like a lot of first time marathoners, I felt like I could do better.
A lot of marathoners get hooked that way. Marathons hurt. After the first one we know it isn't easy, but we know we can do it better, so we keep trying.
After I had done five or six marathons, (I had run six by the end of October 1999.) Mom said, "Maybe some day you'll run Boston." I said something like, "Sure," but I thought to myself, "Why should Boston matter? Don't these other marathons count?"
I didn't decide I wanted to run Boston then. But the comment stuck with me, and maybe the seed was planted.
I decided that I needed to run Boston only after about 12 more marathons. I was 44 years old, and the Boston Athletic Association had just loosened the qualification standards for a few age groups. The qualifying time for a 45 year old man went up five minutes to 3:30.
I had run some fair times, and I was improving. I had run Big Sur, a very tough course, in 3:55, then three months later, San Francisco, another tough course, in 3:42, then three months later Silicon Valley in 3:44.
You can run the Boston qualifying time almost two years before the marathon you're going to use it to register for, so if I could run the qualifying time any time in the next year while I was 44, shaving 12 minutes off my best time, I would be able to run the next Boston.
So I ran five marathons trying to qualify that year, and none of my times was even close.
But I kept trying.
You could say I qualified in October of 2005, you could say I qualified in October of 2006, or you could say that I have not yet qualified for Boston.
October 1st, 2005, I ran the St. George Marathon in St. George, Utah, and was coming around the last bend when both of my calves cramped up, I hobbled in as fast as I could and finished in 3:31:21.
The required time was anything under 3:31:00, so I had missed it by 22 seconds, and that's the way I left it for a year.
In December I ran the Tucson Marathon in 3:39. In February of 2006, I ran the Desert Classic Marathon in 3:34. On October 1st, 2006, I ran the Twin Cities Marathon in 3:38. I was close, but not fast enough.
But I had been told that if you write to the Boston Athletic Association and explain how something caused you to miss your qualifying time, they will often let you in. A friend of mine had done this when he lost his timing chip on the course at the Tucson Marathon. He missed his qualifying time by a lot more than 22 seconds, but they let him in.
So I sent in my Boston registration with my time from St. George and a letter explaining that as a diabetic, I have to test my blood sugar during the race, and it takes longer than 22 seconds. My registration was accepted.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Lost Dutchman Marathon 2007
Are all great sagas trilogies?
This is the conclusion of my February 2007 Trilogy. Now that Becky is going to do a race preview this week, I'm not going to race this weekend.
Last Sunday, 8 days after the Pemberton 50K, I ran the Lost Dutchman Marathon. It's a beautiful, fun course, not a trail run, but with several miles on dirt roads. It has lots of rolling hills to make it interesting, and views of the Superstition Mountains from a lot of different perspectives, starting from right underneath some weird rock formations.
The weather was great again. It was a little warm for out-of-towners, but it was overcast almost all day. I drank as much as I could on the course, but was never in danger of getting dehydrated or overheated.
I drank so much I had to make a pit stop at mile 11. My ankle had been fine over the dirt roads in and out of the washes in the desert at the start of the race, but I stepped on a rock as I came out of the porta-john and turned it again. I hopped for a while, limped for a while longer, and ran on as well as I could. The pain subsided.
Once again, it was good to not have any great expectations, to tell myself that if it felt hard, I could just ease up. I had no goal other than to finish.
I came to the end feeling strong. I actually kicked in.
Lost Dutchman Marathon
This is the conclusion of my February 2007 Trilogy. Now that Becky is going to do a race preview this week, I'm not going to race this weekend.
Last Sunday, 8 days after the Pemberton 50K, I ran the Lost Dutchman Marathon. It's a beautiful, fun course, not a trail run, but with several miles on dirt roads. It has lots of rolling hills to make it interesting, and views of the Superstition Mountains from a lot of different perspectives, starting from right underneath some weird rock formations.
The weather was great again. It was a little warm for out-of-towners, but it was overcast almost all day. I drank as much as I could on the course, but was never in danger of getting dehydrated or overheated.
I drank so much I had to make a pit stop at mile 11. My ankle had been fine over the dirt roads in and out of the washes in the desert at the start of the race, but I stepped on a rock as I came out of the porta-john and turned it again. I hopped for a while, limped for a while longer, and ran on as well as I could. The pain subsided.
Once again, it was good to not have any great expectations, to tell myself that if it felt hard, I could just ease up. I had no goal other than to finish.
I came to the end feeling strong. I actually kicked in.
Lost Dutchman Marathon
1. 8:19
2. 8:07 16:27
3. 8:14 24:41
4. 8:00 32:42
5. 7:53 40:35
6. 7:55 48:30
7. 8:04 56:35
8. 8:12 1:04:47
9. 8:20 1:13:07
10. 8:30 1:21:38
11. 8:44 1:30:23
12. 9:32 1:39:55
13. 8:45 1:48:40
14. 8:54 1:57:35
15. 9:06 2:06:41
16. 9:00 2:15:42
17. 9:03 2:24:45
18. 8:54 2:33:39
19. 9:10 2:42:49
20. 8:43 2:51:35
21. 9:25 3:00:59
22. 9:14 3:10:13
23. 9:33 3:19:47
24. 9:51 3:29:38
25. 9:24 3:39:03
26. 9:17 3:48:21
26.2 1:56 3:50:17
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Pemberton Trail 50K 2007
The average person might think it unwise to run one's first ultramarathon race 6 days after running a marathon. It worked out okay for me, though.
It's refreshing to run with no goal other than to feel good the whole race. I had told my friends that my goal would be to finish in less than 5:30, and I would be happy with anything under 6. That turned out to be pretty easy.
Weather was great. It was overcast most of the day, but it was still warm. The sun came through toward the end of the second loop, but it was blocked out again after I finished.
I turned my ankle in the first mile. The trail was still a little crowded, and I couldn't always see the ground. I stepped in a rut, turned my ankle way too far to the inside, hopped a few steps, limped a few yards, and kept running as well as I could. It felt okay after a mile, but was sore later.
This race is two loops of the Pemberton Trail, which is rolling hills the whole way. No mountains, but lots of up and down, some of it quite steep. I actually enjoyed it. The difference between this and the Desert Classic Marathon was like night and day.
The first loop went well. I thought it was probably too fast. Toward the end of the loop, I saw friends of mine, Clint and Jen, who hadn't run a marathon the week before, and should be going a lot faster than me. I knew if I was with them, I was going too fast.
I caught up with them at the half way aid station, but stayed there for like 7 minutes. I knew if I could see my friends ahead, I would probably try to keep up. It was better to let them go.
The second loop felt good starting out. I passed 20 miles, "the wall," with no ill effects except for a problem I've had that comes and goes in the ball of my right foot. The trail is rocky in that section, and it was tough on that foot.
After I left the aid station out there, though, the trail was more dirt and less rock, and the pain subsided.
I passed Clint at close to 23 miles. He was cramping and having a rough time. He caught up with me at the last aid station, 26 miles, the marathon milestone, and thought I would run in with him.
I felt so good though, I took off and ran some of the faster miles of the day. I passed a few people in the last couple of miles, and felt strong.
I was very happy with my finish time of just over 5 hours. It gives me a nice round number to shoot for in the next one. And I'm sure I will run more 50K trail races.
It's refreshing to run with no goal other than to feel good the whole race. I had told my friends that my goal would be to finish in less than 5:30, and I would be happy with anything under 6. That turned out to be pretty easy.
Weather was great. It was overcast most of the day, but it was still warm. The sun came through toward the end of the second loop, but it was blocked out again after I finished.
I turned my ankle in the first mile. The trail was still a little crowded, and I couldn't always see the ground. I stepped in a rut, turned my ankle way too far to the inside, hopped a few steps, limped a few yards, and kept running as well as I could. It felt okay after a mile, but was sore later.
This race is two loops of the Pemberton Trail, which is rolling hills the whole way. No mountains, but lots of up and down, some of it quite steep. I actually enjoyed it. The difference between this and the Desert Classic Marathon was like night and day.
The first loop went well. I thought it was probably too fast. Toward the end of the loop, I saw friends of mine, Clint and Jen, who hadn't run a marathon the week before, and should be going a lot faster than me. I knew if I was with them, I was going too fast.
I caught up with them at the half way aid station, but stayed there for like 7 minutes. I knew if I could see my friends ahead, I would probably try to keep up. It was better to let them go.
The second loop felt good starting out. I passed 20 miles, "the wall," with no ill effects except for a problem I've had that comes and goes in the ball of my right foot. The trail is rocky in that section, and it was tough on that foot.
After I left the aid station out there, though, the trail was more dirt and less rock, and the pain subsided.
I passed Clint at close to 23 miles. He was cramping and having a rough time. He caught up with me at the last aid station, 26 miles, the marathon milestone, and thought I would run in with him.
I felt so good though, I took off and ran some of the faster miles of the day. I passed a few people in the last couple of miles, and felt strong.
I was very happy with my finish time of just over 5 hours. It gives me a nice round number to shoot for in the next one. And I'm sure I will run more 50K trail races.
1. 9:34
2. 8:59 18:33
3. 9:50 28:24
4. 9:43 38:07
5. 9:20 47:27
aid station
6. 9:39 57:07
7. 9:17 1:06:24
8. 9:01 1:15:26
9. 9:12 1:24:39
10. 8:25 1:33:04
aid station
11. 8:51 1:41:56
12. 8:06 1:50:02
13. 8:09 1:58:11
14. 7:40 2:05:51
15. 8:48 2:14:40
aid station (start second loop)
16. 16:46 2:31:26
17. 8:47 2:40:14
18. 10:10 2:50:25
19. 9:53 3:00:19
20. 9:51 3:10:11
aid station
21. 11:42 3:21:54
22. 10:48 3:32:42
23. 10:21 3:43:03
24. 10:17 3:53:21
25. 10:21 4:03:42
26. 10:26 4:14:08
aid station
27. 13:22 4:27:30
28. 8:26 4:35:56
29. 8:15 4:44:12
30. 8:45 4:52:57
31. 7:30 5:00:27 (not a full mile)
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Desert Classic Marathon 2007
With this marathon coming only three weeks after the Rock 'N' Roll Marathon, I was faced with that conundrum, is it better to train for the next marathon, or recover from the previous one? And of course, I didn't really do either.
I went into the Desert Classic hoping to be able to take a shot at 3:30 again, but I wasn't up to the challenge. It was a small marathon, only 42 finishers. The course couldn't be more simple, straight out and back, twice, on a flat blacktop road. It's generally rolling uphill going out, and generally rolling downhill on the way back. It's never steep.
The wind can be a problem on this course, but not this time. On the second loop, there was a little bit of a headwind on the return trip, but basically I was just really tired after about 17 miles.
The weather was good. It was cold at the start, but not bad, and I threw off my hat and gloves at the halfway turnaround at the start/finish line.
My 3:41:08 was good enough for an age group third place. Everyone ahead of me in my age group, and most of the lead runners, were from out of state.
I went into the Desert Classic hoping to be able to take a shot at 3:30 again, but I wasn't up to the challenge. It was a small marathon, only 42 finishers. The course couldn't be more simple, straight out and back, twice, on a flat blacktop road. It's generally rolling uphill going out, and generally rolling downhill on the way back. It's never steep.
The wind can be a problem on this course, but not this time. On the second loop, there was a little bit of a headwind on the return trip, but basically I was just really tired after about 17 miles.
The weather was good. It was cold at the start, but not bad, and I threw off my hat and gloves at the halfway turnaround at the start/finish line.
My 3:41:08 was good enough for an age group third place. Everyone ahead of me in my age group, and most of the lead runners, were from out of state.
1. 7:44 0:07:44
2. 8:00 0:15:44
3. 7:38 0:23:22
4. 7:41 0:31:04
5. 7:50 0:38:55
6. 7:51 0:46:46
turnaround
7. 7:34 0:54:20
8. 7:39 1:02:00
9. 7:30 1:09:30
10. 7:47 1:17:17
11. 8:08 1:25:26
12. 7:58 1:33:25
13. 7:56 1:41:22
turnaround
14. 8:07 1:49:30
15. 8:23 1:57:53
16. 8:33 2:06:26
17. 8:24 2:14:51
18. 8:54 2:23:46
19. 9:15 2:33:01
turnaround
20. 8:38 2:41:40
21. 8:36 2:50:16
22. 9:21 2:59:38
23. 10:00 3:09:38
24. 10:51 3:20:30
25. 10:13 3:30:43
26. 9:38 3:40:22
26.2 0:45 3:41:08
Friday, January 5, 2007
Plans for 2007
Plans for 2007 at the start of the year. I do expect things to change.
| I already have a lot of events lining up for next year. I am more or less committed to all of these: 1/14/07 Rock 'N' Roll Arizona Marathon Three marathons/ultras in three weeks in February: 2/4/07 Desert Classic Marathon 2/10/07 Pemberton Trail 50K 2/18/07 Lost Dutchman Marathon Three marathons in three weeks will make me a gold level Marathon Maniac, while I am currently a lowly bronze level Marathon Maniac. I'll do these events just to have fun and get some good training miles in. 3/30-31/07 Relay Del Sol, 12 person, 192 mile relay through the desert around Phoenix and the Valley of the Sun. 4/16/07 Boston 4/21-22/07 Ahwatukee Relay for Life, overnight fund-raising event for the American Cancer Society. 4/29/07 Big Sur Marathon Relay 5/18-19/07 East Valley Runners Grand Canyon Double Cross Really want to do this: 8/19/07 Pikes Peak Marathon I was second in the Arizona Road Racers Grand Prix Series last year, so I would really like to do at least 10 of these races: ARIZONA ROAD RACERS 2007 GRAND PRIX SERIES February: Runners Den Classic 10K, February 11 February: Foothills 5K, February 17 March: Kiwanis Litchfield Park 10K, March 3 April: ARR open mile, April 10 June: Gaspin’ in the Aspen 15K, June 16 July: ARR Summer Series 4 – 5K, July 21 September: Jerome Hill Climb, September 3 September: Tour De Pee Vee half-marathon, September 8 September: John’s Run for Kids 5 mile, September 29 October: Cactus ChaCha Trail Run 7 mile, October 13 November: Phoenix YMCA half-marathon, November 4 November: ARR Thanksgiving Day Classic 10 mile, November 22 December: Tucson marathon, December 2 . |
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