twenty6two: Golden Gate Bridge

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Golden Gate Bridge

I've been dleiinquent in my postings. Something about crazy travel and lots of work to do. Speaking of travel, I spent the last two days in San Francisco and had the opportunity to run along the shores of the Bay this morning. I ran along Embarcadero all the way to the Golden Gate Bridge. It was about 6 miles out and 6 miles back. It was a gorgeous morning except for the bright yellow booms along the entirety of the shoreline mopping up after the unfortunate oil spill that happened recently. Really sad to see all the beaches closed. But SF is a beautiful place to run. I expected more hilliness but I managed to find the flattest part of the city. The best thing was that I escaped the dreaded hotel treadmill. Oh how I hate treadmills.

Still no word on the Ryan Shay autopsy findings. It has crossed my mind a couple of times whether or not I shoudl get tested. I'm trying not to get caught up in the media hype about testing athletes but at the same time, it scares me a bit. My dad, a physician, has told me what tests I would need to get. I haven't decided what to do.

I'll be better about my posts the rest of the week.

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Recent Race Results

Seattle RnR Half -- 1:08:58
Indy Mini Marathon -- 1:07:53
WWU Invite 10,000m -- 30:58
UW Indoor 5,000m--14:49
Torchlight 8k -- 25:03
Run of the Mill 5k -- 15:44
Time to Fly 5k -- 15:35
Fall City 10k -- 31:29
Newport Marathon -- 2:22:47
Tacoma Half Marathon--1:09:47
Steilacoom 15 Mile--1:18:30
US Olympic Trials--2:30:41
St. George Marathon--2:18:55
SJJ Half Marathon--1:10:42
Hood to Coast Relay--17:25:01
Seafair Torchlight 8k--25:32
Sound to Narrows 12k--39:55
Eugene Marathon--2:29:18
Steilacoom 20k--1:05:10
Steilacoom 15 Mile--1:20:17
Christmas Dash 10k--33:03

My Running Story

It all began one day in November 1989 in Eugene, Oregon. It was my junior year of high school and I had just been cut from the JV basketball team. I had played basketball the two years previous on the school’s freshman and sophomore teams, but my short stature (5’ 7”) and my mediocre ball handling finally caught up with me. I was a good shooter, but good shooters who are short and can’t handle the ball are what intramural leagues are for.

I was pretty athletic, though, and I wanted to “letter” in something, anything, so I could get one of those cool letterman jackets. One of the guys I hung out with was a track guy. He encouraged me to join the team later that spring. I was certain it was so he could have someone else to beat, but I went for it.

I knew when I got beat in a 400m time trial by a girl that the longer distances were going to be my better bet. It just so happened that my buddy was a distance guy too. So I focused on the 1500m and 3000m distances. My first year was quite successful for a newbie. I don’t recall my times, but I did win some races and was consistently beating the buddy who introduced me to the sport. I ran in the district meet and narrowly missed qualifying for state in the 3,000m.

I ran a few days a week over the ensuing summer to prepare myself for the upcoming cross country season. It was now my senior year and I had only one season to run cross country. I loved it. Getting off the roads and onto trails, fields and even sand dunes made running much more interesting than running around an oval. The introduction of hills was also a big plus.

I quickly established myself as one of the two best runners on the team but flew under the radar at the district level until my breakout race at the district championships. I finished in second place, well ahead of where I was “supposed” to finish, beating several guys who were expected to contend for the top two spots. It was such a big deal that the next morning I found myself on the front page of the sports section of Eugene’s newspaper.

The state meet was on exactly the same course as my district meet. Only problem was I decided to eat too much before the race and my stomach began aching half way in. I was crushed. I had everything going for me and had a very good chance to end my first and only cross country season as an all-state athlete. It wasn’t to be.

Before I knew it, it was time to prepare for my second and final track season. By this time, I had focused my effort s on the 3,000m running the 1500m and 800m races only as a means to build footspeed. I won my share of races my senior year but the season would not be a success unless I made it to state which meant I would need to finish in the top two at the district meet.

Just prior to the district meet, I got a call from the head coach of Brigham Young University’s track team. He said they had a scholarship available and would be watching my district and state meets very closely.

When the district meet rolled around, so did a ridiculous spring storm. Strong winds and unseasonably cool temperatures made the 4-6 inches of standing water in the final turn at Springfield High School’s track seem unbearable…all eight times. The leader was 10 or seconds ahead of me and a couple of rivals who were left to battle for second place. With 400m to go, I made a break for it. I’m no sprinter and 400m was about 150 meters sooner than I usually sprint for the line in a 3000m race, but it felt right. With 200m to go, it was all but over. I finished second and was off to state.

The state meet was held at the University of Oregon’s historic Hayward Field, arguably to most prestigious and awe-inspiring track facility in America. It was breezy and windy that day and the pollen was making a visible presence. Why do I mention that? Well, while I had outgrown early childhood bouts with asthma, heavy pollen days still had an impact on my respiration. I managed only a 9:20 something that day, well off my personal best of 8:57.2. I think I finished 7th or 8th, disappointing but respectable. I never got a second call from BYU.

I ran a bit after graduation but was pretty burned out. Over the summer, my family and I moved to Salt Lake City where my dad was starting a new medical practice. I was to attend BYU my freshman year. I wandered down to Provo, Utah a few days early to get settled. I swung by the track offices and talked with the coach. They suggested I join the team as a walk on.

As I recall, I attended a couple of workouts. It was a big gut check to be sitting in a room with high school state champions from all over the country. It was like a state meet every workout. I was burned out and didn’t have much fight. So I walked away.

Fast forward fourteen years. It was April 2005. I was 50 pounds (185lbs) heavier than when I graduated from high school. I was married with four beautiful children and living in the Seattle area. My sister had recently moved up to the area and was training for the Yakima Marathon. I paid no attention. That is until she went out and qualified for Boston on her first try. She had never run in her life prior to training for this marathon.

So who got me back into running? I guess it was my sister, but in reality it was my pride. If she could qualify for Boston, then so could I. After all, I used to be the runner. My plan was simple. Qualify for Boston at the St. George Marathon in October, run the Boston Marathon the following April, and then be done with this crazy marathon stuff. Marathoners were loonies.

So I began training. Those first hundred or so miles were hard. At 5’7”, I was way overweight. I felt like Free Willy learning to walk on dry land. By June I was 15 pounds lighter, running 40 miles a week and I was preparing to run my first race in 14 years: the Sound to Narrows 12k. It was the longest race I had ever run. I finished in 46:35 (6:15 pace) good enough for 41st. It felt good to be running again.

During the remaining four months leading up to the 2005 St. George Marathon I dropped another 10 pounds and was doing about 60 miles per week with just a bit of speed work thrown in. I was in pretty good shape and weighed 160 pounds, some 25 pounds lighter than when I laced my shoes six months prior. I needed 3:10 to qualify for Boston, but I secretly wanted to break three hours. As I ran the race, I swore my watch was broken. All my splits were coming in well under the plan. When I crossed the finish line the clock read 2:44:13, 22nd overall. I was astounded. I had no idea what I was doing for 26 miles yet somehow managed to run 26 minutes faster than BQ pace, a full minute per mile faster than planned. I will be forever grateful for such a debut because it has kept me running ever since. But there were some dark days ahead.

In some ways, early success in the marathon was a curse. I spent the next several months running through the crappy, rainy, cool Seattle winter determined to run the Boston marathon even faster. I was still putting in 60-65 miles per week and I was trying to get a better grasp on speed work. I lived in the foothills of Western Washington which gave me ample opportunity to simulate the uphills and downhills of the vaunted Boston course. I felt ready to run Boston and brought my wife along with me.

What a disaster (the race not my wife). I ran the four-mile downhill stretch way too fast and by halfway, I knew the end was nigh. I saw my wife at Mile 16, pretended to feel fine, gave her a kiss and began the rest of my journey. My legs were burning up. I felt terrible despite perfect weather. What a waste. When I reached Heartbreak Hill I had to walk. Yes, walk. Talk about humbling, or maybe humiliating. The next four miles were marred with stopping and starting. From Mile 24 to the finish I ran, sort of. No more walking. I couldn’t let that many people, none of whom I knew, see me walking. I crossed the finish line in 3:03:33, nearly 20 minutes slower than St. George. By the time I met up with my wife, I was devastated and in tears. I told her I was done. She tried her best to comfort me but I was not to be comforted. I was ready to walk away, again.

After returning home from Boston, I moved beyond the disappointment and began to get that itch. I could not stay out of my running shoes. Even worse, my pride kept telling me that I couldn’t let my last marathon be as ugly as Boston was. I had to take one more shot.

So after a week of no running, I began training for the Seafair Marathon in Bellevue, Washington in July 2006. Why I picked this marathon I will never know. It was a hilly course in the middle of the summer. Even in Washington, it can get quite warm in July. Temperatures at the start were already in the upper 60s and it was in the upper 70s by the finish with the sun beating down on me the whole race. I finished in 2:56:57, 10th place. For the second consecutive time, I had to walk a portion of the marathon. To add insult to injury, the female winner passed me with a tenth of a mile to go. Ugh.

One success, two disasters. Or maybe they weren’t disasters. Maybe St. George wasn’t reality.

Despite two very disappointing marathons I was just stubborn enough to try another. I had to prove to myself that St. George was no fluke. So I called the St. George Marathon office and petitioned for a spot in the race. I had missed the lottery so I was at their mercy. They let me in. I owe St. George a lot. I don’t know that I would have continued running had I not gotten in.

After recovering from Seafair, I upped my mileage to 75 per week and began a more regular speed work routine, doing three tempo/interval workouts every two weeks. When I reached the starting line I was down to 150 pounds and feeling great. But I can’t say I was all that confident.
26.2 miles later, I crossed the finish line in 2:31:57, a PR by nearly 13 minutes. I was 13th overall and 3rd in my age group. 2005 was no fluke.

I was rejuvenated. I signed up for Boston the day registration opened. I wanted revenge.

At the awards ceremony, I spoke with Corbin Talley, one of Utah’s fastest marathoners and a 2004 Olympic Trials qualifier. He asked me if I had thought about trying to qualify. To be honest, I didn’t even know they ran the marathon in the Olympics let alone what the qualifying time was for the US Trials. We spoke some more and while I didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about the Trials at that point, it planted a seed.
When I returned to work, my boss was impressed. He suggested I get a coach. I did some searching and everyone I found was out of my price range. A short time later, I was introduced to Tom Cotner, a well-respected long-distance coach in the Seattle area who was semi-retired from his research career at the University of Washington. He was free. He did it for the love of the sport. I also joined Club Northwest, the largest of the running clubs in Seattle. Tom was affiliated with CNW and many of the area’s best runners were members.

I took Tom to lunch in early December 2006 to see if he would help me. He invited me to the general workout he does every Wednesday for area runners of all levels. After a couple of workouts with that group, he invited me to attend the elite workout he held an hour earlier at the University of Washington’s incredible indoor track. By the end of January, I was running the most difficult workouts with the top three or so guys in the group. It was at this point that I first thought seriously about trying to qualify for the Trials.

I quickly realized that a legitimate shot at the Trials meant NOT running Boston. If I was to qualify, it would be with seconds to spare and Boston just isn’t the optimal course for that.

A few elite runners from the group, Tom and I agreed the inaugural Eugene Marathon in April would be where we would all take a shot at qualifying. Most of the guys in the group had barely missed qualifying in the 2006 Chicago Marathon so I was definitely the grunt of the group.

Returning to Eugene to run brought with it a flood of emotion. It’s where I got my first taste of competitive running more than 17 years prior. My former high school track coach, who herself qualified twice for the Olympic Trials, was there to watch. And then to step foot on Hayward Field for the first time since my state meet in 1991 was unbelievable.

The weather was cool but it was a mostly clear day and you could just tell it was going to warm up pretty quickly. The course was not nearly as fast as advertised. I hung with the lead pack of 15-20 runners for the first 11 miles before the pack blew up. I crossed the half way point at 1:10:10, 50 seconds ahead of pace and in the lead pack of four runners. Everything was going just as planned. We worked together, trading the lead and talking things through to keep us all on pace and relaxed. By mile 17, the eventual winner bolted ahead leaving a pack of two, me and my running mate Destry Johnson who missed qualifying in Chicago by less than two minutes in 2006. As I approached Mile 20, the wheels were starting to come off. Dehydration was setting in and I felt like the tin man desperately in need of oil. I had done everything in the race correctly except the most important thing: hydrate. In fact, I did an awful job. By Mile 20 I calculated I had taken fewer than 20 ounces of water, far less than half of what I should have had by that point. To make matters worse, I took a GU gel at 17 which only dehydrated me more. I was literally screeching to a halt. With six miles to go I was still on OTQ pace but knew full well the race was over. That is a really yucky feeling. I ran the final 10k in 40:58. That was an even yuckier feeling. (My final 10k at St. George this month was 32:26.) Abominable. I considered quitting, but I was in my hometown and too many people were at the finish line waiting for me including my dad who flew in from Minnesota. I finished in 2:29:18. It was a PR by more than two minutes but I didn’t return to Eugene for a PR. I wanted to qualify for the Trials. My family was at the finish line and I tried to pretend that their hugs and cheerful words were helpful. Then I saw my old track coach and gave her a big hug. Her words meant something. She’d been through it all herself.

Tom was there too. One look at my salt covered face told the story. I was beyond dehydrated. It was a miracle I was even able to finish. The most frustrating part of this race was knowing that I was in good enough shape to qualify, but completely preventable mistakes cost me dearly.

As disappointed as I was, I knew I still had another chance to qualify in the fall at Chicago, Twin Cities or St. George. But missing at Eugene meant I wouldn’t have the proper amount of recovery time to run the Trials well. But at 34 years of age, I would be thrilled just to make it.

It wasn’t until late August that I finally decided which October marathon to run. I had signed up for Twin Cities, Chicago and, once again, petitioned the good folks at the St. George Marathon to let me. Given I was a legitimate Trials qualifier they let me in without too much grief. I debated for several weeks which to run. Twin Cities was going to give me access to the elite water table which was a huge deal given the Eugene fiasco. But they have an uphill stretch in the last few miles that was bothersome. Chicago was fast and flat and I would be able to run with a good size pack throughout the race but I would have no access to elite water tables. St. George gave me elite water table access, I knew the course well, and most importantly, the weather was extremely predictable. After the Chicago Marathon fiasco this year and the underpublicized heat wave in Minneapolis, I definitely made the right decision.

The temperature at the starting line (elevation 5,200’) was about 35 degrees with a decent wind to make things extra chilly. Not great weather for a tan, but perfect for starting a marathon. I started out strong and got ahead of pace in the first seven miles as planned knowing I would give it all back and then some from miles 8-12 which are all uphill. Mile 8 is a fairly steep incline and a place where many people blow themselves up and go way to fast. I ran that mile in just under 6:00 giving back a bunch of time but feeling great at the top. I hung in there through the first half crossing 13.1 at 1:11:25. Over pace but “rested” and ready to pound the next several miles which were aggressive downhill stretches. The eventual winner made his break around Mile 12 and never looked back. My new friend and running mate Paul Petersen and I stuck together through Mile 23 before he ditched me. By Mile 23, I was well under even the “A” qualifying pace and didn’t want to do anything to screw that up so I took it somewhat easy and “mailed it in” the last two miles in 10:52. As I made the final turn with 400 meters to go, I could see the clock and the sizeable crowds. I had done it. All my hard work and determination had paid off. I crossed the line at 2:18:55 (3rd place), a course PR of nearly 13 minutes and an overall PR of almost 11 minutes. I had done what one year prior seemed impossible. I still don’t know how to describe the feeling.

In that front page story in the Eugene newspaper back in 1990, my coach told the reporter (a former track athlete of hers, ironically) that I was the smartest runner she had ever coached. You wouldn’t think so given what I’ve shared above. Tom, my current coach, might say I am one of his most determined and focused runners. I am definitely not his most talented. Many, many runners are more talented, but my determination to magnify a talent God has given me is why I will be running in New York City with the most talented field of marathoners this country has ever seen. US Olympic Trials here I come.

I’ve been asked if I regret not running in college. I honestly don’t. I didn’t have the drive or maturity to be successful in college and there’s no guarantee that running in college would have led me to the marathon. Instead, I started running at age 32 with fresh legs, the maturity that marriage and kids bring and a laser-focused commitment to train hard.

I have no regrets.

twenty6two

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Golden Gate Bridge

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