Ragnar 187.1

Thank you. That's the only way to start this blog. It's only appropriate. Thank you. First of all a monster thanks to the team - Albert (my running angel), Don (the strongman), Jerry (super human volunteer), Kathy (best navigator ever), Shelly (the jack rabbit), Stephanie (my checkpoint angel and cruiser - yes, she gets two names), and Susan (the warrior). More on them later.... Thanks to Sharon who I believe was texting us while hanging from rock ledges in Arizona to make sure we were being safe - that meant more than you know. To family and friends your support was fantastic and so appreciated. So for everyone listed here, a huge THANKS for being in my corner and supporting me through this adventure instead of calling the funny farm and having me carted away and tossed in a padded room.

I didn't train properly for this run. I ran 400 meter sprints to gain speed. Many a day I ran them until I was going to puke. Then we decided to do something crazy - read the rules. Turns out Ultra teams run doubles which means the training should have been endurance and hills vs speed. No big deal, I had three weeks to transition my body from speed to more mileage than I ever dreamed of. Not so much. I entered this run trained for a different run. My longest run over the past 3 months had been 9 miles and most averaged 6. Now I was off to run between 28-30 (ended with a mileage count of 31.5 miles). Was I nervous? Maybe a little on the inside.

Around 7:00am Friday morning we jumped into the van that would be our home for the next 30 or so hours. Tight fit, no toilet, tires in need of air, and a rattle that sounded as if something was going to fall off but nothing ever did. We used the drive to Blaine to start getting to know each other - some of us had never met other than Facebook. We connected fast. Maybe because we were runners. Maybe it was the nervous jitters for the unknown adventure we were about to embark on. Regardless of the reason we were becoming friends by the time we hit Blaine. While it might not have seemed that important at the time, it would end up making the difference as the relay progressed.

Jerry. We had to produce three volunteers or pay $300. Jerry stepped up as a super volunteer and bailed us out. He was stationed in Coupeville from 2:00am - 1:00pm. Eleven hours, no sleep. Thank you Jerry. You're an amazing person.

We arrived in Blaine, checked in, and attended the safety briefing. This race is all about safety. There were more places on the course where you could be hit and seriously injured than you can imagine. Blind corners, cars flying by 55 mph, little or no running room on the road so you were in the street. Factor in running in the dark and you have the ingredients for disaster. We exited the briefing and began to soak in the excitement. Booths, teams, rock n roll music, energy. It was like a drug. I started to feel like anything was possible, my running shoes had magical powers that would carry me to the finish. Let's get this relay started!

Don. Our strongman. He ran the first leg, got us started out of the gate. It had to be nerve racking to go first. He took it in stride. He took the nervousness off our shoulders and placed it firmly on his own. His first double leg would tell us all something about what was ahead. He was out of the gate and running strong. We jumped in the van to begin our leapfrog approach - drive ahead, let the runner catch up to check on them, and drive further up and wait. Don was strong. Mile after mile he looked like an ironman. Just watching him run built confidence in me. Later in the relay after his second double Don was done. His hip said no more. I know it was hard for him to listen but he did the right thing and did not run his last double. It was smart. No run is worth the possible permanent damage an injury can cause. That decision spoke volumes about Don and I for one was impressed by it.

My first double. Ok, this looks to be a long blog so if you need to pee or get a drink of water go ahead, I'll wait. I learned a lesson about fueling on this leg - and maybe a bit about smart running. It was my first and worse leg. I woke at 5:30am and had a bowl of cereal. Snacked on the drive. Had a 6 inch sub and a couple bottles of water. At 5:30pm I started my first run. 80+ degrees, sun beating down, 9.3 miles, and Michael. I was ready. Go slow it's not a race. Take it easy you have a lot of miles before this relay is done. Got it. Lost it. Ran the first mile in 7:24, second in 7:45, third and fourth close to 8:00. I was spent. Had no juice, no energy. Spent it all on the first four frickin miles and had five to go. Stupid. I couldn't get out of the sun and my legs were heavy and didn't want to move. Albert got me water and told me to slow and take it easy. Around mile 7 he was waiting for me with some G2. I knew something was up the way he was looking at me. "Are you ok" "Are you dizzy" "How do you feel" "You back is clammy". Turns out I had a bit of heat exhaustion. The final couple of miles were painful. It's hard to describe. It was so hot I couldn't stand it yet I was cold at the same time. My magical running shoes had become cement. More than once I was ready for Jesus to take me. What the fuck was wrong with me, I'm a runner. I wasn't a smart runner. Then I saw her. Stephanie. She became my checkpoint angel. She would always run after me. She was always there ready to take the handoff and allow my pain to subside. I would have hugged her but I couldn't lift my arms - in fact I wasn't sure I still had them. Albert helped me to the van for G2, a banana, and my trusty Muscle Milk. He described my last couple of miles being like a punch drunk fighter who went 15 rounds, staggering and wobbling, like Rocky screaming for Adrian..."Yo Adrian get me the hell out of here"...

Albert. My running angel. Now you know why. He looked after me as he often does. I remember giving him water as he ran through his checkpoint (Ultra teams handoff every other checkpoint whereas the "normal" teams do it every time). I asked him how he was doing and he replied "Doing fine, make sure you're hydrating". Middle of a frickin hard run and he's making sure I'll be ok on mine. He was always checking on me - he knew I wasn't trained for this and I think he had a mission to make sure I didn't hurt myself. Now Albert was beginning to get a reputation on the course. Maybe it was because he ran in nothing but skimpy shorts and the girls from many teams took notice. I always ran after Albert. On more than one occasion while waiting for him, teams would ask about him - girls would ask about him. I should make note that there were very few Ultra teams and our running bibs were green not orange like everyone else - so the Ultras stuck out. Teams were amazed with his running. Same perfect form regardless of terrain. "Who is that guy", "He looks so strong", "Never looks tired". Albert had lots of nasty legs. Hills that the van had trouble going up he had to run. He pounded them out. He ran 16.7 miles in the middle of the night. He ran strong.

Kathy. She was our driver. She was really more than that. She drove the entire time less maybe two hours for a short nap. We never got lost, our runners were always there to take the handoff. A lot of teams can't say that. Runners hit the checkpoint and their van and next runner wasn't there. The van is your lifeline. Food, drink, and your support are all there. Without it you are done for. Thank you Kathy for navigating a difficult course and allowing us to recover without worry of taking a turn driving. I cannot imagine how I would have driven if I had too. It would have been impossible.

My second double. 3:00am. 7 miles. I was wearing the same clothes I ran my first double in. Never changed. If you're thinking gross you are right, I was one stinky boy. I was well hydrated and fueled. The night was beautiful. Nearly a full moon, not a cloud in the sky, and stars everywhere. I took the handoff as was off. I was alone running through a small town and neighborhood. Once in a while a car would drive by and I only saw one runner. I ran without music. Something clicked and I ran with ease. Strong but not stupid pace. I felt as if I was the only one on earth. It was so peaceful, just me and my headlamp. I only turned it off once when I had to pee like crazy and decided to pee on a fire hydrant. As silly as it sounds that was fun too. Hey, I had been up since 5:30am, it was now 22 hours later, one crappy leg down, and I had not slept a wink. I'm lucky I didn't pee on myself! I cruised to the checkpoint ahead of schedule, felt like I could run more, and handed off to Stephanie.

Shelly. The jack rabbit. Our crazy team captain that made all this happen. Thanks Shelly (I think)! This girl has a tremendous amount of energy. I need to mention that she had strep throat as well! She ran great legs - and she only trains on a treadmill. Shelly would run to music. But not with those little earphones you stick in your ear. No. She wore these huge headphones that looked like something from the 80's. Picture Princess Leia (Star Wars). That's it. Everyone noticed...it was funny. But it worked. Proof was found during her night time run. Shelly and her headset zipping along with quick little steps. We watched her coming up to some runners and bam, like a jack rabbit she picked up the pace and flew by them. It was so funny to watch. Her legs moved like those of a cartoon character when they would fly forward and then zip, the rest of the body would snap forward with a whoosh. I was laughing out loud. She never complained and ran hard.

Susan. The warrior. The power of this woman is amazing. She runs and runs. Never a complaint. Hardly a word. Beats the dickins out of every mile and keeps on going. I don't know how she does it. I would go into battle with her and she would lead the charge, taking out the enemy with each swing of the sword. She loves her grapes. Susan - I would run with you any time. Your approach to each leg, each mile was simply to knock them out. Get them down. And you did. You did it in such an impressive and quiet manner. Girl, you can kick some serious ass.

Bonus run. Don made the right decision with his hip and his double was up in 15 minutes. Shelly and I were awake so we were making plans. We decided to break it up and I would start and the team would catch up and we'd trade off. I got out to warm up and saw Stephanie come down to Deception State Park. I took a quick hit of my inhaler, tossed the water and jacket and ran over. I think she was surprised to see me. I took the handoff and started to run - only to get called back by the race official. He said to put on safety gear of wait 10 minutes (at 7:15am you no longer have to wear it). Screw waiting, Stephanie stopped and as she took stuff off I slammed on and off I went. It was painful. It had only been 90 minutes since my last run. I admit that my ankles were sore and quads burned with every step. As my feet hit the road I felt pain from my calf to my quad. It was almost funny. Why am I out here? Four miles later the van arrived and I was ready to rest.

Third and final double. 11.2 miles. The sun was back and I had a long one in front of me. Again I was pretty rested and fueled. Still no more than 30 minutes of sleep and it'd been about 27 hours since I slept and had three runs locked down. Learning a lesson from the first run, Susan gave me her pink top and they tied it on my head. I tossed on my shades and looked a bit like a gay pirate. Who cares...I'm a flippin Ultra running on my last double...I'm an athlete. Laugh if you will but I really didn't care what anyone thought. I saw my reflection in the window and loved the look. You'll see it on the picture I'll post with this. I took off slow but strong. The first 6 miles or so weren't bad. Long stretches of pavement. Passed the checkpoint and continued on for the second half of the double. Within a quarter mile I was running a steep hill. A half mile later I was at the top - tired. Running. Other vans were driving by yelling encouragement - that was great! Then I saw it. Yikes. On the horizon I saw the steepest hill ever. It was like a stairway to heaven. Maybe a mile in front of me. As I got closer I was sure that there would be a turn before the hill started and I would be saved. Then I saw our van. Parked a third of the way up. I saw Albert and yelled out something like "Who the fuck put that there". I knew I had to tackle it. It was crap. I ran/walked. Quads burned like hot coals had been jammed in them. The team cheered me on and I needed it. Cresting the top was amazing. I was sure God would be there but that wasn't the case. The rest of the run was good and the final one mile marker was in sight. All was good until I saw the last hill. Short but steep. Felt like I wasn't moving and the volunteer at the top yelled out "only 150 yards left". Inspiration. Better yet it was downhill. I handed off to Stephanie and I was done. Spent, relieved, proud, wiped. I sat and Stephanie took off on the last double our team had - the end was in sight.

Stephanie. Checkpoint angel and cruiser. I think you know now why she gets two names. She was the angel that told me without words that I would be ok. That it was ok to stop. That she would take it from here. The hug at the end of my last leg let me know my relay was over. It was ok to rest. Thanks Stephanie. She is a cruiser. Takes off and runs. Simply runs. Runs strong and focused. We usually didn't see her right away because the team would allow me time to recover before driving off. Then we'd hit the road and she'd be miles up the road. Her attitude was great and she is very funny. We hit it off. Sometimes you simply have to be silly to get through. Silly worked and we got through. She came in on the final stretch looking strong and we all felt this incredible joy, having completed the relay.

We smelled. We laughed. We hurt. There was support from each other, support from other teams. I know that this relay changed me a little. It wasn't easy and I struggled, struggled more that I ever have, more than I thought I would. It was more guts than training. Looking back I don't know how I managed all those miles. 31.5. More hills than I can remember. 30 plus hours without sleep. 50 plus honey bucket visits. I pushed through when I wanted to stop, when I thought I would throw up, when I hurt so bad I became numb, when I didn't know how my leg was taking another stride forward. It seemed more of a life test than a relay. Often alone. I'm glad I did it. Maybe you'll see something different in me, maybe not. My life has been different since my running started. It continues to evolve. To change. It doesn't work for everyone but it does for me. Maybe I'm selfish. I can't change who I am or am becoming. Push yourself. Don't settle. Expect a lot from yourself and you can expect it from others. Have fun. Be silly. Run...don't jog.

Like a bottle rocket

That was the plan. Run like a bottle rocket. Illegal, fast, and somewhat out of control. Reality - not so much. I paid to run so the illegal angle was shot right off the bat. My 7:28 pace felt fast but I was a few seconds slower than last year and my age division kicked my butt. I was however out of control. I had to fight through this one. The first two miles were ok but mile three was an awkward pace - up and down, form good and bad. If I was in a zone it was the Twilight Zone. My mind wandered. Poor focus equals poor results. Finally I zeroed in on an old guy in front of me. Clearly in my age division. I closed in behind him and attempted to "draft". After a couple of minutes he turned his head and said "I can hear you back there" and he slid over to the side. I let out a soft whimpered "sorry" and slowed a bit. I knew my time wouldn't rock the world and decided that what was important now was to finished before this guy. I matched my pace with his and once we made the final turn toward the finish I lit my bottle rocket - lit my bottle rocket, that doesn't sound right does it? Anyway, it was lit and I took off. I hurt, my legs hurt, my lungs hurt. He finished behind me. I have a picture that I will post. Small victories...nothing wrong with that. If there was a first place medal for finding one's happy place, it would be mine.

Enough about me. Today some of the Tri team ran. Let me start by saying that some days are simply better than others. Other days surprise you. Today it was both. Today I saw heart and determination. Love and support. A couple months ago most of us were strangers. Today we're just strange. Not really....ok, maybe a little - but somehow it works for us and that's what matters. It was incredible to see everyone coming down the home stretch, running their hearts out, pushing their limits. As they came down the home stretch I was thinking about our first team run. It seemed so long ago and these now familiar faces weren't newbies anymore - they were runners. Hitting their stride, pumping their arms, driving to the finish. Each one cheering for the next runner coming in. Time meant zip. Support meant everything. You guys are unbelievable. Shawnte and Melanie - wowza! I think you've been holding back on us, great run today! I think the Tuesday and Saturday runs will be turned up a notch or two.

Strange. Unique. Tri-team. Let's see. Albert and I were in the men's room hoping to drop our running weight by a pound or two (with no success). I'm finishing my task at hand and I hear this very familiar feminine voice - Sharon. Once again she's in the men's room. Moves right to the front of the line asking the line if they mind. What would you say? She pops into a stall and the guy who had just stepped out of it looks at me and says "Tell her it wasn't me, it was the guy who was in there before me"....yup, that's our world.

Then we had the naked brothers. David and Albert. You would have thought they were at the Bare Buns Run, not the wholesome YMCA. They both kicked my ass today - Albert recorded at PR, nearly breaking the 20 minute mark. David just ran. He's a runner. I don't believe he thinks about it, just runs. Fast. Speaking of nearly naked, Sharon had a new running bra which we all had the opportunity to ah, review. I kept eye contact. Eye contact only. Look at her eyes Michael. I might have failed a few times. For the first time ever - first time ever - Sharon lied about her age. In her "new" age division she came in second. Had she put down her real age she would have walked away with a first place medal. Go figure.

Heather surprised me the most. Talk about grit. That girl doesn't give up. We have run together many times, often in the back of the pack. But each time she gets better. Each time she gives it everything. Today was no different and she looked great crossing the finish line. Her hubby Iain (rocket scientist) worked out formulas to determine where she would be at various points so he could take pictures. He was spot on. Wow. We looked like a cult in our yellow Tri shirts. I didn't wear mine because I have a shirt I like to run in. Received the stink eye for not wearing it but I like to think I was forgiven as the day progressed. After running his fastest 5K, Albert ran back to support others and ran them in to the finish. Heart. He's a good man.

Had lunch with Sharon's parents - had a blast. Her dad is battling health issues and I wish him the best - pulling for him. He's a tough guy who I respect and he'll come out of this strong. He quizzed me on World Cup history and for once I think I held my own. Funny guy. Smart guy. Her mom is always fun to hang around. She'll make you laugh and when you sit back and just listen to her you quickly see the depth of a person who has experienced so much, both good and bad, and enjoys every day.

I find myself to be lucky. Lucky to know the people I do. Lucky that they look past my faults and accept me for me. The not so perfect. I can only be who I am. Do what I do. Feel how I feel. I forgive and am forgiven. Nothing is too serious nor too silly. Life isn't easy but each day is replaced with another. Another opportunity. Make the most of yours. Be silly. Love. Run naked.

Short Stack 5K

Short Stack 5K. Sounds like a $2.99 breakfast special at IHOP. It's not. Though it sounds good as long as it comes with a side of bacon so crispy the 'fat' looks like meat. That's my secret for eating bacon - also the beauty of it. Cook it long enough and the fat chars to the point it actually looks like meat. Mentally it's now good for me - fat free bacon. If I think about it long enough maybe I can find the same happy place with Double Stuff Oreos.

The 5K wasn't really called the short stack. I could use diminutive. Maybe even petite. Yes, the Petite 5K. No...it wasn't a race for er, how do we phrase it today....little people. It was a 5K that was more like a 4K. 5K = 3.1 miles. This one was 2.72. Really? Yup. Runners are ready for that time when you know you have about a quarter mile left to go and you get ready to push every fiber in your body for a strong finish. But in this case, I round a corner and there was the finish line. Right there. The clock read 19:50:17. For a brief moment I didn't care that it was short. A sub 20 5K would be worth blogging about. Maybe even a tattoo. Then I check my trusty Garmin and what I already know is proven beyond a doubt. It read 2.72....

It also gave up another number. A beautiful number. 7:24. My pace. I could celebrate after all. Third fastest pace ever. It felt great - here I was 51 years old and still running hard. In many ways, better than ever. *Time to thank some people. Albert - running form. I was leaning! Not perfect but it made a difference - and I don't think I heal struck even one time! Sharon - well, you know. Tri-team - you have me swimming and biking which has improved my overall fitness. It's amazing how much cardio a guy can get gasping for breath in the pool.

I had a great 7:01 first mile. At the end of it my right shoelace came undone. Crap. One lace was hitting my opposite leg but I didn't want to stop. I was thinking about the shoelaces that won't come undone that Jerry talked about during his clinic. I should have bought them I thought. Then the other lace started hitting me too. Pisser. Now I know I have to stop and tie them before I trip over myself. I pull over, bend down and start the process. You know those movies where the person is being chased and they jump in the car and it takes them forever to get the key in the ignition? That was me. Ten thumbs. As runners flew by I got more and more frustrated. Finally got it down and I'm sure it didn't take as much time as it seemed to me - though I started the race with stubble and now had a full beard.

I managed to catch one of the three that passed me (yes, I counted them). The other two probably would have passed me anyway since they continued to pull away. For the rest of the race I was in a pocket. Couldn't pass anyone and no one passed me. I knew I was moving fast because this was an out and back course and I was well on my way back and runners were still not at the half way point.

After finishing the race I stuck around for the results - I'm always curious to how I place in my age division. Today was a good day. I won my age division. Beat a bunch of 40, 30, and 20 somethings in the process. Truth be told, a 14 year old girl beat me so I best not get all cocky. Teenagers amaze me. After the race they look like they could run another one. Me, it's all I can do to find half a banana and a water.

It was time to go. Albert and Sharon weren't able to join me since they were running with the tri team and the race experience isn't the same when you can't share it. I know, poor Michael. No sooner did I get in the car (and with ease slid my key into the ignition on the first try) that I had a message about a trip to Speedy Reedy. I'm all in. Turns out it was in Fremont and in Fremont was the solstice parade. We didn't know that until we rounded the corner and came face to face with naked people riding bikes. Naked. I mean I saw...well, that's another story...until then give it all you got, leave nothing for tomorrow, and Run...don't jog.

Just "Tri" it!

This is a bit of a rare blog for me. Normally I write about a recent race to share my thoughts and experiences - you may find sprinkles of humor, my often odd perspectives, and if you read along long enough, truths that provide some insight to who I am. That may or may not be the person you see everyday.

You don't have to read many blogs to know that my ace in the hole, my rabbits foot, the light that has guided my running journey is Sharon. It goes well beyond running. I eat better, my overall physical health is better, and on a good day in the right light and being careful to not look directly at them, I have abs. Whenever I have followed her training plan I have been successful. I love her at the finish line though admit to cursing her name more than once during a training session. You can't go any further or harder but somehow you do. You think you will puke but don't (that warm gurgle in your throat does not count). I find it difficult to express my level of appreciation - "Thank you Sharon" seems inadequate. In March Sharon began work on a triathlon program for the YMCA and asked if I would help with the running. Without hesitation I was all in. All in - don't doubt it, count on it, that's me. Soon I became involved as a participant in the swimming and biking.

Running. That's my deal. I am not the best but find that I can hold my own against my age division. Some days I can even kick some butt. Note that as you get older the "age division" becomes your best friend. Screw the 20 year old who finishes the race, grabs a bite, takes a nap, and comes back to the finish line to see you come across. Oh you beautiful age divisions - let's continue to grow that relationship, I think I'm in love. Running with the team has been very rewarding. Partly because I am now spewing wisdom taught to me not long ago - teaching is fun and it serves as a great reminder that we are all so very different. Also because I enjoy running - there is a freedom to it. Mostly however because of the great people I am running with. They are amazing and inspiring. Some are fast, others are getting there. Every week yields another personal success and victories are everywhere. They are fighters and I am lucky to know them.

Biking. I thought this would be easy. Wrong. My bike apparently is too big for me (maybe I need one of those little circus bikes the clowns ride), the chain falls off at least once a ride, and the gears often decide to change on their own. Then there is the fact that while it seems easy, I ride like crap. I'm a middle of the pack, quad burning, gear grinding, never wears the proper clothing to be warm, why does my ass hurt so much, want to be biker. My bike seat. I don't even know what to say. Let's just say that by the end of the ride my ass and the bike seat have become so intimate that one of them should have a cigarette.

Swimming. Where do I start? I don't like water and water does not like me. My struggle is really deeper than that. The moment I walk into the pool my world changes. I would rather be anywhere than in the pool at that moment. I suck - both mentality and physically. I am trying and today marked my 5th attempt (is it sad that I count them?). It's clear that I am the worse one in the pool - which by the way is rough. It's important to say that while I struggle, the team is nothing but great. They support me and never make me feel like I live in Loserville USA, Population 1 sinker. Thank you guys for that - it helps more than you know. I have received one on one coaching the past two weeks and today I felt like I took a step forward. Though I was on the "kiddie" side, I made it end to end without stopping to choke. A first for me. Go Michael go Michael. Maybe I am getting ahead of myself - it was only one day. But soon I may be putting together the coaching from Brook and Lisa and sliding across the pool instead of looking like I fell in quicksand. Time will tell. At the very least, our lifeguard Josh won't have to keep his eyes on me all the time.

While I may never do a triathlon the journey I am on today is more rewarding everyday. I am getting to know the team better and with each interaction I find myself being drawn in to each of them more and more. They are fantastic people - I am honored to know them. Sharon has done an incredible job organizing, directing, and teaching. She is the heart of the program and puts more into it than we'll probably ever know. Thank you Sharon - again, seems inadequate. Maybe the best way to say it is to simply say that whatever you need, I'm all in. Swimming excluded of course....

The Return

It's not really all that dramatic but to me it was a BAFCWT - using code here because mom reads my blog and I'd like to keep the halo above the head.... BAFCWT. Figuring it out can be like staring those specialty license plates. No matter how hard you try, zippo, nothing....you have no idea what it says. The driver does and I'm sure it was worth the $100 extra he paid to be "cute".

It was a big day for me because I hadn't raced since January 1st (recall the dip into Lake Washington). Four months is a long time to be away. My holiday was courtesy of pneumonia and back issues. It is now the dawning of a new day and I was returning to racing. I was a bit nervous even though it was only a 5 mile race. I ran that mileage the past two Sundays but the speed wasn't there. Hitting the distance was a mental victory though. Distance first, speed comes later. That's what I'm told. Right Sharon? Albert?

Regardless of your personal expectations, nerves always creep in. I told myself it'd be just another Sunday run and shave the pace down close to 9:00. Relax. That's what you say out loud. Inside there is a voice that speaks evil. "You know you can really run faster if you try"...."You've done it before"...."It'll be fine". As soon as that crazy talk crosses your mind you begin to calculate what your finish time would be and your race plan begins to shift. You begin to convince yourself very quickly that maybe you are fitter than you really are. I've done it before and believe me, your body will deliver some nasty payback the next day.

I saw a lot of friends at the race - I love that. It adds to the fun. Albert was there for the half marathon - talk about a challenge. One cannot just wake up and decide to knock out 13.1 miles. You plan, train, plan, train, it never stops. He was ready but like me, a little nervous. Between the two of us it was difficult to know how many trips to the john we made....darn nerves....He worked his way into the crowd of runners and was off and running. Quickly around the corner and whoosh...gone.

My start time was getting close so I left the warm gym and walked out to shiver at the start line. I lined up right in front and was ready to roll. Nerves gone. Garmin ready. iPod set to start me off with Taylor Swift - You belong with me. It's a manly song so shut up. The horn sounds and I'm off. Too fast. I slow down and runners pass me like I'm not even moving. I speed up. Too fast. I slow down. I dropped into somewhat of a rhythm and mile one is history. 7:57. I slow. The miles come and go and I sway between feeling good and struggling. I know I'm pushing myself beyond my plan. So I slow a bit. I'm passed. She is wearing a pink tutu. What the H? Do you know what it feels like to be passed by a tutu? The evil voice comes back. "You're not really going to let the girl in the tutu beat you?". I speed up. Mile marker 4 and the race is now me and the tutu. Everything else is invisible to me. Nothing else matters. Trouble is the tutu seems to be pulling away. I speed up. The tutu speeds up. We hit the track which means a quarter mile left. I'm tapped. The tutu has fuel in her tank. She pulls away and wins our little challenge. I'd tell her nice race but the pace of my breathing wouldn't allow for anything. I grab a water and go inside to wait for Albert.

Turns out my pace (8:12) was good enough for a 3rd place finish in my division - a good day but I already feel the rebellion my body would soon bring on. Until then I'll enjoy my personal victory. I was 64 of 404 but my heart rate average was 182. 192 during the tutu battle in mile 5. I have some work to do there.

Albert kicked butt with a 1:39:10 half marathon (7:31 pace). 51 of 474 - nice!!! His second best ever. What was more incredible was that the next day he was at the Y at 7:00 for swimming and cycle - and looking fresh. He's training for a sprint triathlon. Oh, and the Portland marathon. And let's not forget the Ragnar Relay (24 hour, 6 person, 189 mile race). I know, wow!

I'm glad to be running again and I look forward to the nasty training plan Sharon will put together for me. As I've stated many a time, I don't like much of the training, sometimes curse her, but each and every time I have followed her training plan I have turned in a great race as a result of it. So bring it on. Speed will reign once again and my friends I will once again live to my motto. Run...Don't jog.

Perspective

Today was one of those days. You know the kind. The run of the mill - I've done this before - no surprises - it's going to be a good day - kind of day. Today I was going to Albert's 10K as a support buddy. No running for me. After coming back from pneumonia I was lucky enough to throw my back out. Maybe I should buy some lottery tickets.... If you thought I complained during the pneumonia bout, well that paled when my back decided to plan a revolt of it's own (likely just to get some attention). So support buddy/spectator was my role and I was good with that. Why? Well first off Albert has been there for me and it's never as fun to go to a race alone. Then there's the role of a spectator - no pre-race nerves, pace pressure, or concern that the Honey Bucket line is too long.

The race had three sub races weaved in. There was a 10K, 5K, and 1 mile walk. After the 10K started I began to feel a bit sorry for myself. "Wish I could run" pumped in and out of my brain. Then the 5K runners took off. As I watched them burn through the start line and slip around the corner and out of sight, I could feel the frustration build inside. It's not fair I thought, I train hard and I deserve to be out there. I know I can beat a lot of them. Stupid back. Why does it have to be so freakin sore? So I walk over and pour a free cup of coffee from one of the vendor booths and continue to tell myself how unfair the world can be....unfair to me.

I hear the race director announce that the 1 mile walk is about to begin. One mile walk. I nearly laughed out loud. Gee, that's some test of endurance, walking a whole mile. The horn goes off and walkers glide past me. It was almost silly. Some of them in matching hats, others in matching shirts, and still others fiddling with their iPODs. My eyes are on the pack as they slowly round the corner - seeee ya! I say to myself. I turn back towards the start line and at that moment my day started to change. I saw a young boy maybe 8 years old using a walker with his mom by his side. He had maybe traveled 20 feet in the time everyone else had covered a couple blocks. His short shuffle steps barely moved him forward and mom was right behind him, her hands close to the walker but not quite touching it. He was proudly wearing his race number on the front of his shirt and the smile and pride on his face as he inched forward melted your heart. I cut across the grass to watch his progress. Every step deliberate, every moment special.

I walked back to the start/finish line no longer feeling that life was being unfair to me. Actually the little guy had choked me up a little. Life has tossed him a crappy card and there he was, giving that one mile everything he had. His picture is off to the left. At the finish line I began to see many special needs kids coming down the home stretch. Each one in their own way pushing hard at the finish. There were only a few spectators but the cheering was infectious. I was right there with them clapping and yelling as one after another they came across the finish line. I had tears on my cheeks and didn't care. Today was a good day. An unexpected day. A day I wish we could all experience. Perspective....it's a good thing.

Ghost Runner

The weather was perfect for racing, something you never take for granted especially in February. Over two thousand runners mingling about, stretching, jogging, some slipping in a stride or two while others talk nervously about their race plans - did they train enough? Why does everyone around look so fast? Do these running shorts make my butt look big?

10 minutes until the race starts. Everyone begins to crowd the start area. Few line up in front. That's for the elite, the speedsters, the ones we look at with wonder. As our confident grows we sneak up a bit, feeling that today just might be the day. A quick look over the shoulder and you see hundreds of runners behind you. Hope they stay back there you think - today is my day. Historically after I say this some guy pushing a racing stroller with twin fat kids slips past me.

The count down 10, 9, 8...3,2,1 and the gun sounds. Your world becomes pavement. The only thing that matters is the next 3.1 miles. At some point during the race your body gets pissed at you for what you are putting it through. Your mind takes over and you find your pace. You hear hundreds of feet hitting the road but your focus is 10-15 yards in front of you - that's your world. One more turn and you're home, breathe and push, nothing can stop you, and then you see it. Paradise. Or more commonly know as the finish line. Where it comes from we don't know but we find that little extra in ourselves and speed across the line. Spent. Out of breath. Celebrating.

Today was a day just like that. The difference today was that I didn't run. The race stats will tell a different story however. It will show that I ran the best race of my life. A 6:39 pace - a time I've dreamt about but haven't achieved. Today I was a ghost. At the race in spirit but stuck on the couch watching the clock and thinking about my friends zipping through the course. Seems I have a case of pneumonia and for a short time have traded my running shoes for a few bottles of pills.

Sharon ran my race today. She wore my racing bib and never before has anyone seen #99 run so fast. The official results don't list her. No mention of her name nor the accomplishment of finishing in the top 100 out of 2335 runners. Why train so hard, push so hard and give it up? Because she's unselfish. I guess she was really the ghost runner today. Running an amazing race that no one will ever know about except us.

So exactly how well did I do. I finished 103 of 2335 and 6th in my division while knocking out a 20:35 5K. And I did it in my pajamas. Taking my results and applying them to Sharon, she would have finished 7th in her division and left 2232 runners behind her - including the stroller with the fat twins. Albert was on his game, 16th in his division and 105 overall with a 20:36 time. I think his new shoes are keepers. Susan had a great time, 38th of 509 in her division and 386 overall. Jerry. Worth repeating. Jerry. Finished 26th overall with a 17:12 time and a 5:33 pace.

I missed running with my friends and the post Starbucks chatter. Our next race is in two weeks and I'm out. My focus will be getting ready for the Mercer Island race in March. Sharon - you best get another spanking training plan ready for me because I'll need the best you got. Albert - Sunday runs will be back soon, I look forward to them. We all hit setbacks from time to time. You can be down but not out. You can come back stronger if you have the will. The will and friends that are there to help. I have both. Run....Don't jog.