Well, it's been 3 and a half years since my last post. (which was ironically titled "Back on Track" - which turns out to have been too optimistic). Since then much has transpired, both in my running universe, and otherwise. A quick recap of the past 4 years:
2006:
My bum ankle, which had gotten injured soon after my first (and last)marathon in 2005, continued to stay that way, and prevented me from getting back into any kind of serious running. Later figured out it was probably achilles tendonitis - one of those chronic injuries that never fully goes away. I stayed away from speedwork at track - which had been my bread and butter up until that point. I did do a bit of running - I went "strength training" on Mondays for a few months, which involved a million push-ups and what-not. And some irregular weekend running. But a far, far cry from 2005.
Oh and by the way - 2006 was also the year I met N, my "significant other".
2007:
Early 2007 brought marriage; then a few months of shuttling between Philly and S.Cruz. Then in the summer, we did two moves - N moved first from the City of Brotherly Love to Santa Cruz. And then it was time to wave goodbye to Santa Cruz after 7 awesome years, and head to the practical world of San Jose.
The rest of 2007 was spent adjusting to a new life. Time suddenly became precious. Gone were the days where I would go out running at 7.30 am on a weekday and grin in glee at all those hustling and bustling to work; I was one of them now - a (forced) early riser with a long commute. Exercise didn't even figure in the mix.
2008:
Finally started feeling the need to start moving my sorry ass again. Discovered soon enough that running outside in downtown San Jose was nowhere near as fun as Santa Cruz. In S.Cruz, I could escape into miles of trails within a few minutes of stepping out of the house. I could choose between running in the open spaces of Pogonip; under the redwoods of Nisene Marks; or by the waterfront along West Cliff - to name just 3 options. In San Jose however, I was stuck running from stop light to stop light. Plus, it was ultra-flat. I never thought I'd say this, but I really missed the hilly streets and trails in S.Cruz! San Jose downtown is right at the bottom of the valley and is flat as a pancake. Running up and down a hill gives you a satisfying workout in 15 min or less; but on flat terrain, it takes much longer to derive any level of satisfaction. Reluctantly, I joined a gym; and slowly got over my hatred for running on the treadmill. One benefit of the treadmill was that N and I could workout together while maintaining different paces.
2009:
One winter morning in 2009, while out on a long run on the streets near our home, I took a detour and ran by the grounds of San Jose High Academy - on 21th and Santa Clara Sts. And I made an amazing discovery - there in front of me was an Olympic-sized 400 m rubberized asphalt track! I had grown to love running on track during my time with the Santa Cruz Track Club, and I was ecstatic to have the opportunity to do so again - at a place so close to home (~2 mi). It was perfect - I could measure and time myself again; could run for long stretches at a time without having to stop at stop lights; N and I could workout together, outside while running at different paces. I kicked the gym goodbye; and a track workout soon became part of our weekend routine. I was truly, back on track. What made it even more fun was that on saturdays and sundays there'd be a soccer game on in the field enclosed by the track. Kept me entertained. Nothing beats watching live (in-person!) sport while working out. Staring into a TV at the gym makes for a poor, poor substitute.
Over these past couple years, and especially in the months since we discovered the high school track, N has really come into her own as a true runner, and I was ready to start dreaming about racing again. (racing - not as in running fast - but as in participating in a race event) - and I even managed to convince N that it would be a good idea. We signed up for a half marathon (13.1 mi) - the San Jose Rock and Roll Half, coming up on October 4. It would be N's first event > 10 Km, and it would be my first half marathon in 4 years. Needless to say, I am excited.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Back on track (well, almost)
Its been nearly two months since my marathon, and nearly that much time since my last entry. A friend of mine had asked about the life of this blog after the marathon, and at the time I had boldly stated that this blog would continue to live. But over this past month, I had begun to have my share of doubts about that. A feeling of having run out of words started to creep in. I had met my goal, and had written about it - what else was left to write? But that was before I went on a weekend run a couple sundays ago.
I'd spent most of December being stiff and sore, talking about my marathon to anyone and everyone, and writing about it - here, as well as in an article at the Santa Cruz Track Club newsletter. Two wednesdays after the marathon I went back to our weekly track workout and tried to do the whole thing.. but four laps into it, I realized that there was no way I could finish - my right ankle was in some pain. I spoke with Coach Brock, who told me that people tend to be vulnerable to injury right after a marathon, typically. "Now you're telling me!" , I thought. Oh well. Atleast this didn't happen before the marathon. In any case, my plans for December consisted of a lot of travelling and very little time for running. So I decided cut out the running for a month or so and just give myself the time to heal.
It was mid-Jan before I found the time again to go out on a run. I had forgotten all about the ankle, but it didn't take too long for it to come back. It wasn't painful, but my right ankle definitely felt different, more heavier maybe, compared to the left. I waited to see if it would hurt more, but it didn't, and I managed to do the 5 mile loop I had set out to do. Hmm.., was this a sign of a real injury, or is it just a case my leg reacting to the fact that I hadn't run in a while? Only more running would tell.
I went back to track the next wednesday, in order to further experiment with my problem and see if I could still manage it throughout the workout. The warm-ups and the first few laps were OK.. but once I picked up the speed - there it was, again. I slowed down, to a point where it seemed like the pain dropped to a managable level, and completed the workout. Clearly, it had something to do with speed. I checked with Coach Brock and a bunch of experienced runners again - and we ran down a list of common injury symptoms. No easy matches. Oh well. I decided that I had to bite the bullet and actually check with a foot doctor.
Meanwhile, I continued my slow running on the weekend - running slow, and on soft surfaces like trails seemed to keep my ankle happy. Come sunday, and I decided to try out, again, the new trail that I had discovered. This was a route from my house to Pogonip - an open space reserve that adjoins the UCSC campus. Ever since I moved to my new place in Santa Cruz, my regular run was a loop around Harvey West Park - a city park that featured an outdoor pool, couple baseball fields and such. The park ended in the woods, but I'd never gotten to explore the trails in the woods until now. On this day, though, I took the "Harvey West Trail to Pogonip". The trail was nice and soft, due to the recent rains. Soon, the trail started climbing, as it skirted around the on the edges of the hills. Boy, this was quite a climb! I was panting a fair bit very soon. Soon, the Harvey West trail hit "Lookout trail". And soon enough - the woods cleared, and was replaced by green rolling hills - Pogonip!
I had run in Pogonip before, late last year - but this was a very different sight. The grass was a shade of green that I hadn't seen before. Not a mature, dark green - but a fresh, light, almost flourescent green. The trail went back into the woods and I did a couple more miles before turning back. As I came back into the clear, it was time for sunset. the sky took on a thousand different shades of pink and green and blue. It was truly a sight to see. Clearly, this is why I run!
Coming back to the real world, I visited my doctor to get a referral for a podiatrist. The doctor checked out my symptoms, suggested that it could possibly be a "stress fracture", scheduled an X-Ray, and asked me to stop running just in case it was a fracture. There - I was grounded.
I'll know my results next week, but it really doesn't feel all that bad - so Im hoping it's something simple, something that'll allow me to do some minimal/easy running atleast while it heals. We'll see. Luckily for me, a new "speed/strength development" program got started at track, every monday. This involves a brutal series of push-ups, sit-ups, lunges, leg-swings and such like - but the good thing is, it doesn't involve too much running. So I m hoping that I'll put the next few weeks to good use and build some strength, even if I can't run in the traditional way.
Will keep you all posted on the developments... but one thing I know for sure - I m back in the world of running, and it is as fresh as ever.
I'd spent most of December being stiff and sore, talking about my marathon to anyone and everyone, and writing about it - here, as well as in an article at the Santa Cruz Track Club newsletter. Two wednesdays after the marathon I went back to our weekly track workout and tried to do the whole thing.. but four laps into it, I realized that there was no way I could finish - my right ankle was in some pain. I spoke with Coach Brock, who told me that people tend to be vulnerable to injury right after a marathon, typically. "Now you're telling me!" , I thought. Oh well. Atleast this didn't happen before the marathon. In any case, my plans for December consisted of a lot of travelling and very little time for running. So I decided cut out the running for a month or so and just give myself the time to heal.
It was mid-Jan before I found the time again to go out on a run. I had forgotten all about the ankle, but it didn't take too long for it to come back. It wasn't painful, but my right ankle definitely felt different, more heavier maybe, compared to the left. I waited to see if it would hurt more, but it didn't, and I managed to do the 5 mile loop I had set out to do. Hmm.., was this a sign of a real injury, or is it just a case my leg reacting to the fact that I hadn't run in a while? Only more running would tell.
I went back to track the next wednesday, in order to further experiment with my problem and see if I could still manage it throughout the workout. The warm-ups and the first few laps were OK.. but once I picked up the speed - there it was, again. I slowed down, to a point where it seemed like the pain dropped to a managable level, and completed the workout. Clearly, it had something to do with speed. I checked with Coach Brock and a bunch of experienced runners again - and we ran down a list of common injury symptoms. No easy matches. Oh well. I decided that I had to bite the bullet and actually check with a foot doctor.
Meanwhile, I continued my slow running on the weekend - running slow, and on soft surfaces like trails seemed to keep my ankle happy. Come sunday, and I decided to try out, again, the new trail that I had discovered. This was a route from my house to Pogonip - an open space reserve that adjoins the UCSC campus. Ever since I moved to my new place in Santa Cruz, my regular run was a loop around Harvey West Park - a city park that featured an outdoor pool, couple baseball fields and such. The park ended in the woods, but I'd never gotten to explore the trails in the woods until now. On this day, though, I took the "Harvey West Trail to Pogonip". The trail was nice and soft, due to the recent rains. Soon, the trail started climbing, as it skirted around the on the edges of the hills. Boy, this was quite a climb! I was panting a fair bit very soon. Soon, the Harvey West trail hit "Lookout trail". And soon enough - the woods cleared, and was replaced by green rolling hills - Pogonip!
I had run in Pogonip before, late last year - but this was a very different sight. The grass was a shade of green that I hadn't seen before. Not a mature, dark green - but a fresh, light, almost flourescent green. The trail went back into the woods and I did a couple more miles before turning back. As I came back into the clear, it was time for sunset. the sky took on a thousand different shades of pink and green and blue. It was truly a sight to see. Clearly, this is why I run!
Coming back to the real world, I visited my doctor to get a referral for a podiatrist. The doctor checked out my symptoms, suggested that it could possibly be a "stress fracture", scheduled an X-Ray, and asked me to stop running just in case it was a fracture. There - I was grounded.
I'll know my results next week, but it really doesn't feel all that bad - so Im hoping it's something simple, something that'll allow me to do some minimal/easy running atleast while it heals. We'll see. Luckily for me, a new "speed/strength development" program got started at track, every monday. This involves a brutal series of push-ups, sit-ups, lunges, leg-swings and such like - but the good thing is, it doesn't involve too much running. So I m hoping that I'll put the next few weeks to good use and build some strength, even if I can't run in the traditional way.
Will keep you all posted on the developments... but one thing I know for sure - I m back in the world of running, and it is as fresh as ever.
Saturday, December 17, 2005
The Marathon Story: Part 2
The morning arrived soon enough. Two alarms went off at 3.30 am. I was sufficiently on edge that I'd have gotten up even if the alarms hadn't rung. I had probably slept for about 5 hrs or so - and fitfully at that - but I wasn't feeling too sleepy. The adrenalin had already started to kick in.
As I got ready, I guzzled down some semi-cold coffee - a bottle of starbucks frappucino. I needed to get some caffeine into my system, but was highly suspicious of the coffee at the hotel - so I had done the smart thing and stocked up on the "frappucino". No, this wasn't "fresh" coffee, but this was a "tried and tested" drink for me - I knew from past experience that it had just enough of milk, sugar and coffee and fairly agreeable taste, to get me going. I also had my first meal of the day - one of those "magic" bars.
I stepped out on to the hotel lobby around 5am. The lobby was already buzzing with other runners. You could especially not miss the "Team In Training(TNT)" people - these are the group of folks who run to raise funds for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (There are TNT chapters in various cities around the US, and you'll find TNT folks at most marathons in the country). You could see one of the TNT coaches walking around and checking in on the various runners in the Team - it seemed like a big boisterous family. There was a good deal of energy and enthusiasm in the air- mainly thanks to these folks, and some of that rubbed off on the others as well.
We hopped into the shuttle bus (which was to take us to the starting line) around 5.10 or so. A gentleman named Paul Cowley settled in beside me. When he found out that I was from Santa Cruz, he told me that his first marathon was the Big Sur Intl. Marathon from a few years ago ("Big Sur" is this spectacular coastal redwood region south of where I live - and the Big Sur Marathon is a tough race with a good deal of fairly hilly stuff). He said that he got into running kinda late in life, but now is a regular marathoner, running 3-4 marathons per year. Upon hearing that it was my first marathon, he said - "well, this marathon business, you know, can get kinda addictive".
We reached the starting line in Folsom, around 6am or so - that was a fairly long bus ride! The course is one-way, which means that the starting point is 26.2 miles away from the finish line (which is where our hotels were). And our job over the course of the morning would be to retrace our steps back. It was a crisp, chilly morning - low 30s. The sun hadn't risen yet - the sky was still dark. Luckily, there was no howling wind, unlike the case the previous day. I was especially happy with my decision to carry gloves at that moment. I saw Roger and Doug, and we exchanged stories as we stood there shivering. We looked around for others from the track club. Huge lines were already starting to form at the gazillions of port-a-potties. Everyone was carrying what looked like a trash-bag, with their bib numbers written on them. It was a rather funny sight - until you realized what these bags were for. These were our "sweat bags"; before starting the race, we were supposed to put any extra clothes (and we were all wearing many layers to keep warm) in them and drop them off in the buses - which would carry them to the finish line.
Soon it was time to assemble at the starting line. There were nearly 6000 people. While this is much smaller than many popular marathons (which feature upto 40,000 people), 6000 is still a fairly big number, and it made for a nice atmosphere. "Cristy's group" - myself, Roger, Doug, Debbie, and Esther, assembled together - we were in good spirits. A few of us were wearing a "pace-band" - this was something we had made based on a pace-chart Greg Hales made for us “4-hr-marathoners”, and this laid out, for each mile, the target min/mile pace and the cumulative time at the end of that particular mile. This was to ensure that we stayed on pace to meet our goal and didn't take off too fast. Another thing about this race was that it featured "pace-team leaders". These were people who committed to finishing at a particular time - for example, there was a 3:30 pace team leader, a 4:45 pace-team leader etc. If your goal was to finish the race at say 3hrs 30min, all you needed to do was to hang with the 3:30 pace leader. These were "elite-runners", which meant that they would run smart, and knew how to manage effort and energy to ensure that you didn't crash and burn half-way through the run. All these folks carried a little red placard with the time written on it. So we knew that we needed to be in the general vicinity of the 4:00 pace-team leader - Bill Finkbeiner, and look out for the 4:00 placard.
We started off, crossing the starting line maybe a minute after the gun went off. Cristy's words "don't take off too fast!" kept playing over and over in my head, and so I consciously started off slow, telling myself - "Im just warming up". The sun had just started to come out - it was going to be a beautiful day. You couldn't really run with any kind of rythm in the first mile, since the crowd was rather thick, we hadn't spread out yet. My usual instinct would have been to weave through the crowd to get some separation - but we had been advised about that too (that that would be a waste of energy), and so, instead we just held back and took it easy.
The first mile marker came, and we checked our watches - we were about a minute-and-a-half slower than planned! Well, atleast we could rest-assured that we did not "go out too fast". It was a going to be a long race, and we'd have more than enough time to make up the extra minute. The second and third miles were a bit chaotic. I missed the second mile marker, and ended up wondering whether I was running too slow. The five of us spread out. I ended up picking it up in the third mile, a bit faster than planned, and realized it when the third-mile marker came up sooner than expected. I still wasn't running with any kind of rythm.
It was in the next mile that the 4:00 pace-leader became visible. There was a big pack of folks right behind him. Soon enough, all five of us ended up in this pack, and we were running together. I finally could feel that some kind of rhythm was setting in; we had overcome the initial jitters and were starting to have fun. The next three or four miles went by in a breeze. We were passing through small residential towns - the neighborhoods were nice, with lots of trees and such. The streets were lined with a sprinkling of people who had come by to cheer. Water stations were coming up every two miles or so. I stopped at about every other water stop. I made it a point to slow down to a walk, take the time to drink properly, and then resume running. This allowed me to rest a little bit at the water stops, as well as get the drink actually inside, instead of spilling it all over my shirt. (which I would end up doing in the latter half of the race as motor control became a challenge). The mile markers were put up in these huge flags, which you could spot from a quarter-of-a-mile out - and it kinda made the miles feel shorter.
The half-marathon point came, and it was great to see my parents out there. Halfway through, and we were going strong and nice. The road took a huge turn just past the half marathon point, and this stretch was lined with people on both sides, cheering. Over the next few miles, the chatter died down. It was amazing that there were still 15-20 of us sticking with Bill, the 4:00 pacer. It felt like if you just managed to get into the group, the group would be able to carry you along – psychologically, it felt like the equivalent of “drafting” in a bicycle race.
[Hanging in with the "4:00" group]
The mind games started around miles 18/19. I started worrying about whether I had too much or too little water to drink. For a mile or so, I'd feel like I was too full of water, and skip a water stop - only to feel dehydrated in the next mile and restlessly look forward to the next water stop. “Rats! I should have avoided that “2x caffeine” GU. I bet that's what's making me feel dehydrated”. And so on.
At mile 20, the marathon organizers had installed a mock “wall” to represent the physical/psychological “wall” that athletes hit in the fag end of long-distance runs. I hit no "wall", but it certainly was a different race, those last 6.2 miles. Miles 21-25 were mentally and physically the most exhausting, time slowed down to a crawl and the miles passed by slower than ever. I wasn't hurting, just feeling drained. I kept telling myself - "4 more miles! That should be a piece of cake! Come on!" - but those miles felt like nothing else. I no longer had the energy to hold a conversation, or even listen to one. I didn't have the energy to look around. Or even look at my watch. All I could do was put one foot in front of the other. And keep the red 4:00 placard within sight. One step at a time.
I had run out of things to look forward to – I had my fill of GU, and felt repulsed at the thought of any more of that super-sweet gooey stuff. I craved for some solid food. Magically, a plate of cut bananas appeared, thanks to a neighborhood marathon spectator – boy, was that good. I remember contemplating for half-a-mile about wwhat to do with the peel. And then decided to leave it on the side of the road. I sure hope no one slipped on it..
Roger was forging slightly ahead of the pack - he was looking good. I had lost sight of Doug and Esther, and felt a little guilty for not sticking together after the half-marathon point. However, I and Debbie were right next to Mr. 4:00. In those last miles, he was virtually carrying us. The advantages of having an elite-runner amongst you became apparent. I remember thinking in the early going that he wasn't running fast enough. But now all of that conservative running was paying off.
It was after we crossed Mile 25 that a sense of “the end”being imminent started sinking in . I felt really lucky to be this close to achieving something this cool. That thought crystallized further as the crowds thickened again, as we approached the finish. Diane and Jan from track were there, cheering. Lo and behold, the mile 26 marker! If only I could describe my feelings upon seeing that sign. My dad was there, and he took a picture. Then he himself started sprinting to the finish line. Jeez, I should be able to run faster than that!
I and Debbie finally split at the very end (see pic on the left) – as the men and women had different finish zones (why, I wonder). And I sprinted through to the finish, and finished standing. There was everyone – my mom and dad. My friends - Jayanth, Madhuri, Yasser and Carol - everyone with huge smiles on their faces. I probably had one on as well. The clock said 4:01:20 – but I knew that my chip time was terribly close to 4:00:00 (it would turn out to be 4:00:06). I didn't have any energy left to stand, or speak, or walk, I was getting stiffer by the second. I finally held on to someone, found my sweat-clothes. And my friend handed me some mandarin oranges and a cup of hot tea from a flask! It was divine. Woohoo! I'd done it.
Debbie and my times were almost exactly the same, while Roger had broken 4 hrs. Doug had a good race until almost the last few miles where his dormant knee problem flared up and he had to take it slow, while Esther slowed down a bit in the second half, but still had a very good race. While we all didn't actually run the entire race right next to each other, each one of them played a role in my finish, I wouldn't have been able to do it without all of them being out there. And Cristy, our "captain" - who inspired us by being always there even though she couldn't really be "there". And the immense help from a lot of other folks including coach Greg and the crazy-fast-guys at the track club. And the incredible overwhelming support of all at track every wednesday – including those who showed up at the race and cheered. All of it reinforces the fact that running, while it can be a competitive, cut-throat sport for some, can also be a rich community experience, if we wish to make it one.
As I got ready, I guzzled down some semi-cold coffee - a bottle of starbucks frappucino. I needed to get some caffeine into my system, but was highly suspicious of the coffee at the hotel - so I had done the smart thing and stocked up on the "frappucino". No, this wasn't "fresh" coffee, but this was a "tried and tested" drink for me - I knew from past experience that it had just enough of milk, sugar and coffee and fairly agreeable taste, to get me going. I also had my first meal of the day - one of those "magic" bars.
I stepped out on to the hotel lobby around 5am. The lobby was already buzzing with other runners. You could especially not miss the "Team In Training(TNT)" people - these are the group of folks who run to raise funds for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society (There are TNT chapters in various cities around the US, and you'll find TNT folks at most marathons in the country). You could see one of the TNT coaches walking around and checking in on the various runners in the Team - it seemed like a big boisterous family. There was a good deal of energy and enthusiasm in the air- mainly thanks to these folks, and some of that rubbed off on the others as well.
We hopped into the shuttle bus (which was to take us to the starting line) around 5.10 or so. A gentleman named Paul Cowley settled in beside me. When he found out that I was from Santa Cruz, he told me that his first marathon was the Big Sur Intl. Marathon from a few years ago ("Big Sur" is this spectacular coastal redwood region south of where I live - and the Big Sur Marathon is a tough race with a good deal of fairly hilly stuff). He said that he got into running kinda late in life, but now is a regular marathoner, running 3-4 marathons per year. Upon hearing that it was my first marathon, he said - "well, this marathon business, you know, can get kinda addictive".
We reached the starting line in Folsom, around 6am or so - that was a fairly long bus ride! The course is one-way, which means that the starting point is 26.2 miles away from the finish line (which is where our hotels were). And our job over the course of the morning would be to retrace our steps back. It was a crisp, chilly morning - low 30s. The sun hadn't risen yet - the sky was still dark. Luckily, there was no howling wind, unlike the case the previous day. I was especially happy with my decision to carry gloves at that moment. I saw Roger and Doug, and we exchanged stories as we stood there shivering. We looked around for others from the track club. Huge lines were already starting to form at the gazillions of port-a-potties. Everyone was carrying what looked like a trash-bag, with their bib numbers written on them. It was a rather funny sight - until you realized what these bags were for. These were our "sweat bags"; before starting the race, we were supposed to put any extra clothes (and we were all wearing many layers to keep warm) in them and drop them off in the buses - which would carry them to the finish line.
Soon it was time to assemble at the starting line. There were nearly 6000 people. While this is much smaller than many popular marathons (which feature upto 40,000 people), 6000 is still a fairly big number, and it made for a nice atmosphere. "Cristy's group" - myself, Roger, Doug, Debbie, and Esther, assembled together - we were in good spirits. A few of us were wearing a "pace-band" - this was something we had made based on a pace-chart Greg Hales made for us “4-hr-marathoners”, and this laid out, for each mile, the target min/mile pace and the cumulative time at the end of that particular mile. This was to ensure that we stayed on pace to meet our goal and didn't take off too fast. Another thing about this race was that it featured "pace-team leaders". These were people who committed to finishing at a particular time - for example, there was a 3:30 pace team leader, a 4:45 pace-team leader etc. If your goal was to finish the race at say 3hrs 30min, all you needed to do was to hang with the 3:30 pace leader. These were "elite-runners", which meant that they would run smart, and knew how to manage effort and energy to ensure that you didn't crash and burn half-way through the run. All these folks carried a little red placard with the time written on it. So we knew that we needed to be in the general vicinity of the 4:00 pace-team leader - Bill Finkbeiner, and look out for the 4:00 placard.
We started off, crossing the starting line maybe a minute after the gun went off. Cristy's words "don't take off too fast!" kept playing over and over in my head, and so I consciously started off slow, telling myself - "Im just warming up". The sun had just started to come out - it was going to be a beautiful day. You couldn't really run with any kind of rythm in the first mile, since the crowd was rather thick, we hadn't spread out yet. My usual instinct would have been to weave through the crowd to get some separation - but we had been advised about that too (that that would be a waste of energy), and so, instead we just held back and took it easy.
The first mile marker came, and we checked our watches - we were about a minute-and-a-half slower than planned! Well, atleast we could rest-assured that we did not "go out too fast". It was a going to be a long race, and we'd have more than enough time to make up the extra minute. The second and third miles were a bit chaotic. I missed the second mile marker, and ended up wondering whether I was running too slow. The five of us spread out. I ended up picking it up in the third mile, a bit faster than planned, and realized it when the third-mile marker came up sooner than expected. I still wasn't running with any kind of rythm.
It was in the next mile that the 4:00 pace-leader became visible. There was a big pack of folks right behind him. Soon enough, all five of us ended up in this pack, and we were running together. I finally could feel that some kind of rhythm was setting in; we had overcome the initial jitters and were starting to have fun. The next three or four miles went by in a breeze. We were passing through small residential towns - the neighborhoods were nice, with lots of trees and such. The streets were lined with a sprinkling of people who had come by to cheer. Water stations were coming up every two miles or so. I stopped at about every other water stop. I made it a point to slow down to a walk, take the time to drink properly, and then resume running. This allowed me to rest a little bit at the water stops, as well as get the drink actually inside, instead of spilling it all over my shirt. (which I would end up doing in the latter half of the race as motor control became a challenge). The mile markers were put up in these huge flags, which you could spot from a quarter-of-a-mile out - and it kinda made the miles feel shorter.
The half-marathon point came, and it was great to see my parents out there. Halfway through, and we were going strong and nice. The road took a huge turn just past the half marathon point, and this stretch was lined with people on both sides, cheering. Over the next few miles, the chatter died down. It was amazing that there were still 15-20 of us sticking with Bill, the 4:00 pacer. It felt like if you just managed to get into the group, the group would be able to carry you along – psychologically, it felt like the equivalent of “drafting” in a bicycle race.
[Hanging in with the "4:00" group]The mind games started around miles 18/19. I started worrying about whether I had too much or too little water to drink. For a mile or so, I'd feel like I was too full of water, and skip a water stop - only to feel dehydrated in the next mile and restlessly look forward to the next water stop. “Rats! I should have avoided that “2x caffeine” GU. I bet that's what's making me feel dehydrated”. And so on.
At mile 20, the marathon organizers had installed a mock “wall” to represent the physical/psychological “wall” that athletes hit in the fag end of long-distance runs. I hit no "wall", but it certainly was a different race, those last 6.2 miles. Miles 21-25 were mentally and physically the most exhausting, time slowed down to a crawl and the miles passed by slower than ever. I wasn't hurting, just feeling drained. I kept telling myself - "4 more miles! That should be a piece of cake! Come on!" - but those miles felt like nothing else. I no longer had the energy to hold a conversation, or even listen to one. I didn't have the energy to look around. Or even look at my watch. All I could do was put one foot in front of the other. And keep the red 4:00 placard within sight. One step at a time.
I had run out of things to look forward to – I had my fill of GU, and felt repulsed at the thought of any more of that super-sweet gooey stuff. I craved for some solid food. Magically, a plate of cut bananas appeared, thanks to a neighborhood marathon spectator – boy, was that good. I remember contemplating for half-a-mile about wwhat to do with the peel. And then decided to leave it on the side of the road. I sure hope no one slipped on it..
Roger was forging slightly ahead of the pack - he was looking good. I had lost sight of Doug and Esther, and felt a little guilty for not sticking together after the half-marathon point. However, I and Debbie were right next to Mr. 4:00. In those last miles, he was virtually carrying us. The advantages of having an elite-runner amongst you became apparent. I remember thinking in the early going that he wasn't running fast enough. But now all of that conservative running was paying off.
It was after we crossed Mile 25 that a sense of “the end”being imminent started sinking in . I felt really lucky to be this close to achieving something this cool. That thought crystallized further as the crowds thickened again, as we approached the finish. Diane and Jan from track were there, cheering. Lo and behold, the mile 26 marker! If only I could describe my feelings upon seeing that sign. My dad was there, and he took a picture. Then he himself started sprinting to the finish line. Jeez, I should be able to run faster than that!
I and Debbie finally split at the very end (see pic on the left) – as the men and women had different finish zones (why, I wonder). And I sprinted through to the finish, and finished standing. There was everyone – my mom and dad. My friends - Jayanth, Madhuri, Yasser and Carol - everyone with huge smiles on their faces. I probably had one on as well. The clock said 4:01:20 – but I knew that my chip time was terribly close to 4:00:00 (it would turn out to be 4:00:06). I didn't have any energy left to stand, or speak, or walk, I was getting stiffer by the second. I finally held on to someone, found my sweat-clothes. And my friend handed me some mandarin oranges and a cup of hot tea from a flask! It was divine. Woohoo! I'd done it.Debbie and my times were almost exactly the same, while Roger had broken 4 hrs. Doug had a good race until almost the last few miles where his dormant knee problem flared up and he had to take it slow, while Esther slowed down a bit in the second half, but still had a very good race. While we all didn't actually run the entire race right next to each other, each one of them played a role in my finish, I wouldn't have been able to do it without all of them being out there. And Cristy, our "captain" - who inspired us by being always there even though she couldn't really be "there". And the immense help from a lot of other folks including coach Greg and the crazy-fast-guys at the track club. And the incredible overwhelming support of all at track every wednesday – including those who showed up at the race and cheered. All of it reinforces the fact that running, while it can be a competitive, cut-throat sport for some, can also be a rich community experience, if we wish to make it one.
Friday, December 09, 2005
The Marathon Story, Part 1
Well - the short of it is - I did it! On Sunday, Dec 4, 2005, I ran my first marathon ever - the California International Marathon in Sacramento, and finished it in style, nice and strong, in 4:00:06 (four hrs and six seconds). Everything went well from start to finish - a beautiful day, just the perfect weather, friends and family to support, and so on. And in the process I found that all the superlatives people tend to associate with the word "marathon", are indeed true. A very memorable experience, and an immensely satisfying feeling at the end of it.
Ok, now for the gory details. Lets start from Saturday - the day before the marathon. (The next posting will cover the actual day of the marathon.) I headed out to Sacramento from Santa Cruz on Saturday morning. It was a clear, beautiful day - not a speck of cloud in the sky. It had been raining cats and dogs on thursday, and I was worried that it might rain during raceday. This race has a notorious reputation of raining out every two-three years or so - I knew of atleast two people that had run this race through pouring rain in 2002. Not something I was looking forward to - and luckily, looking at the sky, it seemed that I wouldn't have to worry about any of that after all. As I approached Sacramento, the Sierra Nevada mountains came into view in the east. It was a spectacular sight - the recent storms had resulted in a fresh dumping of snow, and the snow-covered mountain peaks in the backdrop were glistening in the sun.
The first thing I needed to do upon reaching Sacramento was to go to the "Sports and Fitness Expo" to pick up my Bib number and a bunch of other stuff - including my ticket for the shuttle bus I would need to take the next day to get to the starting line. As I parked my car, and walked toward the convention center, I realized that despite the sun being out and all, it was actually rather cold and windy. I was mentally prepared for the cold, but now the wind? Thinking back, I think I was in a state of mild paranoia in those last couple of days - I saw anything and everything out of the ordinary as potentially adversely affecting my running.
The "Expo" was the usual hubbub of activity. One issue I take with big races of this sort is that they force you go to to the "Expo" to pick up essential info. And in the process, you are subject to some serious marketing - the expo floor is filled with runner gear - not just essentials such as shorts, shirts, shoes and socks, but things like special gels to "warm up" and "cool down", a thousand different kinds of fuel belts, heart-rate monitors, accelerometers, nutrition foods and what-not. The "Expo" had been advertised as "you can do all your christmas shopping here!" - well, if everyone in your family was a runner, then sure. Granted - you can get some good buys on essential stuff - one cannot go wrong with a decent pair of shorts, for example. But most of it is stuff you don't *really* need, IMO.
I picked up my bib number, and bumped into Roger and Doug, two of my running companions - they were in good spirits. We chatted briefly, but soon I hurried out of there and was on my way to the Sacramento airport - my dad and mom would be arriving shortly. I duly picked them up at the airport, and we got back in town and checked into our hotel. Around 4.30pm or so we headed out, on our way to a group dinner, organized by our track club (SCTC - the Santa Cruz Track Club). We had to walk around 15 blocks, and in the process, we walked through the Capitol building area (the Governor's office, which was also where the finish line was).
We arrived at the "Old Spaghetti Factory" - the restaurant where we were to "carbo-load". Its a long-standing running myth that you should stuff yourself with carbs the night before a race, in order to have extra energy (due to extra reserves of carbs) the next day. However, in reality, to create extra/enough reserves of carbs, one should be eating well throughout the week - eating a heavy meal the night before will just make you sit in the loo a bit longer. In fact its probably a better idea to eat carefully the night-before. The last thing you want is an upset stomach on the day of the race!
It was very cool to see so many of us from the track club, at the dinner. We were led by Diane - easily one of the most inspirational figures at track. She wasn't running, but she would be on the course the next day and cheer for us. All 5 of us from Cristy's group were there - and so were some of the fastest/experienced folks from track - Stefan, Larry (our prez), Greg, etc. We chilled for a bit, my mom and dad got to hear interesting running stories. Greg came around and gave us a pep-talk about last minute strategies - "don't run too much before the start, use the first few miles of the race to warm up instead", "take the early bus to get there, since there might not be other buses","get a trash bag, cut holes in it and wear it to get some warmth at the starting line"- and most importantly - "don't start off too fast!". It seemed like one big family, and it was a good feeling to know that so many familiar faces would be out there at the race and on the course.
It was 7.00 pm and we were already done with the meal and on our way back to the hotel room. It all seemed rather early but the plan was to hit the bed early, since I would need to get up around 3.30am the next day. I reached my hotel room and found out that two or three of my friends from the bay-area were planning to come to the race tomorrow to cheer me. That would be NICE. Venki, my uncle from San Jose also showed up around 8pm or so. We talked about plans for the next day - I would leave early in the morning, and then the three of them (mom, dad and uncle) would leave around 8am or so and head toward the half-marathon point, to meet me there - that would give me something neat to look forward to during the run. After that, they'd head back to the finish line.
I set my clothes out for the next day, loaded up the various pockets of my running shorts with my "magic" bar (a nuts-and-protein bar that works really well for me, and actually TASTES decent), a couple packets of chocolate flavored and expresso flavored GU - (concentrated carbohydrate energy gel). I hit the bed around 9.30pm, and set alarms in 3 different places, just in case. Paranoia was beginning to set in again. My left leg had been hurting/feeling funny during my walk back from the restaurant. And as I lay down to sleep, it still felt funny. Was this a disaster waiting to happen? Was this the dreaded ITB Syndrome, finally rearing its head at the worst possible moment?Who knew. I finally decided that at that point, things were no longer under my control - the only thing I could possibly do was to to wake up the next morning and go to the marathon starting line - and see what happens. With those thoughts in my head, I went to sleep. Tomorrow would be a new day.
[To be concluded ...]
Ok, now for the gory details. Lets start from Saturday - the day before the marathon. (The next posting will cover the actual day of the marathon.) I headed out to Sacramento from Santa Cruz on Saturday morning. It was a clear, beautiful day - not a speck of cloud in the sky. It had been raining cats and dogs on thursday, and I was worried that it might rain during raceday. This race has a notorious reputation of raining out every two-three years or so - I knew of atleast two people that had run this race through pouring rain in 2002. Not something I was looking forward to - and luckily, looking at the sky, it seemed that I wouldn't have to worry about any of that after all. As I approached Sacramento, the Sierra Nevada mountains came into view in the east. It was a spectacular sight - the recent storms had resulted in a fresh dumping of snow, and the snow-covered mountain peaks in the backdrop were glistening in the sun.
The first thing I needed to do upon reaching Sacramento was to go to the "Sports and Fitness Expo" to pick up my Bib number and a bunch of other stuff - including my ticket for the shuttle bus I would need to take the next day to get to the starting line. As I parked my car, and walked toward the convention center, I realized that despite the sun being out and all, it was actually rather cold and windy. I was mentally prepared for the cold, but now the wind? Thinking back, I think I was in a state of mild paranoia in those last couple of days - I saw anything and everything out of the ordinary as potentially adversely affecting my running.
The "Expo" was the usual hubbub of activity. One issue I take with big races of this sort is that they force you go to to the "Expo" to pick up essential info. And in the process, you are subject to some serious marketing - the expo floor is filled with runner gear - not just essentials such as shorts, shirts, shoes and socks, but things like special gels to "warm up" and "cool down", a thousand different kinds of fuel belts, heart-rate monitors, accelerometers, nutrition foods and what-not. The "Expo" had been advertised as "you can do all your christmas shopping here!" - well, if everyone in your family was a runner, then sure. Granted - you can get some good buys on essential stuff - one cannot go wrong with a decent pair of shorts, for example. But most of it is stuff you don't *really* need, IMO.
I picked up my bib number, and bumped into Roger and Doug, two of my running companions - they were in good spirits. We chatted briefly, but soon I hurried out of there and was on my way to the Sacramento airport - my dad and mom would be arriving shortly. I duly picked them up at the airport, and we got back in town and checked into our hotel. Around 4.30pm or so we headed out, on our way to a group dinner, organized by our track club (SCTC - the Santa Cruz Track Club). We had to walk around 15 blocks, and in the process, we walked through the Capitol building area (the Governor's office, which was also where the finish line was).
We arrived at the "Old Spaghetti Factory" - the restaurant where we were to "carbo-load". Its a long-standing running myth that you should stuff yourself with carbs the night before a race, in order to have extra energy (due to extra reserves of carbs) the next day. However, in reality, to create extra/enough reserves of carbs, one should be eating well throughout the week - eating a heavy meal the night before will just make you sit in the loo a bit longer. In fact its probably a better idea to eat carefully the night-before. The last thing you want is an upset stomach on the day of the race!
It was very cool to see so many of us from the track club, at the dinner. We were led by Diane - easily one of the most inspirational figures at track. She wasn't running, but she would be on the course the next day and cheer for us. All 5 of us from Cristy's group were there - and so were some of the fastest/experienced folks from track - Stefan, Larry (our prez), Greg, etc. We chilled for a bit, my mom and dad got to hear interesting running stories. Greg came around and gave us a pep-talk about last minute strategies - "don't run too much before the start, use the first few miles of the race to warm up instead", "take the early bus to get there, since there might not be other buses","get a trash bag, cut holes in it and wear it to get some warmth at the starting line"- and most importantly - "don't start off too fast!". It seemed like one big family, and it was a good feeling to know that so many familiar faces would be out there at the race and on the course.
It was 7.00 pm and we were already done with the meal and on our way back to the hotel room. It all seemed rather early but the plan was to hit the bed early, since I would need to get up around 3.30am the next day. I reached my hotel room and found out that two or three of my friends from the bay-area were planning to come to the race tomorrow to cheer me. That would be NICE. Venki, my uncle from San Jose also showed up around 8pm or so. We talked about plans for the next day - I would leave early in the morning, and then the three of them (mom, dad and uncle) would leave around 8am or so and head toward the half-marathon point, to meet me there - that would give me something neat to look forward to during the run. After that, they'd head back to the finish line.
I set my clothes out for the next day, loaded up the various pockets of my running shorts with my "magic" bar (a nuts-and-protein bar that works really well for me, and actually TASTES decent), a couple packets of chocolate flavored and expresso flavored GU - (concentrated carbohydrate energy gel). I hit the bed around 9.30pm, and set alarms in 3 different places, just in case. Paranoia was beginning to set in again. My left leg had been hurting/feeling funny during my walk back from the restaurant. And as I lay down to sleep, it still felt funny. Was this a disaster waiting to happen? Was this the dreaded ITB Syndrome, finally rearing its head at the worst possible moment?Who knew. I finally decided that at that point, things were no longer under my control - the only thing I could possibly do was to to wake up the next morning and go to the marathon starting line - and see what happens. With those thoughts in my head, I went to sleep. Tomorrow would be a new day.
[To be concluded ...]
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Pre-marathon musings
There's two days to go before raceday at California International Marathon, and I m eagerly looking forward to it. I am working out all the details of when to leave for Sacramento, what to carry, etc. Its currently stormy weather around here and in Sacramento, but if the weatherman is right, then the storm should die down by friday afternoon, and it should be clear on sunday. I just realized that the temperature would probably be in the low-30s when we would start running - which is about 15-20 degrees colder than what I am used to. Brrrr! Ok - that might sound wimpy to all you east-coast and mid-west people - but its all relative, you know. Us california people are a pampered lot when it comes to weather.Its been kind of a fun week, leading up to the race. I got to talk about running all the time, yet do very little of actual running (given that we are in "taper" mode prior to the marathon). We even got a special "super-easy" workout at track on wednesday, while everyone else was doing something gruelling as usual - this in itself is worth all of the marathon training! ;) And we were made to feel special by everyone else - fellow runners checking in to see if we were feeling ready for the big weekend, and so on. Everyone making it sound like we were on the verge of achieving something big. It felt a little funny, esp. since we hadn't actually finished the damn thing - but it was a good feeling nevertheless - a good ego boost. I guess another way to look at it would be to think of us as "lambs before the slaughter" - maybe all this feeling-good business is just a "fattening up" before the "slaughter" on sunday! Well, if ultimately I get some pleasure out of the "slaughter" on sunday, that's all that matters - it will be worth it.
On the physical side, everything is holding up so far. I have a few aches and pains, but the last few weeks have taught me that if I run for a mile or two they start to fade. All my fellow-runners in our little "sub-4-hr-marathon" team - Roger, Doug, Esther, Debbie and myself - are still intact. We will, however, sorely miss our captain/coach/philosopher/guide - Cristy. It was Cristy's idea to form the "sub-4-hr-marathon" group - but she had to drop out of running due to injury early in the training- which was a big disappointment for her. And yet, that has not deterred her from keeping the rest of the team going, and providing us with an incredible amount of support throughout our training - including diligently showing up on each of our long runs, running/biking alongside, timing us, providing us with useful tips, and so on. This support has indeed been priceless. She will be sorely missed at the race, but we'll rest assured knowing that she'll be rooting for us, and urging us mentally - "Don't go out too fast!" .
Like everything else in life, a marathon is "not a destination, it is a trip". Regardless of how the day of the race actually turns out - the training itself has been quite a fun ride. There will be so many things to manage during the run - remembering to drink enough water, eating properly, running at the right pace corresponding to the mile in question, not going too fast, etc. But I hope that, in the middle of all that, I'll remember to be in the moment and enjoy the fact that Im actually running - knowing how lucky I am to be able to do what I love to do, and celebrate it in this manner - with people all around, and friends and family cheering. Wish me luck!
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Taper times...
I am finally getting around to blogging about the present, after an extremely hectic past few weeks, when I was completely caught up in the organizing of our earthquake relief fundraiser. The fundraiser was last saturday, and the effort was indeed very worth it.
The event was a great success - Over 400 people came together at UC Berkeley's Wheeler Auditorium - rising above national, ethnic, linguistic, religious and cultural lines - to collectively raise over $50,000 for the survivors of the earthquake in Pakistan and India. And several others who couldn't come, nevertheless donated generously, or contributed in kind. It was a truly humbling and uplifting experience - knowing that we had all come together and were making a small, but not insignificant, difference. If you are still considering making a donation, please do so by visiting http://www.ektaonline.org/events/beyondborders/donate.htm . It is not important how much you give - but it is important that you give.
Coming back to the running side of things - the last few weeks have blown by as a result of my other engagements, and all of a sudden, I have ~10 days left to go before the big day of my marathon! (Dec 4). And in marathon-training parlance, we have entered the period of training known as "Taper". After all the heavy mileage and super-long runs through Oct and early/mid Nov, we now get to wind down and rest our bodies a bit, allowing it to recover in time for the marathon. This past sunday our long run was only 10 miles. (I say "only" now, but that did feel like a lot just a couple months ago). Our training coach/captain/guide Cristy even told us "You may feel like you are not "doing enough", but don't give in to the urge to overtrain."
I think I can safely say that I feel no such "urges". I have been doing fairly well in all of my runs - and been luckily injury free so far... But this doesn't necessarily mean that I ve been coasting, or that the training has been a piece of cake. My body has certainly taken a beating from all the long running, and I can feel it... For one, my right shoulder is super-sore from all the water-bottle carrying (and all the extra typing and mousing too, lately). I have stopped carrying the bottle in my right hand for 3 weeks now - but the shoulder will take time to heal. I finally took the advice of my friend and fellow-first-time marathoner Martin and paid a visit to a massage therapist that he was undergoing treatment with. If you have visions of a massage being something "relaxing", drop those visions now - since this was a 'deep tissue' massage, and at the end of it, I was in more pain than before. But I think she figured out the source of the problem (and 90% of it is a result of computer work, not running, she said) . She also suggested a few stretches that seem to help. I also have become familiar enough with this by now to know that during the actual race, I'll probably start feeling some pain/stiffness in my right shoulder about 7-8 miles into it, but if I remember to stretch it a few times every hour, it should be quite manageable.
I ve also been having some interesting soreness in my legs lately - my right ankle, and my left leg below the knee, feel funny when I start out cold - but about 4-5 miles into my runs, these have always gone away - so I presume that it is not anything to worry about - seems like my body just needs to warm up. The key word at this point is "manageable". One thing that training does to you is that it also trains your mind on adversity (such as physical pain), and helps you develop strategies to deal with it.
Another thing that I have come to realize in marathon training is that there is a big element of luck involved. You can be as committed as can be, and have good strength, stamina, endurance, etc - but if there are any quirks in your body that come in the way of its ability to absorb shock (and this is primarily what running is all about - 26.2 miles of pounding and shock-absorption), then that can be REALLY hard to overcome. Case in point - my friend Martin, who isn't short on committment or dedication, but has spent the better part of the last 3 months chasing leg issues, as a result of things like "crooked tibia vera", and "compressed peroneal nerve" and what not. Things totally out of one's control, atleast in the short term. The way to deal with things like these is to train and strengthen other muscles to compensate for these issues - kinda like how people who are blind develop their other senses to be much sharper than normal, to compensate for their handicap. Only thing is, things like these take TIME - and Martin doesn't have too much of it right now, considering his marathon is in 3 weeks. But Im convinced that (a) he will *finish* this marathon no matter what, and that (b) he will come back in the coming years, having overcome/compensated for his issues, to run more marathons. More power to him.
Coming back to my story - seeing all the injuries around that have knocked people out, or made things harder for them, I do feel really lucky that it has been a such smooth ride for me. I guess I m glad that I m running - there are many others who want to run but are unable to do it for various reasons. I love running- makes me feel good, it is agreeable to my body, I m surrounded by people who love to run and have interesting stories and tips to share, and I live in a part of the world where I can step out and run anytime of the year without having to worry about it being too hot or too cold. If all this isn't a stroke of luck, what is it?
"Taper time" is an interesting time because the marathon finally starts to become real, and all the anticipation starts to build up. Two weeks ago we did a 24-miler (in 5hrs) - and survived. Atleast, now I feel very confident that I can actually do this thing - that I will actually finish the marathon. (whether we'll actually do it in 4-hrs as planned, that I m not sure/confident still. It will depend a great deal on how I/we feel on the day-of). I ve made my hotel reservations in Sacramento, started taking a look at the course maps, planning the trip out and back, etc. My parents will be coming to cheer me on, and that's a really nice treat on my first marathon. There are also around 15-20 people from the track-club who'll be running the thing, so we'll have quite a contingent out there. And the 5 of us in the "4-hr" marathon crowd have stuck it out so far, and we are hoping to run the better part of the race together. This is the crowd that has sustained me through my training, and Im confident that it will carry me through the race. The countdown has begun...
The event was a great success - Over 400 people came together at UC Berkeley's Wheeler Auditorium - rising above national, ethnic, linguistic, religious and cultural lines - to collectively raise over $50,000 for the survivors of the earthquake in Pakistan and India. And several others who couldn't come, nevertheless donated generously, or contributed in kind. It was a truly humbling and uplifting experience - knowing that we had all come together and were making a small, but not insignificant, difference. If you are still considering making a donation, please do so by visiting http://www.ektaonline.org/events/beyondborders/donate.htm . It is not important how much you give - but it is important that you give.
Coming back to the running side of things - the last few weeks have blown by as a result of my other engagements, and all of a sudden, I have ~10 days left to go before the big day of my marathon! (Dec 4). And in marathon-training parlance, we have entered the period of training known as "Taper". After all the heavy mileage and super-long runs through Oct and early/mid Nov, we now get to wind down and rest our bodies a bit, allowing it to recover in time for the marathon. This past sunday our long run was only 10 miles. (I say "only" now, but that did feel like a lot just a couple months ago). Our training coach/captain/guide Cristy even told us "You may feel like you are not "doing enough", but don't give in to the urge to overtrain."
I think I can safely say that I feel no such "urges". I have been doing fairly well in all of my runs - and been luckily injury free so far... But this doesn't necessarily mean that I ve been coasting, or that the training has been a piece of cake. My body has certainly taken a beating from all the long running, and I can feel it... For one, my right shoulder is super-sore from all the water-bottle carrying (and all the extra typing and mousing too, lately). I have stopped carrying the bottle in my right hand for 3 weeks now - but the shoulder will take time to heal. I finally took the advice of my friend and fellow-first-time marathoner Martin and paid a visit to a massage therapist that he was undergoing treatment with. If you have visions of a massage being something "relaxing", drop those visions now - since this was a 'deep tissue' massage, and at the end of it, I was in more pain than before. But I think she figured out the source of the problem (and 90% of it is a result of computer work, not running, she said) . She also suggested a few stretches that seem to help. I also have become familiar enough with this by now to know that during the actual race, I'll probably start feeling some pain/stiffness in my right shoulder about 7-8 miles into it, but if I remember to stretch it a few times every hour, it should be quite manageable.
I ve also been having some interesting soreness in my legs lately - my right ankle, and my left leg below the knee, feel funny when I start out cold - but about 4-5 miles into my runs, these have always gone away - so I presume that it is not anything to worry about - seems like my body just needs to warm up. The key word at this point is "manageable". One thing that training does to you is that it also trains your mind on adversity (such as physical pain), and helps you develop strategies to deal with it.
Another thing that I have come to realize in marathon training is that there is a big element of luck involved. You can be as committed as can be, and have good strength, stamina, endurance, etc - but if there are any quirks in your body that come in the way of its ability to absorb shock (and this is primarily what running is all about - 26.2 miles of pounding and shock-absorption), then that can be REALLY hard to overcome. Case in point - my friend Martin, who isn't short on committment or dedication, but has spent the better part of the last 3 months chasing leg issues, as a result of things like "crooked tibia vera", and "compressed peroneal nerve" and what not. Things totally out of one's control, atleast in the short term. The way to deal with things like these is to train and strengthen other muscles to compensate for these issues - kinda like how people who are blind develop their other senses to be much sharper than normal, to compensate for their handicap. Only thing is, things like these take TIME - and Martin doesn't have too much of it right now, considering his marathon is in 3 weeks. But Im convinced that (a) he will *finish* this marathon no matter what, and that (b) he will come back in the coming years, having overcome/compensated for his issues, to run more marathons. More power to him.
Coming back to my story - seeing all the injuries around that have knocked people out, or made things harder for them, I do feel really lucky that it has been a such smooth ride for me. I guess I m glad that I m running - there are many others who want to run but are unable to do it for various reasons. I love running- makes me feel good, it is agreeable to my body, I m surrounded by people who love to run and have interesting stories and tips to share, and I live in a part of the world where I can step out and run anytime of the year without having to worry about it being too hot or too cold. If all this isn't a stroke of luck, what is it?
"Taper time" is an interesting time because the marathon finally starts to become real, and all the anticipation starts to build up. Two weeks ago we did a 24-miler (in 5hrs) - and survived. Atleast, now I feel very confident that I can actually do this thing - that I will actually finish the marathon. (whether we'll actually do it in 4-hrs as planned, that I m not sure/confident still. It will depend a great deal on how I/we feel on the day-of). I ve made my hotel reservations in Sacramento, started taking a look at the course maps, planning the trip out and back, etc. My parents will be coming to cheer me on, and that's a really nice treat on my first marathon. There are also around 15-20 people from the track-club who'll be running the thing, so we'll have quite a contingent out there. And the 5 of us in the "4-hr" marathon crowd have stuck it out so far, and we are hoping to run the better part of the race together. This is the crowd that has sustained me through my training, and Im confident that it will carry me through the race. The countdown has begun...
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
The Relay Story - Episode 3
[Note: Part III (concluding part) of a 3-part series. See Part I and Part II as well. ]
Sunday Oct 16, 12 noon: Having had a few hours of attempted rest and relaxation, we "Van 2" folks were on our way to the last rendezvous of the relay (not counting the finish) - Saratoga Gap, at the intersection of Hwy 9 and Skyline Blvd. Driving down Skyline Blvd, we saw a whole horde of bikers (motorcyclists) - just as my colleague Jean-Michel had warned us we would. Rather I should say - "heard" - man, those bikes were really loud. And fast, and hugging the curves rather scarily. Luckily for us, they were mostly going the other way, and presuming that the runners would be staying on the right side of the road, the possibilities of being bumped by a crazy biker were low. Still the noise kinda freaked you out. I just don't get it - why do them bikes need to be so loud?
12.30pm: We reached the Van Exchange point - at the Santa Cruz county line. We were expecting Tim to show up around 1pm or so - he would be coming up Hwy 9 - a 3.1 mile "very hard" leg. Now - my first instinct was to wonder - how can a 3.1-mile leg be "very hard"? Then when I looked at the map - 1150 ft of elevation in 3 miles! Thats how.
It was a clear day, and the sun was out - but there was some tree cover. I was still in somewhat of a zombie state, and starting to get petrified about my upcoming run. While we were waiting, I found a shady patch of grass, and lay down for a bit...
Linda, our captain, and the rest of the Van 1 crew (except Tim) also arrived at the exchange point shortly - they were all done with their legs, and the relief was evident in their faces. Now all they had to do was to grab a good meal, and meet us Van 2 folks at the finish line.
1.00pm: Tim pulled in almost on the dot. Trevor, our van's lead runner, was waiting, looking fresh as always (Its amazing). He had a 6.2 mile (10 K) "moderate" leg, the beginning phase of our trip through Santa Cruz county - from the Santa Cruz mountains, to the ocean. As the rest of us hopped on to the van and rolled past him on our way to the next stop, we could see that he was looking good, and all set to have a good run.
1.45pm: We were joking earlier that Trevor was lucky to get an almost exact 10km leg - here was his chance to set a PR (personal record) for the official racing distance! But as Trevor pulled in, just past quarter-to-2, we realized we weren't that far off after all - he had just pulled off an amazing leg - 10K in ~45 min, averaging ~7min 18sec per mile ! Nicely done. Trevor handed off to Jaime for the last time, and Jaime took off. Literally. This was a 4.7 mile "easy" leg for Jaime - and we knew he was just going to sprint this one. We hurried back into the van, and drove as fast as we could to the next exchange point, our goal being to get there before Jaime did! As we passed Jaime, we could see that he was already closing in on a few people, and they would all be "roadkill-ed" in the next several minutes...
2.11pm: Mary had just enough time to get out of the car and start to get warm, before we spotted Jaime in the horizon. He pulled in with a lightning-fast average of 5min 29 sec per mile! Just to put it in perspective - I cannot even run 400m at that pace, let alone ~5 miles! Mary had another ~10km leg - down Hwy 9 through to Ben Lomond, and the rest of us hopped back on the van to get to the next interchange.
3.11pm: Mary emerged in the distance, with a blissful smile on her face - looking very relieved. I was looking forward to having that feeling very soon. Chris took over what would be another of those most-brutal legs. He had a 6.2 mile "very hard" leg that involved about 600 feet of climbing in the last 2 miles alone. It was turning out to be a warm afternoon, and Chris planned to carry a water bottle for the first 4 miles of it, so that he could be well hydrated before the climb. We met him at the intersection of Hwy 9 and San Lorenzo Ave - the last two miles would take him up into Felton quarry. He handed us off the water bottle, and started the climb, while we hopped back into the van and headed to the interchange. My turn would come next, and I was starting to get the butterflies in my stomach. As we headed up the hill, we got to see what "very hard" meant, first-hand. Man, that was one helll of a nasty climb - the road just kept snaking up and up! We climbed in the van for what seemed like forever..
4.00pm: We reached the exchange point, and I started to get warmed up and stretch, as we waited for Chris to pull up. My leg was a 6.5 mile "hard" leg, that would take us from Felton into Santa Cruz. To say I was "a bit worried" would be an understatement - having seen the hill Chris was climbing up - and knowing that I had a mile or so of the same hill (350 ft elevation - thankfully, much less insane than Chris's leg).
Also, the memory of screwing up on my previous "easy" leg by starting off too fast was still fresh in my mind. If I ran out of gas in an "easy" leg, what was to prevent me from losing it in a "hard" leg? I spoke to Trevor about it, and he advised me to "become ONE with the hill" in the first mile. He suggested that I start off really conservatively, not think about time, etc - just chug up the hill, use it as a "warm-up" jog, and treat the mostly-downhill ~5 miles that followed, as the real run. Soon enough, Chris pulled in, looking red, sweat pouring down his body - he had just finished the hardest, most-brutal set of legs in the entire course. Now there was an accomplishment...
Taking Trevor's advice, I started off real slow up the hill. Felton Quarry was a dirt road, and involved a series of switchbacks. The scenery at the quarry was odd - on the one side you could see the redwoods, and on the other side, mountainsides carved up to reveal their white underbelly of limestone . I allowed myself to be distracted by the scenery, and momentarily forget about the hill I was climbing. Soon enough, I reached the end of Felton Quarry Road, and merged onto Empire Grade. There were no mile markers of course, but from the map I realized that I was pretty close to the 1-mile marker, and there-by, the end of the hill. I figured that I'd know that the hill had ended when I'd suddenly get to see the valley below. But Empire Grade, this stretch of it, had tree cover on both sides, so you couldn't look very far. I continued running, but didn't quite reach any point that cried to me "top of the hill!". Soon, the road turned into rolling hills - I'd either gone past the hill, or I was going the wrong way. I started to worry just a tad bit until I saw another runner up ahead. Good - this meant we were on our way down!
This stretch of road was surprisingly beautiful - it was late afternoon and a super-clear sky. I was expecting it to be hot and brutal with direct sun, but the tree cover ensured that only slivers of sunlight came through, making it quite pleasant. I overtook a couple of runners, and continued down - well, up and down actually, through the rolling hills. On the left, the tree cover changed into hillsides, and I could spot horses roaming around. A few steep downhills (with signs for trucks to use lower gears) followed by another small stretch of uphill. And then - the trees on the right suddenly gave way to clear meadows. And as I came up the road, suddenly, the whole world opened up below me. To the right was the beautiful blue ocean - and below, you could make out the town of Santa Cruz - further down, Capitola, Aptos, the factory at Moss Landing, the Gabilan Mountains behind Salinas, the beaches at Monterey, the mountains of Big Sur. Just jaw-droppingly beautiful and crystal clear, for miles and miles. This view alone was worth the price of admission... I kept gawking for the next half mile or so as I continued running - I had to force myself to look down once in a while to make sure I stayed on the road and did not trip on something.
Very soon, UCSC emerged on the left, and I knew I had less than a mile and a half to go. I stepped it up a notch, and soon enough, people came into view at the interchange. But this was already Santa Cruz town, and I had to cross a signal to get there - a signal which was just about to turn red. I hesitated, then stepped on it, and got onto the road before the light changed - and then, it was all over - as I handed the "baton" to Angelique, for the final leg. And at that instant, I remember thinking - "gee, it would have been cool to have another set of legs to run". This thought faded quickly and I reverted back to reality as my legs started to stiffen up. But I was exhilirated from the run. Checking the time, I noticed that I had made it in ~48 min, averaging 7min 25sec per mile - which actually is *pretty fast* by my standards!. But I am sure that the thing I'll remember from this run won't be the time I finished it in, but rather, the late-afternoon views from Empire Grade...
["Asleep at the Heel", at the line at Santa Cruz beach. Trevor is missing in this picture]
5.30pm: All of the "Asleep at the Heel" team, (except Angelique of course, who was running) assembled at the finish line - at the Santa Cruz beach boardwalk. We were to run the last 200 yards together as a team. Angelique had not been keeping well, and we were a bit concerned for her health - but she hung in there, and made it through. Soon enough, someone spotted her running down Beach St., and all of us gathered our stuff hurriedly and prepared to run with her. The last 200 yards are on soft sand, and boy, that was painful - the slowest 200 yards I ve ever run. But the finish line ultimately came, and we went through it. We were DONE! 5.46.34pm - we had been on the run for a total of 28 hrs, 45 minutes. Mixed emotions filled the air - physical pain coupled with mental relief and joy - and anticipation (of the beds that we would all hit within the next few hours). And a tinge of sadness - that a very memorable experience had come to an end.
And to conclude - what makes this kind of experience memorable is the people that constitute it. I was extremely lucky to have a fantastic group of folks to hang out with, and that made all the difference. And yes - many many thanks to our fearless captain Linda, without whom none of this would have been possible - and Chris, for all those training hill runs, and advice that enabled me to run smart (for the most part) and get the most fun out of my runs. And yes, I am still amazed by the three guys of Van 1 (Tom, Tim and Joe) - the "extra-leggers", who so ably compensated for the missing runner in our team. Cheers!
Sunday Oct 16, 12 noon: Having had a few hours of attempted rest and relaxation, we "Van 2" folks were on our way to the last rendezvous of the relay (not counting the finish) - Saratoga Gap, at the intersection of Hwy 9 and Skyline Blvd. Driving down Skyline Blvd, we saw a whole horde of bikers (motorcyclists) - just as my colleague Jean-Michel had warned us we would. Rather I should say - "heard" - man, those bikes were really loud. And fast, and hugging the curves rather scarily. Luckily for us, they were mostly going the other way, and presuming that the runners would be staying on the right side of the road, the possibilities of being bumped by a crazy biker were low. Still the noise kinda freaked you out. I just don't get it - why do them bikes need to be so loud?
12.30pm: We reached the Van Exchange point - at the Santa Cruz county line. We were expecting Tim to show up around 1pm or so - he would be coming up Hwy 9 - a 3.1 mile "very hard" leg. Now - my first instinct was to wonder - how can a 3.1-mile leg be "very hard"? Then when I looked at the map - 1150 ft of elevation in 3 miles! Thats how.
It was a clear day, and the sun was out - but there was some tree cover. I was still in somewhat of a zombie state, and starting to get petrified about my upcoming run. While we were waiting, I found a shady patch of grass, and lay down for a bit...
Linda, our captain, and the rest of the Van 1 crew (except Tim) also arrived at the exchange point shortly - they were all done with their legs, and the relief was evident in their faces. Now all they had to do was to grab a good meal, and meet us Van 2 folks at the finish line.
1.00pm: Tim pulled in almost on the dot. Trevor, our van's lead runner, was waiting, looking fresh as always (Its amazing). He had a 6.2 mile (10 K) "moderate" leg, the beginning phase of our trip through Santa Cruz county - from the Santa Cruz mountains, to the ocean. As the rest of us hopped on to the van and rolled past him on our way to the next stop, we could see that he was looking good, and all set to have a good run.
1.45pm: We were joking earlier that Trevor was lucky to get an almost exact 10km leg - here was his chance to set a PR (personal record) for the official racing distance! But as Trevor pulled in, just past quarter-to-2, we realized we weren't that far off after all - he had just pulled off an amazing leg - 10K in ~45 min, averaging ~7min 18sec per mile ! Nicely done. Trevor handed off to Jaime for the last time, and Jaime took off. Literally. This was a 4.7 mile "easy" leg for Jaime - and we knew he was just going to sprint this one. We hurried back into the van, and drove as fast as we could to the next exchange point, our goal being to get there before Jaime did! As we passed Jaime, we could see that he was already closing in on a few people, and they would all be "roadkill-ed" in the next several minutes...
2.11pm: Mary had just enough time to get out of the car and start to get warm, before we spotted Jaime in the horizon. He pulled in with a lightning-fast average of 5min 29 sec per mile! Just to put it in perspective - I cannot even run 400m at that pace, let alone ~5 miles! Mary had another ~10km leg - down Hwy 9 through to Ben Lomond, and the rest of us hopped back on the van to get to the next interchange.
3.11pm: Mary emerged in the distance, with a blissful smile on her face - looking very relieved. I was looking forward to having that feeling very soon. Chris took over what would be another of those most-brutal legs. He had a 6.2 mile "very hard" leg that involved about 600 feet of climbing in the last 2 miles alone. It was turning out to be a warm afternoon, and Chris planned to carry a water bottle for the first 4 miles of it, so that he could be well hydrated before the climb. We met him at the intersection of Hwy 9 and San Lorenzo Ave - the last two miles would take him up into Felton quarry. He handed us off the water bottle, and started the climb, while we hopped back into the van and headed to the interchange. My turn would come next, and I was starting to get the butterflies in my stomach. As we headed up the hill, we got to see what "very hard" meant, first-hand. Man, that was one helll of a nasty climb - the road just kept snaking up and up! We climbed in the van for what seemed like forever..4.00pm: We reached the exchange point, and I started to get warmed up and stretch, as we waited for Chris to pull up. My leg was a 6.5 mile "hard" leg, that would take us from Felton into Santa Cruz. To say I was "a bit worried" would be an understatement - having seen the hill Chris was climbing up - and knowing that I had a mile or so of the same hill (350 ft elevation - thankfully, much less insane than Chris's leg).
Also, the memory of screwing up on my previous "easy" leg by starting off too fast was still fresh in my mind. If I ran out of gas in an "easy" leg, what was to prevent me from losing it in a "hard" leg? I spoke to Trevor about it, and he advised me to "become ONE with the hill" in the first mile. He suggested that I start off really conservatively, not think about time, etc - just chug up the hill, use it as a "warm-up" jog, and treat the mostly-downhill ~5 miles that followed, as the real run. Soon enough, Chris pulled in, looking red, sweat pouring down his body - he had just finished the hardest, most-brutal set of legs in the entire course. Now there was an accomplishment...Taking Trevor's advice, I started off real slow up the hill. Felton Quarry was a dirt road, and involved a series of switchbacks. The scenery at the quarry was odd - on the one side you could see the redwoods, and on the other side, mountainsides carved up to reveal their white underbelly of limestone . I allowed myself to be distracted by the scenery, and momentarily forget about the hill I was climbing. Soon enough, I reached the end of Felton Quarry Road, and merged onto Empire Grade. There were no mile markers of course, but from the map I realized that I was pretty close to the 1-mile marker, and there-by, the end of the hill. I figured that I'd know that the hill had ended when I'd suddenly get to see the valley below. But Empire Grade, this stretch of it, had tree cover on both sides, so you couldn't look very far. I continued running, but didn't quite reach any point that cried to me "top of the hill!". Soon, the road turned into rolling hills - I'd either gone past the hill, or I was going the wrong way. I started to worry just a tad bit until I saw another runner up ahead. Good - this meant we were on our way down!
This stretch of road was surprisingly beautiful - it was late afternoon and a super-clear sky. I was expecting it to be hot and brutal with direct sun, but the tree cover ensured that only slivers of sunlight came through, making it quite pleasant. I overtook a couple of runners, and continued down - well, up and down actually, through the rolling hills. On the left, the tree cover changed into hillsides, and I could spot horses roaming around. A few steep downhills (with signs for trucks to use lower gears) followed by another small stretch of uphill. And then - the trees on the right suddenly gave way to clear meadows. And as I came up the road, suddenly, the whole world opened up below me. To the right was the beautiful blue ocean - and below, you could make out the town of Santa Cruz - further down, Capitola, Aptos, the factory at Moss Landing, the Gabilan Mountains behind Salinas, the beaches at Monterey, the mountains of Big Sur. Just jaw-droppingly beautiful and crystal clear, for miles and miles. This view alone was worth the price of admission... I kept gawking for the next half mile or so as I continued running - I had to force myself to look down once in a while to make sure I stayed on the road and did not trip on something.
Very soon, UCSC emerged on the left, and I knew I had less than a mile and a half to go. I stepped it up a notch, and soon enough, people came into view at the interchange. But this was already Santa Cruz town, and I had to cross a signal to get there - a signal which was just about to turn red. I hesitated, then stepped on it, and got onto the road before the light changed - and then, it was all over - as I handed the "baton" to Angelique, for the final leg. And at that instant, I remember thinking - "gee, it would have been cool to have another set of legs to run". This thought faded quickly and I reverted back to reality as my legs started to stiffen up. But I was exhilirated from the run. Checking the time, I noticed that I had made it in ~48 min, averaging 7min 25sec per mile - which actually is *pretty fast* by my standards!. But I am sure that the thing I'll remember from this run won't be the time I finished it in, but rather, the late-afternoon views from Empire Grade...
["Asleep at the Heel", at the line at Santa Cruz beach. Trevor is missing in this picture]5.30pm: All of the "Asleep at the Heel" team, (except Angelique of course, who was running) assembled at the finish line - at the Santa Cruz beach boardwalk. We were to run the last 200 yards together as a team. Angelique had not been keeping well, and we were a bit concerned for her health - but she hung in there, and made it through. Soon enough, someone spotted her running down Beach St., and all of us gathered our stuff hurriedly and prepared to run with her. The last 200 yards are on soft sand, and boy, that was painful - the slowest 200 yards I ve ever run. But the finish line ultimately came, and we went through it. We were DONE! 5.46.34pm - we had been on the run for a total of 28 hrs, 45 minutes. Mixed emotions filled the air - physical pain coupled with mental relief and joy - and anticipation (of the beds that we would all hit within the next few hours). And a tinge of sadness - that a very memorable experience had come to an end.
And to conclude - what makes this kind of experience memorable is the people that constitute it. I was extremely lucky to have a fantastic group of folks to hang out with, and that made all the difference. And yes - many many thanks to our fearless captain Linda, without whom none of this would have been possible - and Chris, for all those training hill runs, and advice that enabled me to run smart (for the most part) and get the most fun out of my runs. And yes, I am still amazed by the three guys of Van 1 (Tom, Tim and Joe) - the "extra-leggers", who so ably compensated for the missing runner in our team. Cheers!
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