What Running Is

As I sit writing this, I am woozy and sore from a 20 mile training run.

For those of you out there who are thinking about running, who used to run, or who have delusions of running as a "fun" recreational activity, let me step in and offer some thoughts:

1. Running is stupid.
   
2. Running is hard.
3. Running isn't cool.
4. Running leads to more running.
5. See #1.

Running is, indeed, stupid. It destroys your ankles, does harm to your joints, and might actually damage your heart. Yep. All that crap you read in running magazines about running being good for you is bunk. Ask any doctor. CAN running be good for you? Yep. A little bit of light running, once in a while, on soft surfaces, as part of a larger workout scheme is a great idea. 50 miles a week on pavement in $150 shoes preparing for a 26.2 mile "race" that you can't win (and that you will probably run in unsupportive "race" shoes that weigh 6 ounces)? Stupid. Plus, running 40-50 miles a week in training for a marathon means you have sliced at least 6 hours, and likely much more, out of your productive life and devoted it to running around town with no destination, and with no one chasing you. Let's not forget that the human foot was never meant to interact with surfaces like pavement. We shouldn't have to wear running shoes at all, except that most of our running haunts are paved. Poorly, I might add.

Some people call running "challenging," but let's be real for a minute. It's hard damn work. Short runs are hard because you never get the chance to warm up. Medium length runs are hard because you feel like you should really push and challenge yourself because, after all, it isn't a long run. And long runs are just plain torture. Depending on which "expert" you believe (side note: more running experts are just runners who can write decently) your body stops burning carbohydrate fuel and starts trying to burn fat and muscle for fuel after 2 hours of continuous exertion. For a nine-minute miler that's a half marathon. This is like a college party with a nice campfire. After a couple of hours, the actual firewood you have carefully brought along in anticipation of a fun night at the campground with your friends runs out, and since you've had 12 Keystone Lights and smoked something that dude over there handed to you, it seems perfectly reasonable to set the picnic table ablaze. Then the floor mats of your roommate's car. Then, what the hell, let's see if that thing over there burns!* Once that happens, every step is a deliberative action in which your brain has to wage war against your body in order to keep it moving forward. Forgetting for a minute that your muscles have decided they are done, your joints suddenly hurt again, your shoes are running you in the wrong places, and those mother----ing earbuds for your iPod keep slipping around and are driving you bat sh&% crazy, even your brain starts to rebel. And you're doing this why? Oh that's right, so it will be easier to do even more of it next week.

Go down to the local running trail in your street clothes and watch the runners go by. What assholes! Now look around at the other people who came down to watch the runners. Oh, there aren't any? That's right. Because running isn't cool. Potential running spectators only come out to races because they know something runners don't: running is stupid (see above). They aren't out there to cheer you on. They're out there to watch a few thousand uncool stupid people punish themselves for 4 hours. And they get special joy in the fact that we paid for the privilege of suffering not only for those 4 hours (3:30 if you're lucky) but for the days following when we will limp around the office wearing our "Marathon Finisher" shirts (which we paid $95 for). Nope. Running isn't cool. Bering Sea crab fishing is cool. Really good sushi chefs are cool. Runners are dorks. No way around it. Even my friend Owen, the most tattooed dude at any local race (and an accomplished ULTRA marathoner) is a geek. Running isn't cool.

But the big problem with running is that like any stupid addiction, it only leads to more running. You run a half-marathon and BAM! you're in line to register for the next one. Or worse, you decide you need to graduate to the full 26.2 miles. So then you go out and load up on expensive shoes, technical fabric shorts and shirts, special running underwear that is supposed to be odor resistant (doesn't work), and a few handfuls of GU packets. You subscribe to an online training plan. You start cooking recipes you find in Runners World.

Next thing you know, you are writing a lame-ass blog about your own running exploits, thinking stupidly that someone out there cares.

Yep. Running is stupid.

Next up, the Seattle Marathon. I'm stupid.



*Any similarity to a fraternity weekend yours truly spent at Ocean Shores is completely coincidental. And also it really happened.

The Weighting Game

The kids got Wii Fit from Grandma not that long ago. And by "the kids" I mean me, because I'm the one who uses it most. The damn thing is just so cute the way it talks to me about my morbid obesity! Besides that, the kids are all in shape and healthy.

I tend to think the Wii technology is crazy witchcraft voodoo anyway, so I will admit that the experience is often a little bit creepy for me. The little animated Wii Fit board waves at me and talks to me about my fitness goals, for example. And it asks me when I ate dinner. Which is fine and awfully polite and all, but I can't answer back because I don't speak Wii.

Anyway, in addition to doing some virtual ski jumping, snowboarding, and soccer drills, I've taken to using the Wii Fit thing to track my weight as the training for Seattle ramps up. In theory I could also use it to work on some yoga poses, but those virtual yoga teachers are creepy. Seriously.

With the Wii Fit tracking my BMI and weight, I feel this weird accountability. It's like the thing actually cares or makes judgment about my weight. And damn it, I want to make that machine happy! It sets little goals for me, and I love to see the line track toward those goals.

But I know I am disappointing the Wii because I can't seem to really lose weight. It's starting to piss me off.

I'm training 35-40 miles a week, I have a pretty decent diet (except for the beer, of course) and it's not like I'm just sitting around all the time when I'm not running. What the hell?!

My weight as I sit here being taunted by the Wii Fit Balance Board is 180. I'm 5'11", so this is right on the edge of "Overweight" by the Wii's standards (and the BMI chart at Dr. Hilarious's office, too). Overweight? Damn. What does that make all the people I see on the streets? If I'm officially overweight, what category do they use to describe the people that even overweight people think are obese?

My weight goal for the Seattle Marathon is 170-175. I have plenty of time still, but things are going to have to start moving in the right direction here pretty soon.

I really want to see what the Wii says when I reach a goal. It better throw a little virtual party for me with all my Mii friends in attendance...

Another 13.1. With Complaints!

Yesterday I laced up the racing shoes and drove to the Red Hook Brewery to stand in line in the rain with a couple thousand of my closest friends. And that was just the first hour and a half of the day...

This is the third year for me at the Super Jock and Jill Half Marathon, and as both of you will remember, I really like the race. It ends at a brewery, for one thing, and it is a flat, fast course that winds through a lot of my training routes. Support on the course is excellent, and it's generally a good time followed by a couple of beers. I never have managed to get RPD or Cap'n Ron out there with me (this year Cap'n had some excuse about a motorcycle trip, which I have yet to see photographic evidence of, and RPD was apparently in Canada enjoying natural wonder. Silly.)

Complaint Box
Let me get my gripes out the way first. I know all of my readers at Super Jock and Jill will take my commentary to heart and make some changes for next year.

Prepaid Torture
When I purchase tickets in advance for a show or a movie, I expect there to be some benefit for the effort. The organizers get the benefit of having my money in advance (complete with a "no-refund" policy), what do I get? A guaranteed shirt size? Since Brooks ends up selling the remaindered technical shirts at the their outlet store a week after the race, I don't think this is really an issue. I arrived 10 minutes before the packet pick up table was supposed to open to find a line snaking from the Red Hook loading dock out onto the street and almost to the winery next door. As every poor pre-paid schlub walked up, he or she asked the same hopeful question: "Is this line for day of race registration?"

Nope. This is for those of us who already paid.

At this point we had an hour to get our packets, use the Honey Buckets, stretch, and whatever. (Of course the Honey Bucket lines were horrid also, but this is just the fact of pre-race. Every race. Everybody Poops, after all.)

The line did move mercifully fast (30 minutes for me) but come on. It's pouring rain out here!

Oh, and by the way, the day of race "line" wrapped around the building, under cover. What lesson am I being taught by this?

So next year, here is what I would like to see:

1. A more significant pre-paid discount. $5 is hardly a motivator on its own.
2. The ability to register in person at the venue (why Red Hook hasn't picked up on this money-maker is beyond me...)
3. The ability to pick up my packet before the race. Every other race on earth does this. Sure there has to be a cut-off date, but I would happily drive to Greenlake to get my packet the day or week before the race to avoid standing in long lines on race day.

Start Line Antics
This race is getting big. Far too big for the starting line configuration they have relied on for the last 1o years. There is plenty of room for everyone. Sure. But there is no starting mat, so only the very front line gets an accurate race time. We need starting mats!

The race directors say the city won't let them close the road long enough to put the mats down. Well, tough. Make up a new starting line configuration. Start at the winery. Start in the brewery. Something. Without a mat, runners crowd to the front of the queue and no one gets a good start. The course opens up so quickly after the start that I would opt to hang back and start at a good pace rather than fight to be first off the line. I feel like an idiot lining up with the 5 minute milers, but you have to in order to get out at a good clip.

Oh, they also start the four-mile race at the same time as the half marathon. Which doesn't help.

Also, I know the sponsor wants to get their money's worth out of this thing, but when we are standing at the start, I don't really want to listen to you pimp your running store. Why doesn't anyone play music at the start anymore? A nice upbeat mix leading to the starting gun?

Or how about a course description for the new runners? Which reminds me...


The Course
I happen to work in one of those places where the "veterans" of the group like to rely on the "That's the way we've always done things" defense for stupid and outdated policies and procedures. I have a suspicion that a version of that is taking root at this race.

The course is fine. It's a little funky in the middle where it winds in and out of the UW Bothell campus, but it is otherwise a nice run.

This year, however, the first 4 miles were through a road construction zone, which I happened to know because that road is also the way to my dear old mom's house, so I've heard her complain about it endlessly and I've even run it a few times.

A road construction zone means: pot holes, steel plates, uneven asphalt, loose gravel, very large yellow tractors and tractor-like machines, huge orange warning signs, etc.

One: this segment of the course is avoidable (and fairly easily avoidable).
Two: the directors said nothing about it at the starting line. It wasn't mentioned in the course description on the website, and there were no warnings about it at all. Anywhere.

Sorry SJJ folks, it's time to change the course. I have some suggestions for you if you like. Give me a call. For one thing, you have an industrial/commercial park the size of Rhode Island right across the highway.

Ok. Enough complaining. Despite my gripes, it's still a good race. Honest. Just FIX IT.

The Race Report
Thanks for enduring the rants. I've had my coffee now, and am feeling much better. Honest.

I haven't been training specifically for a half marathon, but I have been on my marathon training plan for a few weeks. So I came into this race feeling pretty good about surviving things. That said, I had no goal time and no sense of how I would hold up at race pace.

Mile 1. 7:13. A full 20 seconds of this mile was spent fighting to the damn starting line. See above. Once I was running, I was right around a 7:00 pace and it felt reasonable, so I decided to stick between 7:00 and 7:30 for the race. 3 minutes into the race, I knew I was going to be too warm. The rain and the standing in line psyched me out and I put on a long sleeve shirt. Damn.

Mile 2. 7:11. This is just boring old running. But I did pass the Vespa store where The Colleague picked up her new ride last week. Hi Vespa!

Mile 3. 7:07. I picked up a mouth breather on my heels in this mile and couldn't really shake him. I think he was trying to draft me or something. I zigged and zagged a little to piss him off, but he didn't seem to notice. He sounded something like a Hippo surfacing for air. I have no doubt that he died somewhere along the route.

Mile 4. 7:06. I made it through the construction zone. Barely. Twice I stepped wrong and almost rolled my ankle on the uneven pavement. Awesome. This mile also has the retirement home folks running the water station. I love it. Shaky hands handing out water and Gatorade to runners with shaky hands. Luckily the downpour we ran through was washing it all away into the river.

Mile 5. 7:03. Mile 5 picks up the Samammish River Trail and heads through Bothell out to the UW campus. This is cruise control running for me because I run this segment three or four times a week. I did see one runner go down with a twisted knee from one of the tree roots that buckled the surface. It wasn't the Hippo Mouth Breather, though. I wonder what happened to him? Well no concern, because I picked up Weavy McWeavesAlot just after Bothell Landing. The trail is about 10 feet wide, and this dude was using the whole damn thing.

Mile 6. 7:08. Still running fast here, but anticipating the big hill in mile 7. The old brain starts to do its psych job on me. That's about all I remember from this mile: "There's a hill coming and it wants to make you hurt."

Mile 7. 7:35. Yep. That's a hill. Shit. I managed to kick through it pretty well, but spiked my heart rate and really gassed myself. My training runs on the same hill went much better. The sharp corners and slippery surfaces through here slowed me down some, too. Mostly, the mistake I made here was not taking advantage of the downhill segment after the climb to make the speed back up. I instead stayed slow to get my heart rate down more quickly.

Mile 8. 7:11. Through downtown Bothell and back to the UW campus. Nice long downhill stretch to make up some time. Bonus: very upset pickup driver in Bothell who was not happy with having to wait for the racers to pass the intersection. The poor little volunteer at the corner was just being backed up by a cop, who was pissed at the driver, when I ran by. Good for a chuckle. (I should add here that the City of Bothell did nothing in advance to warn people that the roads would be closed for the race. When I drove through on the way to the race there were just lonely orange cones out, not a sign to be seen.)

Mile 9. 7:29. Back to the campus craziness. Mile 9 is where I first saw Former College Friend, who said he wasn't running the race, pushing his friggin' jogging stroller along the course. With two kids in it. And he wasn't far behind me. What the hell, man? Last year he ran 10 miles TO the race and then ran a 1:38 AT the race. This year he shows up pushing his offspring around? No wonder he's going to Boston next year and I'm not. Damn.

Mile 10. 7:14. Back to the trail for the push to the finish. I start doing the math in my head at this point and realize that I am close to my PR, but not close enough. I don't have a sub-7:00 mile in me, so I am just going to stick to my pace and ride it out. I don't love this part of the course, but it's flat and I know it pretty well, so I just put my head down and drag my ass along.

Mile 11. 7:07. Hmmmm. A water stop helped me out here. And the headwind we were fighting let up a bit. Still, like the last miles of any race, I started to hit the wall and really, really wanted to be able to stop running.

Mile 12. 7:26. Your feet are getting verrrry heavy.

Mile 13. 7:20. I caught up with a runner I had been near for most of the race here. Turned out to be OTHER former college friend (who also ran Seattle last year). Fancy meeting you here. Can't talk now. And also, can't let you beat me. So, see ya.

Mile 13.1. For all the other features of this course, the finish is totally cool. A single loop around the little amphitheater at Red Hook to a nice finishing chute. Done. 1:35:15.

What? 1:35:15? Damn it! One minute shy of my PR.

And what sucks is I know where that minute came from. 20 seconds of it are at the start. And the other 40 are in those last 3 miles. Should have pushed. Oh well. A good race, no injuries, and hardly any hypothermia.

I chatted with Former College Friends at the finish for a bit and headed out. The brewery wasn't open yet anyway. Which brings me to my last complaint. WTF, RedHook? You can't open an hour early one day out of the year? Captive audience. Captive audience that wants beer. At least put a beer garden out there somewhere. How hard is that opportunity to recognize?

Some of the Important Stuff is in the Parentheses

After a summer full of travel and mayhem, we are back at The Shack, getting settled in and ready for another season of knowledge at The Learning Factory. Several things are happening at once:

-Training for the Seattle Marathon has started (I have a workout calendar and everything!)
-The Colleague's birthday is fast approaching (Remember when she didn't have a website?)
-The kids are clothed and fed and basically prepped for school (The eldest offspring of The Colleague officially starts high school course work this year. Yikes.)
-The new seasons of Project Runway and Top Chef are on (I have nothing parenthetically witty to say about that.)
-The Old New Boat is under renovations (and the task of finding and installing the new engine is haunting my nights and days.)
-RPD is logging hellish miles in strange places (and making me wonder if I should take this running thing a little more seriously than I do? Ah well.)
-Wildfires are burning out of control near Pasadena (just when Pasadena and I were really starting to get along!)

(S)training
Both of my readers are aware that I am not great at sticking to a workout plan. I do the miles just fine, but I have a hard time reigning myself in. If I'm slated for a 10 miler, I run 12. If I'm supposed to run at 30 seconds over race pace, I run at race pace. I'm horrible. Which, of course, is why I get hurt all the time. Doy.

So I'm trying really hard to keep it together this time. I even retired my favorite shoes because I know they're shot and I know if I keep running in them I'm going to break or tear something. RIP, Favorite Shoes That Aren't Made Anymore. (So what if I have 3 other pair of the same shoes? Shut up. It's not the same.)

So far the training is going pretty well, thank you. Last week I did almost 35 miles total, and this week will be the same (though broken up differently). My longest outing so far topped 12 miles and I did it at the pace I was supposed to (I'm still planning on 7:30 to 7:40 per mile in the 'Thon, so I'm running my long runs at 8:00-8:10) and felt great at the end. I even stopped and walked a half mile at the finish to cool down and stretch, which proves unconditionally that I can use my brain when necessary*. (It doesn't hurt that the last half mile is a 400 foot climb back up the hill to The Shack.)

*Note: Of course, the one time I choose to walk the hill is also when the Kenlake Posse is out in full force. Hi fellas. I'm walking because I'm supposed to. Honest. Not because I'm weak. Oh, and I'm NOT listening to Norah Jones on these headphones. Nope. It's heavy metal or something manly. Honest.

On that same long run I detoured a bit and ran a couple of miles of the Super Jock and Jill Half Marathon course (the hilly miles) to get my brain ready for next weekend's race. After my disastrous showing at the Tacoma Half, I'm determined to have a good race. (No PR attempt here, I am still coming off surgery after all). Anything under 1:40:00 will be just fine with me...

Birthday Wishes

Dear Colleague,
I hope you like your present. And thank you for not being one of those women who frets about birthdays, tries to hide her age, and says she doesn't want anything as a gift when really she knows exactly what she wants and if she doesn't get the right thing punishes the boyfriend silently for it for weeks. Thanks for that.

Also, this note in my lame blog is your birthday gift. Surprise!

-g

Reality Television

I do love DVR technology. Without it I would miss such gems as Top Chef, Ace of Cakes, Project Runway, and The Real House Wives of Orange County. These are so bad they're good. And when I'm not burying my head in the pillow and weeping over the demise of what little culture this country had left, I thoroughly enjoy watching these nobody wannabe actors and D-Listers fight it out for my pleasure. I'm a sick, sick man.

Also, I do seriously worry about the direction television is going (seriously, I do...I can indulge the crap and still be wary of its effect on society, right?). With the push toward more reality-based programming and away from high production value, we are getting an endless slate of competitions and dating shows. They are so cheap to produce that the studios can just crank them out and see what sticks. No need to hire writers. No need to create. Just can, package, and send. And these "actors" aren't covered by any of the labor laws that SAG actors are, and you just know they are being exploited for every inch of entertainment they have in them.

Maybe I'll feel better when the new seasons of Family Guy and American Dad start up in October. (Either that or I will have to go back and start re-watching my DVDs of Northern Exposure. How great was that show?)

Boat Repair 102: How to Employ the Skills of Others

Since I know both of my readers also follow our boat blog, I don't need to say much here. How cool is the work Dear Old Dad is doing on the boat? I just wish he was also a diesel mechanic in his past. The drafting and carpentry skills will do. I guess.

California is on Fire
This is what the scene looks like in Pasadena at the moment. The photo at the head of my last post is what it looked like 4 weeks ago. Take care SoCal folks. Try not to breathe too deeply.

The Distant Future

As we gear up and get ready to take Supervan on yet another epic adventure (Park City, Utah via Pasadena, California) I'm busily trying to get my body to accept running again, and reluctantly committing to a couple of races.

Reluctantly? Well, yeah, because every time I commit to a big race ($$$) I break something or tear something, or do something to something.

But the Tacoma Narrows Half Marathon was supposed to be the kick-off for my Seattle Marathon training, so I am officially in training mode now. I think. The next two weeks are important base mile weeks (I have to get my weekly mileage up to 30 or so pretty quickly) and we will be on the road.

Pasadena is no problem. 5 days there is five days in what I consider Running Paradise. Neighborhood jaunts under huge shady oak trees, on wide well maintained sidewalks, misting sprinklers keeping all of those manicured lawns blazingly green...It really is hard to take.

From there we will Supervan it to St George, Utah. I don't know how many of both of my readers have ever spent any time in St. George, but a running paradise it is not. My memory may be tainted, however, by the fact that I have only ever been there at the tail end of climbing trips in which I starved, froze, and almost died high up on a rock wall, tethered to a manic depressive formerly homeless poet. So, you know, maybe I wasn't thinking clearly.

Anyway, after a long day of driving through the desert, I will have to force myself to get some miles in to keep up with the plan.

From there to Park City, Utah. Lovely, amazing Park City. 6,900 feet of pure elevation. Ouch. Plus, it might be obvious to both of you that once you are in a mountain town like Park City, there aren't a lot of flat roads and trails to be found.

Travel, elevation, and hills? Recipe for training success.

Still, I'm determined. We'll see if the miles stack up.

Anyhoooo, the current plan is to run a few smaller races (including the Super Jock n Jill Half Marathon on Labor Day) leading up to the November 29th Seattle Marathon. Then we are looking for a late winter, early spring race to travel to. It seems like Pasadena or LA are the likely candidates at this point. Stay tuned.


In other news, work on the New Old Boat is starting to happen. We're at the stage where we are doing more damage than good, but there is a distinct possibility that someday this boat will sail, with us aboard...

Whose Destiny Are We Talking About Here?

Tacoma calls itself the City of Destiny. I don't know what that means, exactly. Since I can remember, Tacoma has been the joke of the Puget Sound. Dirty, crime-infested, ugly, and decidedly a "drive through" sort of place. You drive through Tacoma on your way to Anywhere Else, USA. I can count the number of times I've actually spent any real minutes or hours in Tacoma on one hand. A couple of concerts at the Tacoma Dome back in the 90s (anyone remember when the pyrotechnics at the AC/DC show set the wooden ceiling on fire?), a conference for work, and most recently a surprise trip to see Billy Collins. So signing up for the Tacoma Narrows Half Marathon had very little to do with the city itself. Truth is, I saw that Cap'n Ron had signed up and figured, what the hell? I'm out of shape and recovering from surgery. I've been on the road for most of the summer. I haven't trained over 6 miles since May. Sounds like a recipe for success to me! So I signed up and started rationalizing. Like I do.

"I can just take it easy and use it as a long run."

"I can run-walk it."

"If I crash and have to walk in, no big woop."

And with that cycle running through my head, I started my intense training regimen, which included not running at all in the days leading up to the race, drinking PBR in the sun at The Boat Yard, and drinking wine with The Colleague at the Lyle Lovett concert the night before the race. Oh, and let's not forget a nice big helping of Pad Thai at midnight before the race. This is some good training and preparation.

Let me also say that if given the choice, I'd rather wake up in my own bed on race day. But when this means an alarm going off in my ear at 4:30 a.m., the benefits of sleeping at home are questionable. At best. I think The Colleague summed it up pretty well when the alarm went off to Midnight Oil's "Beds are Burning":

"What the hell?!"

Exactly.

Keeping to my rigorous preparation plans, I had half a glass of water and part of a NutriGrain bar (mixed berry, for those of you keeping score), and when Cap'n Ron pulled up at 5:00, I was "ready" to roll.

After the drive and a parking fiasco, we met up with First Time Half Marathoner Friend and shuttled a car to the starting line across the Tacoma Narrows Bridge



Of course, they have rebuilt the bridge a couple of times since it crashed down in 1940. But still, when you think Tacoma Narrows, you think "bridge collapse in wind storm" don't you? Maybe it's just me. Anyway, after the requisite milling about and waiting in impossibly long Honey Bucket lines, we got onto the course (10 minutes late...do races EVER start on time?)


The race started at the Narrows Airport in a chilly sea fog, which once we started running was perfect, but standing around waiting for the start was miserable.

With only 1000 participants, the start was easy and there was no jockeying for position or running room.

Kudos #1: Starting on the runway at the airport is a good choice. Wide open running for everyone.

At mile 2.5 the course hit the bridge, and the wide pedestrian path on the new span. Very nice! Though in the heavy fog the crossing was very eerie. I couldn't help think of the poor souls who have jumped to their deaths from the bridge as I ran over the top. Yikes. Don't look down, there be vertigo there.

Kudos #2: Much of the run is on pedestrian and bike paths, with nice surfaces and no traffic. They had to close very few roads, which is always a nice way to run a race.

After the bridge is the first real hill of the course, and it's a killer. Mile 4 goes up almost 300 feet from the end of the bridge through Veterans Park. I was holding a little under an 8:00 pace at this point, but that wasn't going to last long. The hill about killed me, and my meticulous planning and preparation forced me to stop at the Honey Bucket in the park. I lost almost 2 minutes there. Oh well. I wasn't looking for a PR here anyway, right?

From there the course crosses Highway 16 on an overpass and enters a little middle class neighborhood for a 2 mile loop. An old couple sitting on their lawn drinking coffee were the only people awake and outside in the whole place. Hi folks. Why is it so quiet around here?

Criticism #1: Granted this isn't the race organizers' fault, but the course is lonely. There was almost no one out supporting the runners and once the field spread out, I was literally running alone most of the time. I don't know how to fix this.

The course then picks up the very nice trail system through the west part of Tacoma. We did a little loop on the baseball diamond at Cheney Stadium, which was pretty cool, and then headed up the hill. And up the hill. And up the hill...

At the starting line I listened to people talk about the course (in my intense preparation I neglected to look at the course map, naturally). I heard several people, including First Time Half Marathoner Friend say something like "After mile 10 it's all downhill to the finish."

Bullshit. From mile 11.5 it's all downhill to the finish. Mile 10 is uphill.

I was pushing by this point to keep a solid pace, counting on the downhill to save me from an epic bonk. But the trail we were on near the golf course kept going up.

And then when it did go down, it went STRAIGHT down.

Criticism #2: Steep downhills are worse than steep uphills. There has to be a way to keep the two steep descents out of this course. They're actually a little dangerous because they come late in the race when legs are fatigued. I know how to fix this.

If one looks at my GPS track really closely, he or she will see at mile 11.5 a little hitch, where your hero made a dash behind some poor industrial building to approximate the second Honey Bucket stop, sans Honey Bucket. I hear you can get a ticket for "Depositing Human Waste in Public" but given the loneliness of the course (see above) I was in no danger of my transgression being discovered.

After that I did my best to kick to the finish, and actually had a great time doing it. I caught up with a runner I had been sort of near since the start and we agreed to race to the finish. Last I checked, Tony and I were running a 5:40 pace to the finish line, and according to the official results I got him by 1 second.

I finished, took off my chip (minor complaint: I hate ankle chips. They chafe and bother me throughout the run. Can we please stick to the shoelace chips, folks?), and got my finishing prize: a nice pint glass with the race logo on it. All around me I heard the sound of smashing glass on the pavement. Maybe handing out glassware to sweaty, dehydrated, fatigued finishers of a half marathon isn't the best plan? Still, it's a cool glass and is far more useful than a finisher's medal.

By my watch I came in at 1:46: 51. By the chip I came in at 1:48:36. I don't know how the hell that happened, but I'm not going to protest. That's a little over an 8:00 pace, which is a full minute faster than I had any business running.

Cap'n Ron came in a minute behind me at 1:49:41 and didn't break his pint glass either.

First Time Half Marathoner Friend finished his first race at 2:22:32. A solid effort on a pretty hard course.

We sleep-drove our way back north and refueled at The Ram in Northgate. They have both food AND beer there. What a concept. Putting back 1600 calories always feels good!

Next up is the Super Jock and Jill Half Marathon on September 7th. I ran 1:33 there last year and like the course a lot, so we'll see.

Then it's the Seattle Marathon on November 29th. Why do I do this?

Where Does This Trail Go? Oh. Up? Right.

Both of my readers should be happy to know that I am back from Kenya, in one piece, with no visible scars. So I have that going for me, which is nice.

While in Kenya, my official "go ahead and start running again" date, set my Dr. (do-no) Harmon arrived. So, while in Malindi pigging out on fried potatoes and Tusker Lager, I laced up the Brooks and shuffled my feet.

It wasn't much, but it was running. I left our luxurious digs at the Seaview Resort and headed south down the beach. Into a 25 knot headwind. On the soft sand. After a quarter mile or so, I was joined by a couple of beach boys, who were joined by a few of their friends, who invited a couple of their friends. By the time I reached the turnaround point I felt a little like Rocky running through the streets of Philly. Also I felt like a total spectacle for the entire community of Malindi. But I ran. Gotta start somewhere.

In total I made three runs in Africa. All were painful. Who knew it was hot and windy and humid in equatorial Africa? Oh, everyone but me? Right. Even in Touristville, Africa, the locals are apparently not used to seeing an mzungu running on their red dirt roads.

The hernia seems pretty well repaired, I'm happy to say (thanks Doc). Still some soreness during the first half mile or so of a run, and I can definitely feel it after, but if the pain of the actual hernia was an 8/10, we're talking more like a 2/10 now. No worse than a sore muscle. Which I also have...

I write this from the frying pan that is Missoula, Montana. 100 degrees and not a breath of wind. I've been trying to run in the mornings before it gets too hot, and it's been pretty good, I must say.

Missoula is a pretty cool town (but it's a little too proud of itself for my tastes) and in some ways it reminds me of Spokane but without the massive industrial blight. Living in Spokane I used to be able to walk across the street to rock climb, mountain bike, or kayak along the river. Here in Missoula, the wilderness trails come right to the edge of town, so I have been taking advantage of the off-road running opportunities.


The paces are slow, but the distances are adding up, and I'm starting to feel like a runner again. Slowly by slowly. I imagine that training here on a regular basis would make running flat routes at sea level more manageable, but I don't have the constitution to keep forcing myself through runs with elevation profiles like this:



BREAKING NEWS: Cap'n Ron and I will drag our butts around the Tacoma Narrows Half Marathon Course on August 1st. Looks like a hard course, actually, but it will be nice to get another free $90 technical t-shirt...