Random Thoughts UPDATED TUE 2:12 P.M.

In what is becoming something of a tradition, I am happy to offer you a Blog Grab Bag today. We'll try to touch on a little of everything here.

• UPDATE: The Colleague's vision has changed in the last 2 years. In one eye. There is some debate about the value in getting new lenses. Stay tuned.
  
• Please Don't Kill Me. It would be just my luck to finally get my life together and have some student shoot me in the back for wronging him...My first officially psycho student of the year graced the doorway of my office yesterday. This is the sort of greasy misunderstood almost fat kid who is very likely to have a list of people who have wronged him. I think I made that list when I declined his offer to read his 700 page fantasy novel that he wrote in high school. I'm making myself feel better by presuming he doesn't have access to actual weapons. If you find a murdered kitten on campus, it is probably for me.
• Update: Math Dude Freeze Out. After three actual face to face encounters in the early days of the academic term, still not a word from Math Dude. I must have really done something wrong. Can't wait to find out what it is.
• Poems are Cool. Yes They Are. Try this one.

  My Life
  Joe Wenderoth

  Somehow it got into my room.
  I found it, and it was, naturally, trapped.
  It was nothing more than a frightened animal.
  Since than I raised it up.
  I kept it for myself, kept it in my room,
  kept it for its own good.
  I named the animal, My Life.
  I found food for it and fed it with my bare hands.
  I let it into my bed, let it breathe in my sleep.
  And the animal, in my love, my constant care,
  grew up to be strong, and capable of many clever tricks.
  One day, quite recently,
  I was running my hand over the animal's side
  and I came to understand
  that it could very easily kill me.
  I realized, further, that it would kill me.
  This is why it exists, why I raised it.
  Since then I have not known what to do.
  I stopped feeding it,
  only to find that its growth
  has nothing to do with food.
  I stopped cleaning it
  and found that it cleans itself.
  I stopped singing it to sleep
  and found that it falls asleep faster without my song.
  I don't know what to do.
  I no longer make My Life do tricks.
  I leave the animal alone
  and, for now, it leaves me alone, too.
  I have nothing to say, nothing to do.
  Between My Life and me,
  a silence is coming.
  Together, we will not get through this.

• Cankles. How does this happen? Just a question motivated by seeing my children's mother in capris. Speaking of capris.
  
• Name That Factory Worker. Spotted on campus on an 80 degree fall day in black wool capris (Where on earth are these even sold? Wool is a winter fabric. Capris are a summer style. If this happened on Project Runway Micheal Kors would come unglued) AND a black sweater?
  
• Pull the Trigger! Is it possible that RPD finally decided to purchase one of the 47 bikes he has tested over the last 2 weeks? Say it ain't so! I've got a wager on this one.
• Get a Spine. Word on the street is that Al B is recovering nicely from having his spine removed.
• Fall Cleaning. No confirmation of the rumor that Cap'n Ron might be down to fewer than 5 motorcycles in his garage. Of course, Cap'n was last spotted in Spokane purchasing a new 2-wheeler, so who knows what is really happening.
• Etiquette Question. Is it ok to be a little entertained when your ex gets dumped? Just a little? I know it's ok to be entertained when your partner's ex gets dumped, but this is some gray area I could use some help with.
• Fuji-me. After a nice 40 mile day on Sunday with AW and Factory Worker C, I'm feelin' the Fuji again. Going fast on skinny tires kicks ass.
• Raise Your Hand. If you think Tina Fey makes a better Sarah Palin than Sarah Palin does.
• I'm a Partisan Hack. Of course I would likely be voting for any reasonable candidate the donkeys put forward this time around, but I think I still get to be critical of people who are blindly voting for McCain/Palin because they are the elephant ticket. I mean, seriously? Those two are a disaster. Also, I have to stop reading the "Sound Off" political blogs. It makes me weep.
• Twenty Six Point Two. I don't particularly want to run the Seattle Marathon. So that's awesome.

Well, that's about all I really have for now. I know, exciting stuff. Shut up.

Adventures in Corporate Phone Trees. Or, Why I Hate Maytag

"Thank you for calling the Maytag Customer Experience..."

This is how you are greeted when you dial 1-800-688-9900, the toll-free number printed on all of our new Maytag appliances. And since pushing buttons is so 1998, this computerized experience asks that you speak your preferences at each prompt.

"Are you calling about a Maytag air conditioner or dehumidifier? Please say 'yes' or 'no'."

I've called this number 6 times this week trying to get our dishwasher repaired. The last time I called I timed how long it took to get through the prompts to the inevitable result (it turns out my request requires an actual person to talk to me.) 4 minute 35 seconds. And this is without any mis-understood responses.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get that. Could you repeat your answer?"

"FUCK YOU."

"I'm sorry, I didn't get that. Could you repeat your answer?"

Backstory: The Shack had perfectly functional appliances, but they were ugly. So, being good suburban consumers, the Colleague and I bought a whole new set of appliances. We even bought them a month in advance of needing them and scheduled our delivery for the move-in day at The Shack. Smart! Thoughtful!

Problem #1: At the tail end of the Southwest road trip, as we were driving away from Hood River, OR I get a phone call from the Maytag delivery guy informing us that our new gas range was backordered, so our new deliver date was 2 weeks later. Ummm. What? One of the six pieces we ordered was oversold, so we get none of them? Wrong.

Solution #1: The Colleague spends the better part of an hour on the phone yelling at various people who don't seem to care that we have four kids and no appliances in our house. Finally, sympathetic salesman manages to upgrade the range to one that is in stock. Still, our new delivery date is a week late. Nice. Such questions as "Who can I talk to about this mixup?" and "Whose fault is this?" are answered with silence.

Problem #2: When the Mexicans bring the appliances they refuse to hook up the range because it is a "slide in" versus a freestanding unit.

Solution #2: Whatever. Fine. I can do it.

Problem #3: "Um. We no can install the dishwasher because something is not work."

Solution #3: Order a NEW dishwasher with a new delivery date a week later. I suggest that perhaps the store who sold this stuff to me over a month prior might see it as reasonable to replace the dishwasher that day. No. No. The dishwashers aren't here. They're in another state and have to be shipped here when they are ordered. Right. That makes perfect sense. The delivery service claims helplessness. There is nothing they can do. It's the system.

Problem #4: New dishwasher is delivered, but the Mexicans don't know how to work it so when they are testing it, it floods my kitchen. Awesome.

Solution #4: I point out that they have overwhelmed the drain pump by starting and stopping a wash cycle without letting the unit reset. Ahhhhh. Now it works.

Which brings us to Problem #5: While The Colleague is finishing up her 3-Day Save the Boobs walk, I make one last effort at cleaning up the shack before heading out to meet her at the finish. Load dishwasher. Push start. Leave house. The Colleague comes home, eats something, checks the dishwasher to see if it is clean or dirty, adds her plate, and pushes start. Um. Those are clean, I say. No they aren't, she says. Ummm. The damn thing is running dry. Awesome.

Solution #5: Warranty repair to the rescue!

I bravely navigate the phone tree, from "Welcome to the Maytag Customer Experience" to "Please hold while I connect you to an agent who can further assist you" and am introduced to James, a helpful lad who steals a prime next-day service appointment for me. I block out the hours of 8-12 and am assured the service provider will call 30 minutes prior to arrival.

At 11:45 I start to think maybe they aren't coming. So I dive into the phone tree again. There is no obvious way to jump the tree, by the way, and if you try to answer a question before the disembodied voice finishes asking it, you get kicked out to the front of the list. Awesome system.

I am informed by Jennifer (Operator #38692, in case you want to talk to her) that my appointment is schedule not for THIS Tuesday, but 2 weeks out. No, I say, James scheduled me for today. Well, if so, it's been changed, because you are all set up for 2 weeks from now, she says. The next thread of words from my mouth weren't received well by Operator #38692 and the call ended with a new appointment for Saturday. Not ideal. There is a kid's soccer game that day and I have other plans, but let's get this thing fixed. 8-12 it is. Saturday.

At 11:30 on Saturday I have missed a soccer game and still have to wash Cheerio bowls by hand. I call the Maytag Customer Experience one more time.

"Well Mr. GVB we show that there are three appointments still ahead of you."

"So, 8-12 means what again? Are you in a different time zone than me? Is Maytag based in Hawaii?"

"He'll call when he's 30 minutes away. Thank you for calling the Maytag Customer Experience."

At 1:45 I have to leave the house to deliver kids to their Beading Customer Experience so I call to make sure I won't miss my mystery date.

"Well, you're scheduled from 1-5, so it could be anytime between now and then."

"Noooo. I was scheduled for 8-12."

"Well then someone changed it, because I only show the one appointment."

"You have to be fucking kidding me with this shit."

"Is there anything else I can do for you today sir?"

"The phrase 'anything ELSE' implies that you have done anything at all for me. Which you haven't."

"Thank you for calling the Maytag Customer Experience."

So here is what I have learned about buying appliances. You don't buy them from a store. We chose Big Box Store A because they had a good rebate deal going and the guy we talked to was nice. But we could have bought them from anywhere. The store doesn't stock anything, deliver anything, fix anything, or take responsibility for anything. Nor does Maytag deliver anything or stock anything. They sure as hell don't fix anything. The people they sent out to repair the dishwasher could be sent by any of the local Big Box stores. So when Super Nice Guy Repairman is in my kitchen, I can't really take my anger out on him, can I?

So I suck it up, turn on a football game, open the last summer ale in the fridge and sigh. I really just want a functional dishwasher.

Notre Dame lost to Michigan State, by the way. So there's that upside to the day.

Oh, I almost forgot. Super Nice Guy Repairman couldn't fix the dishwasher. The new float switch is being sent to The Shack overnight express and I have an appointment on Thursday from 1-5 to have it installed. I'm not optimistic that this will happen.

I have dishpan hands, and no Palmolive in sight.

Factory Preview 2008-2009, Now With More Rumors!

Here is your long awaited preview of the 2008-2009 season at the Learning Factory, complete with odds. As always, these predictions are for entertainment purposes only. Please, no wagering.


The Sure Things:

• The Pear-Shaped Meltdown. Now I realize that in the pre-season, the Pear Shaped Woman has been running a new offense that looks pretty good, but the smart money is on the same old results this season as last. The happy, cooperative demeanor of Week One will quickly turn sour in a Week Seven matchup with The Colleague at a department meeting. The smart play here is to avoid this wager entirely. That said, if you want to score big on one bet this year, I'm pretty sure you can find someone to give you 10-1 odds or better on the Pear Shaped Woman finishing the season with a positive record.
  
• Size XL Sweaters. We've already seen some bulking up for the new season, and all reports indicate that we will see a move from the Large mock neck sweaters to X-Large. This is a safe money bet and might make a good parlay with one of the following wagers...
• Math Dude Freeze Out. Place your money on complete radio silence and eye-contact avoidance between Math Dude and GVB for the duration of fall quarter. Pre-season observations indicate a complete avoidance strategy on the part of the Math Dude.
• Part Time Faculty Relapse. In some books this wager is tied to the Pear Shaped Meltdown, which makes it a strong parlay option. Despite a very positive response to the pre-season, the inevitable downturn of winter and spring will leave many part timers disgruntled and angry, and at least one will become verbally abusive over his schedule. Too verbally abusive.
  
• The Hyperbole Season. Remember last year's classic hyperbole season? The hits just kept on coming. "There are literally dozens of faculty who could teach that literature class" and "The Accreditation Team will look at our department and see how dysfunctional we are!" Well, this year promises to be even more exciting in the overstatement department. Expect several references to the "way it used to be" and dire predictions about the future of education (linked most often to the evils of online education). The smart money is on even more hyperbole this year than last, if you can believe it.
  

The Long Shots

• The Replacements. Over-Caffeinated Vice President fired and replaced with internal candidate: 10-1
• The Break Up. The rumors of the demise of the Factory's most scandalous relationship will lead to the actual breakup. 1000-1.
  
• The Miracle of Life. Will the Colleague and GVB bring new life into the world this year? Insider information could help you on this wager, but the long odds should be enough to stay away from this bet (but just think about what a $10 bet could bring in on this one!) 1,000,000-1.
• Kansas Rocks! President actually takes his stash of petty cash from under his mattress and moves his increasingly ineffective management style to Kansas. 10-1

Thanks for playing. It should prove to be a very exciting year at the Factory...don't make me come collect my money in person from last year's wagers. You know who you are, and it's hard to use that nice new iPod touch with broken fingers. Just sayin'

Anyone Want to Move to Texas?

My Neighborhood Wants Me Dead

Either living on top of this hill will kill me or I'll finally learn how to run hills.

The map above is an example of the sort of route I have to run to keep from climbing any of the truly big hills in the new 'hood, Even with this I only got 4.5 miles in AND I climbed 1300 feet.

Still there are perks, such as this view from the end of our street:




Other potential murderous factors:

• Neighbor X. Timed incorrectly, and the run up the hill is a hit and run situation just waiting to happen.
• Narrow shoulders. No, not mine...but many of the roads I need to get off this peak and onto the more reasonable routes around us are basically two lanes for traffic, a fog line, and a 10 foot deep drainage ditch.
• Bothell Way, shown below on its best day:

• Republicans. You have to go one block over, but once the houses get a little more expensive, the Obama signs disappear and the McCain signs go up.
• The Burke-Gilman Trail, which is an amazing use of a rail corridor that I really wish we actually still had for rail (I know, I know, public transportation is for losers). I have seen enough bad collisions on the BG over the last 3 years that I don't even let the kids ride their bikes on it. It's safer to ride on Bothell Way (see above). Seriously people...slow the f down.
  
• This is future tense since I've never lived on this mountain in the winter, but I am sure the snow and ice will be a wonderful addition.

Still I'm optimistic. So far the legs and lungs have held out, and we'll get to see how the hills pay off in the next race: The Dawg Dash 10k on October 12th. Speaking of which, this is the cover photo on all of the promotional materials for the race:

Ummmm. Who picked this? Let's start with #3250. He looks like a runner at least, but what's with that face? We all make stupid faces when we run, and the camera is good at capturing them, but don't you see that right away and keep sorting through the stack to get a better shot? And what about the frontrunner? He looks like he is stalking his next slashing victim. Yikes. I'm not sure I want to follow that guy on Twitter...but you can follow me now. Yes you can...

Squirrel on a Bass Drum and other Tales

I'm Sure this Happens to Every Band Director
During The Colleague's birthday throwdown at the Casa de Playa, the Youngest Colleague Brother regaled us with what has to be the best "first day of school" story any teacher has ever witnessed and told. Now there is no way to capture the storytelling abilities of said Youngest Brother, so I will just tell you the following details and allow you to write your own tale. Note: details are in random order:

• Youngest Colleague Brother is band director at local (elite) high school
• Over the summer, a family of squirrels made a home in the ceiling of the band room
• Young special needs student takes giant poop on hallway floor
• Squirrel falls from ceiling onto bass drum
• Vietnamese custodian vomits ONTO pile of poop on hallway floor
• Crafty students use sousophones to build squirrel maze
• Band director decides this is the best day of school ever

The Beach Report
The above-mentioned birthday bash for The Colleague has come and gone. Friends and family gathered at the beach for a last little taste of summer. There was no pomp. Little circumstance. There was quite a bit of snoring and a few skinned knees. When it was all said and done, The Colleague was officially 40 years of age and Supervan was loaded up with 15 bags of empty bottles. I hope you feel welcomed into your second 40 years, Colleague. There was a lot of love on that beach.

The Swarm
I love the warm weather and all, but the sooner we can get a nice hard freeze overnight to kill whatever damn bugs have hatched along the Burke Gilman trail, the better. There I am, cruising along the trail at a nice 8:30 pace when the swarm descended upon me. Little tiny fuckers that flew up my nose, into my mouth, into my ears, behind my Oakleys. It was heinous.

I found that when running west, into the sun, I could see the little swarms coming and sort of dodge them (when the trail wasn't blocked by teams of Super Lycra Dudes power commuting from Redmond to Seattle on their $3,000 bikes). But running east I only knew they were there because they were getting in my teeth.

The protein packed bugs in question are tiny, like little gnats or miniature mosquitoes, and the swarms of them are huge, maybe 20 feet across.

Anyone know the story with these things? I don't remember them from last fall but surely they are a regular phenomena on the old BG Trail. Whatever they are, they turned what was going to be a 9-10 miler on the trail (read: easy on the calves and feet) into a 6 mile loop back up into the Kenmore Summit, where the hills are steep and at least one neighbor wants me dead. Good times.

Coming Soon...
I have been back to the Learnin' Factory a few times in preparation for the start of the school year and it seems like I'm going to have to write my annual Learnin' Factory Prediction Post soon. It shouldn't be hard...not much has changed.

People really think these things matter, don't they? Stay tuned.

On Training and Planning

I snuck out for a quick 5 mile run last night to loosen the legs up after the SJJ Half Marathon and found myself thinking along the way about training plans and theories.

I have read a lot of articles blog entries about mileage, pace, nutrition, rest, recovery...it never ends. To follow any of the plans that are out there, one pretty much has to forget about any other elements of life. And when you read the fine print on these plans, you quickly learn that no one really knows anything. I mean, sure we know more about heart rate, muscle recovery, and the other scientific elements of how the body works under certain conditions, but let me ask you these questions:

1. How many long runs should one do in the lead up to a marathon?
2. How long should the longest run before a marathon be?
3. At what pace should one run his or her long runs?
4. How much speedwork should a runner do in preparation for a marathon?

Everyone has an opinion on these things, but no one agrees. And all of the expert coaches seem to concede that their plans work for some people and not others. AND all of the expert coaches seem to agree that some people are just plain better suited to marathon running than others.

(It is probably no accident that everyone I ever climbed with has also run marathons, and having given up vertical climbing at altitude, many are now ultra runners...)

Not to discount the training programs and coaches - if I could afford one and had the sort of lifestyle that allowed me a strict schedule, I'd probably opt to have a training coach myself - but I have decided that training really just boils down to one thing:

Run.

Run short. Run long. Run fast. Run slow. Run on trails. Run on streets. Run with friends. Run to the store. Run home from work. Run from the cops. Run on the track. Run around the house with the kids.

I only put this out there because I tried yesterday to add some training plans to the Family Calendar and couldn't. My official training plan for the Seattle Marathon is as follows (comments welcome):

• Average at least 40 miles per week between now and November 20th
• Complete at least 4 runs of 20+ miles
• Complete one run of 22 miles
• Throw in some speedwork at the track when possible
• Use the bike/trainer to keep lose on rest days
  
• Get down to my goal race weight (165 pounds) by November 15th
• No run longer than 3 miles during my 1 week taper
• Change the playlist on my iPod. Good lord...
  
• Use the word "fartlek" whenever possible
  
• Show up on November 30th and run like hell for 26.2 miles
  

No calendar. No strict plan. Run when I can. If I get to the end of a week and I need 4 miles to get to 40, I'll run 4. If I need 14, I'll run 14.

Parenting

I think the thing I enjoy most about visiting my kids' school is that it exposes me to the best and brightest adults around. Everyone in the town their mother chooses to live in is in shape, articulate, well-read, open-minded, educated, and progressive.

Wait. It's the opposite of that.

Today was my son's first day of kindergarten, and I got the pleasure of accompanying him. So we went to the classroom and found his little seat. We filled out a questionnaire together (his favorite food is hot dogs, in case you were wondering, and he is no longer afraid of the Mariner Moose). We introduced ourselves to the other kids and their moms (I was the only dad to be found in the building, of course). Then the kids went to recess and the moms and I went to the cafeteria to learn all about the wonderful world of Kindergarten. The Principal gave the same speech he gave when my daughter started Kindergarten 3 years ago, with the same jokes. He explained the bus schedule and how to pick kids up after school. He introduced the lunch ladies and the PE teacher.

SIDE NOTE: I have been wondering of late about Boy Kid's readiness for Kindergarten. He doesn't really trend toward the academic side of things (he is more into cross-dressing and playing with dolls). Any worries I had about his placement in the class and his standing among his peers is now gone. Don't worry about that.

Meanwhile, out of control toddlers and preschoolers who had been brought along by their mommies for big brother or sister's first day of Kindergarten, swarmed the room and generally tore the shit out of the place. The juice table the PTA had set up in the back was toppled, the Rice Krispy treats were ravaged, metal folding chairs were knocked over. And the screaming. My god the screaming! I looked up from my text-messaging (very polite, I know) expecting to see dozens of parents scrambling to calm their children down or maybe remove them from the room until they shut up. At the very least I expected to see their fat white faces flush with embarrassment at their kids' behavior.

Nope. It wasn't until one kid flat out decked another in the nose that any of the parents even flinched. And even then it went like this:

Mother of Puncher: "Dylan! You get over here right now or I'm going to swat you!"
Mother of Punchee: "Jonathan! Stop crying right now!"
GVB: WTF?

And then the question and answer period began. Holy Shi-



Are these the dumbest people ever? How do they dress themselves? How did they manage to raise kids to Kindergarten age without killing them?

Anyway, congratulations Boy Kid. Good job getting older. Don't shoot up the school with your mom's boyfriend's guns.

PR!

Today was the Super Jock and Jill Half Marathon in Woodinville. I happened on this race last summer and raved about it on this very blog. It is a well-run event that attracts good runners. And it starts and ends at Red Hook. Not hard to take.

Last year I ran the 13.1 miles in 1:38 and change.

This year I came into the race with about 3 miles of training under my belt and no delusions of any sort of real performance. BUT, I also came into the race with my usual attitude of "go fast and see what happens." This attitude has not served me well in full marathons, but I can't help myself. Hell, even in training runs I have a bad habit of going too fast for too many miles. It's an illness. I have a team of professionals working on it.

Also new this year: The Colleague and offspring were not just spectators. Nope. They suited up for the 4 mile run-walk that went off at the same time as the 13.1. Go ladies go!

(For those who are paying attention, the 3-Day Save the Boobs walk is 2 weeks away, which at least partly explains The Colleague's participation in a walking event.)

The pre-race situation involved a long port-o-john line (duh) and some milling about in the prematurely cold late summer weather. Once I wandered into the starting area I saw something that looked a lot like this:



This isn't the exact artwork, but the style is unmistakably that of Mr. Owen Connell of Parlor F fame. Owen is responsible for all of GVB's ink and one of The Colleague's stylish tattoos as well.

GVB: "Excuse me, who did your tattoo?"
Runner Girl: "Owen Connell. Why?"
GVB: "He did mine too. I knew that was one of his designs!"

As we wait for the start I learn that Owen just completed the Cascade Crest 100 Ultra Marathon in 30 hours. I can't even begin to imagine the pain and suffering involved. The bitch of it all is that Owen doesn't really even train. He just goes out and runs. Fucker...

Back to the race: this is a gun time race, which I loath. I lose 50 seconds because every dickhead in a compression top thinks he is going to run a 6 minute pace? Grrrr. I managed to sneak ahead pretty quickly and posted a 7:10 first mile (though with all the weaving I probably ran 1.2).

Mile two clicked by and all was well. A small downhill section let me cruise in at 7:00 on the nose.

I really wasn't going for a time on this race. If I had felt tight or tired at mile three I was completely ready to throttle back and do an even 8:00/mile for the whole race. But I still felt strong, so I kept going. Nothing at stake here. Even a massive bonk didn't matter. At the water station in mile three I decided to see what I could do.

From mile 4 through the finish, the course is on roads and trails I have logged hundreds of miles on. I know every turn and hill, and I know distance instinctively from hours of training runs. I can't tell you how much this helped. I stopped looking at my watch and I just started running.

Blah blah blah I made it through the hilly portion on the UW Bothell campus and hit the trail again at mile 9. A quick glance at my watch and I knew I had it. If I didn't crash I had my PR for a half marathon. No way I was letting that one go.

I kept myself pushing by imagining the finishing clock and seeing something in the low 1:30s. When I hit the grounds of the Red Hook Brewery for the last .1 miles, started kicking:

1:33:50.

7:08/Mile.

I couldn't help pumping a fist and yelling a little. Shaving almost 5 minutes off my previous time? Awesome...Still, I hope there isn't any video. I'm sure I looked like a dick acting like I had just won the race.

And after I had calmed down I found Cap'n Ron and RPD arriving to share in the finish festivities. A nice IPA with The Colleague, the Offspring, and my friends? Awesome. Thanks for coming out, boys!

Thanks to The Colleague for knowing why I was so excited with my time. Sorry about the sweaty hug.

Now we turn our attention to the Seattle Marathon. I'm not trying to BQ at this one, but it will be a good stepping stone to Vancouver, where I hope to run the 3:15:00 I need to get my fat ass to Boston in 2010.

We'll see.

-g

Drool Worthy

I went with The Colleague to Road Runner Sports today to get her outfitted for the 3-Day Save The Boobs Walk. While she was trying things on, I took the opportunity to check out the new Brooks T5 Racer. Yum.

I'm saving my pennies. There's still time to save the needed funds and get one short race on them before the Seattle 26.2! Right?

And yes, I do have a shoe problem.

Feels Like Summer Might Be Over...

A lot has happened since my last entry here. Our Southwest Swing is over, our move is complete, the kids are gearing up to go back to their respective publicly funded learning factories, I signed up for my first race of the new training season...It's a busy time. Let's get started.

Road Trip!
SuperVan rolled up 3,335 miles on our last trip. Seattle to Boise to Sedona to Pasadena to Portland to Seattle with stops along the way in Malibu, Santa Barbara, and other places it wouldn't suck to live. Conclusions: I don't want to live in Sedona. I could handle living in Pasadena (that place might just be a runner's paradise with its wide sidewalks, gentle sloping hills, shade trees...I have to stop now before I start crying).


I understand why someone would live in Malibu (of course the money it would take to live in the home of the friend we visited would make living anywhere pretty tolerable), and I definitely get the Santa Barbara vibe. But I think I'll stick with Seattle for now, thanks. It is still relatively affordable (unlike Santa Barbara) and it isn't in danger of falling into the sea or being engulfed in a wind-driven inferno any time soon...


Our trip ended with an open-air Jack Johnson concert outside of Portland. And while the show was a good one, seeing him at Kokua Festival in Waikiki pretty much ruined us for any other concert experience. The people in Portland just didn't seem to get the idea. Chill out, folks.

I don't really care for Portland all that much. There. I said it.

If You Lived Here, You'd Be in My House Now
After 2 years of rental living to start our respective second lives, The Colleague and I swooped into the depressed housing market and lowballed a motivated seller into giving us a house. So we packed up the Palace and had three dudes move everything 5 miles west to the top of ANOTHER F-ING HILL. Welcome to the Shack. We're staying here for a while.

Buying an older house is always an adventure in other people's stupidity. As a general rule, most homeowners should NOT be allowed to own tools or to attempt remodeling projects on their own. It is customary, for example, to remove the appliances before re-tiling a kitchen. Who is so lazy that they leave the appliances in place and cut the tile around them? Oh, the previous owners of this house. Right.

In the Shack, GVB and The Colleague each have their own offices and all of the kids have bedrooms on the same floor. We got central heating, and we're alright. Ya Ya Ya. Come on over. Bring wine.

Train This
So back to this hill we live on. Shit. The Palace was at the top of a hill that gave me three or four running options. I could do the 3 mile loop on the hill and stay level, or I could go down to the valley at three different spots. Options. It still always sucked to have to come back up, but I had options. I like options. The Shack leaves me with only two options. Down our street (3/4 mile to the Burke Gilman Trail, by the way), or down the hill on the other side of the neighborhood, which is a 1.5 mile detour. Sigh. One compelling reason to take the back door route is that there is a neighbor 5 doors down that I really don't care for, and I wouldn't put it past him to run me over if he sees me running up the hill. Another compelling reason is that the hill really is steep. Brutal steep. 11 minute pace steep. Walk the bike steep.

Anyway, I'm officially on the training train for the Seattle Marathon. November 30th. Portland is too soon (though Cap'n Ron is still planning on limping the course on a broken leg and no training) and frankly, a weekend in Portland is just too expensive. The idea of sleeping in my own bed the night before a race is very appealing to me. The Seattle course is pretty rough (2 out and back sections and a nasty climb near the end) but I'll see what I can do. Who's in? Come on...

Up next is the Super Jock and Jill Half Marathon in Woodinville. Any race that begins and ends at the Redhood Brewery is just fine with me. I set a PR at this race last year, but I'm nowhere near ready to try for that again. Just going out for an 8:00 pace and using it as my first double-digit run of the season. We'll see.

Mr. Obama, Will You Please Be My President?

The Colleague and I watched the Democratic National Convention last night. Can we please just get Obama in office now and get on with it? Isn't it obvious? Please? Be my president. Please?

Then we wake up to find that McCain (who celebrates his 72 birthday today) has chosen...who? The Governor of Alaska as his running mate? What?

And then this story hits: GOP Says Hurricane May Delay Convention



New Orleans is Screwed
Karl Rove says the GOP "can't catch a break" when it comes to the weather. Hmmm. Maybe it's because the weather, which you can't control, is highlighting how stupid you are. McCain wants to expand oil drilling in the Gulf of Mexico (meanwhile, Hurricane Gustav is bearing down on the existing oil platforms in the Gulf, which are being evacuated, and oil prices are climbing in anticipation of the production slowdown). McCain wants to focus on foreign relations and military experience abroad (meanwhile, Gustav is set to clobber New Orleans in a reminder of how utterly broken the GOP's domestic policies are).

So how can we spin this one? I know, let's postpone the convention and over-compensate for Katrina by lavishing the 300 people left in New Orleans with attention. Of course, if the storm doesn't hit a major city, screw 'em. On with the convention!

One does wonder, if New Orleans gets hit again this soon after Katrina, does that increase the chances of the NBA leaving New Orleans to return to Seattle? Hmmmm.

Welcome to the LPGA. Speak English.
The LPGA has announced that it will require all players to speak English by 2010. What? They claim this is for the players' own benefit. In Pro-Am events, they say, it is important for the players to be able to communicate with sponsors. How very progressive of you.

College Football Season Begins
And GVB is nervous for his Huskies. Very nervous.

South by West - Part Three WARNING, ACTUAL RUNNING CONTENT

The Seattle Marathon is Sunday, November 30th.

I haven't even tried to run once in the last month.

Rumor has it one should train before running a 26.2 mile race.

Since you have to start somewhere, I started at the front door of our vacation condo in Sedona, Arizona.

Some variables for you:

1. I haven't run a single step in a month.
2. Sedona is roughly 4,600 feet above sea level.
3. I live more or less at sea level.
4. Today's high temperature in Sedona was 99 degrees.

The sum of variables 1-4 is a really shitty first run of the training season. 4 miles with a lot of hills and some seriously nice slickrock trails.

The conclusion of this research is that I have a LONG way to go before I'm close to ready for the Seattle 26.2. And if I am seriously going to try for my Boston Qualifier in May at Vancouver, I need to put some miles together and get things in shape again.

Since today didn't kill me I'll try again tomorrow and add a couple of miles. With luck I'll get out before the temperature hits 100.

At the end of the week we'll be in Pasadena, where I'll try to get in a couple of long-ish days, so that by the time we get home from this trip I'll be back in the swing of things. In theory.

Other things I learned today:
•4 bedrooms with a view in Sedona will run you $1,000,000. Now, I don't know about you, but $1,000,000 seems excessive for an adobe in a forest fire zone. Without a pool. Why doesn't anyone around here have pools?
•Sometimes other people's kids are a serious pain in the ass. I'd say 90% of the time.
•I'm a fan of a full night's sleep.

South by West - Part Two

It isn't a mystery to anyone who glances at this blog that I have more or less given up running in favor of endless bouts of leisure and relaxation, punctuated only by air and sea travel. But with the Seattle Marathon on the horizon (Thanksgiving weekend) it's time to get back on the road and build up some miles.

Today I scouted out several good routes around our current location in Sedona, Arizona. A nice 5 miler tomorrow morning ought to get me back on the road in style.

On my scouting walk today I learned some things.

1. The only people who live in Sedona are very restless retirees from northern cities and totally fried hippies who aren't even really sure they live here. It's a scary combination, especially on the roads. I also encountered one resident who was a deadly combination of burned out hippie AND northern city retiree. She stared at me from behind the wheel of her Jetta with the sort of fixation that either said "I think I remember you from a past life" or "you seem threatening to me and I might run you down." I casually stepped into the gutter to avoid whatever was going to happen next.

2. If you cover your doublewide with Stucco you can turn white trash into desert white trash. Adding a wagon wheel or cow skull to the fence is the finishing touch.

3. No one really wants to live here. They think they do, but they wish they had made another choice. It's in the eyes. Everyone here looks like they are begging to be adopted and taken to a better life with less heat and fewer poisonous animals and plants.

4. The staff at the Wyndham Sedona is wildly incompetent. Luckily they are also rude.

5. Whoever designed the above mentioned resort had no training in traffic flow or pedestrian tendencies. No sidewalks connect to anything, and all of the natural flow of the place goes right through plantings and rockeries, almost all of which have signs that say "Please don't climb on Red Rock." Well, assholes, people climb on the rocks because it is the shortest path to your pool.

6. I also found the brewery. But that's my little secret.

South by West - Part One

The Colleague and I returned from Belize and stayed home for a week, during which we had our water heater and furnace replaced at the new casa, hung out with the kids, and packed SuperVan for a trip south.

Destination 1: Sedona, Arizona. A week of heat and beer and pool water in the mountains north of Phoenix. 21 hours of driving interrupted by a failed camping attempt and a super fantastic hotel room in Boise, ID.

SuperVan is up to the challenge. 1300 miles into the trip and she's happy as could be.

Cheapest gas: $3.89/gal. Most expensive gas: $4.29/gal.

More later.

Belize It. Wherein GVB Babbles About Travel, People, Food, Drink, and Books.

So, Belize doesn't suck. I'll give it that. The Colleague and I are back from 15 days on land and sea in what I can only imagine is the coolest, friendliest Central American country there is. The stories are endless, of course, but my patience for writing them out and is not. So here are some pictures:

Hotel Mopan in Belize City. If you want to watch "Police Academy" in a dark bar and drink warm Belikin beer, this is the place.


Speaking of Belikin Beer, here it is. The ONLY beer in Belize. So even though it isn't good, it's the best beer in the world.


Public Transportation in Orange Walk, Belize. Wherein GVB pissed off locals by keeping his window down. Apparently the hotter the inside of the bus is, the happier people are. This particular bus took us from Orange Walk to Corozal.


For some reason related to tropical heat and sleep deprivation, we thought this was hilarious.



Apparently the Mayans built some huge temples in the jungle. Not pictured: bugs the size of small aircraft.


Caye Caulker is a tourist nightmare, but if I have to suffer through a day or two with a private beachfront cabana and the only pool on the island, I guess that's ok...


Welcome to Placencia, where the streets are sidewalks and the people like their signs.

And then we got on this boat with The Colleague's family. This is a big ass boat. 47 feet long and at least as wide. It sailed like a shipping container with a stick coming out of it, but it had air conditioning and 600 gallons of water, which we went through in 3 days. It was comfortable though. I'll give it that.

Did me a lot of reading on this trip. Here I am reading "Thunderstruck" by Erik Larson. Maybe someday I'll make a list of what The Colleague and I have read this summer with some reviews. Maybe. What I have decided is that most writers can't sustain a good book through the end. I haven't read a book that was consistently good from beginning to end all summer. "Exit A" by Anthony Swofford came close and is so far my fave of the summer...

Oh yeah, Belikin. There was some of that on the boat as well. 12 cases to be precise. Most sailors worry about running out of fuel, water, or food. We ran out of beer. It was about this time that The Colleague swore she would never touch another Belikin again.


I've seen worse anchorages. This is Tabacco Caye, the local economy of which is apparently based on the frequent discovery of Colombian cocaine washing up on the reef. I believe this was the first night of charades on the foredeck, during which I had the pleasure of acting out obscure 1960's movie titles. Thanks Colleague's Dad!

After a week of almost not grounding the boat, we made our way inland to Maya Mountain Lodge. People there are too nice for their own good and the cabanas, as you can see, suck.

Go to Belize. And be ready to answer the following question every time you meet a local: "You want some weed, man?"

Not a Bad Start (and other thoughts)

I'm Sailing! I'm SAILING!" -What About Bob


The Colleague and I pulled back into port after 11 days afloat. I thought about writing a long narrative of the trip, but that seems like work, and this is summer. So instead here is a brief rundown of the adventure:

•Day One: Hope Island. Perfect weather on the longest day of the year. It was light out until 10:30. Tapped into the first box of our finest purple wine. Cruising Note: There ARE three mooring buoys at Hope Island, but only at low tide. We tied to the mysterious third buoy and watched as it disappeared as the tide rose. Dear Washington State Parks, please do occasional maintenance.
•Day Two: Blind Bay. After running Deception Pass and battling rips and currents in Rosario Strait, we sailed through Thatcher Pass and up to Blind Bay on Shaw Island, where we grabbed a mooring and kicked back. The decent cell phone coverage allowed us to buy a house while we were at it. Yep. Bought us a house. By the time we return to work in the fall we will have changed addresses. Goodbye Bothell. Hello Kenmore. Oh, and in case you are ever tempted to forget, the currents and rip tides in the San Juans are pretty epic.


•Day Three: Poet's Cove. Canadian Awesome. Motored out into San Juan Channel and then sailed downwind straight into Bedwell Harbor on the better side of the US/Canada border. Question: how does Verizon know where the border is out here? Cleared Canadian Customs with a phone call to a friendly young lad in Victoria, took a dip in the resort pool, sampled the cocktail offerings at the resort bar, and sent paperwork for above-mentioned home purchase. More purple was consumed.

•Day Four: Montague Harbor. Pub Bus. Is this the best cruising harbor in the Gulf Islands? It might just be. Perfect anchorage, friendly people, and the Hummingbird Pub. Did some boat cleaning and found that there was fiberglass under all the green shit on deck. The Colleague began the tanning plan. The bikini choice was met with great approval.



•Day Five: Montague Harbor. Lucky Lager. Why not stay one more day? No need to click off any nautical miles on this day. We hung out, went for a long walk, bought some provisions (an 8-Pack of Lucky Lager? Does it get any better?) and stopped back at the Hummingbird for a pitcher.
•Day Six: Winter Cove. Umm. Perfect? The cruising guides barely mention Winter Cove, and when they do all they say is that it is shallow. What they don't mention is that it is picture perfect and a rock solid anchorage. You tell me how good this is:


•Day Seven: Customs at Roche Harbor. Lame. Reid Harbor for the night. We turned back toward the states and had to go all the way into Roche Harbor to clear customs. Let's just say that the experience coming back into the country is not as pleasant as leaving it. These D-Bags they hire to act tough on Dubya's behalf piss me off and I'm not so good at hiding my disdain for the work they do. I don't feel an ounce safer, and I'm getting sick of the questions and the tough guy attitude. Also, it's none of your damn business how I know the woman I am cruising with. She happens to be my Colleague. Don't you read blogs? Shit. Any who...once we were reluctantly welcomed back into our own country, we topped off the fuel and the beer supply and headed for Reid Harbor, which for my money is the best anchorage in the San Juans. Once there all we did was eat, drink, read, play Scrabble, and basically chill the hell out.

•Day Eight: Reid Harbor. Hot Nasty Bad Ass American Leisure. Also hiking and swimming.

•Day Nine: Cypress Island? Nope. No room at the inn. Seems like people have discovered the new mooring buoys in Eagle Harbor. Anacortes? Sure. About time GVB had a shower anyway. We blew the day's budget on cold beer at the Rusty Trombone Pub.

•Day Ten: Everett. 45 nautical miles. Through the Swinomish Channel (nice little log collision to keep us on our toes) and into Skagit Bay in zero wind. Westerly came up in Skagit Bay and built all afternoon. Long story short: torn headsail, busted furler, fucked up rudder, and one bruised up Colleague (after a nice fall down the companionway stairs). But home is nice. Not ready to stay back on land, we hunkered down in the marina for one more night aboard.


•Day Eleven. Cleaned up the boat, loaded SuperVan, and headed to The Palace, which will no longer be our Palace as of August 23rd.

Next Up: Fourth of July Fiasco with the GVB Family and the McMillionaire at Hood Canal.

Next Next Up: Two Weeks in Belize? Ok. Sure. Why not?

Please note the absence of any running related notes. That is because I haven't even laced up the shoes in 2 weeks. I'm considering a nice easy 6 after I post this little entry, but will likely talk myself out of it in favor of a PBR on the deck. With a view like this, it's hard to do anything else:


I do have running-related news. Instead of running the Portland 26.2 this year I've decided to stay in town and try my legs at the Seattle Marathon. No travel costs and a chance to run near home. Also another month to train.

OUT OF OFFICE

We're out.

San Juan Islands
Gulf Islands
Hood Canal
Belize
Sedona
Pasadena

And anything in between.

Man Down!

Well this ain't good...Seems our beloved Cap'n Ron took a digger somewhere near Tonasket on the big GS. Of course our first concern is the bike, but apparently it is ride-able and suffered only cosmetic damage (a LOT of cosmetic damage, but still).

We haven't spoken with or seen the Cap'n yet, but early reports are of a broken tibia and some compression fractures of 2 vertebrae. Yes, that counts as a broken back.

We at SailRunClimbRide are worried about Cap'n Ron and hope to be able to join him for therapeutic alcohol ingestion soon. Speedy recoveries. And for those of you on two-wheels, watch for wet, oily patches of pavement. As the Cap'n has learned, guard rails hurt.

See you soon, Cap'n.

Random Things

...I have essays to grade...

...I don’t need a theme or a structure or even a cohesive idea. Right? I can just write some things down and upload some pictures and that makes it a blog post. Right?...

…Cap’ Ron mentioned some time ago that Anthony Bourdain was his new hero. I was more of a Les Stroud fan, but I’m leaning Bourdain’s way. This is why Jesus invented DVR technology. I’m pretty sure he is the guy that any of our significant others would leave us for, gentlemen…
…while I’m sort of on the subject of reality television I might as well cop to watching 4 straight hours of The Deadliest Catch the other night while The Colleague was out of town. Sure I could have been productive in my sleeplessness, but isn’t it better to watch someone burn through their own fingernail with a hot needle to relieve the bloody pressure building up behind it? Gross. Also, I don’t care how staged the fishing and filming is for that show, it would be a brutal, scary job. No thanks…

...this is pretty much how I spent Memorial Day weekend:


…The Learnin’ Factory is bound to be on the news soon. Someone is angry about no longer working for this fine institution of higher learning, and I have a feeling said someone is going to keep making a massive scene about it…

…My father doesn’t know a damn thing about boats, how they work, or how to sail them. Nor does his neighbor the McMillionaire. So they are of course the perfect candidates to buy a 1935 48’Atkins Cutter that needs to be completely refit and rebuilt. Great plan. It will either cost three times as much as they plan or take three times as long to get it finished and launched. Maybe both. The real wager is how much of the work GVB will be coerced into doing…

…congrats to Al B on the first tri of the year. Nothing like swimming in Long Island Sound in May. Al’s extremities will be back to normal temp any day now…

…and there’s this dickhead…

…Here is a picture of the student population of one of my Research Writing classes:

Now I know why their work is so stellar and why they are never in class…can you pick out the ones who will never play a single inning of professional baseball? If you said every guy making a hand gesture AND/OR flexing his arms, you’re right! Seriously, everyone in the front row is in my class. All of the future ex-ball players with eyeblack on were in my class in the winter. Sigh…

…but seriously, congratulations to our college baseball team on winning the championship. Enjoy your three year minor league careers followed by a crippling day-to-day job roofing houses outside of Mesa, Arizona…

…how much do the Mariners suck? Did someone from Oklahoma City buy them too and not tell us?...

…I couldn’t make this one up: “On July 3rd, 2007, Amy Stewart purchased a vanilla latte at a Starbucks drive-thru in Kent. When she put it to her lips to drink, the top popped off, spilling the coffee down her front and burning her. She filed suit against the coffee giant in King County Superior Court on April 25th, 2008. Her husband joined the case, suing for “loss of consortium” – legalese for sex and other spousal-specific activities.” Does he have to prove that his sex life was good enough that the loss of that sex life was damaging to him? Can’t wait to see how this one plays out…



…you are all free to join the GVB-Colleague boycott of Starbucks, by the way. Not because of loss of consortium (which I assume only applies to married couples, right? Because no one else should be consorting) but because they keep fucking up our drinks at the drive-thru. Lattes mysteriously get flavor added to them, cappuccinos taste like lattes, and drip coffee is scorched beyond its natural life. Add to that the insult of the “upsale” (would you like more something expensive and fattening with that?) and we have a good reason to drive on by. Still, the convenience of our local drive-thru kept us going back. And then last week I ordered two drinks. Total $6.47. Bubbly Upsale Barista happily smiled and handed me $13.00 in change. “So, is it policy now to keep the change?” “Oh, you wanted the small change too? Let me get my manager to open the register for me.” Seriously? I know it isn’t much in the grand scheme of things, but you owe me $13.53 you bitch. Give me my money!

… The University of Colorado is considering a $9 million program to bring high-profile conservatives to teach on the left-leaning Boulder campus…

...it need to be summer now. That is all…

Race Report - Straight Up

The Colleague and I are back from Canada, where I ran the Vancouver Marathon on Sunday. We had a great time in one of our favorite cities, and I had a pretty good race, too!

The blow-by-blow report follows, but for those who only want the punch line, here it is: I ran the 26.2 miles in 3 hours, 34 minutes, 25 seconds. My time was a full 20 minutes faster than my last marathon (Portland last October), and I felt much better about it. Just let me say once again: 26.2 miles is farther than anyone should really ever run.

The Start: The race starts and finishes outside of BC Place Stadium. Cap’n Ron and I lingered about halfway back in the starting queue so we could chat with Hayden and Mrs Cap’n Ron as long as possible before starting, and so we could keep our jackets on until the last minute. At 7:00 in the morning it’s just too damn cold to be standing around in shorts and a t-shirt. But there was a consequence to this: When they started the race it took us over a minute to shuffle across the line, and the frustration of the crowd would last a while...But we were off. My second marathon. My goal was to finish, to beat my Portland time, and to not injure myself in the process. Anything from 3:20 to 3:40 as a finishing time was perfect with me...

Mile 1 (8:10): Get these people OUT OF MY WAY. The first mile of the course has a lot of turns and narrow streets to navigate, and it doesn’t open up until Mile 2. So I spent the first mile burning way too much energy trying to pick my way through the 9 and 10 minute pace runners who for some reason like to run 3 abreast in the middle of the course. They also like to suddenly and without reason weave and change directions. Not at all frustrating.

Mile 2 (7:38): The course started to open up a little bit here and I picked up. Cap’n Ron smartly stayed at his 8:00 goal pace, and I wouldn’t see him again for a while. This was more like it. I wanted to run 7:30s if possible, at least for the first 18 or so just to see what my Boston Qualifying pace felt like. I need to run a 3:15:59 marathon to qualify for Boston. And while I had no real delusions of qualifying in this race, it is my goal for Portland next October.

Mile 3 (7:25): Right on pace and cruising. This is part of a short out-and-back sequence with a small climb. Just before the mile marker we got to watch the leaders coming the other way (they were running 5 minute miles, and the winner - a Kenyan - finished in 2:15:15). It was great to watch them already battling one another for position and even greater was the load applause and cheering on they received from the rest of us slow people.

Mile 4 (7:23): At mile 4 the course turns back toward downtown and heads downhill. I hit the first water station here and slowed down to make sure I got a good full drink. One of the mistakes I made in Portland was running through every station at full speed. Slowing to a jog allowed me to take in plenty of fluids (and skip a few stations along the way as well).

Mile 5 (7:15): Too fast, but feeling really good. At this point I know I will see The Colleague pretty soon. She and Mrs. Cap’n Ron planned to be at mile 7 up in Chinatown...

Mile 6 (7:20): I grabbed another quick drink here and was still cruising. I was doing math in my head to see if I had caught back up to a 7:30 pace. Not yet. I also noticed a small annoyance that would piss me off later as my brain started to melt down: my GPS was off by about .25 miles from the race markers. And my miles were clicking by faster than the course markers. This meant that my watch would read 26.2 miles well before I was actually finished with the race.

Mile 7: (7:22): This mile takes the course through a part of town that I am not sure I would walk through alone in the daytime. Consider it a complete tour of Vancouver...in addition to Stanley Park, the Planetarium, the waterfront, and the Science Center, we got to see the methadone clinic and the burned out carcasses of several Buicks. And this is where The Colleague and Mrs. Cap’n Ron were hanging out? Yikes. Right before the 7 mile marker there they were! I can’t tell you how great it is to have that support along the course. In this race, knowing that The Colleague would be at miles 7, 11, and 17 gave me something to focus on as the miles added up. She had fuel and water for me, but I was still doing fine and had 2 gels with me for fuel. Hi Colleague!

Miles 8 and 9: (7:25, 7:32): Big climb here and the most boring part of the course. Miles 8 and 9 loop away from town through a fairly dodgy residential district. Unlike the rest of the course, the people on the sidewalks here seemed baffled by what all of these runners were doing, so there was no cheering on or support out here. Somewhere out in this wasteland I where I notice that I am starting to “slap” my feet down in my stride and I have to focus to keep a smoother motion going. This is also where I start talking to myself. At this point it is standard stuff - “come on, smooth strides” or “easy, easy”. Later I start the self abuse...

Mile 10 (7:20): I know I’m running a little fast here, but at this point I have decided to go as fast as I can as long as I can and then suffer through whatever is left. Not exactly a sound or recommended strategy, but I do have a disease that always makes me want to see how far or fast I can go. Even in training runs. By now I am also having serious delusions of a Boston Qualifying time. That doesn’t last long.

Mile 11 (6:52): WAY too fast. Woops. Cruising up Hastings Street I see The Colleague again. She is screaming and yelling and making me very happy. AND she has some Clif Blocks for me to eat. Solid food is great about now, even if it is in gummy form. See you in 7 miles!

Mile 12 (7:10): Here I fall in with a group of 4 friends who are pacing each other and running in a close pack. I short of draft them and zone out, but they are chatting and telling jokes to keep themselves busy, and I just can’t take it, so I let them go ahead of me. We’re just about to Stanley Park which I was looking forward too...

Mile 13 (7:37): Coming up to the halfway point I’m still feeling strong. Stanley Park has a lot of little hills that don’t show up on the elevation chart. Ugh.

Mile 14 (7:42): Past the halfway point now, and the miles remaining start to shrink. From here on out, the marathon is just an exercise in not quitting. This mile turns and climbs a long hill through the park and I see my first real human wreckage – a guy younger than me rolls his ankle on the edge of the pavement and tumbles into the brush. By the time I get up to where he crashed several people are helping him so I keep going. And I start to think that a twisted ankle would be one way to get out of this race more quickly than running another 12 miles...

Mile 15 (7:52): Notice anything? It’s the slow-down portion of the race. Here’s how it went. In mile 15 I was cruising along and still feeling somewhat human. I had a gel here and looked forward to seeing The Colleague at mile 17. I don’t know if my stride got longer or I stepped wrong or what, but my right hamstring gave me that twinge that said, “Hey man, stop running or I’m going to lock up on you!” So starting at this point I am running at whatever pace feels like it is right on the edge of cramping or pulling a muscle. I slow down. Still doing fine, but slower than my muscles and lungs could go. The damn hamstring is my limiting factor now. Grrrr.

Mile 16 (7:44): This last bit through Stanley Park is slightly downhill and really pretty. I zone out...

Mile 17 (8:05): Along Beach Ave now. They use this street for the Sun Run 10k too, and I have to say it is much easier to take when it is mile 2 than when it is mile 17. There is always good crowd here though, and the energy is high. Second human wreckage sighting – a young woman passes out on the grass. Soft landing, anyway. My last Colleague time before the finish is coming up!

Mile 18 (8:11): Climb! This is the start of the biggest climb on the course. Up and over the Burrard Bridge. And there is The Colleague! It is so great to see her at this point and it keeps me going up and over the bridge. The climb isn’t bad this direction (but my hamstring is threatening to revolt on me even more). And, knowing that I have to come back over this bridge on the return just sucks.

Mile 19 (8:13): Mile 19 is a blur. I remember none of it.

Mile 20 (9:42): Blow up! I found the wall, and it is at mile 20. It is still more my hamstring than my endurance or anything else, but I’m not quite ready to push it and run 6 miles with a cramp or a pulled muscle, so I have to throttle back a lot. I have started walking through all of the water stops to rest a little bit and get as much fluid as possible.

Mile 21 (9:03): Mile 21 has a short out-and-back section in it after the turnaround and this is where I see Cap’n Ron for the first time since Mile 1. He is definitely catching me, and I figure that if he is able to stay on pace he will get his Boston Qualifying time. He needs a 3:30:59 to make it. A big high five as we pass each other.

Mile 22 (9:01): I am totally frustrated because I know I could be pushing harder than I am. This part of the course is very hilly and I am tired enough now that the uphills seem steep and the downhills seem flat. Still talking to myself, I start in on the self abuse. Insert your own negative self-talk here. Sprinkle liberally with profanity.

Mile 23 (9:18): I make the mistake of thinking about the upcoming bridge. There’s no way I can climb it. After about 22 miles everything just hurts. The instincts in your brain start to take over and tell you to quite, and when you don’t listen, your body starts shutting things down to save itself. Finding a reason to keep running through this stretch of miles is the whole trick to running a marathon. The urge to quit is amazing. And it is a constant from this point on. Every step feels like it might as well be the last one you run. Just quit. The anti-Nike campaign. Just quit. Screw it. I remember reading about tricks to keep going in the late miles, and one is to count steps and figure out how many make up a mile. I got to 100 before deciding that was the stupidest thing I had ever read. Visualizing the finish helped a little. Not much.

Mile 24 (9:56): Cap’n Ron catches up with me here. We chat a little. Mostly “this sucks” and “I just want this to be over.” I tell him about my hamstring and basically complain a lot. We’re quite a motivating pair.

Mile 25 (10:21): Yep. You read that pace correctly. I walked 100 yards of the bridge to settle myself down and get the energy for the finishing push. After 25 miles it is amazing how impossible the last 1.2 miles seems. There is no WAY I can do this. I have to stop. Right? Wait...am I going downhill now? Awesome. Cap’n Ron is in front of me now as I come off the Burrard Bridge for the second time. I hate that damn bridge. As predicted, my GPS told me I was done here. 26.23 miles. I love technology.

Mile 26 (8:35): The finishing push. I run past the last water station and past Cap’n Ron. Telling myself I can suffer through anything for 8 minutes, I just run for it. Finishing a marathon is an unbelievable experience, and when the crowd is as good as it is at Vancouver, it is even better. I watch as someone loses their legs and wobbles to a slow motion crash in front of me. I see a cameraman snap my photo and hear him urge me on. And I see The Colleague screaming on the side. (Wait, is that guy hitting on her? I think I just saw him ask her for her phone number). A guy I had been running near for the last 5 miles or so is there and struggling and when I catch him I urge him on and we sprint to the finish. DONE! 3 hours, 34 minutes, 25 seconds. I’m not supposed to, but I linger in the finish chute waiting for Cap’n Ron, who comes in right behind me at 3:36 and change. Great run! Hugs and tears and hollering follow. Then it is into BC Place to get some food and meet up with The Colleague and Mrs. Cap’n Ron. Unlike in Portland, they actually wait until you finish to give you a finisher’s shirt. I’ll wear this one happily!

After cleaning up and getting a little rest, we hit the pub for several celebratory Canadian beers. I think I ate 3 dinners Sunday night, but I can’t be sure. I know The Colleague and I ended the evening with sushi somewhere on Robson Street. Yum!

Overall it was a great race. For my second attempt at this distance I feel like it went pretty well, and I’m definitely excited about Portland in October. If I can keep shaving time with each race, I might actually qualify for Boston someday.

It would have been nice to not have to slow down so much in the last few miles, but I was able to run full speed through the finish and I felt good about the whole race. Yes, I went out too fast in the first half, but I went in knowing I might try it just to see what happened. What happened is my hamstring decided to be my limiting factor. I have never had a hamstring problem in my life, so it was a weird thing to have happen to me, but at least I recognized it and didn’t push until it actually exploded.

I am resting this week and will start running lightly again in 10 days or so. Then it’s back to the training routine. I’d like to find a mid-summer race in the 10k or half marathon range to keep me interested, but we’ll see how that goes. A new training plan is in the wings and will include more strength training (speed work and hills) and flexibility work (yoga). Training over the summer is hard because of our travel plans, but I can usually piece together a good schedule.