In which I am forced to reconsider my goals...
The Firecracker Run has been a long-standing 4th of July tradition in the Quad Cities, but in recent years, the organization has left a bit to be desired. I was happy to hear that race directors extraordinaire Joe Moreno and Dale Manley were taking over - so much that I quickly allowed Dale to draft me into volunteering the day before.
Working packet pickup was a blast. I lucked into a shift populated by friends of mine from the Cornbelt Running Club, plus we were busy pretty much the entire time. That meant moving fast, tossing t-shirts to one another, and before I knew it, time to go home! As an added bonus, Dale had special volunteer shirts for us. They were just like the race t-shirts, only red instead of blue - and both shirts are technical fabric. SCORE.
I woke up bright and surly the next morning and managed to snag the same parking spot I've had every time I have run this race in the past. As the runners milled around, I could already feel the sweat beading on my forehead. It was going to be a hot day.
The 10K course at the Firecracker Run is hilly and challenging. And of course, since the race is held on the 4th of July, you can pretty much count on it being brutally hot and humid. This makes it a perfect tune-up race for the Bix 7. I was looking forward to seeing how it went. It was not a morning when I woke up confident I was going to rock things out, so I decided to largely ignore Paula Garmin and just run by feel, then see how it worked.
Sure enough, the race was tough. I have trained pretty well on hills, so I was always able to pass people going up and felt comfortable flying down. The heat took a toll on me, and I took water 3 or 4 times - more than I probably would under better circumstances.
The last mile is a downhill (hooray), followed by a straightaway, then a turn, then about a quarter mile to the finish line. I was feeling tired. As I turned the corner, I saw a guy I recognize from the track. I don't know his name, but I think of him as Hardcore Guy. Hardcore Guy will run track workouts wearing a weighted vest, run on the football field wearing a parachute for drag, then relax by running bleachers.
Hardcore Guy was looking tired. I ran up beside him and said, "Come on. Let's go." My intention was to get Hardcore Guy to finish a little stronger, but being hardcore and all, he picked up the pace, which got me to do the same, and we sprinted to the finish. Somehow we lost track of each other in the finishing corral, but I'd like to say thanks to Hardcore Guy for making me work a little harder.
Hardcore Guy helped me push the pace, but my time was nowhere near a PR: 58:14. I'm certainly not ashamed of this time, but it made me rethink my 1:03:00 goal for the Bix. This race was on a hot day and a hilly course, neither of which are excuses I could use to say my Bix pace could be better, since the conditions would likely be the same. 1:03:00 just might not be in the cards for me this year, and I need to be okay with that. I truly lost a lot of speed coming off of the stress fracture last fall, and it will take time and work to build it back up.
Showing posts with label volunteer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label volunteer. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
Other People's Running
For the past few weeks, much of my running efforts have been focused on what can only be described as Other People's Running. I've ramped up the volunteer efforts this year, most recently dedicating myself to helping out with Cornbelt Running Club's kids' track program and volunteering at the Quad City Senior Olympics.
When I saw the list of volunteer opportunities for Racing Team members, kids' track was a natural choice for me. Go out and have fun with kids, one of whom could be Jack? You bet! The program is totally free, lasts six weeks, and introduces kids, aged six (plus bonus 5-1/2 year old Jack) to ten to the fun that is track and field.
Some of my fellow volunteer coaches have been focusing on a single event, but I've been roving with the littlest kids, answering their questions and keeping them corralled. Every week starts with a 1/4 mile warm-up... and a lecture from me about what a warm-up is. Specifically, that we do not attempt to kill the warm-up by racing as fast as we can around the track; that it is not a race, and that in fact, it would be smarter to wait until we actually are racing before putting in such efforts, and that if you are first around the track during the warm-up, nobody will be impressed. Most of the kids listen to me, but there are a few who tear off as fast as they can, then inevitably find themselves walking on the back straightaway and dramatically collapse at the end, claiming to be too spent to stretch. I have no sympathy for that and remind them that they should have listened.
After stretching, it's time for the entertainment that is a bunch of little kids attempting to do the hurdles. The club has special kid hurdles, an ingenious invention of squared off swimming noodles with little pegs that attach to traffic cones. Almost to a person, the girls are much better at hurdles than the boys, far more capable of leaping gracefully over them and less likely to crash into them over and over again. Jack is a crasher. There's usually a lot of setting hurdles back up after he tries it. The good news is, he has fun with it and seems to be getting better.
Next, we do some running. One week, the focus was on sprints, and the coach spent a lot of time showing the kids how to get into proper starting position - a feat that intimidated me so much that, when I ran track, I was always grateful to not be a sprinter so I didn't have to worry about my starting stance. The next week, we had the kids try some distance running, with an 800. The woman in charge of running was not so sure the little kids would be able to make that distance. I offered to bring up the rear to make sure everybody was okay. One of the kids, who is, shall we say, not a good listener, decided after about 50 meters that he was "too tired" to continue. He did, however, have the energy to turn cartwheels. I told him to knock it off and run; luckily he did.
After running, it's time for either relays or long jump. The kids have been incredibly excited about relays. Something about the baton is just cool to them. They also love the long jump, and seem to be totally unaware that most of them suck at it. I have taken to giving them some gentle coaching, like, "That was good, and I think that next time, you can do even better if, instead of stopping when you get to the place where you jump, you ran up until that spot, then jumped."
The best part of working with these kids is their absolute enthusiasm. "Can we please run another lap around the track?" Well, okay, if you were good. Jumping into a pit of sand? Never tried it, but bring it on. I see a few kids who have some real talent - there is a girl who is only 4-1/2 but can rock out the hurdles like nobody's business, and my boy can churn out 800s all day long with a smile on his face. But even if I'm not coaching the next Usain Bolt or Kara Goucher, my hope is that I am working with a bunch of people who will sign up for several 5Ks a year, finish in the middle of the pack, and have fun with it. I just want them to love running.
I want them to be just like the people who competed in the Senior Olympics. The Senior Olympics is a very cool event, held all over the world, in which people who are 50 years and older (40 for track and field events) compete in a variety of athletic events. We are talking everything from a 5K road race to basketball free-throws to kicking a soccer ball for accuracy. I intended to volunteer for the 5K, but thanks to the charm of the race director, I wound up helping out with the triple jump, the softball throw, and the discus as well.
As a runner, despite having competed in track for six years, I spent almost no time watching field events. The men who did the triple jump had to explain the rules to me and were really nice about helping me measure the distances. I have never tried the triple jump, but let me tell you, it looks hard. I admire anyone who is willing to attempt it, no matter what their age, but the men who were over 70 and decided to give it a shot just for fun are incredibly cool in my book. And if you are over the age of 20 and own your own discus? That's badass.
The softball throw moved the athletes to different points on the field, at different angles and distances, where they attempted to toss the ball into a target. I learned that a couple of the women competing had played professional baseball in the All-American Girls League, as seen in the movie A League of Their Own. These women managed to be professional athletes during the time before Title 9. They are heroes to all women in sports - and they are still competing. Awesome.
Working on Other People's Running has given more focus to my own running and my goals. Yes, I would like to put some new PR's on the side of my blog. But more than that, I want to have fun with my running like the kids do, and I want to keep it up for my entire life, like the athletes in the Senior Olympics do. I want to love running forever.
When I saw the list of volunteer opportunities for Racing Team members, kids' track was a natural choice for me. Go out and have fun with kids, one of whom could be Jack? You bet! The program is totally free, lasts six weeks, and introduces kids, aged six (plus bonus 5-1/2 year old Jack) to ten to the fun that is track and field.
Some of my fellow volunteer coaches have been focusing on a single event, but I've been roving with the littlest kids, answering their questions and keeping them corralled. Every week starts with a 1/4 mile warm-up... and a lecture from me about what a warm-up is. Specifically, that we do not attempt to kill the warm-up by racing as fast as we can around the track; that it is not a race, and that in fact, it would be smarter to wait until we actually are racing before putting in such efforts, and that if you are first around the track during the warm-up, nobody will be impressed. Most of the kids listen to me, but there are a few who tear off as fast as they can, then inevitably find themselves walking on the back straightaway and dramatically collapse at the end, claiming to be too spent to stretch. I have no sympathy for that and remind them that they should have listened.
After stretching, it's time for the entertainment that is a bunch of little kids attempting to do the hurdles. The club has special kid hurdles, an ingenious invention of squared off swimming noodles with little pegs that attach to traffic cones. Almost to a person, the girls are much better at hurdles than the boys, far more capable of leaping gracefully over them and less likely to crash into them over and over again. Jack is a crasher. There's usually a lot of setting hurdles back up after he tries it. The good news is, he has fun with it and seems to be getting better.
Next, we do some running. One week, the focus was on sprints, and the coach spent a lot of time showing the kids how to get into proper starting position - a feat that intimidated me so much that, when I ran track, I was always grateful to not be a sprinter so I didn't have to worry about my starting stance. The next week, we had the kids try some distance running, with an 800. The woman in charge of running was not so sure the little kids would be able to make that distance. I offered to bring up the rear to make sure everybody was okay. One of the kids, who is, shall we say, not a good listener, decided after about 50 meters that he was "too tired" to continue. He did, however, have the energy to turn cartwheels. I told him to knock it off and run; luckily he did.
After running, it's time for either relays or long jump. The kids have been incredibly excited about relays. Something about the baton is just cool to them. They also love the long jump, and seem to be totally unaware that most of them suck at it. I have taken to giving them some gentle coaching, like, "That was good, and I think that next time, you can do even better if, instead of stopping when you get to the place where you jump, you ran up until that spot, then jumped."
The best part of working with these kids is their absolute enthusiasm. "Can we please run another lap around the track?" Well, okay, if you were good. Jumping into a pit of sand? Never tried it, but bring it on. I see a few kids who have some real talent - there is a girl who is only 4-1/2 but can rock out the hurdles like nobody's business, and my boy can churn out 800s all day long with a smile on his face. But even if I'm not coaching the next Usain Bolt or Kara Goucher, my hope is that I am working with a bunch of people who will sign up for several 5Ks a year, finish in the middle of the pack, and have fun with it. I just want them to love running.
I want them to be just like the people who competed in the Senior Olympics. The Senior Olympics is a very cool event, held all over the world, in which people who are 50 years and older (40 for track and field events) compete in a variety of athletic events. We are talking everything from a 5K road race to basketball free-throws to kicking a soccer ball for accuracy. I intended to volunteer for the 5K, but thanks to the charm of the race director, I wound up helping out with the triple jump, the softball throw, and the discus as well.
As a runner, despite having competed in track for six years, I spent almost no time watching field events. The men who did the triple jump had to explain the rules to me and were really nice about helping me measure the distances. I have never tried the triple jump, but let me tell you, it looks hard. I admire anyone who is willing to attempt it, no matter what their age, but the men who were over 70 and decided to give it a shot just for fun are incredibly cool in my book. And if you are over the age of 20 and own your own discus? That's badass.
The softball throw moved the athletes to different points on the field, at different angles and distances, where they attempted to toss the ball into a target. I learned that a couple of the women competing had played professional baseball in the All-American Girls League, as seen in the movie A League of Their Own. These women managed to be professional athletes during the time before Title 9. They are heroes to all women in sports - and they are still competing. Awesome.
Working on Other People's Running has given more focus to my own running and my goals. Yes, I would like to put some new PR's on the side of my blog. But more than that, I want to have fun with my running like the kids do, and I want to keep it up for my entire life, like the athletes in the Senior Olympics do. I want to love running forever.
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
Race Report: Madison Half Marathon
In which I am thoroughly humbled...
The Madison Half Marathon was a day of firsts for me.
What happened? I thought that since I race 13.1 every chance I get, that it wouldn't be a big deal for me to run one - even under bad circumstances. I was wrong.
I woke up that morning after a bad night's sleep, with my stomach cramping, feeling lousy. I felt so bad that I could only eat a few bites of my breakfast. Still, I got dressed and ready for the race, despite feeling sick and knowing that it was going to be an unseasonably hot and humid day.
Not smart.
Steve and my uncle dropped me off at the starting line and I was immediately sick. Steve came and talked to me, basically waiting to hear why in the blue hell I would still want to run the race. I convinced him that I was "probably okay," and that I actually felt better after having thrown up. This is sometimes the case - maybe I could have risked going to the office that day, but again, running 13.1 miles in really hot conditions? Not my best decision.
I tried to soak in the festive atmosphere. The marathoners started their race 20 minutes prior, and the course took them through the area where we 13.1'ers were gathered. That was very cool - watching them run was inspiring and exciting, and naturally we cheered for them like crazy. After they passed, it was time to line up.
I still didn't feel good and vowed to race carefully - run slowly, take walk breaks as needed, and get in plenty of fluids. I had already taken a walk break before the first mile and was running at the edge of the course in case I had to duck off to get sick. Not a good sign.
At mile 2, I wanted to switch from sipping on the Gatorade I had in my Fuel Belt to water. It was hot, I was feeling rough, and grabbing two cups of water felt like a good choice. The water made my stomach feel sloshy and even worse than it already did. A bad cramp seized me, and I found a semi-secluded parking lot where I tried unsuccessfully to get sick.
Running made my stomach feel worse, and I was starting to feel weak from the stomach cramps, lack of food, and the heat (already approaching 80 degrees before 9:00 AM). I made a tough decision: walk to the next aid station, then drop out of the race.
I have never, ever quit a race in the 25 years I have been a runner. It felt absolutely terrible to have to say, "No, I cannot do this. I am not strong enough, and I cannot fight through this. I cannot finish what I started, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot do this thing I have been looking forward to for months." It sucked, and I felt miserable... and still sick.
I saw a volunteer on a bike and flagged him down like I was hailing a cab. I told him that I was sick and couldn't finish the race. He calmly led me to a shady area, and as he was about to radio for support, a marathoner joined us. Her name was Tiffany, and she was dehydrated and needed to drop out as well. Volunteer Steve gave me cold water and Tiffany a bottle of Gatorade from his saddle bag and assured us that there was no shame in dropping out on a day like that.
A few minutes later, a medic on a bike joined us. He said he'd wait for the SAG wagon with us, so the bike volunteer moved on to see who he could help next. The medic checked our blood pressure, pulse, and temperature. He found my pulse to be a little weak and Tiffany's a little fast, so he kept checking us to make sure we weren't deteriorating.
While I wasn't trying unsuccessfully to be sick, I talked to Tiffany. As you can imagine, it was a bonding experience. She was running her first marathon and had been kicking ass before she started to feel so terrible, running at a 3:15 finishing pace and hoping for a BQ. As you can imagine, she was heartbroken at having to quit. I assured her that she could still do it, just not that day. It was the first hot day we've had, and not having trained in hot weather made the race much harder than it could have been. I suggested she look at a fall marathon for her BQ and hope for better weather. There will be other races.
The SAG wagon arrived after an hour. The driver apparently had been quite busy picking up fallen runners around the course and was having trouble navigating all of the roads closed for the race. She finally got us to the medical tent.
At this point, I was feeling really bad. I was hot, dizzy, weak, and my stomach was killing me. I was also depressed - the medical tent was right at the finish line, so I had to watch runners crossing the finish line looking happy and collecting their finishing medals. I would not get and did not deserve one of those medals and would not get to feel the amazing accomplishment that comes every time you cross the finish line.
In the tent, doctors and nurses quickly got me settled in. The gave me a bottle of water, put a bag of ice under my neck, checked my vital signs, and asked me questions about how I was feeling. Dr. Smith asked how long it had been since I was sick (hours at that point) and since I'd had anything to drink (also hours at that point). He said I needed to get some fluids in me and suggested that I either try drinking some water, or they'd just give me an IV. I said I'd try for the water and see how it went. He agreed that was a good decision.
Like so many things for me that day, that didn't work out for me. A few minutes later, I was dramatically sick. Dr. Smith calmly said, "Okay, an IV it is," and sent a nurse over to hook me up. Not surprisingly, she had trouble getting a vein because I was so dehydrated and admitted that there was more blood than she would have liked. My race team singlet now has blood stains to remind me of this day.
The IV had me starting to feel better. Other things that made me feel better were learning that the course conditions were so bad that the race director called the race 4 hours in. That lots of other runners had to quit as well. And the point that one of the doctors made, which was that although it was unfortunate that I couldn't finish this race, what was really important from a health standpoint wasn't the race, but all of the training I'd put in.
With the hydration of two IV bags came some clarity. I should never take my ability to run - at any distance - as a given. No matter how well conditioned I am, some days my body is just not going to cooperate, and I have to be able to accept that. And the reason I can accept that is that any single race is not the be all, end all of my running experience. As the doctor said, what's important from the point of view of my health is my training. I love the challenge and accomplishment of racing, but there will always be another race. Tiffany will finish her first marathon, and someday, she will qualify for Boston. I will race my next pikermi ("half marathon") in a few months, and when I do, I'll get to the line feeling healthy and knowing that I can finish the race strong.
Steve arrived to take me home just as I was realizing my other important lesson: the doctors who volunteer at medical tents at major races are, across the board, really hot. I am grateful for the humility and perspective this lousy experience has given to me. I am grateful that my husband will be there for me to hold my hand when I'm feeling sick. I am grateful to the volunteers who helped me - the guy on the bike, the medic, the woman who drove the SAG wagon, the nurse who gave me my IV, Dr. Hot Asian Guy, Dr. Abercrombie and Fitch Model, and Dr. Seth Meyers Only Even Hotter. I will be back, and I will be smarter.
The Madison Half Marathon was a day of firsts for me.
- First DNF
- First ride on the SAG wagon
- First trip to the medical tents
- First field-style IV
What happened? I thought that since I race 13.1 every chance I get, that it wouldn't be a big deal for me to run one - even under bad circumstances. I was wrong.
I woke up that morning after a bad night's sleep, with my stomach cramping, feeling lousy. I felt so bad that I could only eat a few bites of my breakfast. Still, I got dressed and ready for the race, despite feeling sick and knowing that it was going to be an unseasonably hot and humid day.
Not smart.
Steve and my uncle dropped me off at the starting line and I was immediately sick. Steve came and talked to me, basically waiting to hear why in the blue hell I would still want to run the race. I convinced him that I was "probably okay," and that I actually felt better after having thrown up. This is sometimes the case - maybe I could have risked going to the office that day, but again, running 13.1 miles in really hot conditions? Not my best decision.
I tried to soak in the festive atmosphere. The marathoners started their race 20 minutes prior, and the course took them through the area where we 13.1'ers were gathered. That was very cool - watching them run was inspiring and exciting, and naturally we cheered for them like crazy. After they passed, it was time to line up.
I still didn't feel good and vowed to race carefully - run slowly, take walk breaks as needed, and get in plenty of fluids. I had already taken a walk break before the first mile and was running at the edge of the course in case I had to duck off to get sick. Not a good sign.
At mile 2, I wanted to switch from sipping on the Gatorade I had in my Fuel Belt to water. It was hot, I was feeling rough, and grabbing two cups of water felt like a good choice. The water made my stomach feel sloshy and even worse than it already did. A bad cramp seized me, and I found a semi-secluded parking lot where I tried unsuccessfully to get sick.
Running made my stomach feel worse, and I was starting to feel weak from the stomach cramps, lack of food, and the heat (already approaching 80 degrees before 9:00 AM). I made a tough decision: walk to the next aid station, then drop out of the race.
I have never, ever quit a race in the 25 years I have been a runner. It felt absolutely terrible to have to say, "No, I cannot do this. I am not strong enough, and I cannot fight through this. I cannot finish what I started, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot do this thing I have been looking forward to for months." It sucked, and I felt miserable... and still sick.
I saw a volunteer on a bike and flagged him down like I was hailing a cab. I told him that I was sick and couldn't finish the race. He calmly led me to a shady area, and as he was about to radio for support, a marathoner joined us. Her name was Tiffany, and she was dehydrated and needed to drop out as well. Volunteer Steve gave me cold water and Tiffany a bottle of Gatorade from his saddle bag and assured us that there was no shame in dropping out on a day like that.
A few minutes later, a medic on a bike joined us. He said he'd wait for the SAG wagon with us, so the bike volunteer moved on to see who he could help next. The medic checked our blood pressure, pulse, and temperature. He found my pulse to be a little weak and Tiffany's a little fast, so he kept checking us to make sure we weren't deteriorating.
While I wasn't trying unsuccessfully to be sick, I talked to Tiffany. As you can imagine, it was a bonding experience. She was running her first marathon and had been kicking ass before she started to feel so terrible, running at a 3:15 finishing pace and hoping for a BQ. As you can imagine, she was heartbroken at having to quit. I assured her that she could still do it, just not that day. It was the first hot day we've had, and not having trained in hot weather made the race much harder than it could have been. I suggested she look at a fall marathon for her BQ and hope for better weather. There will be other races.
The SAG wagon arrived after an hour. The driver apparently had been quite busy picking up fallen runners around the course and was having trouble navigating all of the roads closed for the race. She finally got us to the medical tent.
At this point, I was feeling really bad. I was hot, dizzy, weak, and my stomach was killing me. I was also depressed - the medical tent was right at the finish line, so I had to watch runners crossing the finish line looking happy and collecting their finishing medals. I would not get and did not deserve one of those medals and would not get to feel the amazing accomplishment that comes every time you cross the finish line.
In the tent, doctors and nurses quickly got me settled in. The gave me a bottle of water, put a bag of ice under my neck, checked my vital signs, and asked me questions about how I was feeling. Dr. Smith asked how long it had been since I was sick (hours at that point) and since I'd had anything to drink (also hours at that point). He said I needed to get some fluids in me and suggested that I either try drinking some water, or they'd just give me an IV. I said I'd try for the water and see how it went. He agreed that was a good decision.
Like so many things for me that day, that didn't work out for me. A few minutes later, I was dramatically sick. Dr. Smith calmly said, "Okay, an IV it is," and sent a nurse over to hook me up. Not surprisingly, she had trouble getting a vein because I was so dehydrated and admitted that there was more blood than she would have liked. My race team singlet now has blood stains to remind me of this day.
The IV had me starting to feel better. Other things that made me feel better were learning that the course conditions were so bad that the race director called the race 4 hours in. That lots of other runners had to quit as well. And the point that one of the doctors made, which was that although it was unfortunate that I couldn't finish this race, what was really important from a health standpoint wasn't the race, but all of the training I'd put in.
With the hydration of two IV bags came some clarity. I should never take my ability to run - at any distance - as a given. No matter how well conditioned I am, some days my body is just not going to cooperate, and I have to be able to accept that. And the reason I can accept that is that any single race is not the be all, end all of my running experience. As the doctor said, what's important from the point of view of my health is my training. I love the challenge and accomplishment of racing, but there will always be another race. Tiffany will finish her first marathon, and someday, she will qualify for Boston. I will race my next pikermi ("half marathon") in a few months, and when I do, I'll get to the line feeling healthy and knowing that I can finish the race strong.
Steve arrived to take me home just as I was realizing my other important lesson: the doctors who volunteer at medical tents at major races are, across the board, really hot. I am grateful for the humility and perspective this lousy experience has given to me. I am grateful that my husband will be there for me to hold my hand when I'm feeling sick. I am grateful to the volunteers who helped me - the guy on the bike, the medic, the woman who drove the SAG wagon, the nurse who gave me my IV, Dr. Hot Asian Guy, Dr. Abercrombie and Fitch Model, and Dr. Seth Meyers Only Even Hotter. I will be back, and I will be smarter.
Volunteer Report: Wild 5
I debated whether or not to run the Wild 5 5K race on Saturday. Yes, it was just a 5K, and yes, it was sponsored by my favorite running store, and yes, race team members were encouraged to run. But at the same time, it was the day before the Madison Pikermi ("half marathon"), so racing seemed like a bad idea. Then it hit me: I'd volunteer instead! I emailed the race director and asked him to put me to work. He said, "Thanks. Please come at 6:30 AM to help with registration."
D'oh!
I fueled up on coffee and arrived just in time. I worked with a fellow race team member on passing out packets for pre-registered runners. It's a simple job - get their race number from the alphabetized stack and hand them a packet, t-shirt, and tell them to go outside to get their chip. There were about 400 pre-registered runners, so it went quickly. People were in high spirits, thanks to the beautiful weather. Almost suddenly, our shift was over. We looked out the window and saw the race begin. Sweet: no line for the bathroom!
One of the race organizers asked if we had time to stick around and clip chips - they did not have enough people show up to help. I've clipped chips before, and it's a fun job. You get a folding chair in the shade, a milk crate for runners to put their foot on, a pair of clippers, and a bucket to put the chips in. The fun part is that you get to watch every single runner cross the finish line. We saw the winner, who blazed through, then immediately got bottles of water for the guys who finished second and third. We saw fights to the finish, groups of friends running together, and a guy pushing a jogging stroller with two pretty big kids in it. And we saw the very last finisher, an overweight teenage girl who clearly worked her butt off out there, looked tired and hot, and still picked up the pace coming to the finish line. I congratulated her on her strong finish and she said that she had just run her first 5K. I am happy that I played a small part in that experience.
Three hours of volunteering flew by in no time. I was finished by 9:30, and I racked up some good running karma. Great way to start the day!
D'oh!
I fueled up on coffee and arrived just in time. I worked with a fellow race team member on passing out packets for pre-registered runners. It's a simple job - get their race number from the alphabetized stack and hand them a packet, t-shirt, and tell them to go outside to get their chip. There were about 400 pre-registered runners, so it went quickly. People were in high spirits, thanks to the beautiful weather. Almost suddenly, our shift was over. We looked out the window and saw the race begin. Sweet: no line for the bathroom!
One of the race organizers asked if we had time to stick around and clip chips - they did not have enough people show up to help. I've clipped chips before, and it's a fun job. You get a folding chair in the shade, a milk crate for runners to put their foot on, a pair of clippers, and a bucket to put the chips in. The fun part is that you get to watch every single runner cross the finish line. We saw the winner, who blazed through, then immediately got bottles of water for the guys who finished second and third. We saw fights to the finish, groups of friends running together, and a guy pushing a jogging stroller with two pretty big kids in it. And we saw the very last finisher, an overweight teenage girl who clearly worked her butt off out there, looked tired and hot, and still picked up the pace coming to the finish line. I congratulated her on her strong finish and she said that she had just run her first 5K. I am happy that I played a small part in that experience.
Three hours of volunteering flew by in no time. I was finished by 9:30, and I racked up some good running karma. Great way to start the day!
Sunday, May 02, 2010
Race Report: Cornbelt Running Club 24 Hour Run
First things first: I did not run the Cornbelt Running Club 24 Hour Run. In fact, the idea of the race is really unappealing to me: run around a high school track for 24 hours. Whoever goes the farthest wins.
I have run two marathons, and for me, that's more than enough challenge. I have no desire to do an ultra (and I recognize that this is the kind of statement that may bite me in the butt later). And if I did run an ultra, I could more imagine doing some kind of amazing trail race, where the scenery and the terrain change. Over and over around the track sounds like some kind of torture.
But you know, who am I to think any idea my fellow runners could come up with is nutty? There are plenty of runners and non-runners who think my choices are crazy, so I do not judge those who relish the challenge of a 24 hour run.
In fact, when my running club asked for volunteers, not only did I sign up, but I signed up for the 10 PM to 1 AM shift. I figured any crowd support there might have been earlier in the day would be gone and that the runners could use some extra encouragement - and that it might be challenging for the volunteer coordinators to fill those spots.
So, instead of going to bed at my usual time, I drove to the track, with a bag packed full of blankets and warm clothes, as I had been warned that it gets cold during the night shifts.
My job was pretty simple. Every time one of the three runners I was assigned passed, I would note the time (16 hours, 30 seconds) on my sheet next to the lap number. I'd also call out the lap number to my runner, as in, "that's 205, Catherine!"
I quickly memorized what my runners looked like and what they were wearing. There was Catherine, a grey haired woman in a blue jacket, Heather, a young woman in an olive green shirt and white hat, and Pat, whose neon green arm warmers made him easy to spot. If a runner changed his shirt or put on his jacket, he'd actually tell his lap counter so we'd be sure not to miss him. The runners also let us know if they were taking a break - to eat, to go to the bathroom, or even to go take a nap - so that we would know it'd be a while before they were back around again. And when they returned to the track, they'd let us know that, too.
When my shift began, the runners were sixteen hours into the event. Most of them were walking (save the leaders, who both walked and ran), but were looking really strong and averaged a pace of 5 minutes per lap. Impressive.
I had heard that ultra events do not favor young men as much as shorter distances, and that proved to be the case at this race. The overall leader while I was there was a woman, with a 10 lap lead over her next closest competitor. With my own runners, Catherine was probably at least 25 years older than Heather, but had 15 laps on her. In an event like this, speed is a factor, but it's probably less important than smart race strategy (keeping hydrated, fed, and pacing yourself), endurance, and an immense mental toughness. Who knows - maybe Heather caught Catherine later. A lot could have happened in the six hours of the race that remained after I went home and went to sleep. (In fact, I've been checking my club's website all day, looking for results.)
While running around a track for 24 hours might sound tedious, it might also sound tedious to sit for three hours and watch someone else do it, but in fact, it was really a lot of fun. I got to know the other runners, too - Cindy, who was always smiling, Angela, who came all the way from Tennesee to run the race, Carl, whose doctor told him he couldn't run anymore and could only walk (something tells me that advice backfired on him), and the honeymooners (yes, really) who high-fived after every lap.
All of the lapcounters cheered for the milestones all of the runners hit. We'd go crazy for someone passing, say, the 75 mile mark. Any runner who makes 246 laps gets a plaque, so that was a big cause for celebration, followed by another at 247, when the runner completed 100K. By the time I left, Pat and Catherine had already earned their plaques, and Heather was well on her way.
About halfway through my shift, Stockholm Syndrome kicked in. I started thinking about what a cool challenge the race really is. Would I have the determination to keep going for so long? What an amazing test of mental resiliance and fortitude. But don't worry - I talked myself out of it by remembering how after my first marathon, I could barely walk for a week, to say nothing of the training hours it takes. Nope, for me, for now, I'm going to continue to kick ass at distances of 13.1 miles or less. But for anyone who's thinking about taking on the challenge of next year's 24 Hour Run? I'll see you between 10 PM and 1 AM next year. Now that I've seen this event in action, I wouldn't miss being a part of it.
I have run two marathons, and for me, that's more than enough challenge. I have no desire to do an ultra (and I recognize that this is the kind of statement that may bite me in the butt later). And if I did run an ultra, I could more imagine doing some kind of amazing trail race, where the scenery and the terrain change. Over and over around the track sounds like some kind of torture.
But you know, who am I to think any idea my fellow runners could come up with is nutty? There are plenty of runners and non-runners who think my choices are crazy, so I do not judge those who relish the challenge of a 24 hour run.
In fact, when my running club asked for volunteers, not only did I sign up, but I signed up for the 10 PM to 1 AM shift. I figured any crowd support there might have been earlier in the day would be gone and that the runners could use some extra encouragement - and that it might be challenging for the volunteer coordinators to fill those spots.
So, instead of going to bed at my usual time, I drove to the track, with a bag packed full of blankets and warm clothes, as I had been warned that it gets cold during the night shifts.
My job was pretty simple. Every time one of the three runners I was assigned passed, I would note the time (16 hours, 30 seconds) on my sheet next to the lap number. I'd also call out the lap number to my runner, as in, "that's 205, Catherine!"
I quickly memorized what my runners looked like and what they were wearing. There was Catherine, a grey haired woman in a blue jacket, Heather, a young woman in an olive green shirt and white hat, and Pat, whose neon green arm warmers made him easy to spot. If a runner changed his shirt or put on his jacket, he'd actually tell his lap counter so we'd be sure not to miss him. The runners also let us know if they were taking a break - to eat, to go to the bathroom, or even to go take a nap - so that we would know it'd be a while before they were back around again. And when they returned to the track, they'd let us know that, too.
When my shift began, the runners were sixteen hours into the event. Most of them were walking (save the leaders, who both walked and ran), but were looking really strong and averaged a pace of 5 minutes per lap. Impressive.
I had heard that ultra events do not favor young men as much as shorter distances, and that proved to be the case at this race. The overall leader while I was there was a woman, with a 10 lap lead over her next closest competitor. With my own runners, Catherine was probably at least 25 years older than Heather, but had 15 laps on her. In an event like this, speed is a factor, but it's probably less important than smart race strategy (keeping hydrated, fed, and pacing yourself), endurance, and an immense mental toughness. Who knows - maybe Heather caught Catherine later. A lot could have happened in the six hours of the race that remained after I went home and went to sleep. (In fact, I've been checking my club's website all day, looking for results.)
While running around a track for 24 hours might sound tedious, it might also sound tedious to sit for three hours and watch someone else do it, but in fact, it was really a lot of fun. I got to know the other runners, too - Cindy, who was always smiling, Angela, who came all the way from Tennesee to run the race, Carl, whose doctor told him he couldn't run anymore and could only walk (something tells me that advice backfired on him), and the honeymooners (yes, really) who high-fived after every lap.
All of the lapcounters cheered for the milestones all of the runners hit. We'd go crazy for someone passing, say, the 75 mile mark. Any runner who makes 246 laps gets a plaque, so that was a big cause for celebration, followed by another at 247, when the runner completed 100K. By the time I left, Pat and Catherine had already earned their plaques, and Heather was well on her way.
About halfway through my shift, Stockholm Syndrome kicked in. I started thinking about what a cool challenge the race really is. Would I have the determination to keep going for so long? What an amazing test of mental resiliance and fortitude. But don't worry - I talked myself out of it by remembering how after my first marathon, I could barely walk for a week, to say nothing of the training hours it takes. Nope, for me, for now, I'm going to continue to kick ass at distances of 13.1 miles or less. But for anyone who's thinking about taking on the challenge of next year's 24 Hour Run? I'll see you between 10 PM and 1 AM next year. Now that I've seen this event in action, I wouldn't miss being a part of it.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Race Report: Chili Chase
One sure way to kick those winter running doldrums is to sign up for a race. I ran the Chili Chase two years ago and had a great time, so I decided to run it again. And as an added bonus, this was my first race as a member of the Cornbelt Running Club Racing Team! I felt very proud to put on my uniform and was determined to do my team proud.I arrived early to help out with registration. I helped give out the technical socks that the race director offered in lieu of t-shirts. It's always great to have another pair of good running socks, plus these had a very cool bright green band on them with a little chili pepper. As an extra, we also had running gloves to give out. People loved the gloves, a simple lightweight cotton that are perfect on a day when it's cold, but not too cold. Volunteering was a lot of fun. I got to hang out with a cool group of people, plus I was able to say hello to lots of my fellow runners.
Fifteen minutes before race time, I said goodbye to the other volunteers working the table and went outside to warm up. The temperature was cold, in the 20s, but I was careful not to over dress for it, wearing tights, wind pants, a long-sleeved technical t with my team singlet over it, and my team jacket. For the first time, I pinned my race number to my leg, rather than to my shirt, in case I needed to unzip my jacket. It snowed later in the day, but luckily there were no weather obstacles on the course, save for one tiny patch of packed snow - with a volunteer whose job it was to tell everyone to be careful.
All the runners gathered at the starting line, which went down a long medium-steep hill. The race director warned us that what goes down must go up - in other words, enjoy this downhill, because you'll be running up it to the finish line.
I wasn't sure how the race was going to go. I have struggled to get in quality speed work this winter. The tracks aren't clear, and it's hard to do speed consistently on the road because the combination of ice, packed snow, loose snow, and slushy mess makes footing unpredictable. I am training for a half marathon in April, and I know I'll have the stamina, but I don't know how fast I'll go. So, I decided to relax, work hard on the hills, and see what happened. I put Paula Garmin on under my jacket so I could look if I wanted to, but not be distracted by my pace.
We took off, and it was a great time. There was an out and back portion of the course, so my fellow runners, friends, and team members and I cheered for each other as we went by.
In the last mile, things started to get interesting. I could see several runners ahead of me who were struggling with the hills. I have been training on hills all winter, but even without that advantage, I always try to pass people on hills whenever possible. It's a psychological thing; I can see other people are having trouble, and I tell myself (whether it's true or not) that I am strong on hills and can beat people.
I picked off three runners who were slowing down, then set my sights on more and more of them. I probably passed five or six runners in the last mile. In the end, I crossed the line with a time I was very happy with: 35:32.
The post-race party for the Chili Chase is always fun. There's great food - bbq sandwiches, chili, and beer. I had a bite to eat and hung out with friends. Out of curiosity, I checked the results to see where I placed. To my surprise, my effort was good for 34th place... super cool because the race director doesn't do age group awards for this race, but rather gives out awards for the overall top 35! I just made it. Better still, instead of a trophy, I got a bright green travel coffee mug with a chili pepper on it.
It was a great way to spend a Sunday and has me feeling good about the year of racing ahead.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Making the team
One of my goals for 2009 was to get more involved in my local running community. Recently, I got some news that proves that I accomplished that mission.
In 2008, I applied for the Cornbelt Running Club Racing Team. I knew it was a long shot; I was new to the club and didn't really know anybody yet. But I loved the idea so I figured it was worth a try and sent in my application, along with an impassioned essay.
No such luck. In fact, I found out I didn't make the team on the very same day that I lost my job. Bummer, right?
This year, I applied again. I was hoping that the time I'd spend attending club events, getting to know my fellow runners, training with the club, and volunteering at a couple of races would make the difference. And, if not, I'd try again for the 2011 team - eventually, they'd have to cave and let me in.
It looks like they caved: I made the team!
We had our first meeting yesterday, and I am not exaggerating when I say that I was honored to be part of such a fantastic group of runners. The Cornbelt Running Club Racing Team is made up of runners of all age groups and abilities. They are people who I've watched get trophies at races, but also people who I've seen volunteering time and time again, supporting our fellow runners any way we can. Our team's goals are goals that are important to me as well - to promote the sport of running.
As a member of the team, I am going to enjoy some amazing benefits. I was issued a uniform, which I will wear every time I race: a singlet, shorts (which I may replace with a skirt), a sports bra, warm-up pants, a windbreaker, and a technical t-shirt to wear either when volunteering or when it's too chilly for the singlet. Best of all, it's my favorite color, red! I will also get a 20% discount at Running Wild, our fabulous local running store, and free or reduced entry to several local races. One of those local races is the Bix 7, and not only that, but our team gets elite entry. As in, "Hey, there, Meb and Joanie! Good morning, and I hope you enjoy kicking my ass in this race."
Our team does, of course, have to earn our keep. We are required to volunteer at at least six events a year. In particular, if we are running in a race for a free or reduced entry, the race director asks that we volunteer either before or after the race. I am more than happy to pitch in. Last year, I volunteered for two races, and I've been planning to do more. This sport has given a lot to me, and I want to make sure I give back as well.
I left the meeting feeling inspired, both to run my best and to promote my sport to everyone. I am proud of this accomplishment and everything that it represents.
In 2008, I applied for the Cornbelt Running Club Racing Team. I knew it was a long shot; I was new to the club and didn't really know anybody yet. But I loved the idea so I figured it was worth a try and sent in my application, along with an impassioned essay.
No such luck. In fact, I found out I didn't make the team on the very same day that I lost my job. Bummer, right?
This year, I applied again. I was hoping that the time I'd spend attending club events, getting to know my fellow runners, training with the club, and volunteering at a couple of races would make the difference. And, if not, I'd try again for the 2011 team - eventually, they'd have to cave and let me in.
It looks like they caved: I made the team!
We had our first meeting yesterday, and I am not exaggerating when I say that I was honored to be part of such a fantastic group of runners. The Cornbelt Running Club Racing Team is made up of runners of all age groups and abilities. They are people who I've watched get trophies at races, but also people who I've seen volunteering time and time again, supporting our fellow runners any way we can. Our team's goals are goals that are important to me as well - to promote the sport of running.
As a member of the team, I am going to enjoy some amazing benefits. I was issued a uniform, which I will wear every time I race: a singlet, shorts (which I may replace with a skirt), a sports bra, warm-up pants, a windbreaker, and a technical t-shirt to wear either when volunteering or when it's too chilly for the singlet. Best of all, it's my favorite color, red! I will also get a 20% discount at Running Wild, our fabulous local running store, and free or reduced entry to several local races. One of those local races is the Bix 7, and not only that, but our team gets elite entry. As in, "Hey, there, Meb and Joanie! Good morning, and I hope you enjoy kicking my ass in this race."
Our team does, of course, have to earn our keep. We are required to volunteer at at least six events a year. In particular, if we are running in a race for a free or reduced entry, the race director asks that we volunteer either before or after the race. I am more than happy to pitch in. Last year, I volunteered for two races, and I've been planning to do more. This sport has given a lot to me, and I want to make sure I give back as well.
I left the meeting feeling inspired, both to run my best and to promote my sport to everyone. I am proud of this accomplishment and everything that it represents.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Race Report: Nancy Kapheim Memorial Classic
Here's a first for me: a race report with no actual racing involved, at least not on my part.
Friends, my leg is still in bad shape. It still hurts when I walk, stairs are still tricky, and going from sitting on the floor to a standing position is more challenging now than it was when I was pregnant. The situation really blows. Not only am I without the outlet of running, but let's not forget: my leg hurts. It's not especially bad, and I'm not taking anything for it, but it's a constant reminder of something I'd rather not think about.
That's a long way of explaining that no way was I going to be able to run the Nancy Kapheim Memorial Classic, a 5 and 10K race put on by my running club on Sunday. Instead, I asked the race director if I could volunteer.
Race Day preparations were not especially different for me. I still woke up early, drank coffee, and hada light breakfast. I still gave some thought to what I'd wear. It was very cold outside, probably in the 40s, so I put on a comfy pair of track pants, knee socks (cotton, argyle, cute and totally inappropriate for running), a long-sleeved t-shirt (cotton, totally inappropriate for running), a sweatshirt that I planned to exchange for the race shirt when I arrived (again, inappropriate), a striped hat, and at the last minute, a pair of thin gloves.
The race was held at a pretty park along the Mississippi River and had a bike path that I should check out some time soon. The race director told me that I'd been assigned to work the finish line, removing chips from the runners' shoes. Cool! I helped set up the timing mat at the starting line, then busied myself with chatting with my running friends. For the first time ever, I stood off to the side while my fellow runners lined up to start and watched them take off.
When the runners were away, it was strangely quiet in our part of the park. What had been a hive of activity was just a handful of people. After a few minutes, we rolled up the starting map. Then I killed some time by drinking a cup of hot cider. We chatted about when the first 5K finishers would cross the line; everybody figured that based on the field, it would be around 17 minutes. With just shy of 15 minutes on the clock, I took my position on a folding chair in the finishing chute, along with two other volunteers.
Sure enough, shortly after the 17 minute mark, the first finisher crossed the line, well ahead of the runner in second place. From then on, we were steadily busy. Chip removal was a great job to have. I got to watch every single runner cross the finish line, chat with the other volunteers, admire really cute running outfits (which would probably only happen when all three volunteers were women), and cheer for everybody, especially my friends.
The only drawback is that it got really cold. I could have used an extra pair of socks, as my toes were getting numb. One of my running friends brought me a cup of hot coffee and thus proved himself to be a special kind of running angel, a running angel who doesn't help fellow runners, but instead, icy volunteers.
The 10K finishers started to slow up, and after a while, we heard that there were only two women left on the course. I moved my chair closer up to the finishing line, and the other two volunteers departed. It was the first time I'd ever been there to see someone finish last in a race, and I'm happy to say that the women with that distinction crossed the finish line with an exhilarated smile on her face. I sat around for a few minutes, rather than yelling, "Okay, last place just cross the line. Let's pack this up!" That smiling runner had just finished a 10K, maybe her first. I wanted her to enjoy her moment no matter how many runners finished ahead of her.
After the race was over, I dove into a huge catered breakfast that was free for all of the volunteers and runners. There were eggs, sausage, biscuits and gravy, pancakes, cinnamon rolls, and muffins. The food was delicious, and everyone had fun hanging around eating, despite the cold.
Just like I do when I finish a race, I am already making plans for my next. I am afraid that, in two weeks, I am still not going to be up to running, not even a slow 4K. But I can get out there and help my fellow runners by volunteering. I know that, in time, I'll be back there toeing the line with the others. Until that day comes, I want to bank some karma by giving back.
Friends, my leg is still in bad shape. It still hurts when I walk, stairs are still tricky, and going from sitting on the floor to a standing position is more challenging now than it was when I was pregnant. The situation really blows. Not only am I without the outlet of running, but let's not forget: my leg hurts. It's not especially bad, and I'm not taking anything for it, but it's a constant reminder of something I'd rather not think about.
That's a long way of explaining that no way was I going to be able to run the Nancy Kapheim Memorial Classic, a 5 and 10K race put on by my running club on Sunday. Instead, I asked the race director if I could volunteer.
Race Day preparations were not especially different for me. I still woke up early, drank coffee, and hada light breakfast. I still gave some thought to what I'd wear. It was very cold outside, probably in the 40s, so I put on a comfy pair of track pants, knee socks (cotton, argyle, cute and totally inappropriate for running), a long-sleeved t-shirt (cotton, totally inappropriate for running), a sweatshirt that I planned to exchange for the race shirt when I arrived (again, inappropriate), a striped hat, and at the last minute, a pair of thin gloves.
The race was held at a pretty park along the Mississippi River and had a bike path that I should check out some time soon. The race director told me that I'd been assigned to work the finish line, removing chips from the runners' shoes. Cool! I helped set up the timing mat at the starting line, then busied myself with chatting with my running friends. For the first time ever, I stood off to the side while my fellow runners lined up to start and watched them take off.
When the runners were away, it was strangely quiet in our part of the park. What had been a hive of activity was just a handful of people. After a few minutes, we rolled up the starting map. Then I killed some time by drinking a cup of hot cider. We chatted about when the first 5K finishers would cross the line; everybody figured that based on the field, it would be around 17 minutes. With just shy of 15 minutes on the clock, I took my position on a folding chair in the finishing chute, along with two other volunteers.
Sure enough, shortly after the 17 minute mark, the first finisher crossed the line, well ahead of the runner in second place. From then on, we were steadily busy. Chip removal was a great job to have. I got to watch every single runner cross the finish line, chat with the other volunteers, admire really cute running outfits (which would probably only happen when all three volunteers were women), and cheer for everybody, especially my friends.
The only drawback is that it got really cold. I could have used an extra pair of socks, as my toes were getting numb. One of my running friends brought me a cup of hot coffee and thus proved himself to be a special kind of running angel, a running angel who doesn't help fellow runners, but instead, icy volunteers.
The 10K finishers started to slow up, and after a while, we heard that there were only two women left on the course. I moved my chair closer up to the finishing line, and the other two volunteers departed. It was the first time I'd ever been there to see someone finish last in a race, and I'm happy to say that the women with that distinction crossed the finish line with an exhilarated smile on her face. I sat around for a few minutes, rather than yelling, "Okay, last place just cross the line. Let's pack this up!" That smiling runner had just finished a 10K, maybe her first. I wanted her to enjoy her moment no matter how many runners finished ahead of her.
After the race was over, I dove into a huge catered breakfast that was free for all of the volunteers and runners. There were eggs, sausage, biscuits and gravy, pancakes, cinnamon rolls, and muffins. The food was delicious, and everyone had fun hanging around eating, despite the cold.
Just like I do when I finish a race, I am already making plans for my next. I am afraid that, in two weeks, I am still not going to be up to running, not even a slow 4K. But I can get out there and help my fellow runners by volunteering. I know that, in time, I'll be back there toeing the line with the others. Until that day comes, I want to bank some karma by giving back.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)