The “Walk or Run a Crooked 5k” is a yearly event in Chapin’s Crooked Creek park held to benefit Meals on Wheels and kickoff the Labor Day festival there.  I dont know how long this race has been going on, but this year marks the fourth time I’ve done it. I have kind of a love/hate relationship with this race.  I think the course is awesome, with about half of it on grass/dirt surrounding the ball fields and the other half in winding paved trails. On the other hand, the name alone screams there arent any regular road racers directing it, and they still use mail in registration and non-chip timing like its 1987. But maybe they’re going for retro-cool, I don’t know.  Either way,  I don’t think they ever have any local competition from other races, so I always run it. In a truly amazing occurrence, I managed to dig out a stamp, envelope and check and actually register ahead of time this year.

I got there my customary hour in advance and did a couple miles warm up with Geary, Plex and Crazy Legs. The Code, who also usually does this race, was MIA again. He’d better show up for Blue Ridge on Thursday.  We did a few loops around the last part of the course, which helped me mark where I might be able to start throwing down a kick if needed. As usual, there wasnt a big competitive group here. Decent size crowd, but only a few regulars.  Jennifer Reeves, Ted, Alex P, the Holts,  Cheryl Outlaw,  Pete Poore, Teo and Rocky were there. Jack Carmody, who runs like 2 races a year, was there to at least keep Plex from jogging to a win. Claudia Nunez-Lopez was the only competitive female I saw.  So basically, I could have predicted the outcome of the race before it began, though you never know when some rogue kid might come out and throw down a good time.

The course starts with a half mile lap around the soccer fields, then enters a very convoluted stretch of paved trail. At about a mile and a half, you do a loop of a baseball field then come back into the curvy trail portion, another loop in a parking lot, then back to the trails with a finish in the same soccer field where you started. Got that? Last year they had about 75 percent of the field take a wrong turn at the baseball loop and cut off a quarter mile of distance, so I hoped they had fixed that.

They had an actual starting gun , which was cool, and may have jolted some adrenaline to put me in the lead for about 10 meters before Plex,  Jack Claudia and some other guy jumped ahead.  It had rained earlier in the week, and running on this grass gave me some PTSD from the Springdale race. Luckily it wasnt as long as there, but there were definitely some muddy areas. For those behind me, I apologize they had to witness my very ungraceful leap over a 6 foot patch of muck. Can’t get those new blues dirty now, can we?  By the time the soccer loop was done, plex and jack had already disappeared and all I could see was Claudia and other guy. Other guy had headphones on, which in my running snob mind, meant there was little chance he was going to hold this pace.  I did manage to catch him just before the mile mark. I decided not to look at my splits, because I know I’d feel let down. This course has way too many turns and grassy areas to race a good time – my course record is 20:15 from 2011.  After passing the guy, I was suddenly all alone, though at times I could see Claudia up way ahead.  I tried to at least keep her in range because once I run completely alone I get a major case of the slowsies.  Plus, I had heard the industrial machine breathing of Geary just behind me when we first entered the trail portion.  Got to the baseball loop and fortunately they had made extra sure no one took the wrong turn again, placing a barricade of cones.  The course then turned back on itself, and Rocky was there to give me an update on my position. After another brief trail section came the parking lot loop. No sooner than I took the first turn when I saw Geary and Teo bearing down on me, uncomfortably close.  Crazy Legs was soon to follow. I tried to make the most of the straightaways in the parking lot, ramping up the pace to match my road 5k speed. I was able to make up some ground on Claudia but she was still well ahead. After the parking lot loop I was hurting pretty bad. We’ve been blessed with some great weather over the past few weeks, but this morning was about 80 and humid, so I was definitely feeling the pain. By the time I reached the soccer field again, I was just toast.  The sun was bright and the dewy grass felt like sludge. I knew I wasnt catching Claudia and a quick look on the turn showed there was no one behind me either.  The tank was officially on E when I made the last turn, and I watched helplessly as the 19’s faded away. I threw in one mini-burst at the very end just to break 20:10, with my official time at 20:09.  4th overall, 1st in AG. I hate going over 20 minutes, but this was a new course record for me, so I guess I should be satisfied with that.

As I warmed down, I realized that I actually got 3rd overall male,  which I hoped might score me an overall prize. Sure, there is some shame to accepting an overall male award when you’ve been beaten by one of the females, but there is little dignity to my ridiculous trophy hunting anyway. What defies logic though, is that the race gave overall awards to the top 3 finishers only, without separating out the males and females.  WTF? I didn’t care so much for me (see above shame) but this is totally stiffing the 2nd and 3rd place women.  Claudia also missed out on a first place overall award, which i believe was 50 bucks.  Very lame.

J-Reeves placed in her age group, throwing down an awesome blue shoes style kick to break 31 minutes – see pics below.  Ted, Schmitz, Geary, Cheryl, Pete, Alex P, and the Holts all got some age group glory as well.

The Run Wild 5k is now in its 11th year, one of the oldest trail races in the area and held at Sesqui State Park. The race goes to benefit Richland Northeast track and cross country, and is directed by coach Ginger Belka. It is unique as the open 5k race is followed by a regular high school cross country meet running the same course.

Although Sesqui is almost in my backyard, and I train there all the time, it is like a curse for me to race. Ginger’s other race in Sesqui, the post new years Resolution 10k, has produced some of my most prodigious suckage. I fell and had the wind knocked out of me one year, and the following two years I just bonked out and slogged out some serious slowness. My only moment of glory in Sesqui was in 2010, where I blue shoed an injured JB in route to a 19:40. This was the old finish line, which I think made the course a tad short though. In 2011 there had been a dry spell, turning the sandhills of Sesqui into a total beach. I was nursing a piriformis injury, but basically just fell apart and recorded one of my slowest 5ks in the past couple of years.

This year I was pretty close to 100 percent, though with marathon training in full gear, my legs start to feel a little dead with the ramped up mileage.  Plus i had the specter of a 20 miler looming the next morning. I got to the race site about45 min ahead of time. Although there was a decent crowd, there were few of the regulars that share my obsessive racing addiction. The Code has gone back into hiding (perhaps after being shamed at the Eagle 5k?) and I new Angel was probably headed back up to York to do the 10k he does there. That would normally mean a wide open age group for yours truly, but Derek Gomez is winding down his tri season and said he was turning out for this one. Gomez used to be in the same ballpark as myself, if slightly faster, though apparently he has turned into a total beast in the past year with all the tri training. Ive seen him go way sub 19 in most of the tri’s, which still eludes me on a certified course. I figured maybe I could keep him in sight in this one.

Other than Gomez,  Team Vowles, Team Holt, James Hicks, J-Reeves, Dina, Alex P, Rocky, the Hartleys and Sarah B were on hand. Met Travis Cowan, who Ive seen at a few races and ran the Resolution preview run ages ago. I think that run was the first time I recall seeing mr rainbow tights himself,  Ramsey Makhuli.

Ran a warm up mile from the finish line backwards on the course, so I could mark where to throw down the blue shoe kick.  I could already feel the Sesqui curse kicking in. Legs felt like lead, despite the unbelievably cool temps (mid 60’s).

The course is well known to me: about 100 meters of open field, bottlenecking into a quarter mile of tight trail, followed by wide open firebreak trail until mile 2. Mile 3 is almost all single track  until you break into a quarter mile finish of open field and trail beside the lake.

The start to this race is pretty close to a sprint. Basically everyone blasting away to try and avoid getting hung up in the bottleneck of the access path to the firebreak trail. I got a little behind, so I spent most of the access path jockeying for position and trying to dodge everyone that decided going into oxygen debt in the first 100 meters was a good race strategy. Apparently a lot of Usain Bolt fans in this race. I finally reached the firebreak, which just absolutely sucks for the first mile. Its not steep, but just relentless climb. Thankfully the sand was slightly less beach like this year, but not packed down like the year of the 19:40. I remember passing Bri Hartley, an 11 year old that is already near elite status at that age.  I looked ahead and could barely see Gomez, who had left me for dead immediately. The crowd cleared out with all the fast guys forming a small group way ahead, and the rest of us mortals in a huge pack behind. Heading up the slow pack was a teenage kid and myself. I hit the first mile at 6:27, which is not too bad for the uphill and soft trail. I was laboring harder than I like, but then again, I was fighting the curse. The next mile rolls a little but flattens out quite a bit. The kid has decided to make this a total pissing match, a generational war.  Challenge accepted.

I can tell the kid is hurting a bit but he has decided that the shame of getting beat by the albino Sasquatch is too much to bear. He surges at times but I stick to him like glue. He keeps looking back and boxing me out at every turn, probably wondering who let this rabid bear out of the zoo. Of course all this boxing out stuff is fueling the dark side of the blue shoes. What does suck though is that Im not exactly on cruise control either. Getting the momentum of every step sucked up by sand isnt exactly motivational. They say anger can be a motivator , but so is fear. Fear comes in many forms, but none is quite so frightening as the prospect of being chicked by an 11 year old. I start to hear some cheers for Bri uncomfortably close behind me. I dont dare look back , but I start getting paranoid that maybe she’s just drafting in my considerable wake, biding her time to shame me.  We near the mile 2 marker, which the volunteer calls out at 13 flat, and then kid does a mini surge to cut me off just as we enter the single track.  By this time I’m hurting pretty bad, but I know the end is coming soon. I attempt to pull a pass a few times, but kid is looking back and matching my every move. The trail is just too tight to try and go rogue into the woods to jump in front. Plus, Im not about to waste energy at this point. We pass the half-mile to the finish point that I had marked from my warm up. I can only imagine the visual of  this teenager with a beast breathing down his neck.  One of the volunteers knows the kid and says to kick it in, “your parents are right up ahead!”.  This apparently spikes some adrenaline and kid blasts ahead into the clearing for the last quarter mile, basically starting to sprint. I’m pretty wiped out,  but I am not about to get blue shoed here. Plus, the ghost of Bri was still haunting me.  So I throw down….hard. Someone shouts we can break 20, so I tell kid to let’s get it. But apparently his objective #1 is to beat this damn old man on his back.  So, I enter a new world of pain as I pull a Spinal Tap and turn it up to 11.  And kid is still hanging on …until he starts suddenly puking his guts out.  He pulls off to the side, and I should be feeling pangs of guilt for the kid embarrassing himself in front of his family and the crowd in the finishing stretch. But the dark side has taken over, and all I can think is VICTORY IS MINE. Apparently I am an evil person.  I still have 50 meters to go, and unfortunately I can see 20 minutes is going to be just out of reach. I manage to burn whatever fumes i have left to cross the line in 20:11, 12th overall, 2nd in AG. Evidently, the kick was absolutely necessary, because as soon as I look up from my gasping, here comes Bri at 20:25, winning first female.  Nothing like the pride of beating two middle schoolers. Way to go , Blue Shoes.

OJ Striggles won in an impressive 16:45, while John Charlton placed third (first masters), followed by Eddie Vergara, George “Amplified Athletics” Simpson and Gomez. Gomez ran an 18:25, so dude could probably break 18 on a road course now.  He and Yerger are now completely out of my league, I guess.  Another small group finished in the 18:40’s, but they are the last people before me, explaining why I couldn’t see anybody ahead in the last mile and a half. Sarah Blackwell had an impressive 2nd place showing. Other age groupers include both of the Vowles, Jennifer Reeves, Travis Cowan,  Cheryl Outlaw, the Holts and Rocky.

http://www.strictlyrunning.com/RESULTS/12RUNWILD.TXT

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/215296770

Photo courtesy of John Sneed

The Eagle 5k is a race put on by fellow runner and age groupers Eric McMichael and Angel Manuel of the Palmetto Runners, now in its third year.  Its held in Eric’s hometown of North, SC, where I had previously never been until last year’s race. They decided to move it to an evening start in 2012, so I had a chance to double dip with the Silver Fox Trot 5k in Irmo in the morning.

Double dipping is always tough, but this one was going to be particularly brutal, given the abuse the Silver Fox inflicts on your legs. Not to mention its August in South Carolina, and I had that nasty 16 miler scheduled on Sunday morning with the Longcreek training group (target: Richmond marathon, part II) . Thankfully, it was downright chilly for Columbia, with the high topping out around 85.

I carpooled the 50 minute or so drive with the Code, who had also done the Silver Fox. Dude runs one race the last four months and then decides to do two in one day. Such is the enigma of the Code. Actually, Geary and “Lightning” Plexico also doubled up – proving I am not alone in being obsessive.

It was drizzling when we got to the race site and my legs felt like complete crap. Did a mile warmup, but not really feeling it. North is a tiny town, not much there outside of a few stores and a railroad stop. But one thing for sure, it is beautifully, gloriously flat. No hills to be found anywhere, which is just what I needed after slogging through the mountain of mud in Saluda Shoals.

The Eagle got on the Palmetto Grand Prix, so although the race turnout was small, it was heavily weighted towards some pretty competitive runners. Unlike my Tour de Columbia, which definitely gives the edge toward quantity over quality, you actually have to be fast to win the PGP.  No age groups, just open, masters and grand masters. I”m 37, so still competing against all the young bucks. My 2nd in AG on the Tour last year earned me all of 81st place on the PGP in 2011.  Stellar.

Anyway, masters/grandmasters all stars like Billy Tisdale , Howie Phan, Geary, Lynn Grimes, John and Nancee Sneed, Arnold Floyd and Lorikay Kienzle were in attendance.  There was a rare Jordan Lybrand appearance, along with Jennifer. OJ Striggles showed up to avoid Plex running away with the win, while Eddie Vergara and Jim Coombes combined to make sure I’d have a hard time cracking the top 10 in this field, despite there only being about 40 people.

After Angel said a prayer we were led to the start, where I was already cursing my decision to race again.  Legs still felt dead.  The start felt quick, and I felt like I was getting left behind immediately. Somehow though, my legs remembered the race pace from the morning and actually felt better than the 10 min pace jog I had been doing beforehand. A quarter mile in and the Code is MIA, kept wondering when he would make an appearance. I did see Billy and Howie up ahead, so I focused in on them, knowing their 5k times to be very similar to mine. Jordan was also running with them just a few steps ahead. I slowly joined up with them at about the mile mark,  which I remember was right past the most vocal race supporter in North, who was out there again in her yard. 6:09 split, which was surprisingly fast given the first quarter was like breaking my legs out of cinder blocks.

Starting to hurt a little, but not too bad. Focused on staying with the mini pack we had going . Jordan started gapping us, but I was afraid to go after him too much, given I had no idea what he’s capable of running or of what I was able to do on the beat up legs. We turned a corner and all of a sudden Howie and Billy faded behind me and it was just me trying to keep up with Jordan, who had put a good 20 meters on us.  With all the tactical running, I realized at mile 2 that the pace had slowed quite a bit to 6:27. And where was Code? I started trying to push it, but it was around this time the legs started to protest in earnest.  Still, the adrenaline was flowing, so I tried my best to pick it up.  I feel like I’m slowly making some headway on Jordan, but then at about 2.5 miles, this car pulls out from a side street and slowly turns literally right into me. I somehow manage to sidestep actually getting hit, and feel obligated to divert some precious oxygen to uttering a few breathless F-bombs in her general direction. Perhaps a middle finger, I was half delirious.  Luckily the jolt of adrenaline of nearly getting run over is roughly equivalent to the energy spent in getting out of the way, so we’ll call it a wash. I made a few more turns and finally found the last straightaway, which felt like forever. I thought I saw 18’s but wasnt sure. I could tell that Jordan wasnt going to get caught, despite the desperate, weak blue shoe kick I was trying to throw down. Finally made out the low 19’s as I neared the last block and finished in 19:35, 7th overall, 1st in 30-39. Last mile ended up being almost identical to the first, around 6:09. Garmin had the course a little over, though it is certified. I’m pretty happy with the result on tired legs. A victory over Code is always sweet as well. He basically bailed into a tempo after he couldnt deal with the overwhelming shame of getting blue shoed, finished in 22 something.  I finally met my brother’s friend James Hicks, who ended up taking third in our AG. He also did Silver Fox, so lots of double dipping going on.

Awesome trophies for first in AG, and eagle dog tags for 2nd and 3rd. Small crowd of 40 for the race (probably not helped by the rain all day), but it meant almost everyone got some age group glory and PGP points.  Nicely organized by Angel and Eric, and hopefully this race will continue to grow.

http://www.strictlyrunning.com/results/12Eagles.txt

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/211190120    (accidently hit the start on the walk back to the awards area)

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The Silver Fox Trot is a trail 5k held at Saluda Shoals Park in Irmo, with proceeds going to support the cross country team at Dutch Fork High School.  “Lightning” Plexico says this race used to be held elsewhere in Irmo way back in the olden days of his youth, but this is the 4th year of the event at Saluda Shoals.

This is definitely a tough course, and from my experience (I ran the 2009 and 2010 races) you can pretty much tack on 2 extra minutes to your road 5k to get an estimate for this race.  Lots of twists and turns, ditches, mud…and one brief but brutal mountain of pain.  We’ve had a good bit of rain over the last couple of days, so this was going to make the course even more difficult.

Angel and Eric have their Eagle 5k down in North later in the day, so I was double dipping this year, which I figured would also help me prepare for the Blue Ridge Relay coming up in September. But make no mistake, there is no way I could do either race easy or as a tempo. I pin that bib to my shirt, and its on like Donkey Kong.

I got to the race about 45 minutes ahead of time. There were already a ton of people there, most of whom were high school kids. I noticed when I signed up that there were 73 adults and 70 seventeen and under registrants, so I figured there might be a teenage mob scene at the start (there was).  Code was already there – he said the shirt was pretty nice, tech instead of cotton. Unfortunately this race never has extra shirts, so if you sign up late you’re pretty much SOL. Plus, they have shirt nazi that guards these shirts with her life. I asked to get one after the race and I got a look of thousand-sun burning hate.

Did a brief warmup with the Code, Geary, Ted and Lightning. Felt like death due to ramping up the miles recently for marathon training and not doing any speedwork in the last couple of weeks.  Not a whole lot of familiar faces, but J-Reeves, Sarah “Battle Scarred” Blackwell,  Crazy Legs,  Bri and Dan Hartley, Amie  Meyer, Pete Poore, Henry Holt and of course Rocky were all there.

At the start, there was a good portion of Dutch Fork’s student body on hand and it felt like the humidity ratcheted up a notch just to make it particularly unpleasant. Actually, the temp wasnt that bad with the clouds overhead. The start was complete madness.  Somehow I got shunted off to the side so I was jumping over long grass and puddles while trying not to flatten the 100 lb high school girls to the left and right of me. And I got boxed in, just when I saw Code find an opening and blast ahead. Damn that Code. The same 100 pounders who were doing sub 6 pace out of the blocks suddenly slowed to almost 8 minutes. I tried to pass one of them, but damned if these girls werent throwing around some skinny elbows. Finally I pulled a Marcus Lattimore and rumbled like Sasquatch through the woods and into the clear. All this wasted energy might of been useful on the mud mountain that suddenly loomed into view. And since the mountain was freshly watered from last night, a total slogfest ensued. The 12 year old in front of me slowed to about a walk, and it took significant restraint not to push off of his shoulder to power up this beast. The good thing about the mountain is that it thinned out the field considerably. At the top I was finally able to choose where I ran on the grass trail instead of being herded like cattle. And it was plenty wet – had to slow almost to a walk at times to navigate some of these areas. Didnt look at the Garmin but apparently I hit mile 1 in 7:12, about a minute slower than my road 5k splits. This is probably why I was able to pick it up some in the second mile, and slowly start picking off people. Apparently Dutch Fork teaches MMA style elbowing because these kids did not take kindly to being passed. To their credit, I wouldnt want to be taken down by a goofy looking 37 year old with a freakishly large head either. More Pitfall-esque areas ensued. One turn was complete slop, and I was tiptoeing like Sasquatch doing ballet, hoping there wasnt anyone taking pictures of this complete and utter lack of grace.  Hit mile 2 in 6:59. Blazing. Next up on the roadkill list was a suspiciously 35-39 year old guy with a red shirt. He was proving difficult to catch – kept speeding up when he heard the lumbering footsteps behind him I guess.  With about a half mile to go I finally surged and passed him.  By this time though, I was sucking some serious wind. The last part of the course is particularly winding, and you can hear the finish, but have no idea where it is. I kept on having finish mirages and uttering soft f-bombs (had to be discrete around the kids, right?)  when each turn unfolded another finish-less stretch of trail.  Caught up with a kid that looked like he should be doing 17 minute 5ks – I think he was just phoning it in, but my insatiable appetite for roadkill knows no bounds. Blue shoed past him at top speed and finally hit the turn that actually contained a finish line. Sadly the next group I was approaching contained the Code, but I ran out of room and he finished about 10 seconds ahead. My finish was about 21:40, 2nd in age group. A tad slower than 2 years ago, but then there was not nearly as much mud or razor elbowed sophomores.  I’m OK with the time given the conditions.

Code took my precious age group crown, while Schmitz and Ted placed in the 40-44. Rocky, Henry, Amie, Valerie Selby, Bri Hartley, Sarah, Plex and Pete Poore all placed in their age group. Pretty good CRC representation there.  Sadly, some young punk took down the mighty Lightning.  Ka-chow. Results will hopefully be posted soon. Hope shirt nazi isn’t in charge of this.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/209178862

http://www.dutchforkrunners.com/

Safe in the City is the 2012 version of what was known as the Capital City Safe 5k in 2011. Its a race put on by the Columbia Police Department in order to support their foundation. Last year was a surprisingly great race, though it was incredibly hot. Surprising, in that first-time events are always a wild card.  I’ve been to a few disasters before, but this one was really nicely done  in ’11.

This year I was thinking I  would sit it out though. I had a rough week after running an all-out 400 meter and 800 meter at Strictly’s track series, plus one of my cute little disease carriers had given me a cold. A crappy night’s sleep on Thursday, and I was going to be glad to take a rest.  I figured I could satisfy my executive duties in the Columbia Running Club by showing up and taking pictures, and that might actually be fun.  But then I came home from work and a little package was by the front door. The blues. Not just in color, but a pair of the actual adidas adizero adios that started the obsession and gave me my first sub 20 5k on the first try. I was heartbroken the last two years, because adidas changes colors and styles constantly, and the last two adios incarnations were a bright RED. I cant go around wearing RED shoes, can I?? Jeez. So I’ve basically worn all kinds of shoes since then, the only common factor being the color. But this week my heart skipped a beat when i saw the 2012 version was blue again. I was as giddy as a schoolgirl, ordering them immediately and even paying the ridiculous 10 bucks to get them 2-day shipped. So when I saw them on my doorstep, I had to at least break them in, right? I would just walk around in them anyway.

Um, yeaaah. I think that thought lasted about halfway on the ride to the race before I stepped out of my car and registered immediately.  Once a race addict, always a race addict.  I don’t like to complain, but there were some seriously snarky volunteers at the registration table.  She told me it would be 30 dollars, and an extra 25 bucks for a shirt (which was included in the preregistration 25 dollar price). I dont think she liked the look of absolute shock on my face. Needless to say I opted for the registration alone.  Plus, I could clothe a small country with the number of race shirts I already own.

I then went to help our membership chair William hand out our new CRC shirts. And by “help” I mean, stand nearby and flap my gums and not hand out a single shirt. There was a nice showing for this race, ended up being close to 300. Off the top of my head,  Coach Bishop, Plex, Team Schmitz, Rick, Shiela, Ann, Carol, Megan, Jennifers Reeves and Lybrand, Alex P, Team Hewitt, The Diesels + Brady, Team Robertson, Billy Tisdale, Kimi, Kat (watching), The Spratts (also watching) , Team Allers,  Team McGrievy, The Harts, Greta, Ken, Pete P, Mark B, Eric M, and Yerger were there, and I’m sure I’m forgetting some.

The most important factor in changing my mind about not racing, other than the blues, was the weather. Twenty degrees cooler than last year easy.  Still about 80 and humid, but about as good as you’re going to get in late July in Columbia.

So by the 7:45 start I had gone from bystander to standing front and center of a 300 person field. I lined up first row because despite the large crowd, there werent a lot of super fast people. Bishop had this thing won from the get go, and Plex wouldnt be too far behind. I figured everybody else would be way back from them. Billy and Meg were right by my side, so I knew I had 2 good people to guide my pace.

The course is a flat one, right down main street to the capitol building, going around the left side, continuing on main on the back side of the capitol, then a USC loop to capstone and back, and then a couple of turns back to the corner of hampton and main at the Columbia Museum of Art for the finish. I felt pretty strong, so I blasted hard out of the gate.  Billy jumps ahead and Meg starts to surge past but then I speed up to draw even with her. I usually have a tendency to go out a little slow, so I wanted to keep up with Billy and Meg instead of letting them get pretty far ahead in the first mile, which usually happens. The three of us are locked into a mini pack after the first quarter dodging the kids that sprinted out of the gate. And it feels a bit speedy. But I feel like Meg is matching my every move, so I keep up this relentless pace. Finally I pass them both just before the mile marker and my Garmin spits out something that makes me do a double take .

5:51??!!  Ruh roh raggy. This is suicidal pace for me under any conditions but particularly when its over 80 degrees. But apparently my head is both gigantic in both the literal and figurative sense, because I don’t slow down…yet. As we make the turn onto Greene and head back on Sumter that nice breeze we had seems to vanish. It gets real hot, real quick. Whats worse is that I feel completely alone at this point. I can see Yerger and Claudia about 50 meters ahead and can hear no one behind me. But I know the Tisdale and Weis combo cant be too far behind. Unfortunately I have no sense of my pace anymore, and no one to push me.  I near the next turnaround, which coincides with the 2 mile mark. I ‘m desperately afraid of Meg paying me back for passing her at this point last year, especially since I trash talked about it on facebook.  I dont look at my Garmin this time, though later I see I dropped it down about 30 sec (6:22)

Starting to hate life about this point. I was breathing hard, but the heat was the worst. Engine definitely in the red zone.  All of a sudden I can hear someone coming up behind me, and I prepare to get Tisdaled, but its some dude on a skateboard.  I can tell my pace is suffering because Yerger is leaving me for dead. Claudia drops off a little but is still way ahead of me.  We finally round the last turn, and there’s a seemingly endless straightwaway to the finish. I can make out the time in the 18’s but it takes forever to get to the line. I try to throw down a meager kick but I am toast. The only thing keeping me going is a paralyzing fear of getting blue shoed by the two behind me. I see Justin cooling down on the side and I try to follow his form pointers, though I can feel my arms wanting to seize up like a chicken and by enormous melon wanting to tilt back and to the side like Im on a roller coaster from hell. Maybe I am. Finished at 19:34, 8th place overall, 2nd in AG behind Yerger (19:05). I was half delirious after the race, sitting down to take my chip off that didnt exist (the chip was in the bib). Heart rate was like 2000 and just sucking wind like crazy.  Giving “110 percent” apparently is not a problem for me. Tisdale finished in 19:54, Meg in 20:15 and 2nd overall female.

Happy with the time and placement – its 13 seconds faster than last year, though the conditions were far worse then. Justin crushed this race in 15:51 for the win, with Plex in second (16:59). Jen Lybrand,  Kristin Schmitz,  Eric McMichael, Colleen Vowles, Eric allers, Ted Hewitt, William Schmitz, Mark Bailey, Ann Bartow, Howie Phan, Rick Gibbons,  Tigs, Lisa Smarr, Valerie Selby, Alex Ponamarev, Pete Poore, Arnold Floyd, Ken Lowden,  MArgaret and Henry Holt and Rock Soderberg were some of the familiar faces in the age group winners. Little Diesel, aka Brady, also won the 2-10 age group with a police escort to the finish. Awesome. The award ceremony was nice with a photo op with police chief Randy Scott.  Great event again this year!

Oh, and this has got to be the most photographed race of the year – Columbia PD published a ton of pics on their facebook site. Really cool.

http://www.strictlyrunning.com/results/12safe.txt

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/201875114

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.407254789312098.80751.182562865114626&type=3

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.407394449298132.80792.182562865114626&type=3

This is the second year of the Xterra half and 5k at Harbison State Forest. I’ve come to the conclusion that Xterra prides itself on super tough courses, because I about died last year en route to  a 23:40 something 5k last year that I think was still top 10. Although I had no problem with the 5k course in 2011, the half became completely derailed with the leaders missing a turn and people literally coming out of the forest everywhere. I had a couple of friends who had to be “rescued” by a truck as they were still wandering the trails 14+ miles in.

https://drachtungbaby.wordpress.com/2011/07/15/xterra-5k-and-half-marathon-trail-harbison-state-forest-71011-2348-10th-oa/

Everyone I talked to about the half, even those that correctly ran the course, said it was beyond brutal. So of course I had the grand idea that I had to run it too. I signed up for the race despite doing no specific training for it and knowing I would probably do a race on the 4th as well. My grandiosity and poor decision making apparently know no bounds. I did take one day off,  so there’s your planning.

As karma payback for making fun of my brother’s lateness, I was running out the door this morning way later than I wanted and got to the race site about a half hour before the race time of 7 am. I knew this was going to be rough , because it was already about 80 degrees with suffocating humidity. I got my race bib and headed to the bathroom, where I was met with a most unpleasant sight. There were two huge lines for both men and women, and I realized they still didnt fix the ridiculous bathroom situation from last year. 300+ runners and exactly one toilet for the guys. Nice. After waiting 10 minutes and essentially going nowhere, and noting the start was eight minutes away..lets just say Harbison State Forest got fertilized.  And dont just blame me, because it was a freaking poopapalooza out there.

I actually didnt see a whole lot of familiar faces – the xterra series draws a lot of out-of-area people and the trail running crowd tends to be different from road racers.  Greta, Sarah B, Ted, Geary, Colleen and Ken Vowles, Jim Lichty, Jen and Brian Clyburn were all there, though half of them were wisely doing the 5k.

My strategy was to try and take it very easy early on in order to save some for the middle of the course, which I had heard was pretty miserable. I had done a 1:44 at the Rudolph’s Rampage half at Harbison in December 2010, so I figured I could at least go sub 2 hours, maybe do something similar to the 1:44 since I was slower 2 years ago.

With the start I didnt have much of a choice, because I got clogged behind a freaking sweaty conga line once we hit the single track. I figured it would be OK, since it would save up some energy for later.  First mile was 8:45, a little slow I thought, but acceptable since I hadnt warmed up at all. Mile 2 was already hitting some pretty technical stuff on the trail and the pace backed down to 9 something, so I tried to pick it up some. This is when I got the first inkling that there was going to be some serious suckage later. Felt about 100 degrees and like I was breathing through a wet washcloth. Whats worse I got double chicked in the matter of 30 seconds. The mental weight of 10 miles to go didnt help things.  Finally hit the first aid station and tried to suck down as much water as I could. I had actually brought my own water bottle, but just over 3 miles in and I had already drained it. As I’ve noted previously, restraint is not my forte. I did manage to keep up with my new closest friends “put the hammer down” shirt guy, tall guy, short tan girl,  and fit masters guy. Everybody’s pace was all over the map, so we kept passing and re-passing each other. I managed to keep up a semblance of a steady run for the next two miles, but I could feel the foundation starting to crack. I did manage to choke down an espresso love GU, right after mile 5, which had already dived back into the nines again. Then we hit some serious hills, so I figured this had to be the “Spider Woman” trail that I had heard so much about. People started walking. Ha ha time to pass them, right? WRONG. Suddenly I can feel a wicked walk of shame coming on myself. And then it happens, and I’m reduced to a soccer mom in the mall on a Tuesday morning. Holy crap, am I really walking again in a race? It was hard enough to take doing it at the Quarry Crusher, but that was a mile and a half of 10 percent grade.  At least no one is passing me. I’m actually catching up to some people with my awesome power walking skills. Who knew I had such a hidden talent for being so slow.  I do try and run all the flats and declines though. This is fine when youre feeling good and lifting your feet in a normal fashion, but I am hitting roots constantly.  I literally almost bust my ass about 30 times, but somehow catch myself without pulling a Sarah Blackwell style wipeout.  I am definitely resetting the Harbison State Forest world record for F bombs, with some other random obscenities thrown in for good measure.  Each near trip sending out an uncontrollable Tourettes style blast.

After enduring some hilly torture for some time, I finally hit a nice little stretch, and I see the sign for the start of the Spider Woman. More F bombs. My previous time goals are going way out the window, and now I’m just thinking of surviving or finishing. In that order. Surviving, because I havent had any water in like 4 miles and I am ready to go Bear Grylls  (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81FLsMZB2Fw) here in a second if I dont get any water. Finally I hit the 2nd aid station just short of 8 miles. I start laying waste to this place, double fisting water and gatorade, total Irish handcuffs. Off comes the shirt, which apparently where all the lost water went, because the thing weighs like 5 pounds.  My mile 8 split is a blazing 13:15. I honestly dont recall the next few miles , as I was half delirious. At some point I become aware that the whole Spider woman thing must be over, because the course starts to get a little more level. This is irritating, because now it means I dont have an excuse to walk.  That doesnt mean I dont use every half percent grade to do it though. Finally I hit another root at about the mile 10 marker and get really pissed and decide I need to run to get this thing over with. I figure I can break 2:15 if I can,as Tenacious J would say,  HTFU. I  run, as in not walk,  the 11th mile at 10:03 which feels makes me feel like I’m freaking Scott Jurek.  I actually start passing people again, first tall guy and then short tan girl, both of whom had long left me in their dust, but now had both caught a case of the walksies. Then I start throwing down at mile 11. That usually means sub 6 pace, but today apparently it means blazing away at 9:30. This is fast enough however, to pass a bunch more people. I hit mile 12 and theres a cluster of completely confusing signs. I head off in one direction and have a painful realization I might be headed off on loop number 2 of this sufferfest. Oh hells no. I turned back around, and sure enough I had gone the wrong way and had given up my position to everyone I passed in the last mile. Just awesome. I start hauling it once I make it back on course and re-pass everybody on our little caravan of pain again. I have no idea where the finish is going to be, because my Garmin hits 13.1 and I dont know where I am. But I have a sense its close though, so I start sprinting. I pass Ken and Colleen Vowles at what turns out to be less than a quarter mile from the finish. They later said they thought I must of gone way off course, but in reality I think they were ahead of me the whole time. I finally reach a familiar clearing and see Ted and Rocky cheering me on, so I jump over a log and kick it to the finish, 2:14:25. 50th place out of 236.

Wow. Just totally spent – walked around in a haze for a good 5 minutes. One might think this is a one and done, but I’m sure this suffering will fade and I’ll be trying again next year. Apparently nothing motivates me more than failing abysmally at something. But next year I’ll bring toilet paper.

http://www.strictlyrunning.com/RESULTS/12XTERRA.TXT

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/197026882

Exactly how uncool I am, exhibit A

For the last four years, my family has rented a beach house for a week, the last 3 in Folly Beach. For most sane individuals, they would use the chance to relax on the beach and take it easy. All I could think of is plenty of flat roads to run on and a built in T1 and T2  in the driveway of the beach house. FYI,  open water ocean swims suck way worse than Lake Carolina.

Of course one of the great tragedies of beach week was actually missing a race, the Born in the USA 4 miler , no less. I was originally devastated when I looked for a race down in Charleston and couldnt find one. Lucky for me, 2 races popped up on the Charleston Running Club site a couple of weeks ago, so I felt it my executive duty to represent the original CRC in at least one of them. I was going to do both, but sometimes I actually show an ounce of restraint…sometimes at least.  The Xterra half marathon being this Sunday also may have weighed into my deicsion. My brother Ben and his wife Cindy were with us and we all  agreed to do the Johns Island race on the 4th. It was cool to get to race with Ben again, as it was at beach week last year that he took his first steps back toward running.  He was a cross country/track runner for Dutch Fork in the mid 90’s (PR 16:45!) but had been sidelined the last several years due to back injuries. I paced  the Boys and Girls Club 5k on Thanksgiving with him in a shade over 21 minutes. A few runs with him this week though, and I was more afraid of him just outright kicking my ass.

I had no idea what to expect about this race – it was being put on by the Extra Mile and it was billed as completely flat, and on a cross country style course, at a place called “Trophy Lakes”.  And there was beer afterwards. How perfect is that?

I got there about 45 minutes early, and alone, as my brother has a habit of getting an adrenaline boost from running perpetually late. Actually he showed up only 15 minutes later, so I was impressed. I did about a mile warmup with Ben and had a chance to meet fellow blogger Amy, who I had spoken to online but not actually in person. They call her the “Tiny Terror” and, true to her name, I was literally twice her size. http://proudpatriot07.wordpress.com/

Temps were of course crazy hot, being South Carolina in July. About 90 and wet blanket humid.

My first indication this race was old school was the lack of chip timing, and if that wasnt verification enough, the director drawing a start line in the trail with a stick may have been another subtle hint.  There were about a hundred people , I guess, at the race. Pretty big I thought for a race that’s kind of out of the way.  The director did the start and said made some joke about having the results posted sometime in the future, which didnt go over real well with me, since it takes like no time to do. After a guy had to move his car off the course, we got started.

Trails are like kryptonite to me as far as racing goes. I love to run them but usually do a lot of sucking in actual competition. I present my yearly Resolution run 10k results as convincing evidence. I had trouble with the start – trying to do 5k race pace with the wet blanket wasnt easy, and a complete lack of knowledge of the course and the other runners was disorienting. We did about a mile loop back near the start and headed out past one of the “trophy” lakes.  I’ve become such a triathlon training freak I forgot to switch my Garmin over to running, so all I was getting from the watch was my speed in miles per hour. It didnt feel particularly fast. At least my shoes were tied though. Right after the mile marker an older guy in a black tank passes me. Although it hurts my fragile ego, it actually helps me pace to have someone to keep up with . A pack of young elite looking dudes and 2 girls had left us in the dust , so I was mostly alone until he brought me back to reality. As I was blindly following this guy, I hear footsteps and fear that Ben is ready to take back the family running crown. Instead its a tall guy (later found out his name is Robert) who I’m deathly afraid might be a fellow age grouper. Although I’m relieved its not Ben, I’m still struggling to find my pace.  Now I’m chasing 2 guys. A girl in a black sports bra has now fallen off the front pack but is way ahead of us. After what seems like forever, I hit the 2 mile mark and can actually see where the rest of the course is going to go.

Time to throw down. I start really pushing the pace, and realize that I must of been going way too easy early on. I return the favor to Robert and black tank and then blast into some headless chicken action. My imaginary bike is going way over 10 miles an hour according to my Garmin. Black bra is way ahead but I’m starting to reel her in. The last stretch is a  flat and straight quarter mile through the dirt parking lot, and I can see the finish line from way out. Like Spinal Tap, I crank it up past 11 mph and start sprinting as hard as I can. Black bra , whom I had already given up to, was now coming into striking distance. Then I hear it from her girlfriends screaming “DONT LET HIM BEAT YOU!!! Ruh roh, someone just poured lighter fluid on the Blue Shoe fire.  Kicked it into yet another gear and Blue Shoed the Black Bra at about 14 mph maybe 20 meters before the finish. A most unchivalrous but glorious kick to finish in 19:49.

And its a good thing, because little did I know Ben was tracking me down until a little after mile 2 by his account. He finished in about 20:20 though started walking before the actual line since he thought the start of the chute was the end.  I took some pics after the race and Amy finished not not long after us.  Cindy is on the comeback after her last pregnancy and was trying to break 35 minutes. We found her at the straightaway at a surprising 29 minutes, and I seabiscuited her to a 30:30 or so finish. She Blue Shoed a girl right before the chute and outkicked her when she tried to re-pass. I was so proud!

Awards were surprisingly quick given the non-chip format. I actually had to do sub 7 pace on the last half mile of my cooldown when I heard them start. I took 1st in AG, and Ben and Amy placed as well. No trophies, but we got a nice pair of running socks, which beats medals in my opinion. They had a keg of Bud Light at the finish which was awesome, even at 9:30 am.

Oh, but still no results 4 days out. Almost perfect.

The Harden St downhill mile is the first of what will hopefully be three mile races descending into 5 points from various streets , ending at Strictly Running. Jordan Lybrand had talked about this at the last Columbia Run Club meeting, so we were able to add the series to the Tour de Columbia , which was promising for a decent crowd and good competition.

Although I love the mile and really want to lower my time, since I think I’m capable of better,  my original plan was to use the race to introduce little Alex, aka Blue Shoes Jr., to racing. I figured he could definitely do the distance and the downhill would help him get a decent time.

What I hadnt planned on was the heat. Sure,  late June in Columbia is not going to be chilly, but I figured it would be in the 80’s tops.  What I hadnt counted on was that this was THE HOTTEST DAY IN COLUMBIA EVER.  Seriously.  In a city whose slogan is “famously hot”.  As in a high of 109 degrees and temps still over 100 at race time.  Since heat stroke probably wouldnt give little Alex a great intro into racing, I scratched him from the race a couple hours before. He was so torn up about it he could barely manage a “thats OK” between a lego light saber battle on the Wii.

It then dawned on me that I’d be doing the race alone, and would have no excuse to run at 12 minute pace like I had planned. Yes, I could have used some restraint and just ran a tempo pace, but my figuratively and literally giant sized head wouldnt allow it. I pin that bib on and its GAME ON.  So what had been a relaxing Friday afternoon turned into a ball of pre-race anxiety over the heat and the inevitable suffering that would ensue. Can’t you tell why I love my sport?

I got to Strictly about an hour early only to learn the packet pickup was actually at the start, a mile down the road.  Just the walk from my car covered me in sweat. Total oven. Once at the start I debated just parking there and hanging out in the AC for a half hour, but then I thought about having to run back uphill in the heat after the race, so I opted for going back to the store. Jogged up to the start with Meg, who was racing the mile for the first time since high school in the mid 90’s. Ran into Diesel on the way, who had Diesel Jr in tow, ready to give the second generation of blue shoes a beatdown. Had to disappoint him with the no-show.  By the time I got to the start I was just drenched, wiped out after a 10 minute jog up the hill. The start area was kind of comical because everyone was congregated across the street in the only available shade.

I looked around and realized I knew over half the field, because this race was for the hardcore. The mile doesnt usually bring out a casual runner crowd anyway, but if you add  some 100 degree weather, only the obsessive show up. I might meet that description. Team Schmitz, John Richards, Teo, Rocky, Jennifer Lybrand, J-Reeves, Pete O’Boyle, Eric McMichael, Drews Williams and Soltau, Justin Bishop, OJ , Team Allers, Kenzie, Team Vowles and the Hewitts were some of the familiar faces. Only about 70 runners, but a super competitive field.

Course was straight down Harden, a little flat to rolling terrain at the top then a long descent into 5 points with a flat area for a couple of blocks at the end.  Strictly was offering 100 bucks to the first male under 4:20 and female under 5:20. No worry about me taking home any cash, but previous 100 dollar winner Kenzie was there to try and double up.  Bishop and a few other singlet dudes looked like they may have a chance, though.

I didnt really have a strategy for this race. Im sure coaches could wax poetic about the finer points of mile tactics, but my plan usually is to go out like a headless chicken, hold on, and race face it at the end. I dont think Running Times will be calling me anytime soon.

Start was crazy fast with all the sub 5 ers around. McMichael, who I identified as my main age group competition, took off like Usain Bolt and left me for dead. Without the regular warm up, plus no rest in training, made for a rough first quarter. I hadnt blasted any speedwork the last couple of weeks, so running mile pace felt like a sprint. I felt way back in the pack with all the speedsters, and it hurt my giant head.  The voices that usually whisper for me to stop in 5ks were now screaming. Into the second quarter I  felt better, surprisingly strong, especially with the downhill coming up. Invisible to the untrained eye, the Blue Shoes did get a little less Clydesdale-esque with all the tri training. I passed a few guys including one who dropped his key and had to stop and go back.  Meg, who had blasted out of the gates, was starting to get reeled back in, so I tried to pace by her.  I used the beginning of the downhill to make up some ground, because it turns out a boulder has more potential energy than a pebble on a hill. Although the legs were feeling strong, all of a sudden my lungs and throat started burning – really kind of alarming. I’m guessing the killer heat and the poor air quality from a fire in Cayce were combining to sandblast everything inside my chest. Passing by one of the cop cars also produced a wake of oven-like air that about killed me too. I finally reached Meg when the hill leveled out some and was able to pass her. After that was a pretty big gap so I ran the last quarter essentially by myself. I had no idea how fast I was going until I made out the clock at 5:10 or so, which was encouraging because I was afraid of being a lot slower. Tried to muster a kick,  but the burning lungs werent really helping. Kicked it in just enough to break 5:30, crossing at 5:29. Four seconds slower than my last mile, though it was about 30 degrees cooler then.  Ended up in 17th place, 3rd in AG if you take out OJ to the overall (2nd) . Just an insanely fast group.

Ended up with 9 sub 5 finishers, led by Drew Harris at 4:22. Bishop was upset with his 3rd place 4:28, but that is still pretty smoking fast.  The Drews finished in 5:04 and 05, so great races for them. McMichael again proved his dominance in the shorter distances with a 5:15, almost catching Eric Allers at 5:13.  Kenzie won another 100 bucks by winning the women’s race, clocking a 5:18.  I was wise to kick it in, because I had a pretty potent chase pack with Geary, Meg, Pete and Tigs all sub 5:50. J-Lybrand and Kristin both PRd I beleive with a 6:16 and 6:31 respectively. The Vowles definitely won fastest family, with mom, dad and son all finishing under 6:45. Diesel Jr would have destroyed the Blue Shoes Jr with an 8:10.   J-Reeves had to be coaxed out of a brief walk of shame, but still kicked it in to clock under 10 minutes.

Tri the Midlands is a part of Set Up Events SC triathlon series held in Lake Carolina, a planned community in Northeast Columbia. Its a sprint tri, with a 500 meter open water swim, 14 mile bike and 5k run.

Tri the Midlands is what I consider my first triathlon. Yes, there was an event where I attempted to do three sports in March (aka the Downtown triathlon) , where I learned the painful lesson that one does not do a tri on a whim. Especially if your swimming experience amounts to playing around in the pool.  Although that event was also a sprint tri, with the amount of energy I put into 500 meters of pool swimming, it might as well have been Kona. I have never been so tired in my life.

With that experience behind me, I was, needless to say, a little gun shy on signing up for another one.  After a few months, I made tentative plans to do the Tom Hoskins tri in late July, but then I heard Trophy , Diesel  and Charley were signed up for Tri the Midlands.  My original plan was to watch TTM and take pics, but after a month of training for Tom Hoskins, I decided to take the plunge with the guys and do this one.

One of my main concerns was the OPEN WATER. My technique of swimming the deep end of the pool and “swim walking” the shallow at Downtown was probably not going to cut it in this one. So I got in the pool. Repeatedly. Like almost every freaking day. Basically if I had a free moment I was thinking about ways to get a few laps in. I also read articles, and listened to whatever advice anyone would give me about swimming. If you think this is going to end triumphantly, dont. I still sucked. Lots of flopping around, gasping. Fighting the old ladies for space with their damn pool aerobics. However, I did get better. Not Michael Phelps better, but I progressed to where I could do 500, then 800, even 1000 meters without stopping. I figured training overdistance would help me finish and at least allay my crippling anxiety about drowning in the freaking lake. The word “overdistance” would definitely come into play later.

And then there was the bike, which I basically kind of neglected. The good thing about the bike is that you dont actually lose your life if you suck. I bought a road bike from Anton “Bodourov Method” Bodourov and trained enough to at least assure me I could handle the 14 miles. Trophy, Diesel , Charley and I did the course a couple times in the weeks leading up to the race. I was no champ on the bike but at least I could get through fast enough to give me a hope of some running glory.

I got to Lake Carolina about 6:45 after going over my gear about a million times, desperately afraid I would forget something. I laid everything out the day before but I’m the kind of moron that would bring everything except the bike. I actually had a fear on the way over that somehow I had left my front tire at home. Met Trophy, Diesel and Charley at the transition area and tried to set things up in a coordinated manner. From downtown, I remembered they put all the novices together, so everything was a little bit of a cluster on our rack. Luckily we had tri advisors the Howells and Schmitzes to combat our complete cluelessness.  Jen Hill, Teo , and Aubrey were some familiar faces from the running scene on hand. We went down to the water and saw the course. A little scary but not too bad. Diesel looked like he saw a ghost though. .

As mentioned, I signed up in the novice male category. Tris go out of their way to categorize everybody, so there were like 4 waves of people ahead of us.  Diesel had gone rogue at the last second and decided to go the “Clydesdale”  (200+ lbs) route, so he actually started ahead of us. We were all a little nervous, so we were glad we got to see Diesel go off first.  I guess the race got confused with Diesel switching,because they gave him a white swim cap, which I think was for the Athena (160+lb women) group. But this would not be his greatest shame of the day.  About 100 meters in, we saw signs of distress. Diesel was all over the place and had already retreated to the backstroke.  And all of a sudden ..the tapout. Rescue boat came over and picked him up. Under normal circumstances we would have found this extremely funny, but there was a stunned silence on the bank because all the green caps were thinking THAT COULD BE ME. 

THE SWIM

There were 17 novice males, but I still lined up front, not because I thought I was a stellar swimmer,but to avoid all the kicking and elbowing I heard goes on in the open water. And I started killing it. Pretty soon there wasnt even anyone around me. Wow, I must be really kicking some ass.  Looked up, saw the buoy, and I was already making good time. Then I smell gasoline and with a quick look up I see the motorboat, Diesel still aboard, and the captain motioning me to my left. I look left and I about have a stroke.  In all the hysteria of the start, I had somehow started sighting to buoy NUMBER TWO.  And not only was I off course but, WAY THE #$$% off course. Like 50-100 meters. I was actually closer to the people coming back than my own pack, which was now seemingly way off in the distance. Too add to my overall panic, the boat had managed to slap a half pint of gasoline water into my nose and I was treading water for a second trying to figure out what to do. I was dangerously close to being casualty number 2 when I just abandoned my swim form and kept my head up so I wouldnt waste any more time going off course. I finally made it to the first buoy with the next wave of novice females right on my tail. The second buoy was straight across about 50 meters, then back to shore. I just kept plugging away, setting world records for F-bombs in a tri the whole time. I finally caught the tail end of the green caps about 50 meters out and wasted even more energy thrashing to the shore trying to make up time. I was half delirious on the shoreline and could barely jog on the transition mat, but I was overjoyed just to be done. Kept cursing myself for wasting all that training in a couple of critical minutes at the start. I shouldn’t say wasted, actually, because my ass would have been in that boat without beating myself into submission at the pool for two months.

THE BIKE

I manage a feeble jog to T1 and start putting on my cycling shoes when Trophy comes running up. I half expected him to be in the boat too, but he had made it and I had lost any advantage that I thought the swim would give me (this is relative , novice advantage, not actual real swimmer advantage).  I manage to clip in cleanly on the first try but it doesnt help that I am toast. The swim, though not quite the epic cluster of the downtown tri, had left me pretty obliterated.  The whole way out of Lake Carolina I am definitely not setting any land speed records. Finally, about a mile or so in, my head starts to clear and my whole body isnt screaming for me to stop. And I actually start passing people, quite a few really. It should be noted that this is a bit of a fake-out, because the novice guys are the next to last wave, and just about everybody is ahead of you.  I am cycling scared though, because the one time I looked back, I was pretty sure Trophy was there.  All of a sudden I’m passed by some dude with the full tri-suit, 7000 dollar bike ensemble, and I dont know what to think. Then I realize he’s one of those “secret power” novices,  i.e. probably a cyclist doing a tri. I try to keep him in sight so he can get a dose of the Blue Shoe secret power.  Some tough hills in the middle of the course, and with the exposed part of Langford road, I’m starting to realize that it is definitely famously hot out. Blazing really. I am supremely thankful we finally hit a shady area with the turn back towards Lake Carolina. Unfortunately, I’ve also entered into a bit of a pissing match with some other guy. He keeps speeding up when I get close, and I’m deathly afraid of the tri police coming to penalize me for drafting. I’m also realizing that i havent hit my water bottle yet,  which is quite the challenge for the coordination impaired such as me.  I about wipe out when I hit a bump with water bottle in hand. This gives me a jolt of adrenaline, and I power past pissing match guy just before the mountain of a hill that’s the worst on the course. I power up the hill thining i’m a hero, and start gaining on the guy in front of me. All of a sudden I hear a noise behind me and figure its pissing match guy when…SONOFABITCH ITS TROPHY.  Trophy comes flying with sadistic grin on his face by at mach 3 while I’m spinning my small wheel like a toddler on a tricycle.  Now Im standing up and trying not to get dropped.  Trophy is tearing it up though and is still gapping me on the straightaway at the top of the hill.  Very slowly, I start to reel him in a bit. I’m getting pretty close when the last downhill stretch starts and he blows me away again. Do I have to suck on bike downhills too? He hits the transition area about 10 seconds ahead and I miraculously clip out of my pedals like Ive been doing it longer than the 3 days that I actually have.

Trophy and I somehow managed to draw consecutive numbers in the tri (I think they were thinking of a clueless, pale mid 30’s Irish dude category but decided against it) , so were flailing around in the same area in T2. I manage to knock off Trophy’s bike and then get both of our bikes tangled in a mad rush to transition. Luckily we get the bikes back on the rack (again lest the tri police come and assess their evil time penalties) and Trophy takes off while I’m left fumbling with my cycle shoes and running shoes. Its a full two minutes before I can get out of T2 and I figure I’ve just given Trophy the race.

THE RUN

But then I realize the run conditions. It is unbearably hot by this time, and this 5k course is a killer. Right off the bat and they make you run up a hill out of the Harborside subdivsion. And its like a carnage out there. People walking…barely moving. I cant be doing much faster than 8 minute pace, but in the setting of a 90 degree day against back of the pack tri competition, I feel like a complete stud.  Time for the secret power to be unleashed. But first of all, where the hell is Trophy. I get to the top of the first half mile hill and he’s nowhere in sight.  Just when I’m ready to hand him the race, I see a blue blur in the distance. And the trackdown commences. By the bottom of a crazy long downhill, I’m only about 30 feet back. I see Jen Hill motoring her way back to the finish, and I  know our times are going to be close, though I know I cant catch her. I see Greg Howell come by on his bike and immediately fear he’s given away my stealth factor on Trophy. But then Greg comes up to me and tells me I can probably get him on the next downhill. The middle of the 5k course is an insanely steep trek straight up the worst hill in Lake Carolina, then right back down again. I’m really laboring on this thing when suddenly Trophy slows to a walk of shame. I pass him with a probably similar sadistic grin and have a renewed burst of energy. Then I see Charley stop at the turnaround to get water, and I briefly run with him and then pass him on the downhill. The ensuing hike  up the previous crazy downhill is a total death march for the field, so by just maintaining a brisk jog I’m making up some serious ground. I’m finally fully into run mode and my pace starts to pick up, though the heat is getting really oppressive. By the time of the final downhill I’m in a full out sprint because I’m so ready to be done with this thing. I keep thinking I hear Trophy footsteps but they never materialize. Towards the finish chute I hear Crazy Legs and I swear he’s saying someone is about to pass me, so I pull a little sub 5 blast kick in and basically flop across the mat, completely beat. Finished the 5k in about 22 1/2 minutes, which considering the course, conditions, and my hellacious swim, I’m pretty happy about.  Total time 1:28:34.

It takes awhile to see the total results, since I’m way back in the pack. Yet, through some minor miracle, and almost all due to my run, I win first novice male.  I can’t believe it – totally thrilled since I had written off the whole race about 2 minutes into the swim.  113th overall, and about 15 minutes off the age group, but hey I’ll take it!  Kristin won her age group in a smokin 1:21 and finished 11th overall female. Aubrey Johnson also took home third in age group. William and Teo both crushed me with 1:24 and 1:22 respectively. Jen Hill managed a PR of 22 minutes faster than last year, though I should note, 1 minute slower than the Blue Shoes. Diesel came back from his boat trip and finished the race. He said he will compete in the Tom Hoskins…in the duathlon.

http://www.setupevents.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=event_detail&eventID=2043#age-group-results-text

Pics below are mostly from Jennifer Ward, with a few from Laura Howell , Greg Howell and myself.  Thanks to my loyal paparazzi!!

The Fort Jackson Awareness Ride is a 36 and 72 mile cycling event held at Fort Jackson on Father’s Day that gives to a nonprofit on base. This is apparently called a “gran fondo” because its timed, though not necessarily a race. I may be wrong, because I am completely clueless when it somes to cycling. But, as anyone familiar with me knows, once I clip on a bib and a chip  – its on like Donkey Kong.

Or not so much. This is my first cycling event, period.  I’m not counting my ill-fated tri  on a whim in March, because, well, that would be an insult to the sport.  I’ve been trying to train for my first real tri , Tri the Midlands, which is next weekend. I admittedly have given less time to the bike, because my fear of sucking it up cycling pales in comparison to my sheer terror of drowning in the open water swim. Thus, I’ve been making the Golds Gym pool my second home the last couple of months, but have been relegating my  cycling to the weekends and maybe once during the week.

Part of my lack of cycling has to do with it being so damn complicated. I’m used to putting on some shoes and heading out the door on a run. Cycling involves having equipment and trying to operate a machine which I am pretty much completely unfamiliar.  I went ahead and took the plunge a couple of months ago and bought Anton’s bike, and quickly realized there were a whole lot of things I was hopelessly clueless about. In other words, I am a Fred. Fred is apparently a term for newbie cyclists, which Diesel is particularly fond of.

The first thing I realized I needed was a helmet. This is unfortunate, because I have been blessed (cursed?) with one of the largest melons on the planet. Seriously, I have to special order hats. One-size-fits-all hats dont.  I have an ancient extra large helmet I bought about 15 years ago, which I used a few times and let it sit in storage. After using this helmet in the tri, I realized that a) It probably wasnt safe and b) I looked like a complete moron.  Looking ridiculous is something I deal with on a daily basis, but I figured the safety thing wasnt good.  Thus, I went online in a desperate search. They actually have sites dedicated to this kind of thing. Finally, I found the Bell XLV. Its product page mentions “some people with various medical conditions may have a need for an extra large helmet”. It previously was called “the Triton” and before that “The Kinghead”. Really, Bell?  I hear the name before that was the UltraMelon 5000.  Either way, that helmet had my name written all over it. Sure enough, it fit like a glove. Awesome.

Another equipment issue was the shorts. After a few rides in my running shorts, it became painfully evident I would need to get some cycling shorts, lest I wanted to get the sensory equivalent of a black mamba bite to the crotch every time I went more than 5 miles.  And then I got my gears cleaned, and a lock, and a light, and gloves, and a flat kit, and damn this was getting expensive. Not to mention the pedal issue. My bike came with shimano clipless pedals, so I agonized over whether I would get the cycling shoes versus the old school platforms. In the meantime I realized I could pedal with regular shoes on top of the clipless, so my lazy butt never got around to doing one or the other. So apparently Ive chosen to handicap my already questionable biking ability by being remarkably inefficient.

But I digress.  I got to the Fort about 45 minutes early, and registered. I finally managed to put my front tire on in a reasonably smooth manner, rather than the bumbling and stumbling that I usually do. Mark, who has been cycling for years, thankfully showed up and helped me with my tires, one of which I had managed to completely deflate with my new pump.  Fortunately for our training group, Mark has provided a much needed guiding influence against the tidal wave of Freddery going on every time we try to ride.

There were over 160 cyclists in this event, so a pretty impressive crowd. I only knew a few of them, but Ken Lowden and most of his training group was there. My Blue Ridge Relay captain Pete O’Boyle showed up. Team Schmitz was there, of course. Kat and Kimi were manning the registration. After the national anthem and a brief prayer we were off. I made sure to keep to the back, because there were lots of people all tricked out in fancy uniforms and bikes that look like (and probably do) cost more than my Saturn.  Some serious traffic in the early going as some people were just there for the ride while others were apparently looking to qualify for the Tour de France.

The course is a 12 mile loop around the Fort, 3 laps for the 36 and 6 for the 72. I shouldnt have to tell you that I opted for the 36. This was already 22 miles more than I had ever done.  First couple of miles were mostly downhill, nice cruising. This was going to be easy! Then came the turn onto Dixie Road. Dixie apparently was one evil bitch, because this road just kept ascending. Sure there were a few rolls downhill, but it felt like mostly climb. I has heard that there was a killer hill near Wildcat Rd, and as we approached Wildcat, there was a half mile quad buster. I dropped down to the small wheel and was dying already. Finally we made the turn and had a nice downhill. Then I realized that horrific Dixie stretch was just a warmup for the real hill. As soon as the downhill ended, a mountain arose and all of a sudden I’m standing up in the lowest gear trying to power up this thing. I get to the top and promptly get Schmitzed by Crazy Legs.  Passes me like I’m standing still, while I’m sucking some serious wind. The rest of the loop was yet more rolling hills and my small wheel was getting more and more action.  I slowed down because this was not good to be likt this on loop freaking one. Finally got back to the start in a shade over 40 minutes.

And then I got passed by more people, this time a group with Schmitz #2, Kristin. I actually did keep up with these guys for a few miles, but once we hit Dixie again I was left in their dust. Loop 2 was even more fun. Basically all the quad burning action of Loop 1 with that previously mentioned Black Mamba effect mixed in. I was able to handle Mt Wildcat a little better, finding the right gears more quickly and using more of my momentum form the previous downhill. I did manage to pass a few people, though  I think a few returned the favor as well.  Clock was at 1:23 at the second loop finish, so I had slowed down by a few minutes, but not too bad.

Loop 3 was actually a little better. I think my legs had started to get acclimated to this different kind of abuse and were not complaining as much. The same could not be said for the nether regions. The Black Mamba had invited the two cobras from the downtown tri and it was getting tough to sit down. Damn tri pants. Need to get one of those pillow butted cycle shorts.  Dixie and Wildcat were so much more fun the third time around. On the other hand,  I was getting a crash course in gear shifting that seemed to be helping.  At the top of Mt Wildcat I heard voices, and sure enough, I got the lap of shame from a peloton of Lance Armstrong types pulling about 20+ mph on a 10 percent grade.  I even got a “good job” from their leader.  Ouch.  This was of course the first of a couple more lappings that happened in the next couple miles. My only solace is that I managed not to get passed by other Freds on basically the whole loop. Finished in 2:07 on the nose, with a 43 minute split almost identical to loop 2.

I’m pretty happy with the result, as I’m definitely (obviously) still  learning things. Number one is to get a pair of freaking cycling shoes.  No need to do extra work when you already suck.  Hopefully I can use this experience to help with my 14 miles at the tri next week. If I dont drown, of course.

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/189915735

http://www.strictlyrunning.com/RESULTS/12FORTJACKSON.TXT

http://www.photoreflect.com/store/thumbpage.aspx?e=8559480