The Springdale 5k is a race held near the Springdale horse track in Camden, going to benefit the Kershaw County United Way. I first got interested in this race in its first year in 2009. At that time, it was called the Springdale at Sunset, since it was held at 7 pm, and was actually staged on the horse track itself. All I remember from that race is that it was 94 degrees at race time, and the grass was ankle length the whole way. I died a thousand deaths on that course that night, going out too fast and then almost walking in the last mile. I got into an epic pissing match with Chad Long, with him passing me 200 meters from the finish and then me blowing by him right before the tape. One of my deepest race photo regrets was not buying the whole 8 pic montage of that incident, complete with horrific race faces and a sweaty, bare bellied contortion at line, where I leaned at the tape like an Olympic 100 meter final. Strictly Running, if you have these in your vault somewhere, I will pay a premium for their recovery. I did get the “win” though, a meaningless 8th place over 2 minutes slower than my PR at the time.

2009: http://sc.milesplit.com/meets/55153/results/93778/raw#.V7oXt5grLIU

2010: for grins and giggles: http://sc.milesplit.com/meets/77626/results/126802/raw#.V7odmJgrLIU

But that was many years ago. Sadly, they’ve moved the race off the track and into the surrounding neighborhoods. It certainly has made for a more comfortable race, but they’ve taken away the post race party with beer and music they had in 2009.  I had missed the race for a few years before coming back in 2015, fresh off a summer plagued with injury and low mileage. As my melon headed grandiosity is wont to think, I went out last year like I was in the peak of fitness, only to suffer one of the most painful last miles of all time. I almost walked and ended up with a 20:40, my slowest time in years. To make things worse, Brandenburg was on hand to revel in my shame. See below:

A year later, having had a much more productive summer, I hoped to erase that miserable death march from my memory.

Course Map

The map, of course, doesn’t do the route justice. Basically you drop in elevation almost the entire first half, lulling you into a false sense of confidence. You then make that turn on Forest drive and then realize, oh yeah, this is a loop course and you’re going to have to climb all the way back. Don’t forget you’re in South Carolina in August. Fun times. None of it is super steep, just unrelenting and  when your legs and lungs are toast. Be forewarned.

I showed up on race day my usual hour early, but spent most of it avoiding a warm up in the heat. To be fair it wasn’t super hot , but the rain the night before rendered some sauna-like conditions. 75 degrees and 89 percent humidity per Garmin. Erin Roof and Eggplant Events, along with Start2Finish timing always do a good job with the set up and things were going smoothly. Sadly, I missed the elaborate packet pickup event they had the night before. I’m all for pre-race parties but I wasn’t making the hour round trip to  Camden for that. I was pretty impressed with the horseshoe trophies and post-race waffle station they were setting up.

I did a solo mile warmup and tried to scope out the competition.  Chandler Barrett’s sister from last weeks Press Box 5k points me out as “that guy who wrote the article about my brother”.  Lolz. I didn’t see any adult elites, though Parker Roof was on hand and a pack of teens I assume were Camden high cross country. The holy grail was probably off the table. In my range, there was only Wilson Harvey and Whitney Keen  I recognized. Since I was out of Columbia though, you never know which randoms might come out and steal your trophies. We would see. John Gasque, Rocky Soderberg, Pete Poore, Brigitte Smith were the CRC regulars on hand. Betsy and Chad Long, Kara Clyburn, Martie McCallum (taking pictures)  and Caroline and Julia Keen were representing for the Camden/Lugoff/Elgin contingent. Kerry Stubbs was there for RWB.

In case you had any wonder why I call myself a Sasquatch – photo courtesy of Martie McCallum

Starting horn goes off and we get released on the roller coaster downhill of the first mile. Parker and the Camden kids sprint out ahead of me. As we plunge down the hill, a guy with grey hair and a sleeveless tech shirt pulls alongside of me. I always worry about the superfit soccer dad types but this guy may be another trophy stealer, the aging elite. Aging elites ran like 15 minute 5ks when they were younger but still throw down 19’s in their 50’s and 60’s and take my precious masters points. Dave Geer pulled this trick on me at the Richland RUNS 10k in 2014 – I try to hang with an unassuming 60 year old guy , and he ends up spanking me in 37 minutes and sets at a state age group record. That was before I knew who he was. The guy this morning seems pretty fit but he drifts back at about the half mile mark. As we near the mile mark, another guy pulls up alongside the Albino Sasquatch freight train, who I recognize as leading the high school guys on their warm up run. I tell him how nice it is to have all this downhill, but how that trip back isn’t going to be so much fun. I was just running my mouth but I think it ended up coming out as some kind of psychological warfare. Either way, he drops back just after we pass the mile mark in a brisk 6:06.  Most of the downhill has faded away by this point but at least its flat on 5 Bridge Rd and Brook Dr .

At 1.69 miles is the turn on to Forest Drive and you’d better be ready. Nothing but a gradual incline all the way back. I know its coming, but it still sucks. The pace feels a lot slower as we start slogging up the hill – again, not steep but gradual and unrelenting. Since I spend much of my time suffering on the mountainous entrance road to Sesqui park, I can feel the hill engine kick into gear. Mile 2 passes in 6:18, so still pretty good. I know mile 3 is all uphill. A couple of the kids and some fit-looking 20 something guy have paid the price for their sub 6 first mile as the incline and the warm blanket humidity start to take their toll. I pass these guys and plow ahead, arms churning and trying to lift those legs. By 2.5 miles in I’m starting to hurt pretty bad myself. I keep having hallucinations that the finish is just around the next turn , but I keep getting disappointed until I start checking my watch to prevent any further mirages. I am pretty much toast at this point until I realize the runner up ahead is Parker Roof, and he’s looking back. This gives me a jolt of adrenaline and I try to surge ahead. I start making up some ground but just as I make some headway, the real finish appears. I figure I’m running third and definitely first guy that can legally buy a beer, because there were just high school kids at the front. I see the clock turn over to 19 from way out and I sprint to the finish in 19:28 and change, flopping on the gravel over the line. I just can’t coast on in, apparently. Erin makes sure to capture my gravel road love making in all its ugliness.

Dr. Pasty Thighs

I’m so sure I got third I don’t bother to check the results until Erin tells me Parker took 3rd and was feeling pukish at the finish. I guess turning around and seeing my third mile kick is scary enough to turn the stomach. Turns out there were 2 kids up ahead and I actually took 4th . But hey, I’ve got 25 years on all these guys, so I was pretty jacked. 1:12 faster than last years debacle and first masters – pretty sweet. Good thing Springdale regulars Brandenburg and Bedenbaugh stayed home!

In the overall, Garrett Lawson and Samuel Messinides took the top 2 spots with Parker 3rd. Sharon Cole took yet another win among the women, with Whitney and Caroline’s daughter Julia placing 2nd. Laura Holt placed 3rd. In masters, Kara Clyburn took 2nd without any idea what masters is, since she just turned 40. I told her its awesome to be old. Emily Skufka and Heather hawn placed 1st and 3rd. Whitney Keen took 2nd masters among the men.

Age group honor roll: Wilson Harvey set out to break 20 and did just that with a 19:53 and a 25-29 win. Garrick Douglas placed 1st in the 30-34, with Melinda Kurhan 3rd. Chad Long finally recovered from the 2009 showdown and took 1st in the 40-44. Caroline Keen won the 40-44 women in a very good day for team Keen. My med school classmate Michael Nienhuis won the 45-49 with Mark Chickering 2nd. Joe Roof crushed the 50-54 by 6 minutes.  John Gasque took 2nd in the 55-59, with Pete Poore taking the 60-64. Brigitte Smith continued her domination of the 65-69, while Henry Holt and Rocky Soderberg placed 1st and 3rd in the 70+. Great turnout for this race and a big enthusiastic presence by Camden High – nice job to Erin Roof for continuing her awesome race directing with Eggplant.

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/1312927143

http://racesonline.com/events/springdale-5k/results/2016

I’ll admit, this was a complete, unabashed trophy hunt. After suffering a world of hurt at the Press Box 5k, I came home and crashed for a couple of hours. Like zonked out, totally asleep. I woke up and felt a lot better, and then I remembered there was a second Tour de Columbia race that night. My insider sources told me there was going to be a meager turnout, which I expected with the Press Box and 811 races in the morning. I was fully expecting to be doing something that evening, but it turns out my social director let me know there was nothing on the schedule. I tried to resist my addiction all afternoon, but eventually I succumbed to the urge to double dip at the Philip’s Nighttime 5k. This was a race at 7 pm , at Lake Carolina, only about 15 minutes from my house. I was in.

Surpisingly, these delayed double dips are actually more tricky than the more typical morning races in rapid succession. Almost 12 hours is plenty of time to get tight and sore, and to lose all motivation to race. But I had studied under the tutelage of the great double dippers before me, like John Gasque, Pete Poore and William Schmitz, and I was now a total professional. My PhD thesis was the 2013 March triple dip, 3 5ks in less than 3 hours, with a total spanking of Trophy McGaha in the final race. Such a beautiful thing.

I showed up super early to Phillip’s and there were only a handful of people there, none of which I knew. Shannon, Jeff, George and Susannah were there for Jackrabbit Timing. They confirmed only about 20 people registered. Bad for the race, good for the trophies. I have zero shame when it comes to shooting for the holy grail, the overall victory. Plus, Lake Carolina was the scene of one of my few wins, a 2013 New Years day 5k put on by Velocity Distance Project, a one-and-done race with very little evidence of my victory against like 30 other people. I did a solo warmup of about a mile which was pretty miserable. It was just like Press Box only about 15 degrees hotter. To boot, Shannon informed me of the course, which I recognized as the Harborside Lights 5k route. This hilly monster produces slow times even in December.

But maybe I could mail it in. Jonathan Kirkwood showed up, though, and this made me a little scared. True, I knew Jonathan hasn’t broken 20 minutes, but I was weakened and he had put up a good fight at Hot Summer’s Night. Plus, he’s like 60 pounds lighter than me. Damn, I was going to have to try.

There was a bit of a delay in the start, but apparently it was for the RD to assure everything was in place before they got started. I wasn’t complaining, figuring every minute meant a little but cooler. Probably 90 degrees at the start, high humidity. I didn’t recognize it at the time, but we seemed to be starting at a random point in Lake Carolina’s Town Center, away from the Harborside start line. Only about 20 people at the start. Melinda and Reese Petruzzi were also double dipping. Rocky, Jonathan and Katharina Vorhauer were the only other people I recognized. There were a couple of other fit guys that concerned me, but I think both had headphones, which I rarely see with runners under 7 minute pace.

With the start, Jonathan takes off like a beast and I am caught by surprise. It’s not 100 meters in and I’m already running faster than I had planned. The lead cop car pauses at the middle of the divided lake carolina drive entrance road, and Jonathan turns left into the oncoming traffic. Holy crap. I’m hugging the right side of the lane as traffic comes to a momentary standstill. Jonathan starts to veer off to the left at the traffic circle so I yell at him to come back to the course. He responds by jumping right in front of an SUV, scaring me to death. Dude means business. The first mile is almost all downhill through Harborside. Kirkwood is crushing it downhill, like a springy gazelle behind a lumbering grizzly. This grizzly is trying to rein it in a bit because a) I’m not sure how much is in the tank after Press Box and b) the remainder of the course is an unrelenting hell. Ok , I may be exaggerating a bit, but you have to climb right back out of Harborside and then scale a miserable out and back mountain loop.

We hit the bottom of the Harborside loop at the lake and I’m sitting about 10 meters back. We make the turn and the hill going back up hits like a ton of bricks. Mile 1 in 6:23, though it felt faster. Jonathan is still a little bit ahead and I briefly consider the thought of letting him go. It would be nice to take it easy, Jonathan would get the win and everything would be great, right? WHO AM I KIDDING? Yeah, I would probably blue shoe my mom if it meant getting first place. Less than half way up the hill I’ve made up the gap and surge to the front. Oh God – I’m on my own now, hopefully. Just don’t blow yourself up. I’m hurting by the time we finally get back onto Lake Carolina Drive and mercifully there’s an immediate plunge downhill (which I know I’ll get the privilege of climbing back up on the way back).  I hit the bottom of the valley and then here comes the pain. A half mile straight up. The first part seems OK but pretty soon the 93 degree heat starts taking its toll. By the time I near the turnaround it feels like I’m barely moving and sucking some serious wind. Split is 6:43, slowest 5k mile in a long time. I’ll take it considering the double dip and the conditions, though. I’m not sure where Kirkwood is, but I’m sure he’s lurking not too far behind.

Just after the mile 2 mark is the plunge back down the half mile hill. Legs are toast at this point. Just flopping down the hill as hard as I can go. One last steep hill to go. I’ve got nothing left, but seeing the Town Center sign up ahead surges the adrenaline. Rounding the last turn I can make out the clock and I’m shocked to see it still in the 18’s. I can’t hear anything behind me but I make sure to sprint it out to make sure. I cross in 19:15, 1st overall! Garmin shows a super short course at 2.97, which makes sense since we got about a couple hundred meters head start from where we were supposed to begin.

OK, so winning a 21 person race probably isn’t something to brag about, but crossing that finish line first never gets old. Second holy grail of the year! Nice lamp as the trophy too.

In the overall, Kirkwood easily got 2nd in 20:10, followed by Stephen Barlow. Sonya Sumpter-Green won the women’s race followed by Carrie Miller and Sierra Sumpter. Rocky Soderberg and Melinda Petruzzi also scored some trophies, placing 3rd male masters and 1st female masters respectively.  In the age groups, Reese Petruzzi won 2nd and Jeremy Vorhauer 3rd in the 0-14 with Jacqueline Vorhauer 2nd among the girls. Katharina Vorhauer won the 35-39.

Click to access OverallResults.pdf

Click to access ResultsByAgeDivision.pdf

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/1302495511

The Able Club Race to the Press Box is now in its 3^rd year, directed by runner and softball mom extraordinaire Amanda Holland and going to benefit Lugoff-Elgin’s Dorton/Evans Scholarship fund. I did the race 2 years ago when it was in May. Then I gave Lady McGaha and Whitney Keen a beatdown after an early challenge, but got smoked by Bedenbaugh and Heather Costello. Heather ended up winning the whole thing.

Last year the race coincided with a couple of other events, so I ended up missing it. To avoid conflict this year,  Amanda moved the race to the current date in August. I am a sucker for small town races – always good for a change of scenery, and of course the smaller crowds amp up the trophy opportunities.

Speaking of amped up, I was pretty jacked about last week’s Hot Summer Night – a 19:15 on a brutally hot night and actually a 2016 PR. Code Brown was so demoralized he had to phone in a 22 minute effort after the Sasquatch pulled away. Even though I knew the Press Box has a longish course (though certified), its rural site and competition with the ridiculously cheap 811 5k sent my trophy sense a-tingling.

So what do I do to prepare? Everything you shouldn’t.  I got home late from work on Friday and did a brisk, hilly 4 miler in the 95 degree heat. Came home in a dehydrated sweaty mess and then left for the Fireflies game less than an hour later. Four bud lights, a crap-ton of really bad ballpark food and a long game with fireworks meant I didn’t get to bed until almost midnight. My 1995 self would scoff at this “night out” but my 41 year old self knew this would not be pretty in the morning.

And oh was I right.  Alarm rang and it felt like I had passed out in the Sahara desert.  All cottonmouthed and the stomach was none too happy. Apparently draining a gallon of sweat out and then replacing it with watery American macrobrew is not a recipe for good hydration. In addition to feeling sleepy-tired , I was double fisting Gatorade and coffee on the way to my morning date with the Lugoff-Elgin stadium restroom.

Luckily, Lugoff is only about 20 minutes from my house, actually closer than a lot of Columbia races. I was still running late though, as my stomach waged an unholy war against the Single A league ballpark soft tacos. Dear God make it stop. I finally emerged sweaty and victorious, but I had less than 15 minutes until race time, so I did a half lap on the track and a few stretches before they called us to the start line. My trophy hopes were dashed immediately with the presence of Columbia’s running power couple, OJ Striggles and Shawanna White. Plus, my nemesis Drew Williams was on hand to probably give me the beat down too. Robbie McLendon, Betsy Long, Melinda and Reese Petruzzi, John Gasque, Pete Poore, Rocky Soderberg, Henry Holt, Andrew Lipps, Heather Costello, Brigitte Smith, Caprice Poore and the Robertsons were some familiar faces.

After having high hopes the past week, my race strategy morphed into just surviving by this point. In addition to the tenuous state of my belly, I was facing about 80 degree heat with high humidity. Plus, I knew the course to be slightly uphill most of the second half. Let’s not forget the zero warmup. This was going to be ugly.

Sure enough, the gun goes off and there’s no denying, everything feels like crap. Shawanna and OJ separate out right away with some teenager latching on. Drew and Heather are the next ones back, followed by a few teens and finally me. First mile is a good one for a fast start , since it’s a gradual downhill where you can go hard and not have to brake. Without the warmup, my legs are still ridiculously tight and everything feels sluggish. My morning routine was so chaotic that I forgot my sunglasses, so of course now I’m completely blinded running right into the sun. Drew is starting to pull away but there’s not much I can do.  After replaying this Debbie Downer stuff in my head for a while, I realize we are nearing the mile marker as the course starts to level out. I am sure it’s going to be close to 7 minute pace when my Garmin suddenly spits out a 6:10. WTH?I’m totally confused but I know it’s legit as I know the course. Williams and maybe Costello must have gone sub 6.

The downhill mile must have been good for my system since I think the Bud Light toxins got flushed out and the legs finally start moving again. This is good, because the course is done with its fun and games and is about to get real Janet Jackson nasty in a second. Somehow I manage to pass Heather early in mile 2 and do a few short turns before we hit a long straight hill (I think Critzer dr if I’m reading the map correctly). Suprisingly, I can see Shawanna and OJ up ahead with the lead police car, so OJ is clearly just pacing with her and Shawanna is probably mailing it in too. The teenager has fallen back quite a bit near Drew. We’ve already done some climbing, so I seem to remember that most of the rest of the elevation gain is on this hill, with mostly flat thereafter (editor’s note: this is dead wrong by my garmin data, all slow uphill to the finish). I almost caught Coach B on the hill in 2014 until he had enough of some pasty Sasquatch trying to steal his thunder.

I decide to push most of my metaphorical chips in the table at this point, figuring that the hills have always been my friend. I power up all of Mt. Critzer as best I can, arms pumping and fighting the morning sun.  By the time I reach the top I’ve reeled in Drew pretty close, with the kid not too far in front of him. Mile 2 was right near the summit, 6:25 split. By this time the heat has really built up and I am definitely starting to hurt, my only solace being that these guys went out way faster than me and may be dying more. I finally catch Drew after taking a painfully long time to close the gap. I’m pretty sure he could see my giant shadow lurking behind him. The kid had no idea what was going on because all of a sudden he jumps back in apparent fright when he feels a rabid bear barreling down on him. He looks pretty fit, so I can only think he’s toast for making the very bad decision to try and hang with Shawanna and OJ.  Dude, I could have told you that. After passing him I start to recognize the area near the stadium so I give it all I’ve got…which is pretty much nothing at this point. The engine is overheated and I am dying a slow death. I finally hit the track for the painful half lap to the finish. I usually love the track, but it feels like an oven out in the sun. Up ahead I can make out the red numbers and its getting close to 20. Damn, I forgot this course was a little long (3.16-3.20 by informal survey). I launch into full headless chicken mode, form going completely to hell. I slap my Garmin just as I hit the mat – 19:59.9. YES. I knew Strictly’s timing system would round it up to 20 flat, but at least I could rest assured that ugly display was not all for naught (Ashley from SR also verified a 19:59 and change by the official time).  Mark Robertson captured the horrific scene on video and Nicole captured a race face for the ages:

In the overall, Shawanna took the win in 19:10 with OJ a step behind.  Easy money for both. Sasquatch and the kid (Chandler Barrett)  finished the podium for the guys while Heather Costello and Sharon Cole placed 2^nd and 3^rd for the women.

Age group honor roll (awards were rubber footballs,  really cool) : Amanda’s daughter Sophie won the women’s 15-24. Heather Costello and Betsy Long won the women’s 35-44 , while myself and Drew went 1-2 among the men.  Andrew Lipps placed 3^rd in the 45-54, with Sharon Cole winning among the women.  The 55-64 was a CRC sweep with Robbie McClendon, John Gasque and Pete Poore. Melinda Petruzzi won the women’s 55-64. Henry Holt and Rocky Soderberg won 1^st and 3^rd in the 65-98 men, with Brigitte Smith claiming the women’s top spot.

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/1301623615

http://www.strictlyrunning.com/json/Index_JS_C4.asp?uRaceId=2344

Hot Summer’s Night is one of the oldest races in Columbia, run continuously since my senior year in high school (1993), and is usually the most competitive race of the summer. It’s a companion race to the younger Cold Winter’s Day and put on by Strictly Running, so it’s always high quality.

But…I first ran this race in 2009, and I think I swore I’d never do it again. Not anything against the race organization, it’s just that this race is very, very aptly named. Early August is usually in the deepest depths of the Dante’s inferno we call Columbia in the summertime. This race starts at 7 pm, which usually means it hasn’t cooled down past 90. I was oblivious to these obvious facts in my first attempt, and even brought my whole family out to watch me. My then 4 and 6 year old did the kids run around the Hand Middle School cinder track and loved it. Me, not so much. I went out like a bat out of hell, not having any idea what heat can do to your race times. I was pretty much delirious at the finish – I was walking around moaning and tossing off my shoes, pouring water over myself. Like most of my race performances, it wasn’t pretty. I did manage a 21:36, which was a decent time for me then, but I about donated lunch and my consciousness in the process. I didn’t know hardly anyone at the time, but I see from the results all the beasts were there back then too. And of course Micah beat me by a second. https://results.active.com/events/hot-summer-night-5k–3/5k    Garmin (with post-race delirium included) : https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/40235793

With the little munchkins (now almost 11 and 13)

Of course, the suffering fades with time, and inevitably I did the next couple of HSN’s.  Although I was getting much faster at other, non-nuclear-hot races, my HSN course record clocked in at just a shade under 20 minutes (19:56 in 2011). The years since have been interrupted by my family’s yearly week at Folly Beach, so either I wasn’t there or had just returned that day from a week of working out with 12 ounce bottles. The only year we didn’t do Folly was in 2013, where I decided to become an orthopedic trauma case instead.

I thought I might use vacation as an excuse this year, but sadly checkout was 10 am at our rental condo. I was back in Columbia by 1 and even got a nice nap in too. Time to man up. I’ve spent this whole summer ( including at Folly) torturing myself in the oven of late summer afternoons, so hopefully this would bode better than 2009. Last week’s Race for the Case (19:33) was decent, though it did involve getting a beatdown by Drew , wresting the holy grail overall win from my clutches. Damn you, Mr. Williams. Folly training included a Sunday run with the Tiny Terror and the OnShore recreation group – they have a great scenic route and even have beer at the finish. Highly recommend.

I carpooled with the Code in my beat up 2005 honda pilot, mostly to save his sports car/sex machine from what would assuredly be a tidal wave of sweat on the ride home. Beasts from near and far were at this one. I’m not there more than a few minutes before Brandenburg comes rolling up, presumably coming out of his tri season to kick my ass. Luckily, he was just there to work the race, along with most of the other Strictly team peeps (Erin Suttman, Jen K, Jason Dimery, Mike Hedgecock, Jonathan Kinsey, Barb, Linn, Erin Miller and RD Mark Bedenbaugh).  Shawanna and OJ were there on their second race of the day, having suffered the misery (and both winning) of the Little Mountain 5k in the morning. Angel showed up for yet another age group showdown. Randy was back at it after a rough couple of weeks. I was parked next to the Yerg, who has a Blue Shoes voodoo doll ever since my surprise Stomp the Swamp victory last year. TUS was well represented with Kana Rahman, Colleen Vowles with son Danny, Justin “Gary Johnson 2016” Bishop, Roy Shelley, Sara Bonner, Greta Dobe, Tracy Tisdale-Williams, Stephanie “Stevie D” Dukes, Michael Nance, Sheila Bolin, Bruce Edmonds, and Mike Compton. Joyce wasn’t racing but brought her Team Utopia Youth group, a bunch of pre-teens that can flirt with a sub 20 (Connor Forche, Tyler Miles, Camden Forche, Wyatt Wilson, Trapp Bryan, Danny Vowles, Wesley Bumgarne, Ethan Kurtz). Eddie Trackstar,  ex Dutch Fork/current Clemson runner Roland Hakes, Greenville stud Brett Morley and ageless beast Eric Ashton ramped up the elite factor. The OG Robbie McLendon was on hand for race number 2 of the day as well. RU Running brought out Albert Anderson and Gregory Jones, Sr.  I finally saw Howie Phan again after he blew by me at mile 10 in Boston. Good to see Billy Tisdale making a long awaited return after racing mostly in Sumter the past year. Shirley Smith, Ron Hagell, Melinda and Reese Petruzzi, Beau Long, Larry Bates, Ken Bolin, all the McGrievys (Brie, Matt, Sabine and Quentin), Arnold Floyd, Rocky Soderberg, Henry Holt, Lynn Grimes, Brigitte Smith, the Weavers (Jessica, Rich and Susan), Kerry Stubbs, Johnathan Kirkwood and Hou Yin Chang were some other familiar faces. Sarah and Eric Allers were on hand to spectate.

After a mile or so warmup, there was no mistaking – this was going to be rough. Totally sweat soaked in 10 minutes. Garmin read it as 91 degrees, 63 percent humidity and a heat index of 105. Yikes. I knew this course pretty well – just a loop of rectangles in the mostly flat Shandon area. Last week’s Race for the Case was basically a preview, using an almost identical route. I figure definitely masters and probably age grouping are not in the cards, so I would try to run my own race.

Liz Locke started us and the pace was insanely fast at the start with all the competition. I’m full of fear with this level of heat but I also don’t want to start too slow like last weekend. Something about 6:20 was my goal.  Joyce’s kids are out in front of me in the early going, so my ego is getting bruised right away. I manage to pull ahead of them after the first loop near Hand and focus on pacing behind Angel. Legs feel surprisingly fresh, coming after a rest day on Friday but also some serious stairclimbing packing up from the condo in Folly. We hit mile 1 right at 6:22 though it felt faster. I keep wondering “where the hell is the Code?”, but in my mind he’s lurking right behind me like a pale, hairy ghost. Mile 2 is always tough for me on this course. You’re still going away from the start and there’s a nasty little incline before the turnaround at Prospect St. At some point Angel falls back suddenly along with Johnathan Kirkwood. The heat is starting to take its toll. I’m definitely sucking wind but I get a major adrenaline jolt seeing the field start to reel back towards me.  Mile 2 comes back in 6:29, which kills me since I thought I was speeding up. I have a vague memory of them giving out mardi gras beads at this point, which I decide against at the last minute. I thought I might have to flash my manboobs or something.With a mile to go I have that rare sense that I have a fair amount left in the tank. Time to push in all the chips if I want to have a glimmer of hope for bling in this one. Ramping up the pace, I pass a bunch of people on the backstretch on Wilmot. Somehow I’m closing in on Mike Nance, which absolutely means something is not right with him (his PR is right around 18 flat). I see Yerg up ahead too, though he seems to be moving at his usual pace. I pass Nance on the last little mini loop before the final stretch on Duncan and run like hell. My early kick is definitely catching up to me by the time I hit Duncan, the taste of death and lungs are at the back of my throat. BUT I MUST HAVE MY TROPHY. Barreling down Duncan I can see the finish line in the distance, with the red numbers providing a cocaine-like jolt through my system.  But wait a second, some joker is not taking too kindly to being Sasquatched. I can hear his footsteps and breathing like a rabid grizzly bear tracking me down. Hells to the no. I had just passed a couple of aging superfit dad types in the last bit, so one of these suburban gladiators was probably trying to rob me of my glory. I fall into one of my finishing teeth-gritting, fist-pumping, head-flopping maniac kicks. Women and children go scattering as they avert their eyes from one of the ugliest scenes in Shandon that night. Up ahead the red numbers flip over to 19 and I blast to the line at 1000 percent effort, flopping like a dead fish on the pavement. 19:16.

I make it to my feet after about 30 seconds and then have to sit on the curb for a second to fight the urge to puke or die. But hey, its my best time in months under absolutely horrible conditions, so I will take it. I’m thrilled to look at the results and see that, inexplicably, I took 1st in age group (though 40 yo Striggles took 1st masters and was obviously ahead of me). Sure enough, 40 year old Collin Webster finished a step behind me in 2nd at 19:18. I guess I can thank him for the many ugly finish photos on facebook this morning.

In the overall, Brett Morley took the win over Roland Hakes 15:35 – 16:05, with OJ Striggles third. Shawanna White was the ladies’ champion in 18:39 to complete her double dip. Emily Letts and Janay Chisholm finished 2nd and 3rd. In masters, Colleen Vowles took the women’s win, with OJ winning among the men. Grandmasters had Alsena Edwards and Gregory Jones, Sr. as champions.

Age group honor roll: Sabine McGrievy took 3rd in the girls 2-10. Connor Forsche won the boy’s 2-10 with Tyler Miles 3rd. Mike’s son Myles Hedgecock won 2nd in the 11-14. Kenneth Vowles placed third in the 15-17. Eddie placed 2nd in the 20-24 men with new TUS member Bruce Edmonds taking 3rd. Jessica Weaver won 3rd in the women’s 20-24. Sean Foerster placed 3rd in the 30-34. Justin and the Yerg took the top 2 in the 35-39 men, while Sara Bonner won among the women. Kana Rahman won the 40-44 women. Tracy Tisdale-Williams was champion of the 45-49 women. Eric Ashton, Randy Hrechko and Johnathan Kirkwood took the 45-49 men.  Howie Phan, Mario Alvarez and Ken Bolin swept a highly competitive 50-54. Greta Dobe was 3rd among the women. Melinda Petruzzi won the women’s 55-59, while Billy Tisdale and Larry Bates went 1-2 among the men. Robbie OG McClendon and Mike Compton took the top 2 in the 60-64 men, while Lynn Gries was the women’s champion. Greenvilee’s David Spark ran an amazing 21:21 at age 67 to take the 65-69, with Albert Anderson and Rich Weaver taking 2nd and 3rd. Catherine Lempesis and Brigitte Smith were the 65-69 women’s winners. Arnold Floyd, Ron Hagell and Rocky Soderberg swept the 70-74 men, while Henry Holt continues to churn out sub 30’s at age 80 for the 75+ win.

http://www.strictlyrunning.com/json/Index_JS_C4.asp?uYear=2016&uRaceId=2202&uEvent=5k

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/1291705168

2013 IOP Beach Run 5k with David Lee Roth chest hair

So it’s June in Columbia, which basically means it sucks for running. Our amazing spring weather gives way to a daily ration of soul-crushing, surface-of-the-sun heat followed by a good chance of monsoon like thunderstorms with death lightning basically every day. Road races kind of disappear, and I’m left with either training in this misery, or (GASP) hitting the treadmill. Shudder to think.

This year I was going to do summer right. In the past I just got lazy and slower, but I’m still chasing my dream of the sub 40 10k, so I really want to be in good shape for the fall. I already did my yearly revisit of the treadmill, which of course reinforced my belief that I’d rather repeatedly bang my head against the wall for 45 minutes than ever do that again. Jeezus. How people (cough) Tyler McGaha (cough) do a majority of their running on the dreadmill defies explanation to me.  I saw them all spring at MUV fitness, churning out miles in front of a TV while a sunny 65 degree day sat there outside. Boggles the mind. So it’s outside or nothing for me.

This summer, I’ve developed three workouts guaranteed to improve summer training for the large and pigmentally challenged.

1. Albino Sasquatch tanning sessions. I’m a large Irish guy, which basically means my tanning ability runs from the dark beige to maybe a light khaki. My genetics would have me drinking ale by the overcast North Sea, not slogging out miles in the South Carolina heat. But I have young kids, which means I have to make at least weekly pool appearances. And I don’t want to be “that dad” with the shirt on in the pool. I may have lost all coolness points my now, but somehow I don’t want to be the shame of the suburban aging guys at the Woodlands pool. Total middle school,  I know. I go from alabaster to beet red in about an hour, so if I can get enough 30-45 minute sessions of sun, I can actually, vaguely, tan. So why not incorporate this into a run and kill two birds with one stone? I park at MUV fitness, run 1 mile into Sandhills across the street and then let the paleness fly out in the relative seclusion of the park. Four miles in the blazing sun in the open field, then shirt back on for the run back to MUV.  I don’t want to scare women and children. To date, this workout has produced decent results, at least with heat acclimation. Unfortunately, I did one of these on a Tuesday, which just happens to coincide with the weekly Northeast Farmers market. I’m in the middle of my mile loop, pushing the pace, when all of a sudden I make a turn and I’m putting on a pasty, sweaty show for about 50 people. My deepest apologies. At least the portapotty for the market stays there all summer, providing a safety net for code browns, albeit at 120 nose destroying degrees. Bikram pooping is a thing, apparently.

Photo courtesy of Liz Locke

2.  Sesqui hill training – They say hills are speedwork in disguise, so I figure hitting the double combo of  Mt Sesqui (the entrance road) and Sand HELL (Brandenburg’s torture trail paralleling Mt Sesqui) are a good way to get some quality runs in without overheating too much. I generally take these pretty easy, and they make good scouting runs for the annual CRC sufferfest route. I’ve done this combo a number of times, so last week I was feeling pretty cocky and went back to do Sand HELL one more time after leaving Brandenburg a sand note at his gate. I’m cruising along when I suddenly realize it’s after 6 pm and I was going to meet my college roommate/drinking buddy Ryan at 6:30 to go to Twisted Spur. All of a sudden I go from a 10 min pace slog to a 7 minute pace tempo. The internal radiator starts smoking almost immediately. Shirt comes off, as does my spibelt since it was bouncing with the speed downhill. It’s getting late, so I crank it up to 5k pace as I cross Polo Road, absolutely dying. I’m thinking I’m OK until Ryan texts me he’s early. I get the text just as I come flying around the corner, pure sweaty albino, sucking wind like there’s no tomorrow, double fisting a soaked shirt and an iphone. I get a WTF? look from the car, do a speed shower and rehydrate at the brewery. Let’s just say it was a good thing it was his turn to drive.

2014 Strictly Running Track Series – Worst form ever

3) The Track, or whatever – Nothing sucks worse than speedwork in the heat, but Justin Bishop likes to beat his minions into submission when June rolls around. Going to Team Utopia practice is rough, but at least there’s company to your misery at Owens field. Unfortunately my little minions all have swim meets on Mondays, so this puts a wrench in my TUS attendance. For the non-suburban parent, swim meets are 3 hours plus of roasting in the sun while they have like 60 races. They are just a notch above other kids birthday parties and Monkey Joe’s on the parental pain scale.  So, I’m often left to fend for myself with the 800 meter repeats in June. Last week: 8 x 800 in the rain, by myself, up and down the hills of Wildewood. This was after swim meet got rained out last second, 2 coronas down and an 8 pm guilt trip. I thought this had to be piece de resistance of summer training torture, though I was able to finish. But no, today had to trump that. Meadowlake track near my work, 5.5 x 800 at 6 min pace in 95 degree heat dodging walkers and kids. I was supposed to do nine. Halfway through the sixth I was feeling kind of passy outty so I figured it would not be cool to be carted off on an ambulance. Especially in front of the psychiatric hospital where i work. I’m supposed to be the sane one.

Which goes to reinforce the number one rule of summer training: just don’t die. To that end, never do the 1 x 20 feet at 9.8 m/sec/sec in Hawaii. I can’t recommend it. Stay safe out there…

July 2013 Hawaii homecoming – Hell indeed

The See Spot Run 5k is a race put on by the Humane Society, and true to its name, is the most dog friendly of the road races in the midlands. They even give out a prize for first dog and have swimming pools along the way for four-legged water stops. Its only fitting that Tuff Clyburn, fur child of Brian “El Capitan” Clyburn /captain of my Palmetto 200 team, has dominated the canine division of this race in recent years, taking the last two wins. I can only guess he gives Tuff a color coded spreadsheet and pace goals as well.

The race was first held in 2010 in the first week of June, and used to be held at Riverfront park. Apparently people complained of the oppressive heat and running past the less-than-aromatic chicken plant on the old course, so they moved it to Earlewood Park a couple of years later. The inaugural race was the site of one of the earliest overall Blue Shoes trophy hunts, a third place almost 2 minutes behind Jason Dimery and Gregory Jones, Sr.  I think I outweighed the other winners combined, but I was grinning like an idiot after an epic takedown of Ken Sekley on the bridge.

The new 5k course in Earlewood is pure evil. They lure you into complacency with a blazing fast downhill 1^st mile,  only to crush you with a killer climb up to Logan school, then turn around, plunge back down that climb and then run that blazing fast first mile in reverse. Trust me, its not so nice the other way. Plus, they used to have 17 minute 5ker Randy Finn dress up in full dog mascot costume and smoke ¾ of carrying 20 pounds of fur and oversize head.  But hey, isn’t that what I already do every race?

Someone in 2015 thought, hey, this 5k thing is WAY TOO EASY. Let’s add in 4+ miles, 30 turns and cram in as many hills as we can. Awesome!  The See Spot 12k was thus born. It did have some hiccups in its first year though, with a misdirect and Randy Hrechko setting a world record for F-Bombs in the Columbia area.

In order to fix this and improve the races in general , RD extraordinaire Delisa Edwards held a focus group a couple of months ago at Jake’s in Five Points. With free beer and wings, they really had to twist my arm to come. She was really dedicated to making sure the longer race went off without a hitch in 2016, and she said there would be plenty of volunteers and course markings.  I had heard the course was brutal, so I encouraged her to own up to the pain and perhaps not use the “flat and fast” tagline, so she came up with TAME THE BEAST.

We had a Columbia Running Club sponsored a few weeks later, and damn, she was not kidding. I ran the 12k course and got into a training run pseudo race with the Code and Marian Nanney and I wanted to die. Unrelenting mountain range.  No way was I doing this. No freaking way.

But a few weeks passed, and the traumatic memories faded.  I kept putting off choosing which race I would do until somehow I devised a theory that the 12k would be the better trophy hunt. Besides, hills are my strength, and hey, I was the owner of the FASTEST 12K IN THE STATE FOR 2016. Sorry, I just wanted to say that again. We won’t mention it was the only one, and a trophy hunt of epic proportion.

Speaking of trophy hunts, my 12k theory lasted about 5 minutes from the time I showed up.  Here comes Randy, Angel Manuel and Toby Selix, and I’m already sitting 3^rd Masters and AG at best. And that’s if I can take down Hrechko, who torched a 19:40 at last week’s gov cup.  Later Phil Midden and the Yerg showed up, knocking me further down the overall ladder and contributing to the overwhelming display of mid-70’s-born running talent. This was going to suck AND I was going to get crap for Tour de Columbia points. Brilliant theory, Sasquatch.

http://www.usatf.org/events/courses/maps/showMap.asp?courseID=SC15011KWL

I could try to describe the 12k course but this thing literally has 40+ turns. It’s basically the fast 1^st mile of the 5k course, an insane roller coaster downhill then an unrelenting iron maiden of pain thereafter. The piece d’ resistance is the climb around 6 miles, where you make up all the elevation loss from the roller coaster. Good times.

The 12k starts about 15 minutes before the 5k and, as my orginal theory had predicted, had far fewer people than the well-attended 5k. Only about 60 runners total, which would be great if it wasn’t for all the middle aged beast men.  Rob Yerger, Micah Simonsen, Lisa Smarr, Matt McGrievy, Jennifer Kryzanowski, Colleen “don’t call me Mrs. Beast” Vowles,  Anita Recchio, Kelly Ghent, Tommy Outlaw, Brigitte Smith and Kerry Stubbs were some of the familiar faces.

The gun sounds and I take off like a tempo. It’s mid 60’s but crazy humid and going out too fast on this course would be the kiss of death. First mile is nice and flat and I form a mini pack with Randy and Micah. As we approach the mile marker on Marlboro St, the road appears to end…until you realize it’s the roller coaster.  Ninety feet of elevation drop in a quarter mile. Yeah, there’s no way to run that gracefully. I flop down to the bottom wrecking my quads in the process. Suckage has commenced, and this is just the downhill. The ensuing little bit of straight on Lucius Rd is the lowest point of the course, and the next mile is spent cruising through the canal place neighborhood, then back  through Earlewood  to meet up with the 5k course on Park st. So far so good. I’ve hit the first two miles in 7 minute pace, and I’ve managed to break free from my pack. Park st drops you again and then makes you climb right back up.  Things start going south on this mountain climb, since I really hadn’t recovered from the range I just crossed. I keep hoping for something, ANYTHING, flat. Wayne St is still a slight incline but at least its straight, so it feels good to breathe a little again. Unfortunately, someone is tracking my ass down  as I go under the I-26 /Elmwood overpass into the area near the Governor’s Mansion. Sure enough Angel passes me like he’s out for a Sunday jog, leaving me and my wounded ego in the dust.  Another climb and a loop by Tricky Nikki’s house and we’re headed for home, sort of. Miles 3 and 4 (7:13, 7:23) have faded badly, so I need to make up some time to make this respectable. Jen K and a guy pacing her (Logan Hawke) are up ahead so I focus on tracking these guys down.  Mile 5 feeds back into the 5k course,  and includes the fun climb up to Logan School. By this time my legs are more warmed up to the repeated abuse so it seems a little easier. Its also nice to see some of the 5kers like the rest  of the McGrievys (Brie, Quentin and Sabine) and Cheryl Outlaw (with Gizmo of course).  Mile 5 back to 7:01 and I start preparing for what I know is going to really, really suck – the climb back up the roller coaster. But first a plunge down into a valley on Park Street just to beat your legs a little more.  Park Street features the brutal climb in the 5k that tests your will to live in that race.  Jen K catches a brief spell of walksies and I manage to pull ahead and make up some ground on Angel. I’m so glad to reach the top at the mile 6 marker, but then I forget – the course then throws away all that climb with one huge downhill and starts you all over again. The ensuing mountain is unspeakable. All the elevation climb of Park Street compressed into half the distance, with a Quarry Crusher- esque little 10 percent lung buster at the end. I’m doubled over like Quasimodo on Xanax, trying to give the appearance of running. I think power walking it might have been faster, except my melon headed ego wont let me. Any grandiose thoughts about catching Angel quickly are replaced with making to the finish without getting Hrechkoed or Kryzanowskied.  After the lung buster, there are two more little inclines before finally, mercifully, flattening out for a bit. It takes me a full half mile to get my breath back, and I start to recover some, but by this time its too close to the finish to give Angel a run for his money. The finish throws you down one more hill, and I cross in 53:07, my second slowest 12k ever.

But hey, I know I’m at least one of the first few finishers, right? Yes… and no. While taking 6^th overall, I realize all that effort puts me as 4^th in the 40-44 behind Toby, Phil Midden and Angel. If the Yerg was 7 months older I would have been 5^th.  Unreal.  Since Toby and Phil were so gracious to take overall places, I was able to get 2^nd masters and a nice wine glass at least.  Looking at the results, 6 of the 7 40-44 guys placed in the top 11. But with three deep overall and masters, all 7 of us took home some bling. Sweet.

In the 5k, it was triumph yet again for Tuff Clyburn, who pulled Dan Carter to an overall win. Dan was able to put on the jets at the last second to claim first mammal, however. 17:55 is an insane time for that course, especially  having to stop 4 times for Tuff’s  dips on the pools.  River Bluff Hs runner William Moran took second with William Stutts 3^rd.  Lorien Clark was the women’s winner at age 13, followed by Sara Hutchins and Elise Germany.

In masters, Jeff Godby managed first with Johnathan Kirkwood 2^nd. Gretchen Lambert and Jennifer Othersen took the top two women’s masters.

In the 5k age groups,  Jessica Weaver took the win in the 15-19. Drew Williams won the 35-39, with Ryan Sacko 3^rd. Teresa Shelton was 3^rd in the 35-39 with two dogs in tow. Henry Othersen, Todd Derrick and Art Lambert swept the 40-44. Chip Lupo was 2^nd in the 45-49, while Missy Caughman took 1^st among the women.  Tom Tanner won the 50-54 men with Joe Robinson 3^rd.  Susan Weaver was 3^rd in the 50-54 women.  Lois Leaburn placed 2^nd in the 55-59 women, with Tour director John Gasque winning on the mens side to continue his TDC domination this year. Cheryl Outlaw won the 60-64 with Pete Poore 2^nd among the men.  Rich Weaver won the 65-69 in a very good day for the Weaver family.  Racing studs Henry Holt, Peter Mugglestone and Rocky Soderberg swept the 70+.

In the 12k, Toby Selix crushed a 6:22 pace to take the win with Phil Midden 2^nd in sub 50. McCray Weeks was 3^rd. Jen K , Colleen Vowles and Anita Recchio took the podium for the women.  Lisa Smarr took 3^rd female masters while Angel,  Sasquatch and Hrechko (best law firm name ever) swept the old men category.

In the age groups, Logan Hawke tok 1^st in the 20-24. Rob and Micah were 1-2 in the 35-39. Matt McGrievy was 2^nd in the 40-44. Ravi Chockalingam and  John Richards were the top two 45-49 men. Phil Togneri won the 50-54. Tommy Outlaw placed 3^rd in the 55-59. Harry Strick won the 60-64 men  while Brigitte Smith was champion of the 65-69 women.

The Rose Festival 5k and 12k have been around for about 10 years, but initially escaped my attention since Orangeburg is about an hour from my house.  At some point I must have realized, though, that this was an event practically made for me. I spend so much time looking for double dip opportunities, but Rose Fest actually builds one into their race, and makes the double an event all to itself (called the “Double Down 17k” as well. It is a Tour de Columbia points bonanza.

My first taste of the Rose Fest in 2013 virtually assured I’d be coming back again. I consider it probably the best running performance of the hundreds of races I’ve done. I PR’d in the 12k by over a minute and a half, running a 48:12 in an epic battle with Billy Tisdale. The 5k, only about 40 minutes later, was absolutely brutal, but featured a 5:59 closing mile to catch Billy again, finishing in 19:49 and securing a double down championship.  I was hooked.

Rose Fest 12k, 2013

Of course, whenever someone like myself wins races, it basically screams TROPHY HUNT. I don’t win races by talent, I win by luck and lack of competition.  The Rose Fest featured wins by local elites Justin Bishop, Chris Bailey and Michael Banks in subsequent years – people who could go have brunch after their race and still have time to get back to see me finish.

I was injured in 2014, but I came back in 2015 to race the double again. Charleston’s Chris Bailey trounced everybody in both the 12k and 5k, and I had a couple of so-so races (50:02, 20:08 I think). But, since they added a masters division, I took home the masters double down crown much to my surprise.

This year, I was decidedly less optimistic. Boston, while a euphoric experience, left me just wrecked. At least I knew why I was feeling so bad at the race since I was sick as a dog the rest of the week. I had managed to get a few runs in the next weekend, including an ill-advised preview run of the Gov Cup Half on Sunday.  Even though the legs were slowly coming back, I was dead tired and still not 100 percent recovered from the brutal cold I had been fighting.

But, it was Rose Fest, so I figured I’d at least go down to Orangeburg to take pictures. I think I had a beer fueled moment of poor judgment (not the first, mind you) on Thursday night and signed up for the 12k on a whim. I had to catch my 10 year old’s chorus performance at the Sparkleberry Fair at 10:15 so I really couldn’t stay for the double down. I know… the thug life chose me.

Waking up at 5:00 am on Saturday,  it took every ounce of willpower, coupled with the 40 bucks I had already burned, to get me out of bed. OK I was definitely doing this race easy. I figured I could cruise at my Kiawah Marathon 7:15 pace and see if I could stumble into my age group or something.

I got down to Orangeburg with about 40 minutes to spare for the 7:30 start. Not a big crowd – the 12k is usually fairly small but loaded with elites, the 5k much larger. I ran into Cheryl and Thomas Outlaw, John Gasque (doing the double down), Brigitte and Garrett Smith, fellow TUS teammates Makenzie Wilson and birthday girl Greta Dobe. Rocky was already there despite only running the 5k at 9:00. Justin had mentioned he would be there but was MIA. I did less than a mile warmup, and the legs felt it necessary to remind me on every step that it was indeed only 12 days ago that I ran a marathon.  Total cinder blocks.

As we walk up to the start line, I’m taking pictures, talking to Erin and the cops, and generally distracted. As I put my phone away, I’m suddenly struck…WHERE ARE THE ELITES?? There are a few kids, a random fit looking guy about my age and an older dude with a Charleston Running Club singlet up front. No one I really recognize on the front line. OK, so surely one of these guys must be a sub 6 pace kind of dude. Still, a sense of opportunity, and panic, runs through me.

The course – mostly flat and residential.

With the gun, I make sure I go out easy since this was the plan. About a quarter mile in I see a couple of teenagers in matching shirts running a couple of steps ahead and a guy riding my tail, but there’s no one but me and the police car. I take a quick look over my shoulder and start cussing. I’ve got 20 meters on the field already. Sonofabitch, I’ve stumbled into an unbelievable trophy hunt. I was going to have to at least try.

But, yeah, I really, really didn’t want to. A half mile in and the teenagers are gone. Just me and a random shirtless guy . I turn to him and jokingly say “I guess we are the elites today”, but he doesn’t even look at me. Dude is in a zone, probably dead set on kicking this melon headed Clydesdale’s ass. Normally I would use this as motivation to drop him, but I have no idea what my legs can take right now and  I have no idea what this guy is capable of. I focus on about 7 minute pace as I had no intention on running any faster than I had to  to take home the holy grail. Mile one came back in 7:04 and unfortunately Shirtless is riding my back like an oversized monkey. I don’t blame him since I produce a drafting wake like Andre the Giant. I turn a corner and there’s a long straightaway in mile 2 with a slight climb. OK – lets keep the pace steady but surge up the hill a bit to try and create some breathing room. Mile 2 was slightly faster in 6:54. I don’t feel great, having not done anything remotely fast in the past 2 weeks. I hit kind of a low point near mile 3 where I’m not sure if the police car missed a turn or not. I hear some noise behind me and Shirtless is still in striking distance, maybe 10 meters back. Damn it. The police car then turns and I recognize the course again, so figure I’m OK.

By now, I’m thinking that I can probably just maintain pace and Shirtless will fade, but there was at least one other guy not too far back. They’ll take my trophy from me from my dead, cold hands, so I bump up the pace just a little to be safe. I hit the turnaround right at mile 4, so a big psychological hurdle is overcome. Pace 6:45-6:50 for the middle miles. The heat and marathon legs are starting to get to me but the course quickly loops back on itself, and at least now I have some company going the other way. I focus on the other runners, trying not to get too crazy and kick it in too early. Mile 5 is 6:45. I’m definitely feeling pretty bad by now – legs are nice and loose but I’d really rather still be in bed. I’m almost to mile 6 (slight fade to 6:55) by the time I hit the other police car sweeping the back end of the race. Just stay on course and keep up this pace. All of a sudden I see “the hill”. Just a bump really, but I knew it was a half mile almost all downhill to the finish from the top. The hill where I pushed in all the chips against Billy in 2013 and headless chickened it to the finish. Not quite the same this time, but seeing the finish from the top of the hill is a big adrenaline jolt. I’m pretty much toast but I’m scared to death of some random joker blue shoeing me in the final stretch. I’m too afraid to look back. Burning down the hill I see Eric and Sarah Allers, Rob Yerger and Mike Compton. Sure glad they chose the undercard this year. Compton says there’s no one behind me so I do back it off a touch so I an enjoy the win. Crossed the line in 51:15, 6:52 pace. First overall! My fourth holy grail. I even had a post race interview with the Orangeburg Times-Democrat http://thetandd.com/sports/recreation/festival-of-roses-road-race-has-record-setting-turnout/article_898dc68a-613b-5b97-9f33-7b844422031d.html.   http://thetandd.com/uploaded_photos/festival-of-roses-k-road-race/image_1144fd58-b88e-5c0b-a08f-222e28a8c733.html  The melon head continues to grow.

This was my slowest Rose Fest 12k my over a minute, and second slowest ever, but overall victories are so sweet regardless of the time. I will take it.

In the 12k, John Gasque took 9th place and 1st in the 55-59. Tommy Outlaw took 2nd. Joe Robinson won the 50-54.Cheryl Outlaw won the 60-64 while Greta Dobe took 2nd in the 50-54. Hou Yin Chang placed 3rd in the 40-44. Brigitte Smith won the 65-69. In a critical no show, I see Lee Moore was signed up but didn’t make it to the start line. Thanks, Lee!

In the 5k, Eric Allers trounced the field by almost a minute, with Sarah taking the women’s win. An excellent day for Team Allers, newly representing the Fleet Feet racing team. Parker Roof was 3rd. The Yerg was 4th overall and 1st in the 35-39. Daniel Patrick took 5th and 1st in the 25-29. Joe Roof won the 50-54 while Compton took the 60-64. Arnold Floyd won the 70+. Makenzie Wilson was 4th female and won the 25-29. John Gasque was 2nd in the 55-59 for race #2. Alex Ponomarev won the 65-69. Henry Holt took 2nd in the 70+, running 28 flat at age 80. Not too shabby. Peter Mugglestone was 3rd in a super competitive 70+ age group. Tommy Outlaw was 3rd in the 55-59 in race #2, while Cheryl won her age group again, picking up 20 TDC points in one morning

I was not the only one to benefit this trophy hunt – Tour de Columbia director John Gasque was able to take home the double down championship! Marie McLean-Choi won the women’s title, with John McKinley and Jennifer Ballew claiming the masters titles.

http://racesonline.com/events/festival-of-roses-5k-12k/results/2016?utf8=%E2%9C%93&category_id=3441&age_group_id=&gender=&search_term_display=&commit=Search

This one was a long time coming.

I guess most runners think about doing Boston at some time or another, even Saquatches more suited to doing 5ks. I really should have known better, as the marathon has been my brutal, vengeful mistress. I did my first marathon at Richmond in 2010 with Ken Lowden’s Strictly Running crew, knowing not one thing about running 26.2 miles. I was so scared of the distance I ran my infamous “Blythewood Marathon” three weeks before the race – a very ill-advised 26.2 mile long run – just to prove I could cover the distance. I did this 24 hours after racing a PR 5 miler at Race to Read. My IT band said forget this and I was hobbled for the next two weeks. I still tried to race Richmond and had a proverbial trail of tears from 18 miles in. A miserable walkapalooza that left me delirious – the Yerg and I almost both passed out at the Starbucks at the finish line. Trophy later called me in a panic thinking I had died.  In reality I wandered aimlessly around Virginia’s capital for about 20 minutes until I found my hotel, cramping and nearly puking. Good times.

Shoot me now.

But after swearing I’d never do another one, I of course broke my promise and trained for Jacksonville the next year. J-vegas was pretty sweet vindication, besting my Richmond time by 32 minutes (3:52 to 3:20) and posting the best time of Ken “Captain Marathon” Calcutt’s training group. The Boston qualifying standard for 35-39 was 3:15 at that time and a seed was planted. I would find my way to Hopkinton.

Please make it stop

I thought poetic justice would be served in marathon #3, a return to Richmond. It was not to be – a rogue 3:15 pace group reeled off a bunch of 7 flat miles in the early going and I was toast in the last 10k. A respectable 3:22, but the Boston standards had just gotten tougher, down to a 3:10 for 35-39.

2013 looked like my year. The window for 2015 Boston opened in September, and since I would turn 40 a month before then, I could use the 40-44 3:15 qualifier. Awesome. My sights were set on Kiawah in December – super flat, and close by to boot. I was in. I ramped up mileage and was due to start my 16 week training cycle the week of July 15. I’d just wait a few days to get back from my 15th anniversary trip to Hawaii. Those that know me know the rest. Twenty foot cliff dive, multiple broken bones and a totally wrecked body – really lucky to be alive much less training for a marathon. I was on the couch for a few months and didn’t get back to my previous form until late spring 2014.

Yay, Daddy is still alive

But I did get back, minus a wonky left toe. By the time July 2014 rolled around, I figured -OK… LETS TRY THIS AGAIN. I managed to not endure major trauma that summer. Justin Bishop drew up the plan and I was on it like Donkey Kong. I made it to Kiawah 2014 whipped into some serious shape. Kiawah went so well early on that I got cocky – I was going to kick this marathon’s ass, maybe get 3:05. I rattled off a bunch of 6:50ish miles around 18-19 miles in. Turns out this is one of the many times my overwhelming narcissism has not served me well. Wheels came off with a vengeance in mile 23, and I had a 5k from hell to the finish. I hobbled home in 3:11:22. I fought off the pukes for 5 minutes, and it sure wasn’t pretty, but it was an official BQ. I was going to Boston.

Emily witnessed the first Blue Shoes run, a 5.5 mph 10 min jog on the treadmill in 2007

Or was I? I had already reserved my hotel for Boston 2016 when the  registration began in September 2015. Because I was within 5 minutes of my qualifying time, I had to wait to the last few days of the registration period. People were talking about a record amount of entrants, and there was much speculation about what the “real” cutoff time would be relative to the BQ standards. After a week of hand wringing, I finally got the golden email – I was officially accepted. Many adult beverages were consumed that night. (Cutoff was -2:28 )

So, fast forward to 2016. I spent much of the Boston training period thinking I would treat this as a victory lap.Initially I was injured with hamstring and piriformis issues. Sarah Allers and Christen Bowman both spent hours helping me recover.  Once I was healed, I put in a lot of slow miles punctuated by my weekly race addiction every Saturday, 50+ per week for most of the cycle. I did the Swamp Rabbit half in Greenville in February and surprised the hell out of myself with a 1:28:27, a PR by 2 seconds. Maybe, just maybe, I would give Boston an honest effort. Shannon Iriel was in my same wave/corral, and was shooting for 3:10, so why not pace with her?

Unfortunately, like in 2013, life doesn’t care if you are pinning all your hopes and dreams on a meaningless road race. The week before my race, my grandma turned 90 and took a serious turn for the worse. A week before Boston,  I went to see her and she was lucid but weak, and she told me how happy she was that I was getting to run the race I had dreamed about for so long. She did not do well over the next few days, and my out-of-state family came to see her for fear of what seemed like an inevitability. With a heavy heart and many reassurances from my mom (who would be taking care of my 3 kids in the midst of this) Mary and I headed to Boston. Rescheduled flights gave us a 12 hour trip and I was noticing I was coming down with a nasty cold – fatigue, congestion, muscle aches, the works. I was exhausted.

I felt a little better the next day and did a 3 mile shakeout with Derek Gomez around Boston Common. It didn’t feel great but I was really taken with an adrenaline rush that I was finally, FINALLY, here. I toured the expo, which was a total madhouse, got my bib, took a thousand pictures and  spent way too much on adidas Boston stuff. I already had the Boston jacket – ordered online and still sealed in plastic, preserving its teal/black hideousness and whatever bad juju might be released by opening it early. Apparently this was not a problem for a quarter of the other runners, who sported their 1988 Charlotte Hornets Boston jacket with pride.

After some carb loading in Boston’s Italian North End, I got a call on my cell from my mom at about 9 pm. As soon as I saw the number I knew it was “the call”. Grandma had passed. It was a punch to the stomach, but I knew she had been begging for this to happen for a long time. She was no longer in pain, and could finally rest.

I woke up the next morning with not much sleep and not feeling great but a relief that I was here, on race day, and uninjured. I wrote my grandmother’s name on my bib and dedicated the race to her. After a quick Panera breakfast I headed out to Boston Common at about 6:30 to load up for the bus ride to Hopkinton. The bus ride started off with a bunch of loud, nervous excitement but gradually tapered off to being pretty quiet. This ride was taking forever. At some point I saw the exit to Worcester, and I knew something was up. The bus took the exit, then did some weird turnaround maneuver. Being one of the few with a cell phone, I google mapped us and realized we were like 15 miles past where we should be. The 30 minute ride ended up taking us an hour and a half. I would be surprised, but I somehow get used to having bizarre, stupid luck  – good or bad.

Luckily, they ship you down to Athletes’ Village super early. My start time wasn’t until 10:25 so still another 2 hours to kill. The Village was pretty nuts – like a summer music festival without any entertainment. Mobs of anxious people producing some pretty epic bathroom lines. I finally located the rest of our wave 1 and 2 TUS group after a random run-in with the Yerg. I told him we’ve come  a long way from our shared delirium in that Richmond Starbucks.  Gomez was there and offered me a seat on the best idea ever – a deflated plastic raft to keep you off the wet grass. Ken Bolin and Michael Nance were also on board. We were ready to go.

Yerg, Nance and Gomez left first for wave 1, and about a half hour later Ken and I got our call. As we were walking up to the start, I ran into Tracy McKinnon – Harbison trail runner and member of my 2016 Palmetto 200 repeat championship team Van on the run (sorry, our captain Brian Clyburn requires that whole phrase be uttered whenever the p200 team is mentioned). I walked up with him and also managed to locate Shannon, so we had a little Columbia mini pack in the Wave 2, Corral 1 start. Being in the first corral was awesome, since it made you feel elite, despite the face that the elites, and everybody 3:09 and faster, had taken off 25 minutes ago. Hey, I take what I can get.

I had zero clue what to do with my race strategy, so I figured I’d do my 3:10 (7:15/mile) pace for as long as I could. I did a similar pace at last week’s Palmetto Half as a training run, and it felt pretty easy, so hopefully this would serve me well. I  had studied the course before – looked like mostly downhill and rolling to the halfway point, some flatness, then the nasty Newton hills with Heartbreak at mile 21, then mostly downhill again to Boylston St. But again, this was just a large scale elevation map. we would see…

The gun goes off and its complete mayhem. I realize I’m leading a group of thousands of people, all of whom have run a 3:09 to 3:25 marathon in the past 18 months. So its fast, real fast. To make things worse, the road out of Hopkinton is like a freefall off a mountain. I’m fighting to keep the pace from getting too crazy. Tracy and Shannon have already left me for dead and people are passing me left and right. The elevation map made it look completely downhill but there’s already an incline not more than a half mile from the start. I hit mile 1 in 7:12, which I figure is pretty ideal. My legs feel fine but I’m already not liking the way I feel. For one, it is ridiculously hot. 68 degrees according to my Garmin but feels worse than that with no shade. Boston was supposed to have a high near 60 but for some reason Hopkinton was supposed to get up to the low 70’s. On top of the heat though, I just have no energy. All the stress and illness in the past week have apparently caught up with me.

But hey, its Boston, so time to suck it up buttercup. I rattle off a few 7:10ish miles and hit another big pack of spectators in Ashland, the next town over. I’ve been known to recover after a bad start but things are still going south, like I’d rather just pull to the side and take a nap. I fight through this feeling until I hit Framingham around the 10k mark. it’s nice to randomly run into Howie Phan, but he starts pulling away and looking back to see my train wreck in progress.  I’m still hitting near 7:20 miles but the wall of noise and cowbells in the town makes me feel a little loopy. I surge to the 10k mats to at least give the people tracking back home a sense that all hasn’t gone to crap.

But it most certainly has. I bail out around mile 8 and use the portapotty and give myself a good thirty seconds of walking. I had been hydrating pretty aggressively in the heat, but now I was more afraid of getting fluid overloaded and hyponatremic. Either way, I was done with any thought of this being a good race. I was paralyzed by the fear that I might not even finish now. Its a pretty big mental hurdle to be complete toast 18 miles from Boylston St.

But people are screaming at me, so I start back up at what feels like an absolute cool down jog. I try to pick it up some, but anything fast makes me feel lightheaded and a step away from the med tent. I’m able to rein it in and keep going, surprised to see 8:20ish miles. With everybody passing you, it feels more like 11 minute pace. I’m considering another bout of walksies on the overpass near mile 12, but then I hear a vague, ghostly wail echoing up head. I come up over a ridge and it hits me like a wall of sound –  the Wellesley scream tunnel. I’m suffering on the side of the road, crawling along, but having a couple thousand college girls screaming at you for kisses definitely helps in the motivation department. Since my race is in the crapper already, I plant a big sloppy one on a cute Asian girl who’s probably still having nightmares from the experience.

The half mat is in downtown Wellesley, and its a 1:42 split. Jeez, I cruised a 1:35 a week ago and felt great. Today, not so much. By this time, I figure my computer trackers know something is up. I’m able to hold it together for a couple more miles when its relatively flat, but things really start to fall apart when the hills start rolling in. I hit a major case of walksies in mile 15 and then a longer one on the first set of Newton hills in 17, crossing the 10 minute barrier for the first time. It’s so bad I pull out my cell phone during the mile 17 power walk to text the wife (who is at the top of Heartbreak Hill, mile 21) to let her know how bad the suckage is going. She texts back, but I can’t read it in the sun except for the first line “KEEP GOING”. The next few miles are pure torture – someone told me the Newton hills arent so bad but I have to heartily disagree. I was powerwalking like a champ. Apparently I ran through all the early water overload and now I was getting thirsty. Some kid was giving out freezer pops and I grabbed one. It was like pure heaven. I chased that with a big cup of beer that some very drunk Boston college girls were giving out. Although I was still pulling  a run/walk strategy like a Jeff Galloway devotee, at least the temperature had dropped considerably. It was even a little chilly in the wind. I spent all of heartbreak looking for Mary and finally found her and Sheila at the very top. Apparently she was holding the GO BLUE SHOES! sign that she and the boys made before we left, but I was too busy giving her an even bigger, sloppier kiss to see it.

After seeing Mary and cresting the hill, I had the first inkling that maybe I would be OK. I had spent the last 12 miles figuring at least a 50/50 chance of med tenting it, but getting to mile 21 and getting over the big hills was huge. I screamed at myself not to walk again, but damn did I want to. I started thinking of anything to motivate me – my grandma, the kids back home, the long, miserable months of rehabbing from the Hawaii fall, being stuck with that ugly as hell jacket and not even being able to wear it…anything. It was some serious slow going – pace was in the 9’s but better than that 11 minute stroll up Heartbreak. At some point a guy comes up from behind and says “THERE IT IS…THE CITGO SIGN!!” like he just had a religious epiphany. I gave him a Rick Flair wooooo for support. I’d like to say I kept my promise of no walksies, but damn that mile 25 overpass – I got an electric jolt up my left leg and I knew my Richmond cramps might be making a most unwelcome comeback. I climbed to the top and started my power jog back on the way down. Thankfully no more shocks. The last few miles were a blur, but then we went under a bridge and turned onto  Hereford street, and I recognized the scene from watching it on TV for so many years. Up a short hill and a left onto Boylston. Absolutely incredible. A wall of sound and people, with the finish line in sight. I’d like to say I pulled a classic blue shoe finish, but it was all I could do to remain upright at 10 minute pace. Touching my bib, arms to the sky…. I was done.

3:48 and change. Far from my best but actually not my worst. I was a complete wreck in the walk through the finish area. They were giving me the medal and the mylar blanket between me alternately grinning like an idiot and sobbing like a baby. I was a Boston finisher! Many beers were consumed that night, proudly wearing the ugliest jacket ever.

In the Columbia group, Michael Nance rocked a 3:10 and Derek Gomez requalified with a 3:13. Jeff Godby and Howie Phan both requalified with a 3:11. Yerg ran a 3:23 and Shannon BQ’d again with a 3:24. Ivanka Tolan also requalified, PR’ing in an amazing 3:32. Jennifer Kryzanowski BQ’s with a 3:32 as well. Tracy Mckinnon finished in 3:31 and Kenneth Ebener , running injured, crossed in 3:49. Julia Norcia clocked a 3:55, and Ken Bolin ran a 4:12.Jennifer Sparks did a 4:14.

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/1132039327

http://www.baa.org/races/boston-marathon/results-commentary/2016-boston-marathon/2016-results-search.aspx

In memory of Dolores Gillen, 1926-2016

For those that know me, know I totally heart the relay. I will even turn down a golden trophy hunt opportunity and crucial Tour de Columbia points (www.columbiarunningclub.com/touredecolumbia) in exchange for the chance to pass the baton. Of course, sometimes the trophies still get hunted. Who could forget my insane Joker-esque grin from the 2010 Born in the USA 2×2 mile relay. An improbable championship borne from 2 hapless age groupers, with just little enough pride to accept a win that would have placed them 8th overall in the 4 mile.

Melons and 50 bucks – sounded like a good time to me.

But the piece de resistance of my relay fetish has always been the Palmetto 200. A chance meeting online in the runners world “sub 22 5k” forum hooked me up with “El Capitan” Brian Clyburn , and the first “Van on the Run” was formed for the inaugural 2010 P200.

Somehow I was one of the faster runners on this team, and was assigned 21 miles. The race was also held April 30-May 1 then, in 80 degree weather. We got a hotel room for 2 hours and Jen Clyburn got sick from Howard Johnson’s water. I almost passed out on a 8.8 miler in the heat and was hallucinating on my last leg at 4 am. We had no idea what we were doing. But somehow we outperformed and ended up clocking close to 8 minute pace and finished in the top 10. An addiction was born.

Over the years, people have dropped off the team, but somehow Brian has always reloaded with someone even faster than the last. This resulted in gradual improvement until we finally broke through in 2015 with the ultimate trophy hunter’s dream, the overall win.

2011

2012

2013

2015

2014

So this marked Palmetto 200 number 7 for me, Brian, and other original members David McNeice and Joel Pierstorff. Other VOTR veterans were Brandon (so fabulous he only needs one name), Darrell “the Code” Brown, Jen “She Hulk” Clyburn, Julie “Bitz” Bitzel, and Dan “Meddler” Carter. New recruits included Tracy “T-Bone” McKinnon, Kevin “Moopy” Selinsky and Rob “Rookie, later “Ricky Bobby” Gannett. It should be noted that all of our newbies are absolute beasts.

Planning out a competitive relay is a pretty tough thing for a captain. Somehow you have to take all of the strengths/weaknesses of your team,  look carefully at all the 36 relay legs over 205 miles, and put them together for optimum speed. There is no one better suited for this job than the master himself, El Capitan. Brian’s spreadsheet plays out like nerd porn – a color-coded, statistically beautiful work of art that can only leave you in awe. I think he even adds in difficulty quotients for heat and hills. Just amazing.

Brian relies heavily on data for the spreadsheet, and there’s no one with more running data out there than some freak who races every Saturday. I made the error of running a PR, point to point net downhill half marathon last month (GHS Swamp Rabbit), which “earned” me a goal pace of 6:45 on the relay. This was not going to be a recreational jog.

Brief relay tutorial: there are 36 parts or legs to the 205 mile course, ranging from 2-10 miles each. Team members pass a slap bracelet at each exchange zone when they complete a leg. With 12 members on a full team, this means each member will complete three legs, ranging from 13 to 22 total miles per person. Our team typically takes around 24 hours, though there are some that will be out there 36+ hours. Any way you look at it, you will be running some in the middle of the night and not getting much sleep.

This year’s start site was moved to Red Bank Arena, after using Old Columbia Speedway the last 6 years. For what it lacked in ambiance, it certainly was nice to be able to leave your cars at the race site. Our biggest drama pre-race was the van situation. The official vehicle of all 12 man relays is the white Ford 15 passenger van, but there was a recall on that model leading up to the event. Luckily, Joel become a weekly annoyance at the rental car company and probably did unseemly favors to secure us even more awesome vehicles this year – sleek, black, high-roofed minibuses of luxury.  We were traveling in style. Team shirts this year were awesome – garnet and black with 2015 champions on the sleeve. Thanks to Emily Richbourg for printing!

Starts are staggered in the relay from 5:30 am for the slowest teams to 12:30 for the fastest. With three other teams in the 12:30 wave, we knew who our competition would be from the beginning: The Banditos, Sole Asylum and Clemson Thundercats. Sole Asylum we knew well from our battle last year. Angel Manuel, Lee Moore, Gene Grimsley, Mario Alvarez and Paul Reardon are great guys and mainstays on the SC racing circuit. Clemson has fielded a team most years, but with changing students in their running club,  you never know what you’re going to get. They were champs a few years back, but doubtful many of those guys were still on this team. The Banditos are competitive, but we’ve usually lost them by the 2nd legs. There was a scary rumor that Ryan Plexico was on Sole Asylum, but Angel assured me he wasn’t (turns out he was on another team with an earlier start time).

I was assigned to Van 2 this year and wasn’t scheduled to run until leg 11, which was set to start at 7:30 pm per the Relay Bible, I mean spreadsheet. Nothing like getting all jacked up for a race and having to wait seven hours. We followed Van 1 through the first few exchanges. Our Van 1 peeps (David, Kevin, Jen, Brian, Tracy, Joel) set the tone early and were just crushing it, despite the brutal weather (high 70’s and no shade on most of the course). Plus, all the early legs are near Columbia with some killer hills. Between the hot pace and the hot weather, us and Clemson separated from the field early. Sole Asylum was hit with an early misdirect that set them back, per Angel.

By the time Van 2 was ready to go, we were already almost 10 minutes ahead of the spreadsheet. This year’s course was redesigned from Red Bank, so the evil Leg 6 from years past was now Leg 7. Dan, as one of our beasts, had the misfortune of drawing this leg. Fighting some plantar fasciitis, he still blazed low 6 pace and crushed the infamous Mt. Saint Matthews, a ridiculous summit arising in the sandhills of the southern Midlands.  There’s never a pic to do it justice, but here’s one anyway.

What was scary about this leg was that despite Dan rocking low 6 pace, there was a Clemson runner who came up behind and passed Meddler on the leg. This guy was like 130 lbs, about 110 of it in quads and hammies of steel, whom we named Thunderthighs. I can only imagine what Clemson called me. TT rocked out the brutal 8.5 miles in 5:45 pace. This spelled trouble for our chance of repeating as champs, to say the least. Bitz followed, and as usual, blew the spreadsheet out of the water with a 7 flat pace. She did go and get herself a Garmin, so some of my devious influence must have spread. I didn’t realize our rookie, Rob, was such an absolute machine. He tore up his first 4.5 mile leg in like 5:45 pace. I’m surprised the Cameron, SC PD, known for their speed trap, didn’t cite him with a violation. Brandon is always claiming to be fat and out of training, but it was clear neither was the case in his first leg.

LEG 1 – THE BEAUTY AND THE BEAST – 6.61 miles – Jericho United Methodist Church (Cameron, SC) to Elloree, SC.

After stewing in my own pre-race jitters for 7 hours, I was more than ready to go for Leg 1, which was just after 7 pm. Per rules, I had to strap on the headlamp and reflective vest, which makes my already graceful self look that much sexier. To add to the anxiety, we were running neck and neck with Clemson. A 90 pound girl with long blonde hair took off only about a minute ahead of Brandon into the exchange zone. Like a complete idiot, I blazed out of the gate like a freaking 5k, dead set on chasing blonde girl down. About a half mile in, I realize I had let my Garmin go into power save mode. It’s one thing being in a race and not having a Garmin – you can pace off other people and sometimes they even have split clocks. It’s quite a different thing being out in the middle of nowhere with twilight fading, one other competitor, and no sense of the distance. The Garmin finally finds a satellite over a mile in and I’ve clearly gone out too fast. Legs are burning and I’m hurting way too much this early. To boot, the pollen was in clouds everywhere, suffocating me.  I go into emergency mode, trying to stride out and loosen the lactic acid stranglehold on my legs. I had made up some ground on blonde girl but she was keeping pace, just out of reach. Clemson was following her on the course, so at least I knew I wasn’t going off track. First recorded mile was 6:49 so not too bad after the initial mile of insanity. The course was thankfully almost completely flat. The next few miles were a blur – I kept chasing the Elloree water tower in the distance and seeing the sunlight and my chance of beating Clemson fade away. I faded into some 6:50’s a couple of times and was generally hating life, verbally abusing myself for being so stupid with the early pace. I could see Elloree start to come into view but I could also hear a train coming. For several minutes, I had a racemare of blonde girl beating the train and me getting stuck behind.  Luckily, we were just slow enough to both miss it after it passed through. I came rumbling into Elloree just after sunset and fell into a crumpled mass in the dirt after handing off to Code. Nice job, hero. According to the spreadsheet I was better than goal pace (6:45), so that first mile must have been a freaking sprint. Blonde girl whipped my tail and probably added some seconds to their lead. Definitely NOT the way to start off a relay with 2 more legs to go.

We then went to Santee State park, one of the huge van switch exchange zones. Van 1 was waiting for us and was closely following our progress via our group text. As usual, we were still behind most of the earlier start groups and most had cleared out by the time we got there. Plexico was there and confirmed he was not a Sole Asylum ringer but was a last second addition to a team with a family connection. Running Under the Influence had an awesome tent and chairs set up for their camp, so that may need to happen for VOTR in the future.

Code came in right on pace for his tough 7.4 miler, though Clemson had another beast and stretched their lead some. After the handoff to David, it was 8:30ish and we had some time to kill. First off: FOOD. I have long since dispensed with my early strategy of eating light – my crackers and GU of the 2010 relay nearly landed me in the med tent. You need real food to fuel 15 miles of hard racing. After a failed attempt at Cracker Barrel (we vetoed the 25 min wait) we settled on Pizza Hut. Santee’s Pizza Hut may not win any culinary awards, but their pizza after a hard 10k tasted like filet mignon. Brandon and Rob stepped up their grease game with a large garlic knot crust pizza to share between the two of them. Brandon said he had license to be a fat bitch if he was going to run this much. I wholeheartedly agree. They actually got a to-go box, which added a tinge of garlic to our enticing van aroma of sweat funk.

After face stuffing, our next step was to journey to the next van exchange zone and attempt to get some sleep before Bitz had to take off at 1 am for our second shift of legs. Darrell likens a 15 passenger van to a monte carlo indy car, so we made it there in record time with plenty of g-forces to churn up that pizza hut. When we got there…holy crap. After starting so far behind everybody, we had clearly caught up with the main pack. Galilee Christian Church, site of the most amazing midnight sandwiches on Earth, was Grand Central Station. The volunteers were having to stuff vans in like sardines, and we were one of the unlucky vehicles right next to where the runners were coming in. I did see they had a sleeping area inside, which was vaguely creepy with people camped out on the church pews. I opted to stay in the van since it was crowded in the church and freezing outside. Sleep, though, was an elusive beast. For one, we couldn’t figure out why the back light wouldn’t turn off, and deemed it must be an evil spirit cursing poor Julie, who had the seat right below it.  In addition to the constant loud talkers/screamers of our fellow competitors, the main volunteer had a pair of lungs that would make Christina, Pharrell, Adam and Blake all turn around. Over and over again, I kept hearing what sure as hell sounded like “MY BOYS! COME INTO MY BOYS!”. It wasn’t until about a sleepless hour into this, with the whole van in a giggling delirium, that we realized BOYS was actually VOICE. He was directing people into the exchange zone, which was a confusing Times Square of lights in the middle of nowhere. Nonetheless, COME INTO MY BOYS became the unofficial rallying cry of Van 2 from then on.

About 12:30, Tracy came blazing into MY BOYS and Bitz took off like a mission. A few 7 minute miles later, poor Dan had to rock out a 9.75 miler in the middle of the night. I can’t imagine how much that must have sucked after the horrific climb of Mt St Matthews earlier. He crushed it in sub 6:30 pace and had more road kill than you could count.  Meanwhile, I stood at the next exchange, cold and tired but dead set on improving my craptastic leg 1. I tried an espresso love GU, but only choked a little down before fearing a Pizza Hut reversal. Clemson was right there, listening to Eminem’s Lose Yourself, which I deemed must be classic rock to these guys. One of their girls took off about 8 or 9 minutes ahead of my start at about 2:30 am.

Leg 2 – NOT GOING GENTLY INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT – 5.6 miles – Hatchery Waterfowl Management Boat Landind to Berkeley Elementary School, Moncks Corner, SC

Despite my urge to seek revenge on leg 1, I made sure to not pull another 6:10 first mile like I probably did before. As usual, leg 2 is actually easier, because you’re not running completely cold. The 10k earlier seemed to make it easier to find my stride on this leg, which was a nearly flat and straight route on a lightly traveled highway. It being in the middle of nowhere and 2:30 am, this could have been a deadly boring run. Luckily, we were right in the midst of all the other teams at this point, giving plenty of lights up ahead to catch and keep me going. I think I must have passed about 10 people in the early miles, including one that called me by name. Turns out it was James Lichty, a guy I went to college with and running on a Columbia area F3 team. Cool to see a familiar face out here in the jet black darkness in the middle of the night. I hit mile 1 in 6:36 and just focused on maintaining this pace. Next few miles were metronome-like, 6:31 and 6:32’s. First 3 miles felt great, but suckage began in the last 2.5. I was hitting the same pace but laboring a lot more. But I’ll be damned if I was slowing down. Not when that next light may be Clemson girl. By the time mile 5 buzzed on my Garmin (another 6:31), I was begging for this misery to stop. Thankfully, Moncks Corner is beautifully flat and so straight that I could see the exchange zone forever. I was so gassed but seeing/hearing the zone poured enough adrenaline into my veins I was able to take down one last roadkill. OK, she was walking, but I have no shame. Passed off to Code and sucked wind like there’s no tomorrow. Except there was, and only 7 hours away. Code and Brandon kept up the strong pace with a couple of 4 milers, though Brandon survived a delayed colonic attack by the garlic knots just before his run. Rob then faced the most brutal task of our van. Having already done a 5:45 4 miler, he was going to have to do an 8 mile leg as the last of this shift, then another 8 miler as the first leg of our third shift only 4 hours later. He responded accordingly with a blazing 6:10 pace and picking up another ton of roadkill in the process. I’d like to say I cheered him at the finish, but it turns out I passed out in the van during his hour run. Don’t remember a thing. At least I got in some crucial Z’s though.

In my near comatose state, I felt Code racing the van again like Mario Andretti, all the way to Mount Pleasant, where we crashed out in Jennie Moore Elementary. We had finally gone through the entire pack and now had the school to ourselves and a few other vans. Without COMING INTO MY BOYS, we all crashed hard. There had been some talk of Waffle Housing it, but that idea lost out to pure, unmitigated exhaustion. One moment we were parking the van, then the next it was light out, probably an hour or so later. Just that little bit of sleep felt like heaven though. What was not like heaven was sitting up and realizing I had passed out with my neck in a weird position. Hurt like bloody hell. After a few seconds of terror, I realized it wasn’t going to affect my running. I pounded some ibuprofen, stuffed my face with my cinnamon raisin bread and drank the rest of the gallon of water I had been nursing all relay. It wasn’t pretty, but I was ready.

Brian let us know when their last runner, Tracy, was out on his run. He also let us know Clemson probably had 10-12 minutes on us. With that lead, and only 6 legs to go, it was looking grim. At least third was nowhere in sight. For some time we debated the “Blazing Eights” plan. As in phone in the rest at 8 minute pace – fast enough to keep 2nd and not kill us. But eventually Brian told us that “Anything can happen”, and none of us wanted to be the first one out there blazing those eights. Rob was really hurting but no one wanted to trade legs at this point. No way could I do an 8 miler. He sucked it up and headed out to the exchange zone. Waiting for him was Thunder thighs, and our hearts sank even more. Oh well, here we go.

Rob took off and we headed over the IOP connector to the exchange zone for my last leg. I always love this part of the relay -the sun has come up, and you can see the ocean from the connector, which is the site of my very first 5k in 2007 (IOP connector 5k – 27:05). Appropriately, I would be pulling another 5k for this 3rd leg, hopefully a bit faster than my last 3 miler on Isle of Palms. One of Clemson’s guys was there, who was really nice and informed us he was born in 1996. Damn that made me feel old. The Thighs came blasting in soon thereafter, having crushed 6 minute flat pace over the 8 miler and looking like he went out for a Sunday jog. Ten minutes later Rob rolled in, so amazingly we hadn’t lost any time against their best runner. Rob gets major kudos for doing those double 8 milers only a few hours apart.

LEG 3 – SPLITS AND S@$#^S – 2.95 miles – Sullivan’s Island

Knowing Rob hadn’t blazed eights, that Brian was counting on us, and embracing the immortal words of Thunder Dan Bliesner (“The faster you go, the sooner its over), I took off on a mission. And OMG it freaking hurt. I took off like a 5k but it was basically brain battling against my tortured lower body. 12 miles of 10k PR pace had exacted a heavy toll, not to mention an hour of sleep, a jacked up neck and a stomach tossed about by Code pulling G’s around every turn. Thankfully it was pancake flat and straight. I plowed ahead going absolutely as hard as I could go, hitting the same 6:30ish pace at a 6 flat effort. I almost got hit by a car on one of the 50 intersections, but managed to slide right behind it, too afraid to stop. By the mile 2 mark (6:30 again) I was really, really dying. Pretty much in agony, but the finish was so close I could feel it. Finally, I saw that beautiful EXCHANGE ZONE AHEAD sign, turned the corner, and I’ve never been so glad to see Brandon in my life. Redlined the finish to a 6:27 split and 6:30 overall. Unbelievably glad to be done. Complete toast.

As soon as my delirium passed, my teammates were buzzing about our deficit being down to only 4 minutes. Apparently the Clemson kid had some GI distress and was forced to run/walk the last bit. Hate that for him, from the words of El Capitan, “Anything can happen”.

And things did definitely happen. Leg 33 had a turnaround at the end of the island that had some very confusing signage. We took a wrong turn with the van and had to circle back around. I saw the Clemson girl heading backwards on the course, apparently lost. After a couple of other turnarounds we finally got back on course almost 20 minutes after Brandon started. We finally got to the Ben Johnson bridge from Sullivan’s to Mount Pleasant and we were all shocked. Brandon was up near the top and Clemson girl was about 100 meters BEHIND him. Sweet baby Jesus. As we crested the bridge, the whole van screamed at him to run as hard as he could, and he gave us a total WTF look. On the way to the exchange zone, Code and Bitz were all of a sudden super nervous and they agreed to swap legs, giving Code the longer 4.3 miler and Julie the 3.12 mile one, since Code was 6:45ish pace and Julie 7ish. Brandon came rolling in at just over 7 minute pace for his 5.8 miler and Julie took off like a girl on fire. Clemson came in a couple of minutes later and were none too pleased. They had a strong runner in their next leg and we knew it was going to be close from now on. We followed Julie onto Coleman blvd and by chance van 1 was parked right nearby – she had the whole team screaming for her at once. She ended up throwing down a 5k almost as fast as a fresh legged one – 6:45ish pace. Pretty amazing for a leg 3. Code went off on leg 35, a 4.3 miler over the bridge into Charleston. Clemson was super close, only about a minute and a half behind. Same blonde girl who kicked my ass on leg 1. In the meantime, Brian informed us Clemson had filed a complaint that Brandon had cut the course short. Brandon admitted to a misdirect but swore he got back on course without cutting it short. He doesn’t wear a Garmin, or any watch for that matter, so it was our word against theirs. The race director would have to wait and see the outcome before making a ruling. As you might expect, we were less than pleased with this turn of events, and there was definitely some unspoken tension at the last exchange zone, with our 2 teams the first to arrive. After several nervous minutes, we erupted when Code pulled into view around the corner. We had Dan, one of our fastest, on the anchor leg – a 5.35 miler back over the bridge into Patriots Point. We waited to see how much a lead he would have – their anchor runner looked strong. We waited…and waited…and waited. Twelve minutes went by. Something was definitely wrong – either the girl completely bonked, or more likely, was lost. Clemson took off on a search party for her as we piled into the van and sped off for the finish. We were at Patriots Point for only about ten minutes when Dan comes blazing in , catching us off guard. We missed the team finish but we crossed in 23 hours and 4 minutes, a 6:45 overall pace. A huge pace PR for our team. We waited anxiously at the line, fearing that a close finish would force the director into making a tough judgement call about their complaint. But it was not to be. Clemson showed up 39 minutes later, and the complaint was moot. We were champions once again!

OK, so this was obviously not the way I would have liked it to go down. I wouldn’t wish poop attacks and misdirects on anyone. I was hoping that after the screwy leg 33 that it would be a real battle to the finish, but them getting lost again negated any of that. They definitely had a faster team, but I guess the combined experience doing the relay for all these years finally paid off. To their credit, Clemson was gracious in defeat. It was a sweet win nonetheless, and my hat goes off once gain to our fearless leader, El Capitan, for masterminding another P200 championship!

http://www.palmetto200.com/

The Run Hard marathon/half and 5k is now in its 3^rd year, having risen like a phoenix from the ashes of the Columbia Marathon’s two year run. How Jesse Harmon took on this huge project in 2014 with minimal prep time, is beyond me. The idea of directing a small 5k seems overwhelming. But somehow it was done, and the race seems to be a big success. Unfortunately Myrtle Beach moved their date to the same weekend this year, which may have cut down on the elite participation. It didn’t seem to hurt the overall registration though.

My favorite part about this race has been the relay. Team Blue Shoes has done well, taking the overall win one year and placing second another. I am notoriously late in throwing these teams together, since the CRC banquet prep seems to occupy most of my time until early February. This year I got the Code on board early, and he was able to semi-convince our Palmetto 200 teammate Julie Bitzel to join as well. All we needed was one more female for a coed team. Unfortunately, our attempts were unsuccessful. Given both of our track records with women, this should not be surprising.  To our credit, we were looking for at least a sub-24 5ker , so the candidate pool is relatively small. And it was inside of 2 weeks to race day. And it didn’t help that the late relay team fee came out to 47.50 a person either. Alas, our team did not come together. Code opted just to spectate, but I had to do something. At the last second, and even knowing that my masters archnemesis Jeff Brandenburg was signed up, I opted for the 5k. Somewhere in my melon-headed grandiosity I think I can beat him, despite being handicapped by 30+ extra pounds and the fact that my 5k is NOT a warmup for my 100 mile bike ride later.  I never claimed to make rational running related decisions.

So the 5k it is. Since I’m still in the throes of Boston training, I decided to make the race part of my long run for the day. Doing solo Sunday long runs a day after a race is pretty much nails on a chalkboard, so if I could get it done on Saturday with the race crowd, that would be considerably better. I showed up an hour ahead of time and put in some miles with Rob “the Yerg” Yerger and Randy “Don’t pronounce the H” Hrechko. The Run Hard races are like a party for the Columbia Running community, so tons of familiar faces. Even the Harbison Trail Runners came out of the forest and helped man the pace groups.

The Half and full went off 30 minutes before the 5k, so I took a bunch of pics at the first turn. Looked like a pretty good crowd. As noted, not a whole lot of elite looking runners. Anton Bodourov was there at the start, and I asked him if he was going to win. Just a smile. Dude knew he was walking into a trophy hunt.

A half an hour later I’m at the 5k start, where hopefully someone got some pics of me photobombing the 5 chick fil a cows they had there. Chick fil a was the sponsor and offered free weekly meals for a year to the top 3 overall men and women. Sadly, with Striggles and Parker Roof there, along with a young guy in a singlet (later identified as Miles Fowler), Travis Moran and yes, even Brandenburg, my shot at chicken was slim to none.  Drew and Tracy Williams, Leeds Barroll, Pete Poore, Alex Ponomarev, John Gasque, Will Brumbach, Ryan Shelley, Johnathan Kirkwood, Jennifer Clyburn, Joyce and Tate Welch, Tracy Meyers, Luci and Jeff Smith, Brittany Robbins, Henry Holt, Rocky Soderberg, Patti and Ken Lowden were the familiar faces. Pretty strong CRC turnout for what was clearly the trophy hunt undercard race of the day. I have taught my constituents well.

OK, quick course review. I had never raced the 5k but I know the USC campus like the back of my hand, especially those routes headed towards 5 points. Mile 1 looked blazing fast, basically the mirror image of the brutal Gov Cup Blossom street finish. Mile 2 looked to be precisely the opposite, making up all that elevation in almost exactly one mile. Mile 3 was fairly flat, with parts of Bunny Hop, the Long Run and Main St crit courses.

The start was predictably fast, a long flat straightaway on Sumter st in front of the Horseshoe, followed by a squiggle on Green and continuing on Main. Drew and JB are crushing it and gap me from the beginning. I’m always kind of sluggish out of the gates so I try and at least keep these guys in range. Randy and Brumbach should be nearby, so I assume just behind me. Some kid from the Run Hard program is latched on to me for the first quarter mile, and I have visions of getting a beat down by an 8 year old before he finally wears out. Main st turns downhill, slowly at first before turning into a freefall. The Blue Shoes paradox, familiar to readers of this blog, is that my sasquatch physique does terribly on downhills and better on climbs. I mean, gravity should be my friend. Unfortunately it turns me into a rubber chicken, flopping all over the place, heel striking and basically wasting all of my significant potential energy. I try to do all of this rubber chickening as fast as I can, since the JB and Drew tandem are trying to pull away. While far superior athletes, they both have been shamed by the Sasquatch on occasion, and have subsequent deep-seated fear of stomping blue shoes.

Mile 1 comes back in 6:11, which seems actually a little slow, since we’re basically falling off a cliff. I’m apparently not very good at that. Just after the mile marker, Roy Shelley is there directing us into the torture chamber of mile 2. Up Laurens street we go.  Laurens is a nice walk up from Blossom to the Salty Nut Cafe, site of my many misguided beer and life decisions in the mid 90’s. Racing up this thing is even worse than that Jager mini bottle night in 1996. The pace feels absolutely glacial after the downhill freefall.  I start sounding like a wounded elephant hoofing up this mountain. But, as the paradox states, I start reeling people in. First Drew then some other random guys. Soon its just me and the Brandenburg. I had drawn pretty close to him by the turn onto Pendleton, but by the time my heart and lungs stopped pummeling my chest wall, he had pulled ahead again. At the next turn on Pickens, Code is taking pictures. JB does a blue shoes style pose and takes a quick look back. At least I’m in his head.

Mile 2 comes back in 6:48. Yikes, holy slowdown. All of the uphill on the entire course is crammed into that mile, so I guess that’s to be expected. Still, I had better kick it up a notch to make sure I at least get under 20. Mile 2 starts near Gervais and does a pretty flat rectangle back to the finish in front of the state house. I’m hurting pretty bad but the flatness is beautiful after the mountain climb. I can see JB and Shawanna up ahead but the male chicken dinner winners are out of sight. We head back home on Main after the turnaround on Taylor. The Soda City market is setting up so they send everyone through a chute in the middle of the street. I can see the finish far up ahead which helps me launch into overdrive. I’m getting closer and closer to JB, but just when I think I have him in range, he throws in one last surge in the last two blocks and breaks my spirit. I cross the line 5 seconds behind in 19:34.  8th overall/7th male/2nd masters. I had a shortish course with 3.06, but its certified and some others got 3.10-3.12.

I had to get a long run in, so I ended up running the half course in reverse with the Code. Got in nearly 20 for the day and I was definitely toast after climbing up Blossom at the end. Sadly, I missed the awesome awards ceremony with multiple Chick fil A cow mascot photo ops. Tragic.

Taking the overall was Rashad Striggles in 17:30, just ahead of Miles Fowler. Parker Roof took 3rd in 18:07. Shawanna led the way for the women with a 19:10, with Laura Holt and Jennifer Clyburn in 2nd and 3rd around 23 minutes. They actually did masters out to three places, though sadly there was no chicken for the old folks. JB, myself and Randy did a CRC sweep of male masters, while Joyce, Melissa Lance and Barbara Brandenburg won among the ladies.

Age grouper honor roll: Joyce’s son Tate claimed the 2-10. Ryan Shelley won 3rd in a tough 11-14. Brittany Robbins was champ of the 15-19. Travis Moran finished a painful 4th, just outside of the chicken, but got first in the 25-29. Drew Williams and Will Brumbach took the top 2 male 35-39 spots, with Luci Smith 3rd among the women. Chris Fawver had a blue shoe finish for the ages and got a PR 24:22. Johnathan Kirkwood and Tracy Tisdale-Williams were champs of the 45-49. Tracy Meyers and Tom Tanner did the same in the 50-54. John Gasque won the 55-59. Pete Poore and Leeds Barroll went 2-3 in the 60-64. Sue Porter won on the women’s side . Patti Lowden was 2nd in the 65-59 while Alex Ponomarev and Ken Lowden took 1st and 3rd among the men. Henry Holt and Rocky Soderberg claimed the top 2 in the 70-98.

Full Marathon: Anton Bodourov made good on my prediction, crushing the competition with a 2:55 on this brutal course at age 45. Not too shabby. Palmetto 200 teammate Kevin Selinsky paced the 3:05 group only to finish alone and claim 3rd! Whitney Carpenter took 2nd and Jennifer Kryzanowski claimed 3rd among the women . Tracy McKinnon was also pacing and got 1st masters for his efforts. Age groupers: Ty Thomas was 3rd in the 45-49. Other finishers I recognize: Kenneth and Brooke Ebener, Scott Flicker, Blair Baldwin, Travis Cowan. Rick Gibbons, Rick Stroud, Winston Holliday, Dean Schuster also helped out as pacers.

Half: Kenny Rayner, Javier Torres, and John Krenar won the podium for the men, Caroline Day, Cymbeline Wilke and Katie Hammock won for the women. Cymbeline is the only local name I recognize out of those six. Toby Selix won masters in 1:26 while Larry Bates took 3rd in 1:36. Age groupers: Fiona Martin and Kimberly Hardin went 1-2 in the 30-34, while Ryan Sacko was 2nd among the men. Nance and Yerg took the top 2 35-39 spots despite Mike pacing and Rob doing his Boston marathon pace. James Lichty was 3rd in the 40-44. Sherri Mims won the 40-44 women while Jennifer Conrick took home the 45-49. Jeff Burgess and Phil Togneri were 1st and 3rd in the 50-54. Lisa Powell, Terri Pignone and Anita Recchio won the 50-54 women. Jim Williams was 2nd in the 55-59. Mike Compton was champ of the 60-64. Brigitte Smith won the 65-69 and Ron Hagell took 2nd in the 70-98.

Oh, and the relay. Three Michelin teams swept the men’s podium with 1st in 3:56, so clearly we missed that trophy hunt. Four Women and a Baby (Carol Wallace, Sandi Smith, Tricia Roland and Coleen Strasburger) won the women’s relay with JZ’s angels (Debbie McCauley, Brandi Bradley, Dawn Woodrow and Pam Zemp) winning female masters. I’m sure JZ (John Zemp) was proud.  The Coed relay was won in 2:57, so we would have been hard pressed to beat that.

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/1074190005

http://www.strictlyrunning.com/RESULTS/16RUNHARD_5K.TXT

http://www.strictlyrunning.com/RESULTS/16RUNHARD_HALFMARTHON.TXT

http://www.strictlyrunning.com/RESULTS/16RUNHARD_MARTHON.TXT

http://www.strictlyrunning.com/RESULTS/16RUNHARD_RELAYMARTHON.TXT