Ted Corbitt 24 hour - Pre-race

It's been a while hasn't it. I had some other issues that I needed to take care of, so running and the blog took a bit of a backseat. But, I'm back! And back in style. I am running the BUS Ted Corbitt 24-hour Run in Queens, NY tomorrow.

I was looking into running a 24-hour race over the summer. I found one in Boston, but it was going to cost quite a bit, so I decided not to sign up. A few weeks later the Ted Corbitt run appeared as the perfect replacement. The run was first held in 2003, to commemorate 30th anniversary of NY running legend Ted Corbitt's 24-hour American record. The second one was in 2008 and now this one. So, it comes around every 5 years.

My first target at this 24 hour race is to finish the NYC Marathon. Let me explain.

As you know I have been trying to run the NYC Marathon for quite some time now. I got guaranteed entry for the 2012 race by running 9 races in 2011, that race got cancelled and I got entry to 2013. It is at least a three-year project at this point. Due to several reasons, this might be my last chance too. So, I cannot under any circumstances get injured. I promised Courtney that I would leave the race if I feel any sort of pain in order not to jeopardize my race in a month.

If all feels good, I would like to try first for 77.4 and then for 100 miles. 77.4 miles is the distance Ted Corbitt covered in 1993 in a 24 hour race at the age of 74. My race strategy is to try a 12:00 min/mile pace to cover 40 miles in the first 8 hours. Second 8 hours, I plan to drop to 15:00 min/mile to cover 32 more miles and final 8 hours, I will try to cover the remainder to get to 100 miles. I realize these are pretty broad goals, but this is my first time trying this distance and I don't know how my body will behave. The course is pretty flat, so looking at my 60K results from previous years, I should be able to achieve my first 8 hour goal. We'll see what happens after that. I do not plan to stop for nap breaks.

Nutrition is going to be really important for this race. Thankfully, the race is on a 1.2 mile loop, which will allow us to go by the aid table often and the organizers are experienced enough in this kind of thing to provide us what we need. As a backup I am taking some energy chews, some bananas and chocolate bars. As for gear, I am taking three pairs of shoes, a few pairs of socks, 4-5 shirts (both long and short sleeve), 2-3 shorts, a jacket, iodine and band-aids (for blister treatment). Also possibly caffeine of some sort. I don't know. Maybe I'll run to a Starbucks at some point.

I am recovering from a cold at the moment, but it doesn't affect my breathing and it doesn't affect my sleep. So, it should be a minor factor. Otherwise, this will mostly be a mental game. Thanks to my scientist training, I am good at functioning without sleep. As long as I can keep food down, I should be able to keep walking. And walking shouldn't cause any sort of injury.

See you soon with the race report!

Walking fast in Manhattan

Today I attempted to solve a walking related question that has been bugging me for a while. 

Let me give a bit of background and then I will get to the question: 

For those of you, who haven't been to NYC before, one of the prominent features of the city is the long North-South avenues. These start in Harlem and go all the way downtown. Numbered streets cross the avenues at constant intervals.

Traffic on most North-South avenues flows in one direction, uptown-bound (North) or downtown-bound (South). Traffic lights on these avenues are set to switch in a wave rather than synchronously to minimize interruptions. Once you catch a green light, you ride the wave and as long as you can keep a certain speed, you travel a good number of blocks before seeing a red light (it is a whole different story if someone hails a cab in front of you, but we are not dealing with that here).

Of course the lag between the lights is optimized for car speed. If you are a slow-moving pedestrian, riding the wave is not a realistic option. You will unavoidably hit the red lights more often, because the wave will be long gone by the time you get to the next light. Unless you are slow enough that the next wave comes and catches you. As a pedestrian you also have the option to walk against the traffic (on the sidewalk, of course) and there might actually be a case where this is the best option.

So, here is the question that formed in my mind during a 40 block walk: Assuming the red light is on for X seconds, the green light is on for Y seconds, there is a Z second lag between traffic lights and you are walking at P pace which direction should you walk in, with the traffic or against the traffic?

To be able to change variables and get a list of ETAs for different paces, I wrote a simulator using PHP. It basically advances from light to light, calculates the time, determines if the light is red or green and calculates how long the total trip will take. I tested the numbers it turned up to see if there are any bugs. I couldn't find any, but if you think there is a mistake, let me know.

In this first blog post I will keep the light variables constant. I am not patient enough to wait at the corner with a stopwatch and measure how long it takes for the light to switch, so in order to get a rough idea, I counted seconds in my head while walking. Based on this highly unscientific measure, red and green lights each are about 45 seconds. There is a 5 second blinking red light period, which I lumped with the green, because the NYers treat it so. The lag between two lights is about 5 seconds. 20 Manhattan blocks make up 1 mile and that is my assumed trip distance.

The numbers can be seen on this table below. You have your speed, your pace on the left and total trip time, red lights hit and total wait time if you go with the traffic or against the traffic on the right.

As you see, for car-like speeds going with the traffic is much faster than against (and safer, if I may add). The slowest speed where going against the traffic becomes advantageous is 6 min/mile. However, the window there is pretty small. You have to hit a 6-6.5 min/mile pace consistently. The 11-18 min/mile pace range, which most regular human beings fall into, is divided into two. If you are on the faster end of the spectrum (ehem!), walking against the traffic saves about 20 percent; if not, it can be disastrous.  

Whichever way you are traveling, one interesting outcome is that there are vast speed ranges, where walking faster doesn't get you to your destination quicker. In fact, if you attempt such a North-South walk in Manhattan you will end up passing some people only to see them again at the next traffic light. It is very uncomfortable until one of you turns to a side street. (a little note here. These numbers are equal, because you come to a red light at the end of the last segment and you wait to cross it. If you ignore that red light, there are very small differences, because you traveled the distance between the last two lights faster.)

If I can get a chance, I would like to test different light lags to see what value would be the best to speed up pedestrian traffic. That will be the next post. Until then, walk carefully and let me know about your results if you give this a try.

Traffic light photo from Fotopedia.

5 reasons to hire a marathoner

Yes, it is hard to keep the snack table stocked in the presence of a marathoner and yes, we tend to talk about running a lot; but once you get past that, having a marathoner is a wonderful addition to your team. Here's why:

1) Fewer sick days:
Looking at the scientific evidence, one still can't clearly state that exercise boosts your immune system. However, it is highly likely that if you are not overdoing it (i.e. you are not an elite athlete, training for the Olympics), it gives you a leg up. Additionally, runners tend to be more careful not to catch a cold, because if you are sick you can't run and guess who hates not running. The bottom line is, runners lose less office days due to sickness.

Long-term positive effects of running are clearer. It helps you maintain body weight and fends off heart problems and expensive diseases like diabetes. Result? Less health problems, less days lost, happier employees, cheaper health insurance.

2) Mental resolve and adaptability:
Your standard marathoner will do at least one 20-mile run. Not to mention all the other 15+ milers in the season. If we are lucky, we get to do 10% of these in ideal conditions. Optimum weather, enough free time, perfect nutrition. The other 90% of the time we are battling heat waves or snowstorms, nursing an injury or trying to keep food down. Over time runners develop tolerance to challenge. We don't panic when we see a problem, we tackle it. When things don't go the way we planned, we adapt.

3) Runner's Serenity:
I am sure you heard of "runner's high". It is that moment when happy hormones and glucose depletion kick the brain into a state where no negative emotions exist. After the run, the runner becomes a serene creature, which filters in to our professional life.

4) Thinking time:
Humanity created only limited amount of music, audiobooks and podcasts for the runners to consume on the run. At one point or another, we run out of things to occupy our mind, or just get plain sick of it (How many times can you listen to "Gonna Fly Now" anyway). That leaves us lots of free time to think about our work.

5) Running is contagious: 
What did you say? You hired a marathoner and now you want more? Good news, it is contagious! Your newly acquired marathoner will convert your existing employees. They won't all become marathoners all of a sudden, but I can safely say that you will be able to field a team for your local "Corporate Challenge".

A colorful day in Meadowlands

My girlfriend Courtney does not enjoy running. So, imagine my surprise and excitement when she suggested to do a race together. My initial elation dissipated a bit once I learned that it was a color run, but how could I miss an opportunity to convert a non-runner!

I am staunchly undecided on the subject of for-profit "theme" races. On one hand they introduce new people to the sport. New people, who find running boring and never would have tried a race. On the other hand, commercialization tends to get out of hand and entertainment gets ahead of running.

The 5K race Courtney and I signed up for was one of the Color Me Rad series. They are similar to the Color Run events. You run a 5K and people throw colored dust at you. To avoid any kind of pressure, the run is not timed.

Race planning is a details business. Especially, if you are selling it and emphasizing the entertainment value. Unfortunately, Color Me Rad folks are far from mastering it. To begin with, for this NY/NJ race, they limited packet pickup to a Sports Authority store in NJ, near Meadowlands. So, like many of our car-less NY'er brethren, we had to make our way to NJ on public transport, about 1 hour each way. The packet pickup was uneventful. Just a lot of product placement and merchandising. Yay, profits!!!

Getting to NJ on Saturday was inconvenient, getting there Sunday morning was almost impossible. There were no trains, no shuttles and a single bus line that ran once an hour! We lined up at the stop, but the bus was full before we (and dozens of other runners) could get on. We waited some more. Our bus didn't come, but a different one came. Of course this wasn't going to the event. The bus driver dropped us at the closest point, which required about a mile of walking by the highway. It was a funny sight really. 100 people in white shirts, walking single file.

We got to the event 10 minutes before our assigned "wave" time, but there were no waves really. You just lined up at the start, some guy counted down, someone else doused you with painted liquids or powder and off you go! Of course with blaring music in the background.

The course was set in the parking lot of the Metlife Stadium. Thus died my dream of running inside the stadium too. To cover the 5K distance, organizers created a zig-zagging course with "color" zones every mile or so. The bare, lonely parking lot and dust coming from the color zones made the course look like a set from a post-apocalyptic movie. On second thought this was actually a good opportunity to play Zombies, Run!.

Going back to Manhattan was even harder than getting to the stadium. The once-an-hour bus showed up after an hour of waiting. Already full. So, we couldn't get on. We ended up calling a cab and making a cabbie really happy with a $60 fare (+tunnel toll) for 20 minutes of driving.

All in all, this was a pretty bad race experience. I get the concept and I see how it can be enjoyable if organized well. This race, unfortunately, was not. My suggestion is, treat for-profit races like any other business. Check the reviews before you go. My suggestion for the NY/NJ Color Me Rad folks is, get a shuttle bus and find a better course.

Let's go hiking!

I wanted to get away from the city for a week. I decided to go to Killington, VT; which is a well known ski resort. I was initially just looking for peace and quiet, but when I realized that Killington is also a destination for hikers and is on the path of The Appalachian Trail, hiking became the primary goal.

View from the Killington Peak

The Appalachian Trail is a 2180 mile mountain footpath that goes from Maine to Georgia and there are people who do this hike end to end (about 700 completed the journey in 2011). They are called the 2000-milers (I highly recommend the website. There is a whole subculture to be explored). The fastest known time is 46 days and change and belongs to Pharr Davis.

The trail crosses Highway 4 near Killington. I decided to walk south one day and north the second. As I said Killington is primarily a ski resort and things are quiet over the summer, but some stores are open and most importantly, The Bus (yep, that is what it is called) that runs between the nearby city of Rutland, resort hotels in Killington and the trailhead is operational. So, you don't need a car to get to the trail from your hotel.

White blazes show you the trail

Southbound hike on the AT took me all the way to the Killington peak, which is a bit over 4000 feet. It required 2000 feet of climb and took me 6 hours round trip, but as you can see in the above panoramic picture, the view was breathtaking (Google+ did the panorama automatically by the way, which I think is a useful feature).

You might think, how am I going to follow the trail. How do I know that I am not going in the wrong direction? To be honest, I was worried about that too. My outdoor skills are low to none. My girlfriend, in fact, was sure that I would get lost and die (she always worries about that though). As it turns out, my worries were mostly unnecessary. First of all, the trail doesn't have too many branches. If you step in the wrong direction, you would notice it from the terrain. Also, the Appalachian Trail is marked by white blazes on trees at regular intervals. So, as long as you see the blazes, you are going the right way. Using the blazes (some side trails have blue or yellow blazes) and a map I got from the Killington Chamber of Commerce, I was able to easily determine my direction.

Kent Pond

My hike on the north direction was shorter and easier. The only complicating factor was the rain, since the rocks got slippery, but even the rain was enjoyable in the woods! This one took me to the Kent Pond, pictured on the right here.

If you are a seasoned hiking enthusiast or even a novice like myself, Killington is a great place to visit. People are friendly and they are ready to help the hikers, point you in the right direction, offer you food.

On a personal note, the AT is on my bucket list now. I don't think I can find 4-5 months of free time and the money, but I can dream, can't I!

How to survive your first trail race

I recently experienced my first real distance race on trails. As you can see from the report, like every first-timer, I made some mistakes and suffered from them. Here's what I learned:

Make sure everything is in working order: If you get injured during a road race, you rarely have to limp more than 10 steps. There will be police, volunteers and spectators right there to help you, not to mention your fellow runners. On the trails, you are pretty much alone between aid stations. Especially as a back-packer, you may not see another runner pass for minutes.

Don't aim for time, aim to finish: Trail running is fundamentally different from road running. I talked to some other runners during and after the race. Even those with multiple marathons under their belt had a tough day. So, unless you are an accomplished, well above-average runner, don't pick a time target for this one. Just take it easy. Don't worry, the trail will throw some curve balls to provide the challenge you crave.

And it goes without saying, don't worry about having to walk. Most ultrarunners do.

Do specific training: Just like you would adapt to specific conditions of your road race, like elevation or temperature; you need to adapt to trail running before a trail race. This is not easy if you live in a big city, but there is no other way to replicate what awaits you (trail treadmill? Waaait a minute! I think I got an idea!). Buy your trail running shoes early on and do some decent long runs on trails similar to your target in terms of elevation change, technicality etc.

Once you are comfortable on the trails, it is a good idea to run the race course. Every trail is different and knowing what is about to come is helpful mentally and physically. You can read the course guide all you want, but that will only give a vague idea about how runnable different sections are or how steep the hills are going to be. For example, I thought the second half of my race would be easier than the first, because it trended downhill. To my surprise, the second half was still littered with significant climbs.

If you are doing bulk of your training on the roads, train for time rather than distance. Your longest run for marathon training doesn't have to be 20 miles. Estimate how long the race would take you to finish and do a few training runs that go near that (75-80%). The goal is to spend time on your feet and see how your core reacts. In my case, the NYC 60K races I did were the perfect training.

As for estimating your time. It depends on trail conditions. Here's what I did: Check the results from the year before. See how long it took the winner. In my case it was about 4 hours for the marathon. Since a road marathon takes about 2 hours for the winners, you need to double your time. This is very ballpark, but it helps. Another way to go would be to look at where the mid-pack finishes. If you are regularly a mid-packer, you know that is where you will be (maybe a bit behind, since trail races seem to attract a fitter crowd).

Run with a buddy: A running partner is always helpful in distance training. Take it one step further for your trail race and convince your training partner to run with you. One of you may have to settle for a slower time than their potential, but chances are you will both have a better time. Also, if one of you gets injured, the other one can get help.

If you can't convince any of your friends, try to stay close to other runners. If they are looking for a buddy they will probably let you know.

Carry extra food and water: I ran the race with a regular 32oz handheld water bottle. If it were a normal day, it might have been enough. However, it was a hot day and my bottle was dry midway through most sections. There won't be aid stations at every mile, so definitely get more water, especially if it's hot.

Some runners prefer to carry the handhelds, so that they have something to break their fall, if that happens. However, I recommend getting a Camelbak. You may need your hands free in certain sections.

Long story short, it all boils down to: "Safety first!". I hope I didn't scare you too much, but it is good to be cautious going into one of these. 

I hope these tips help. Let me know how it goes and comment if you have additional tips!

Ultrarunning. An absurd sport.

Beautiful trail in Bear Mountain area

I don't consider myself an ultrarunner. In fact, I only recently started to tell people that I am a "runner". Still though, I have run some ultra races and plan to do more. More importantly I feel attached to the sport and the community. So, I felt the urge to comment on this Slate article. 

The piece is about Scott Jurek. The title is benign enough: "What Are Extreme Runners Thinking?". But the following line tells you how the rest is going to go: "The addicts, obsessives, pain seekers, and euphoria nuts who choose to race 100 miles." Really? 

The author begins with a description of Jurek's suffering during races and goes right into this: "Distance running has a long history of attracting addicts, obsessive personalities, the hopelessly selfish, those who endured tough childhoods, or any combination thereof." She uses Jurek's background as an example. The narrative peaks shortly thereafter: "You might think that such an absurd sport attracts only absurd people." She turns slightly positive later, but the overall message I got was that if you run ultras, there has to be something wrong with you.

Let's start with Scott Jurek. He happens to be an elite athlete. One of the best, in fact. And like every world-class athlete in any sport, he will push himself harder than anyone else. It doesn't mean every ultrarunner is willing to experience same level of discomfort.

As for ultrarunning being an "absurd" sport, which according to Merriam-Webster means "having no rational or orderly relationship to human life". In a world fortunate enough to enjoy pastimes like baseball, basketball, football and soccer, I find it hard to believe that running is the one that doesn't have a relationship to human life. I mean there's golf for cryin' out loud! Our ancestors ran. People outside the modern world still run quite a bit.

I think (I hope!) the "ultrarunners are crazy" chatter is just a phase. The marathon became popular, because some guy named Pietri almost died while finishing the 1908 Olympic race. People thought it was lethal. Later we learned that you are supposed to eat and drink on your way and now finisher numbers are in the millions. Women were not allowed to run the distance, now there are exclusive races! 

Remember that there is nothing magical about the marathon distance. The distance between Marathon and Athens was 25 miles. That is why a marathon is as long as it is (we run about a mile longer, because someone wanted to watch the start, but don't get me started on that!). Once you start running, you can progress to the marathon distance and going further is just the next step.

One final note. In 5 days, 20000 people are going to run a 55-mile race in South Africa. I don't think they all had family problems. And there is nothing absurd about them.

NorthFace Endurance Challenge - Bear Mountain, NY - 2013

There are many in the running community who love a good challenge and I am one of them. Last November, after finishing my second road 60K, I decided that the time had come to try a 50-miler. This also meant a move to the trails I kept hearing about on ultrarunning podcasts.

After a long search, I settled on the NorthFace Endurance Challenge at Bear Mountain, NY. With some reluctance. The website said it was OK for trail runners of every level, while at the same time rating it 5 out of  5 for difficulty. Race reports from previous years are filled with stories of horrific "spills". I wanted the challenge, but I also didn't want to try a trail that would be too hard for a beginner, fail miserably or even break something.

Then, on an impulse, I went ahead and signed up for their 50-miler. Initially. After doing some more reading and listening to my girlfriend Courtney's suggestions, I changed my signup to the marathon distance, which in addition to the classic 26.2 miles and the 5 out of 5 "technical trail", entails 4400 feet of climb and since what has gone up somehow has to come down, 4400 feet of descent. I planned to be safe and run what I could, hike when it got rough.

Pre-Race: The One Where We Drive to Bear Mountain and I Get Nervous

I was up at 4 the race morning. Even though Bear Mountain is only an hour away from the city and the race didn't start until 9, I made Courtney get up and out of the house by 5:30. What can I say, I am impatient when there is a race involved. On the way over, we watched the sunrise from the State Line Lookout, hunted for coffee (Diet Coke for Courtney) in a small town called Stony Point and still got to the park with plenty of time to spare. The mood was jolly on the yellow school bus that took us from the parking lot to the Start-Finish line: "50-milers, they are the crazy folk, we are just doing the marathon!" said someone.

Sunrise from State Line Lookout Park between NJ and NY

Waiting at the start line, my jovial mood turned to nervous. Everyone around me seemed to know what they were doing. They were fit, well equipped and ready to go. I, on the other hand, had slacked on my training (just one road 20-miler, no trail runs) and worn my new trail shoes for a grand total of three miles (I believe some of my friends were taking bets on the number of blisters I would get). Chewing on a couple of Clif Shot blocks offered from the race (my only breakfast that morning), I started to think I got myself into some real trouble this time.

Stage 1: The One Where We Meet The Trail
Distance: 3.9 miles

Background music: Are you ready for this? (Nope!)

Minutes rolled down and we were called to the start line. After a short speech by the Ultramarathon Man Dean Karnazes (I honestly don't remember what he said, nerves were running high) and a moment of silence for Boston, we headed out on our adventure! 

The first stage was short. 3.9 miles of warm-up. After a half mile or so of decent trail, it started to get rocky, yet still runnable. I had a few close calls with my ankles. They rolled the wrong way and gave me a scare. By the end of the stage they were all warmed up and loosened.

Small rocks!

Courtney was at the first aid station at my request, because I wasn't sure about my handheld water bottle. I usually don't run with one and I thought it might annoy me. Holding on to it seemed like an insignificant decision at the time, but had I left that bottle, this report would have been about my first DNF and the cute German-Shepherd dog that pulled me out of a ditch. 

Stage 2: The One Where We Lose The Trail and It Gets Hot
Distance: 4.7 miles

Background music: Ain't No Mountain High Enough 

After the Anthony Wayne stop, the hills started to get steeper, the rocks started to get bigger and the air started to get warmer. Oh yes, as if the trail wasn't enough, we also had the opportunity to test our heat adaptation and limits of dehydration. The day's high was a sunny 73F (23C). Ironically, the announcer at the start line was very enthusiastic about the warm weather. Apparently, the last race of the Endurance Challenge series last year was under heavy rain and it wasn't pleasant. Don't get me wrong, I am glad that it didn't rain. Those rocks were bad enough without our feet slipping all around. But some cloud cover would have been nice. Still though, my legs were fresh, the trail was exciting and I kept chugging along.

Big rocks!

Until, all of a sudden, the trail vanished! Another runner had gone the wrong way and was coming back. We looked around together for the markings and found the right trail. But the direction we were supposed to be heading didn't make sense. We were looking at a very steep stairway made of rocks. Apparently, "trail" sometimes means climbing down rocks. I put my hands on the ground, climbed down very carefully, hoping it won't get worse.

It got worse.

Stage 3: The One Where We Rock Climb and I Consider Dropping Out

Distance: 5.3 miles
Background music: Verdi - Requiem, Dies irae (just seemed appropriate)

A fellow runner who was familiar with the trail said Stage 3 would be bad. She wasn't lying. After a few miles of semi-decent rocky terrain and small hills, the trail headed upwards again. I kept reminding myself that the second half is downhill. "Just get over this part and you are done". But the climbs just wouldn't end. The highlight was when we climbed up a rock formation to the West Mountain Shelter and then down on the other side. The view was phenomenal, but going up and down that thing on cramping legs was a bit scary.

West Mountain Shelter

My eyes were glued to my watch during this whole stage. I was counting down to the halfway point (13.1) and then to the next aid station (13.9). I passed 13.1 in a bit over 3 hours (for comparison, my road half marathon PB is about 2 hours). I was starting to get mentally tired from the need for constant concentration on the trail. On the road it is easy to forget you are running and look around, enjoy the view. On this race I had to keep my head down all the time so that I didn't land on a rock in a bad way or took a tumble down a hill. The upside is I didn't need music to occupy my mind. Downside, I got a pretty bad sunburn on the back of my neck.

As for my physical status; my legs were cramping, my core was banged up from all that running and hiking on uneven ground, my water bottle was empty and I was dehydrated.

13.2... 13.3... 13.4... OK, only half a mile... Let's run a bit. ANOTHER HILL!!!!
13.5... 13.6... 13.7... Weird, I am pretty close to the aid station, but I don't hear anything.
13.8... 13.9... Is it behind this turn? Why can't I hear them! Is there even an aid station?

There was no aid station at Mile 13.9, where I was expecting it to be. Neither at 14 nor at 14.1. I asked a hiker coming my way "Is there an aid station back there?", "Not until the road" he said, crushing me further. And then came one more hill.

That was the breaking moment for me. In the middle of that hill. Too far from civilization, an unknown distance from the next aid station, completely out of water and severely dehydrated. I leaned on a tree. I looked back, there was another runner struggling on the bottom of the hill. No one else. I didn't have the strength to go up. If you get out of breath while running, you can slow down. What do you do if you can't even walk? I couldn't drop out of the race even if I wanted to. I had to get to the aid station. Can they even carry me out of here?

Slowly, I managed to pull myself up and over that hill. I first heard the road and then saw a volunteer pointing towards the aid station. My watch was showing 14.55, actual mileage was 13.9. My Garmin, which had been dead accurate until that moment was lying to me! I didn't care. I just wanted water.

Stage 4: The One Where I Make Friends and Learn Downhill Can Hurt As Well
Distance: 7.0 miles
Background music: I'll Be There For You

I binged at the third aid station. Water, electrolytes, boiling Pepsi. Whatever they had, I consumed. Courtney already thinks I am a ferocious eating machine, good thing she didn't see this little display. As a result, my stomach was very unhappy starting Stage 4. This meant I had to walk the beautifully runnable (sprintable even!) downhill asphalt section. About half a mile into the stage I was still thinking about heading back and dropping out. I also started to worry about time. The race had an 8 hour cut-off, which comes to about 18 min/mile pace. Not a problem under normal conditions, but my average speed was dropping fast in the uphills. I really wanted my "finisher" medal and I didn't know if I would get one if I missed the cut-off!

Had to take a picture of this!

Then things got slightly better for the first time. Downhills started to follow uphills. Still rocky and painful, but at least not as depleting. My blood sugar started to normalize. I caught up to some other runners and we formed a little pack on the single track trail. It is amazing how helpful a pair of running buddies can be. As the trail conditions got better, I was able to walk my regular 13-14 min/miles and even run for short stretches. I started to gain on the 8 hour cut-off. My worries of missing the medal started to disappear. I didn't want to push too far though, because I didn't know how much I needed to save for the last stage.

First aid station doubled as the fourth aid station. It was right by the parking lot, so there were people cheering us on. I jogged into the aid station as if I was killing it.

Stage 5: The One Where We Celebrate, Prematurely!
Distance: 5.3 miles

Background music: Sloop John B (mostly the "I wanna go home!" part of it)

Starting the last stage I was pretty sure that I would get back home under 8 hours. It was a short segment, I had a lot of spare time and the course guidebook made it sound like a piece o' cake. I had been fooled before, so I asked a volunteer before heading out: "How bad is it after here?". She said "I know it is 5 miles and hopefully you will get some shade in there, but I don't know about the trail conditions." That should have been my clue.

The last stage started with a climb again. I was feeling somewhat better, so I tried to run as much as I could. I caught up to some runners I had been seeing all day. We finally exchanged names and ran in a little pack for a while. They pulled away, I joined two other runners who caught up to me. The stage wasn't easy at all. Yes, it "trended" downhill after a decent climb, as promised, but those sections were still pretty rocky.

As we approached the finish, I started to get impatient. A hill, another one, some more rocks, scary downhill.. Are we there yet? I intended to finish the race with the other two runners I was walking with, but I involuntarily started to speed up and drift away from them. Finally, I overheard a pacer yell to his 50-mile runner: "You see that tunnel bro, it is right after that". I saw the tunnel, I started running. I didn't have much at that point, but I got myself up to a slow trot.

As promised, the finish line was looking at me after the tunnel. The final 100-yards on grass felt like heaven. I passed the finish line with a huge grin at 7:50:59.

Got my medal!!!

Post-Race: The One With Recovery and Reminiscence

There were two kinds of people at the finish line: The supporters and the waddlers. It was quite a funny sight actually. These people trying to go from recovery area to bag check, from bag check to food court, from food court to beer garden like a bunch of warm weather penguins with medals around their neck.

After I recovered a bit, we got back on the bus. Common opinions were "rocks suck" and "never again". When I mentioned to the lady next to me that for the first time I considered dropping out of a race she said "I've done 33 marathons, 5 Ironmans and this was the one (the 50K race) that almost broke me. I tried to drop out at mile 25, but the guy just wouldn't let me!". Yet 2 mintues later we were once again discussing what race to run next.

We were staying at the race headquarter hotel. When we got there the receptionist asked if we were coming from the race. I said "yes!". She asked if I was running again tomorrow. I smiled. That evening and the next morning we saw many runners waddling around the hotel. Each time we gave each other a knowing smile and asked: "So, which one did you run?".

Epilogue:
Now that about a week has passed, my legs mostly healed and my blister is gone (yep, only a single blister!), it is time to answer a question that is often asked: Why? Well, why does anyone do anything? Because I like it. I like the challenge. I don't like the pain, but I like the sense of accomplishment at the end of the pain. I like that I faced complete depletion and found the strength to go on. I like that for those few hours, I had no other problems in life, nothing else mattered. I like being with other runners, I like the camaraderie. And finally, to quote another runner, I like that "It was just a bad-ass thing to do!".

Sometimes you just have to run.

I don't have much to say about Boston really. Everything has been said and I have nothing to add.

In response to all the madness, NYC running community and runners everywhere did what we do best. We went out and ran. 

The run I joined was NYRR's "Run For The Parks" 4-miler. Most of the 6000 or so runners were wearing their "I Run For Boston" T-shirts and bibs, prepared in the week following the Boston Marathon. Moment of silence was followed by the National Anthem, sang by a transplant from Boston to NY. She was clearly very emotional and had a hard time finishing, but she did and got a grand round of cheer from the crowd. Then we went off, with "Sweet Caroline", of course.

Marathons and running in general has been on the news for all the wrong reasons lately. I hope we can get back to normal soon.

If you would like to help those, who were affected by the bombings, here's how:

- You can donate directly to The One Fund Boston.

- You can buy an "I Run For Boston" T-shirt from NYRR.

- And of course go out and run!

I Run For Boston tech T-shirt.

4 miles in Brooklyn

I am not a big fan of short races. 1-milers, 5Ks, 4-milers, even 10Ks. Going into one of these I know that I will go out too fast and will finish gasping for air. Saturday's Al Gordon Classic in Brooklyn's Prospect Park wasn't different.

Why, one might ask, have I signed up for a 4-miler, if I hate them so much. Because I missed racing, OK? I only ran a few races last year, because I didn't have to do the 9+1. However, a few hours after watching the Manhattan Half this January, I was browsing the NYRR site looking for a race. Al Gordon Classic was the earliest available.

I had run in Prospect Park only once before this race. It is smaller than Central Park, but still provides a 4-mile course without any repeats or out and back sections. Prospect course is definitely the easier of the two. The only major hill is not even comparable to the Cat Hill, which you have to climb in Central Park 4-milers.

As the race day approached, I started to worry about my lack of speed. I haven't done any consistent training lately, let alone tempo or speedwork. Whatever training I did was geared towards long steady running for ultra distances. I am also somewhat heavier now than 2 years ago, when I ran my 4-mile PR. After a battle between my ego and common sense, I decided to try for 35 minutes.

It felt great to be at the start line again early Saturday morning. I was right there, with my people, the mid-packers! Of course my people were probably doing their training and the time that got me in there was two years old, but who cares, I was there!

As the gun went off (the airhorn to be more precise) and we poured onto the road I once again remembered why I didn't like short races. The huffing and the puffing started way early this time. I got into the flow, wondering if I could keep up. To my disappointment, Prospect Park turned out to be a bit tougher than I remembered. There are some rolling hills that give you a bit of trouble. Still though, I was able to manage a decent pace (actually I tried but failed to slow down) and come in about 10 seconds under my targeted 35 minutes.

If you are a lapsed-racer like I was, I recommend signing up for a race. It is a great motivational tool. Also, it is great to measure your current ability and structure your training. Follow this link for a calculator that will give you estimated times for other distances as well as suggested training paces.