Ike was my weekend running buddy!

Here’s a thought for you; never say to your spouse the night before a half marathon “I think we are getting ripped off by this little hurricane Ike fellow!” The local forecasters were all calling for 5 to 6 inches of rain as this hurricane worked it’s way up though the St. Louis area. They said it would rain all day Saturday and then all day Sunday. However, when I went to bed Saturday night – not a drop.

Sunday morning was race day! I sprang out of bed like a child on Christmas morning. I looked out my window and still, not a drop. About 15 minutes later, I heard a sound. What was it? Drizzle? A Sprinkle? The sidewalk was wet – Hurricane Ike had arrived.

I had never run a race in the rain. Now that I think of it, I had never ever run in the rain (unless you count that time a couple of months ago when I almost got zapped by lightening). But now was my chance – the Lewis and Clark half marathon in the rain! This would be a lot of fun!

When I arrived a bit early for this race, it was pouring. One car had already driven off the side of this 40-acre parking lot and was stuck. I wanted to beat the crowds to the port-o-pottie line, so about an hour before the start, I put my crocs on and opened my umbrella. The first step out of my SUV was in a six-inch deep puddle. I thought that this was not a good sign of things to come.

Knowledge is power. On Friday, knowing the forecast, I googled “Does running in rain hurt your finishing time?” A majority of the articles said it would not. The day before, I had bought a ninety-nine cent disposable poncho, how tough could this be?

About 20 minute before the start, I got dressed, dawned my poncho, and headed towards the start. My dry shoes lasted about twenty-five yards. Funny thing about pouring rain, even at 75 degrees – it’s cold! I sought a bit of shelter from the entrance of a local office building with a few other runners. We looked like the smartest people at the event. As the race time got nearer, I left my shelter and headed for the start line. It was like a scene from that movie about all of those penguins, we all just stood there huddling and hiding from the rain. The start was delayed for about 20 minutes. It was getting really cold.

The gun finally sounded and off we went. The rain was hitting us like bullets from a gun. My poncho was protecting me a bit; this may well have been the best dollar I had ever spent. After about a mile, I realized that it had holes for my arms, this made running a little easier. As the miles clicked by, my times were great. I found a girl with bright purple socks that was running my pace. Cowardly, I drafted behind her and just focused on her socks. I must have followed her for six miles.

I found the water stops a bit ironic. Here we were, getting completely soaked, yet being offered water. This actually was turning out to be a lot of fun. The gusts were getting stronger. Each time a powerful one hit, the runners would all cheer. It was sort of like being in a giant conga line – except without the music.

This was my second year running this event, so I knew the course. But at mile eight, we were forced to take an unexpected left turn. Maybe by now you have gathered that this “Lewis and Clark” marathon was sort of a “retracing” of some of their more famous steps. These guys didn’t explore by spaceship, they tracked across land and rivers. This course followed and crossed the Missouri River. If you do the math; massive amounts of ran plus a big, unpredictable river equals potential trouble. The turn shaved about three miles off of the course. The river was on the rise!

I crossed the newly established finish line (they stopped the race at 10.1 miles) at a pace that would have set a new PR (personal record) for me. They draped the finisher’s medal and a second medal I had earned for competing in both St. Louis events around my neck. I grabbed a banana and my bag of dry clothes from the finishing area and headed for the buses that would take us back to the starting area. I got to my bus seat and a girl asked if the other side of the seat was taken? It was the girl in the purple socks! I told her my story and she looked at me like I was circus folk. I didn’t share with her that because of her girth her primary usefulness for me was wind blocker rather than course beacon because of her bright socks. Nevertheless, when I got back to my truck, I headed back home.

As I left the parking lot, cars were literally submerged in floodwater. Yes, Hurricane Ike had kicked Lewis and Clark’s ass! I, too, learned a valuable lesson about taunting the hurricane gods – if they same there’s a storm coming, it likely is. This event, retrospectively, was a lot of fun, if not a bit irresponsible and crazy! This was just another stepping-stone on the road to Chicago, albeit an incredibly soggy one...

My Inner Voice

God my legs hurt. I mean, is this any way to live? It started again on June 9th – my first day of training for Chicago and it hasn’t stopped since. I go to bed and my legs throb. I get up in the morning and feel like my feet are going to fall off. I go up and down the stairs and I hear my knees pop. Why do I do this to myself?

I spend hours on a treadmill, running mile after mile just to end up where I started. I get no sleep on the weekend. I am up at 5 AM on a Sunday morning just to punish myself more. I spend most of that day limping around feeling terrible.

I enter race after race for what? A medal? Despite how much I train, my times are almost always the same. Mid-packer am I! What is the point to all of this absurdity?

This post was brought to you by the little non-running voice in my head. I promised that if he let me finish my last long run, I would give him some time to vent.

Going for the Gold!

Wow! Who couldn’t fall in love with the Olympics! If there were a more pure form of human competition, I wouldn’t know what it would be! What a great two weeks of laying on my couch as much as possible and enjoying them.

Track and Field seemed particularly interesting this time around. Maybe my fond rekindling with running had a bit to do with that. World records were falling like leafs from a tree. The sprint races were great, but I was all jacked up about watching the marathon.

As the runners lined up in Tienanmen Square, the setting couldn’t have been more perfect. Seemingly a storybook picture for this classic event. The gun sounded and off the runners went. As they passed the first mile marker, the clock showed 4 minutes and 41 seconds. I about dropped my beer! What’s up with that? Do you think genetics play; dare I say, just a bit of a role in getting to that level? You better believe it! I thought to myself, if I was dropped from a mile-high building, I couldn’t fall at a 4:41 pace! – Let alone if I had to do it horizontally! That was unbelievable. The lead pack kept clicking off miles like they were nothing. The winning time smashed the Olympic record by a couple of minutes. All of this in high humidity and incredible heat! The top U.S. finishers were a respectable 9th and 10th place.

After watching this incredible event, I left with a renewed sense of peace and respect for the distance. Life is but a series of lessons, so what can I apply from watching these semi-mortals compete? First, there is only one winner. Did the performance of the other 98 +/- participants really matter? Of course it did! Next, even though 98 runners didn’t get the gold, what an honor to even be standing at the starting line. Third, if I could turn back time, train, and live my life like a professional athlete, I still couldn’t run a 4:41 mile, let alone 26 of them! Finally, since there is only one “recognized” winner, maybe going for the gold in the races I run shouldn’t be what running is about to me. Maybe making the commitment to get on the treadmill nearly every day, then go out at 5:30 AM on warm Sunday mornings and run my guts out – just to finish in the middle of the pack is truly the real gold medal! Maybe that is why we have champions and heroes in real life, so we can live vicariously though their talents and achievements because we may not be capable of reaching those on our own. Run on mid-packer, run on!

Chicago Distance Classic

This weekend took me one step closer to the BOA Marathon in October. My wife and I went to the "Windy City" to run the Chicago Distance Classic with my sister Shelly. We were fortunate that the summer weather for this August weekend was nearly perfect. It was cool and in the low 60’s on race morning. There is just something about this city that you just have to love!

We came up on Friday evening and had a blast with Shelly and Joe. We had a great dinner and a good night out on the town. With very little sleep, we awoke on Saturday morning and headed downtown for the day. We stayed at the “W Hotel” on Adams - I have never experienced any place like this. Completely impressive, it has some of the most hip décor I have ever seen in any place that I have stayed.

We went over to the race expo and then walked over to the Navy Pier. We spent several hours here culminating in the “sail boat ride from hell”! Don’t know if I would suggest sailing on the Tall Sailing Ship of Chicago in a windstorm. I thought my wife was going to knock the Captain out, but we made it through somehow.

Sunday morning was great. The three of us arrived a bit early for the event in Grant Park. Not that I have ran hundreds of these races, but it neat to see how the different runners act on race morning. Some people have trained for months for this one event – you can see the focus they have. Some woke up the day before and decided to do the event the following day. You get a little of every type.

Julie and Shelly made a plan to meet me after the race then disappeared into the sea to 10,000 runners. I started toward the front of the pack and, in usual form, went out too fast. The course was flat, and on the way back went along the jogging trail along Lake Michigan.

This event was special. After I finished, I had a chance to watch a lot of the runners at about the 13-mile mark as they were finishing. If you run and have never done this, it’s really quite cool. All of those people who are running a first half marathon have the finish line in sight. It is neat to watch them as they see all of their hard work about to pay off. I caught a glimpse of Shelly and Julie as they approached the finish line. They didn’t look overly emotional, just like they wanted to finish. They did! It was a great experience. Julie was hooked after the race and wants to run more, Shelly – not so much.

After the event everybody was feeling great. We decided to walk down to Joe’s firehouse (remember that he is a diver/firefighter for the Chicago Fire Department). We spent some time there and then headed back home for St. Louis a little later in the day. Now begins the big mileage weeks of the training program. Forty-one miles this week and even more the following weeks. Fun time is definitely over!

If I could be like Mike!

Finally, I got up the nerve to send the email. You see, not too much makes me nervous, but this one was quite a leap.

During most of the last year and a half of my post-army “reintroduction to running”, I have been the proverbial “lone wolf”. Most of the time during the week, it’s just the treadmill and me. On the weekends, if I’m not racing, I hit the road and do the long runs all by my lonesome. This is one of the cool things about the sport, you can be on your own, or you can be part of a group – it’s your choice! I sort of find the solitude appealing; no cell phones ringing, no little boys tearing up things, and home improvement projects. Nope, it’s just the road and me.

One day, I was reading in the bible (Runner’s World) about the value of speed work. For my first marathon last year in Memphis, I didn’t even know what speed work was. But Doug 08’ is smarter than Doug 07’ – if you want to run faster, you have to train faster. Hence the evolution of speed work in my BOA marathon plan.

I call it “Speed Work Wednesday”. It’s the one workout each week I push myself perhaps farther than I should. I mix it up from 400 repeats, 800 repeats, to mile hard runs. My treadmill is smoking! My boys sit and watch me and remind me not to fall off. These workouts are killers, but although I haven’t taken home any trophies lately, I am feeling much stronger than ever before.

I thought to myself “if speed work works on my own, it must work really well with a group”, where better to find a group than the local running store – Toolen’s Running Start (this is where the Mike part comes in to play). Mike Toolen owns The Running Start. He is somewhat an icon in local running circles. I believe he is in his mid-sixties, smaller in stature, white hair, and you will see him EVERYWHERE you go for anything running related. I ran his “Top O’ The Morning” 5K this spring, he is the official timer for the lead pack of the St. Louis Marathon, I even saw him when I pulled in to the expo parking lot for the Memphis Marathon last year. He is everywhere! He is one of these guys you just know will be cool when you actually meet him.

Anyway, I sent Mike an email to see if he has any group speed works or runs that are sponsored by his store. He sent me a message back that they do on Tuesdays and that they are for runners of all levels. I’m in! The group meets tonight, but it is 100 degrees in St. Louis today with a heat index (whatever that is) of 110. So in spite of my high level of motivation, next Tuesday might be a better introduction. Finally, my chance to hang with real “runner friends” – hope I can be like Mike!

Chicago - Part I

I’m all jacked up on Mountain Dew! The first of my two Chicago visits will be this weekend, when my wife and I journey to the Windy City to run the Chicago Distance Classic with my little Sister Shelly. Shelly and Julie are going to do their own thing, but I, an experienced marathon veteran (yeah right), will treat it as the serious tune-up run that it is.

Shelly Peters, the event-planning powerhouse, has set our social agenda for Friday evening. Her last event ended in me wearing an unmanly-looking pirate costume and drinking beer from my built-in kegerator until all hours of the night. That was before I made the commitment to my second marathon. Who am I kidding, Friday night will more of the same.

Two schools of thought with my wife running this race: school A) I am proud of her for making a commitment to do this. School B) She is infringing on my man-space. She wears my special socks (my foot is about twice the size of hers), she takes my Ironman watch, and she even wears my cool cycling glasses. But strangely, I’m fine with all of that, I’m just glad we get to go somewhere for the weekend!
No serious goals for the run, just want to survive and not fall into the lake. Looking forward to this event for some time. It will be my forth half of the year so far, and will put me over the 250 mile market for my BOA marathon training that started June 9th!

When Lightning Strikes!

My 15-miler was going super strong! I can’t believe the confidence I am drawing from the fact that for this marathon – I am training exactly as I know I should be. I am using my head on the long runs. Planting water in the right spots. Not going out too fast or worrying about my pace. Knocking on wood again, it all seems like it is heading in the right direction. At least it seemed that way until I was about ten miles in to the run last Sunday.

I felt very happy that the sun was hiding behind the clouds for most of the run. Oh, I saw him peek out at me a couple of time on the way out to my 7.5 turn-around, but he was definitely showing me some mercy, maybe a bit too much mercy. About half way back in, it seemed like the sky was getting darker. The forecasters didn’t mention anything too eventful, but it was really getting dark.

I started to hear the distant rumblings of thunder over my Ipod. The sound kept getting louder and louder. It was at that time that the clouds started looking really strange. I was about three miles from home when I realized that I was about to run in to my first big electrical storm.

Here’s the thing about a strong summer storm while you are running: what do you do? I thought that most of my run was along wooded areas or trees – maybe they would catch the brunt of its fury! Not to be! About two miles from home, I passed a woman walking on the side of the road in front of her home. She said “those clouds really look bad!” I agreed and told her “looks like we are going to get wet”. Each moment became more and more serious. I could see the lightning increasing in intensity and getting closer. I had not prepared for this contingency. What was I going to do? Had I lived for forty-two years just to meet my maker at the hands of a bolt of lightning? I could only imagine what people would say; didn’t he know there would be a storm? He was doing what at what time in the morning? This had a lot of downside potential!

Just as I reached the top of Mt. Belleville all hell broke loose. It started to rain, the wind got very strong, and I could see lightning getting very close. Ironically, to take my mind off of the long runs, I had filled my Ipod with audio books. I was listening to Joel Osteen read his most reason book “Become a Better You!” This chapter was on the wonder of God’s creations. I wasn’t too impressed currently with his work in the severe storm department. I had to make a plan quick: I decided, as a runner, I would run really fast! After the painful decent from the Mount, I was running as if I was being chased by a pack of wild dogs. Funny thing about facing death – you feel no knee or joint pain what so ever. I kept running as the storm became more intense. I thought about laying down in a ditch or running into the woods – neither sounded to appealing. I just kept on going! Inspired by Joel, I started to pray, “Dear God, don’t let me get hit by lightning!” I also started to pray that my wife would hear the storm and come out and get me - that was a real long shot. I had about three quarters of a mile left and it had gotten really crazy. It was time to get in the ditch.

It was at that moment I saw two headlights through the driving rain. It was my wife Julie to the rescue! Doug and Coco were in the back seat telling me how they just saved my life! Coco, my soon-to-be four year old asked me “why are you running in the storm daddy?” I didn’t have a really good answer. As I put her floor mat over her seat before I sat down to absorb the sweat and rain, I closed the door and was extremely thankful. She turned the car around and we headed home through some of the most intense lightning I had ever seen – from inside or being out in it.

This was one of those crazy experiences that you really don’t take any really lessons from. When I headed out the door, it didn’t look remotely at all like rain. It just came for nowhere. I guessed I dodged another bullet on my way to Chicago, one I hope to never face again.