Mission Accomplished

I know you've all been waiting with bated breath for the results. First a little background. You all know that I have been training for the Whistlestop Marathon since Jan 2009. The seed for the race was planted at Whistlestop 2008. At that event, I, and 2 other members of my bowling team ran the half marathon distance. Yep, not your typical bowling team. Anyway, after the run we were a little bored, so we went golfing.

A couple weeks later we were discussing how fun it was and we decided that we should run the full Marathon the following (2009) year. And we should golf again. And somehow we decided to turn it into a screwball triathalon. Run, Golf, Bowl. At this point Tad (former college sprinter) had run 2 marathons previously. Bob and I had run zero (0) marathons combined.

The problem of how to score such diverse events l00med. Finally I had the storming brain. First, overall low score wins. The winner of a given event gets zero(0) points for that event and the other two get points based on how far he is behind the winner. Thus.
Marathon: One(1) point for each minute behind winner.
Golf: One(1) point for each stroke behind winner.
Bowling: One(1) point for pin behind winner.

If you think about this puts a heavy weight on bowling. Which is as it should be. It is the event we are the most equally matched in, it comes last, and has the most potential for someone to make up ground.

Well the Marathon is not to be taken lightly. I really wanted to run in under 4 hrs. so developed a plan. Run the first ten miles in 1:25 mins, next ten miles in 1:35 (3hrs total), run 6.2 miles in under an hour. Actual results....... first ten miles in 1:24, next ten miles in 1:31 (2:55 total), last 6.2 in 59 mins. My official time 3:54:58.1 and yes the last 6.2 miles reeeeeaaaaalllly sucked. I thot I trained for everything. Legs were tired but strong. Heart/Lungs not even working hard. But about mile 21 my core musckles started to give way. Thats right. My abs, back, and rib muscles started to ache so bad, I couldn't hold myself upright and my form broke down. I hadn't read about that anywhere and hadn't prepared for it. I'll have to werk on that for my next one.

Anyway Tad ran in 3:11 which put me 43 points behind.
Golf put me further behind (I suck at golf).
We all stunk at bowling that day (unfamiliar lanes/fatigue/etc) but Bob stunk least enuff to make a huge comback and win the triathalon.

Saturday was 1 Marathon (my first), 18 holes of golf (my second round of the year), 4 games of bowling(not publishing our scores, they were bad), 7 beers, 2 shots Wild Turkey. Congrats to Bob for winning the triathalon, to Tad for qualifying for Boston Marathon. All in all a great day even tho I lost.

Mumblingsages did well in the 10k and is thinking about entering the triathalon next year. How about you?

Ummmmmm......Now what?

Ok its 6(six) days away from the Whistlestop Marathon (WSM). Last week Tuesday was a rest day on the training calendar. That felt odd since Tuesdays are normally my 'long' run days. So I flipped back through the calendar and realized that it was only the 2nd Tuesday in 2009 without a run. I have a 'special' calendar that I use only for scheduling races. I've found it helpful to keep training separate from all the other clutter on the official "Golden Calendar" that Lisa uses to keep track of family d00ties.
I looked back at my training calendar and was shocked to find out that I have been preparing for WSM since January 6th and I have no idea what I'm doing or what to expect on race day. The olde saw "the more you learn, the more you realize you don't know" is bearing itself out.
When I started this regimen, I knew I needed to train hard and follow a schedule built by someone who knows what they are doing. I believe I have done so. I assumed that over the course of 10(ten) months I would get a feel for what to expect on race day. Boy, was I wrong. Even following a proper schedule I still have g00d days and bad days. There are days I run like the wind. There are days I run like a park bench. These extremes happen over short and long distances alike. I have felt great after 18 mile runs. I have felt like death 8 miles into a 20 mile run.

Not knowing what to expect makes race strategy hard to develop. I want very much to finish in under 4(four) hours. That means I need to be just under a 9:09 minute pace. So, do I try to peg that pace each mile? Do I log a bunch of 8:30's to put some time in the 'bank'? I know I'll likely fade at the end, especially after the greatly feared mile 20(twenty) where so many hit the wall. How much will I fade?? Should I start slowly and finish strong? Every thing I read says that the best thing to do is to start slowly and pick up speed as you approach the finish line. I also read that 90% of ppl don't do this. If I start at 9:30 pace, will I be able to pick up the time later after I've already run 10+ miles?

Who knows?? I sure don't.

Having a wife is neat.

I am mostly recovered from a bout with Lyme Disease. I will take my last pill this coming Thursday. While the effects of the illness appear to be gone, I am still recovering from the hiccough in my training that it caused. I ran 2o miles last Tuesday and it nearly did me in. My body wanted to quit after 8 miles, but my brain wasn't that SMRT.

This coming Saturday is a 10K in Kasson, MN. While not a true 'rematch' of the 5K Shamrock Shuffle, it will be the first time since then that mumblingsages and I will be in the same race. He is training for the 10K and I for the Marathon at Whistestop in Oct. Neither one of us is "ready" for a headtohead on Saturday. He runs faster splits than me, but has never run a complete 10K distance. I run much farther on a regular basis, but to do so I run much slower.

The sage claims he will just 'run his race' and not care what I do lest he hurt himself and mess up his chances for a strong 10K at Whisltestop. While I applaud the sentiment, 1) I don't believe him. 2) he should be on notice that I am bound by Community Fun Run Rule #23.

Community Fun Run Rule 23) If Mark is in your race, beat Mark.

Yesterday I had 6 miles(10K = 6.1 miles) on my training calendar, so I decided to push myself and see how I'd do. I finished in 50.13 mins, one of my splits was my first post-Lyme sub 8 min mile. I was feeling pretty g00d until I checked mumblingsages' log for the day. He had done 5.14 miles in 41.13 mins. Three of his miles were sub 8mins. This made me a little nervous. At his pace he would beat me by a full minute.

When I expressed my concerns to Lisa, my lovely wife, she was able to put everything in perscpective. I told her Mark's time and she said "Yeah, but that's not 6miles".

Ah Clarity! She is absolutley right. Yes I will have to push myself. Yes I will be sucking major wind. But I have a lot more reserves in the tank. I just have to be willing to use them earlier in the race.

SSKKREEEEEEEECHHHH!!!!!.......KLUNK.

Don't be alarmed! The sound you just heard was my marathon training coming to a gentle rest. Last Monday I started getting chilled easily. I would have a couple swallows of my ever present powerade and shivver for a few minutes. It was 72 degrees in the howse so I began to wonder what the deal was. I've heard reports that mumblingsages is constanly cold when the fat ppl around him are comfortable. Maybe that was happening to me (I've been losing weight during training).

Tuesday was my 'long' run in a regularly scheduled and much needed short week at 6 miles. It nearly killed me. Monday's and Tuesday's run times were paced at 10min+. I've been averaging mid 8s and low 9s, so I could tell something was wrong. M and T night I also had trouble sleeping as my body temp alternated hot and cold. Wednesday was a rest day and I spent most of it in bed trying to recover from lack of sleep, and I barely noticed an itch on my hip.

Thursday, I slept, sweated, shivverd, and scratched my itch all day. I asked Lisa (my wife (M.D.)) what my problem was. She said it was probably a mild flu, maybe even swine flu and I should just stay in bed until it passed.

Friday. I woke up(barely) in the morning whilst Lisa was getting ready for werk. She gave me some Pedialyte to help me rehydrate and t00k away my powerade. My itch was on fire so as she was about to leave, I had her take a l00k at the spot. Immediatly she said "Oh you've got Lyme Disease. We can cure that!"

Saturday I slept again.

So here is Sunday. I've been on anti biotix since Friday evening. I think this aftern00n I can play a board game with my kidz. I am hoping tomorrow I can try to run again.

July 4 2009

Once upon a time I thought it would be a great idea to roast a pig for a party. Pigs are big, so you need a big party. My neighbor Oscar throws a pig party every year for Independence Day so I just needed to figure out how to pull it off. Well, I researched for a while and after some fits and starts I found these 3 guys from miami with some instructions. So here is what happened. Oscar let me tear up a 5x9 foot section of his yard and we built the roaster out of 48 concrete blocks.

We dumped in a full bag of charcoal and lit it up. Once the coals were hot we used a long handle shovel to push the coals to the four corners for indirect heating. We added another bag of coals equally distributed amongst the four piles. The it was time to add the pig. A few weeks earlier, my dad and I had built grill grates out of rebar. The day before, ohcaptain and I picked up the pig from the butcher shoppe, brought it home and applied my double secret pork dry rub(note the spices in the cavity, note our messy hands). I had originally named the pig Wilbur. Wilbur came prepped and ready to go, we did have to rem00ve the kidneys. Lisa (my wife) cut the kidneys into bite size chunks and gave the dogs a treat (*shudder*). I also discovered that Wilbur was going to have a name change. Turns out Wilbur is a girl (note the USDA tramp stamps). Well we got her seasoned up and stuffed her back into the big plastic bag she came in. How do you keep 80 pounds of swine from spoiling over night? Well the refrigerator is much to small. Of course!!! Dump her in the bathtub and pack it with ice. It worked great, but the kids were a little freaked out so we hung a blanket over the shower curtain rod to hide the piggy.

Back to the day of the party. We had to get Betsy over to Oscars house where we built the grill. Well, Betsy was a big gal and we had a couple hundred yards to go, so we wired her to the rebar grills and loaded her onto the trailer.

He had the coals going so we placed Betsy on the roaster and covered her with sheets of aluminum foil. We covered all that with large hempish area rug that Tom's wife was going to throw away, and she c00ked marvellously for 4.5 hrs. I bought myself a remote f00d thermometer for father's day this year. It worked great and Betsy turned out great. Its a bit of a hassle to break down an entire pig into bite size pieces for a party, but it was worth it in the end. It turns out that the very best meat comes from the upper portion of each leg. Wow was that g00d. As you can see, there is an unwritten rule that when you roast a pig you are required to where an ugly shirt. 80 lbs of pork goes a long way. There was plenty eaten, and plenty leftover. Everybody loved it and we plan on doing it again next year. After we ate our fill and the sun went down. We kicked back and started blowing stuff up. Independence Day at Oscar's house is a blast!!

Circle This!!

So the jig is up. Tim's wife and I have been lying to him for several months. Yesterday, all was made known and I put Tim into my car and drove to Saint Louis for a Twins game. Its a long drive so we stopped to play tennis. (I'll blog that later). So long story short, Twins win!!!. Busch Stadium is a beautiful place to watch baseball so after the game we wandered around dodging ushers and Tim t00k pictures. Well, Tim being Tim, was taking lots of pictures so I was naturally wandering faster. We were walking thru the Redbird Club area of the stadium when a d00r opens and a man wheeling an overhead carry-on bag walks out in front of me. Now this guy looked an awful lot like my highsk00l English teacher. I l00ked for a pic online of him, but couldn't find it. I thot what would Steven Schwandt be doing in the press box of Busch Stadium when the Twins are in town. Then I remember that Mr. Schwandt was a dead ringer for Bert Blyleven. Now that makes sense!!! Bert has a very legitmate reason for being there. So I pick up my gait a little and (respectfully) shout, "Hey, Bert!!!" as one does. Bert turns and l00ks. I can see he is tired, its after 10pm and he has had a long hot day too. But he gives me the once over, recognizes a bedecked Twins fan ~500 miles from home, and stops to say 'Hi'. Well I don't want to keep him I just hope I can shake his hand and say something clever(<---fail). I don't want Tim to miss this so I turn to alert him. He has figured it out on his own tho and is hustling over camera bag akimbo, fingers flying on his camera, Twins jersey just discernable under all the gear. Well, at this point, Bert decides its time to shake off the beckoning hotel r00m and turn on charm. Bert shakes hands all 'round and Tim asks to take Bert's picture(duh) with me (huh??/skore!!). We thank him and exchange "how do we get out of heres", and he is joined by Dick Bremer in an elevator. Well that was last night's brush with fame. Its nice to see that some big shot (really outta be) Hall of Famers are nice guys even when there are only two people around and they really want to go back to the hotel to sleep.

I need to post more

Unfortunately, I don't have anything to say, nor time to say it. I am keeping busy running, gardening, working on the basement, raising kids. I'm heading to Rochester tonight to see a friend. That should be fun. Maybe I'll use this blog to tell of my adventures leading up to the Whistlestop Marathon in October. Yeah, that will be fun.

I Demand a Remach

Today was the annual running of the Shamrock Shuffle. There had been much planning, training, and a bunch of smack talk from mumblingsages. The day finally arrived. We made it to the venue with time to spare and hung out in the American Legion on Water Street waiting for the race to start. I saw the course map and realized that my guess of running along the river was completely wrong. We were going to run through Carson Park. Which means we were going to run up Carson Park Hill. Well this changed my strategy. My strategy was based on the assumption that if the race came down to a sprint at the end, I had the edge. I figgured MumblingSages knew this and was going to get himself out to an early lead that would be too much for me to make up at the end. So to counter, my plan was to stay 25-50 yards behind him no matter the pace and pray I had enuff in the tank at the end.
Then I thought of Carson Park Hill. The Mumbler trains ind00rs. On a treadmill. He is not used to real life hillz. I made a game time decision to vary the plan a bit at the hill. I would stay close untill we got there, then turn up the speed on the way up the hill and judge his reaction. Even tho it was less than half way into the race, I knew if I beat him up the hill I knew I had him. I even planned to let him catch me after the hill and lay in the weeds untill the end.
When we got there I was still rather close behind him. I sped up as we hit the bottom of the hill. He increased pace to maintain his lead. I thot about grabbing another gear to see if he could answer. I have run up this hill before and I knew it was still early on in the race. I also knew that I would not be able to maintain any additional speed for the remained of the hill. Last thing I needed was to waste my reserves too early. So I decided to maintain my marginal increase to see if he would fade before the crest. He did knot.
At about the half way point, the course has gradually worked its way down about a quarter of the hill when it hairpins and begins a short double-back portion, back up the hill, before it breaks off to finish the l00p.
I was starting to feel a little gassed at this point. He had set a pace that was quite a bit quicker than my comfort zone. My earbuds were rocking, I put my head down and started to focus on my breathing, all the while keeping him in the corner of my eye. I was heartened by the fact that even tho I slowed a bit I seemed to be reeling him in. Serve him right for going out to fast, I knew I could burn him on the back side of this hill. As I pulled alongside I could hear his feet slapping and he was huffing a puffing like a steam engine. I felt kinda bad for him so I l00ked over with an encouraging smile. Imagine my panic when I realized I was focused on the wrong fat guy in a blue running s00t.
Wild eyed I skanned ahead. There he was. About 50 yards ahead of me. His lead was at the upper bound of my plan and he was s00n to be cresting the hill. I picked up the pace and managed to cut the lead and nearly be shoulder to shoulder on the downslope.
Ok time to rest a bit. Gather reserves. The course is flat the rest of the way, but we were still a long way from home. As we turned the corner near the DQ he began to pull away again. There was still time. As we passed the apartments and residents cat-called to the girl in front of me he was 50 yards ahead again. There was still time. As we passed the park pavilion he was 60 yards ahead and time was running out.
I t00k out my Ronco Pocket Fisherman, h00ked the back of his shirt and began to reel him in. His lead shrank to 50 yards, to 20, to 10. Once I got to ten yards back I began to sneek peeks beyond him. How much race is left? Can I blow by him now? Can I make it to the end at top speed? The answer was always "no". Must wait to be closer to the end. Must cut his lead and get ready.
At five yards back, I made up my mind. There was about a half a mile left I was going to wait there until the last tenth of a mile to turn on the jets. Will I have enuff in the tank to kick up the speed? Will I be able to outpace his counter move? Will there be enuff road left to overcome? I never found out. Right at that moment, his lungs gave out and the leg injury he had been hiding flared up. He pulled to the side of the path to take a breather and nurse his leg.
I finished the race at a slowed pace. I had lost the rabbit I was chasing. I kept l00king over my shoulder, fearing he would recover his wind and come flying back (at this point I was still unaware of the leg problem). While I am always happy for a victory, it is always sweeter after a battle to the end. Yes, the fact that he had to pull off speaks to my superior physical condition. However, we still have the unanswered question. Could I have outsprinted him in the end? Had the pace he set tapped my reserves? The world will have to live without that answer. For now. I demand a rematch!

Preparing for battle

Throughout history warriors have prepared for battle. The preparations have echoed from eternity with as near clarity as the battle themselves. Time is but an illusion. It is but a crutch leaned on by mortals too blind to see eternity. Why do the legends of history speak to us? They have achieved eternity. They are not the past. All that they have done, they are doing. As I prepare for the Shamrock Shuffle on the morrow I can feel the presence of Hercules, of Napolean, of the Mongol Horde. Our goals may differ, but I can feel my preparations binding me to the fraternity of eternity. We brothers prepare. There is no when, there is only where. Here am I, programming a running mix into my iPod Nano. Somewhere David loads his sling pouch with stones from the river bed. Somewhere Popeye opens a can of spinach. Somewhere A-Rod drops his pants. Are those my fingers clasping my iPod? Or are they Samson's seizing the jawbone of an ass? Only the Philistines know for sure.

Its going to be a busy weekend.

As if the much ballyh00ed race vs. mumblingsages wern't enuff. Starting Friday at ten pm I have this to deal with. I signed up for the tournament and the race for the same weekend. I figgure there is not much chance that I will still be required to play tennis on Sunday. I am not that g00d anymore.

I suspect photoshoppe

Reports have come to light of mumblingsages suffering an injury whilst training for our race. Apparently there is a still pic of hidden spy video of the session. While the face is not visible I have my doubts that it really is the sage in the picture.

Injury report

Egads!!! Timing is everything. With four days to go, before the Shamerock shuffle I was laying low, minding my own bizniz. I have been training of course, but I am pacing myself to be ready yet rested this next Sunday morn. To that end, Monday I was calmly lifting a couple of ATV's out of snowbanks in the back yard when up walks Buenger Back. When I accepted the challenge to compete in the Shamerock Shuffle I was well aware that I was going to be dealing with a pain in the neck. I just didn't realize that it would be compounded by an actual injury. Buenger Back tends to visit at the oddest times. Sometimes he visits for a coupld hours. Sometimes a couple weeks. I played tennis this morning in a warm up for this weekends tournament and my mobility was limited by it. Mumblingsages may take this as a glimmer of hope. He would be unwise to do so. It may hamper my tennis game, especially weaking my dominant serve, but running in a straight line doesn't seem to be affected.

Shamerock Shuffle

There it lies. Mumblingsages removed his gauntlet and busted me across the face with it. Its hollow clank of derision against the cobblestones echoes in my ears as my eyes struggle to regain focus. I count my teeth and come away wanting. This could not have happened. Yet, there it lies, mocking my incredulity. Now what? No one would fault me if I were pass out in shock, from the boldness of the challenge. Do I pick it up? To do so, would to embark on an epic quest that shall keep bards and minstrels employed for millenia. The Shamrock Shuffle is not to be undertaken litely. It requires those that dare to traverse 5K worth of some of the most picturesque bike paths that Eau Claire, WI has to offer. In winter. Ho! Ye Fates!!! Were that survival was all that lies before me!!! Nay! and again Nay!! Mumblingsages dares that I should outpace even him along the shores of the mighty Chippewa River. Who is this mumblingsages? Should I fear him? Lo, he remains before me. Waiting. His nostrils flare. His head cocks to the right. What is he that I should fear him? His bearing is confident. His jaw is set. Yet. The breastplate of his armour bows as if under strain. What lies beneath? Mercury stands not before me. Tis but a man. A doughy man set before a flat screen and marinated in scotch. As though a bagpipe was but half filled with the Glenlivet and st00d upon its reeds. I will bow before him. Briefly. Only to retrieve that which he has dropped. I pause and spit my dislodged t00th at his feet. My tongue probes the newly emptied socket. I taste war. Rising, I thrust the gauntlet aloft. I cry "Nike" to the Athenians. The game is on.