Tuesday, October 30, 2007
My first earthquake
Tonight after salsa class, I was having dinner with my fellow dancers in the big cafeteria at work, when all of a sudden we were interrupted by an earthquake. It was a 5.6, which isn't big, but isn't small either. Wow. Welcome to California! See more at this news article from the Associated Press.
Monday, October 8, 2007
The Marathon
First off, sorry for not getting around to posting this sooner. I've been busy catching up with everything else! Also, as you read along in my posting, I think you'll understand why it took so long for me to write up. Reliving the experience was ... interesting.
The morning of the marathon, Pradeep and I were in charge of waking each other up. This was a good plan - somehow I had screwed up my alarm, so Pradeep saved me from the utter embarassment of sleeping through the start. All of the CRCers in the Chinatown Hotel hopped on the L to downtown. We were ready for the morning. We were refreshed, well nourished, and ready to go. We deposited our bags at the bag check, took care of last minute details, stretched, and crammed into the start corrals. Before I knew it, I had said goodbye to Pradeep and Jonathan, and took my place in the corral.
Shortly thereafter, we were off; all 36,000 runners making their way through the course. It was unlike any other race I'd been in, for numerous reasons. As you'll notice on the course map, the first three miles weave through the heart of downtown Chicago, including a section in a tunnel. These conditions, combined with a high density of runners, created this bizarre scenario where the heat of the runners in front of me wasn't ventilating upwards; instead it swarmed through the crowd of runners as they moved. Imagine jogging on a treadmill in the middle of a wind tunnel. Now, imagine there's an oven set to 'bake' about ten feet in front of you, whose door is wide open. That is how it felt for the first three miles. I'm glad I was in a start corral, and not in the open start - that would have been even worse.
No matter how reserved you are, you tend to start out harder at the beginning of the race, because you have that extra kick of adrenaline when the start gun goes off! As you and the runners around you get into their groove, the initial start line congestion will resolve itself, and people will trend to space themselves out a bit. This helped to resolve the sauna situation of the first three miles.
The whole time I was running with my trusty Garmin Forerunner 305 GPS watch, which faithfully informed me of my pace. It was all I could do not to run faster than my pace goal of 8 minutes per mile. I reasoned with myself, "if 8 minutes per mile feels like I'm running too slow, that means I'm saving up energy for later." As the runners continued to space out and I had a little breathing room, I started taking in the surroundings. By now I've been running for more than 3 or 4 miles. I start noticing how awesome the crowds of spectators are. They're more than three deep, holding up signs and cheering loudly.
Before the race I had slapped "ANDY" tags on the front and back of my racing singlet, in the hopes that spectators would cheer for me as I ran. Indeed they did. The next time I race I will put slightly more permanent tags on my gear, because I sweated the signs off around miles six and ten. Whoops!
The spectators were awesome. However I've learned my lesson and I will not take water from random spectators again. A little girl was pouring water, with help from her mom. She wasn't pouring fast (or accurately) enough to keep up with the demand, so a few runners ended up gathering around her. One of those runners bolted out of the line and we cracked skulls. OWWW! I shook it off and proceeded onwards.. no water for me.
The first ten miles went by otherwise uneventfully. I kept to my 8 minute pace without any problems. But around ten miles in, I started to lag a bit, and ended up switching to a 9 minute pace. "Given the heat, you're being responsible by backing off slightly," I thought. realistically I should have backed off from the beginning, but I didn't think that through. This would come back to bite me later..
At various spots in the course, I noticed huge signs proudly declaring members of "Liz P.'s midwest fan club." This made me smile. Liz P. is a friend of mine from CRC, who it turns out also went to CMU. We have several mutual friends from CMU.
All along the course there were bands playing. This musical element added to the already festive atmosphere around the spectators. Soon enough though, festivities were pushed out of my mind. 13 miles in, just half way, I realized that I was starting to fatigue. I had been taking in water, and had taken the recommended amount of energy gel at the appropriate times, but given the heat of the course, it just wasn't enough to keep me running even at a 9 minute pace. Thus began my slow pace descent that would last for the remainder of my race.
The heat of the day was now in full swing. At one point during the race, as Jonathan would later tell me, he observed a bank whose front sign read a temperature of 93 degrees. Perhaps that was an in-the-sun reading, but hey -- we were in the sun too! Over the course of the second half of the marathon, my pace would slow down gradually, and while dealing with the decline, my muscles started cramping up and I found myself adding in more and more walking moments. Determination drove me onwards anyway.
In a surreal way, I found myself craving the next water stop shortly after leaving the previous one. No amount of water, Gatorade, GU, or bananas would have keep me in peak shape, however. I just focused on the determination I had to finish my first marathon, make my running friends proud, and do right by my non-runner friends who were eagerly awaiting news of my split times over email/SMS from afar. This allowed me to get through the second ten miles, putting me up to the twenty mile mark. It was there, in my original race plan, that I had expected to possibly divert from my 8 minute/mile race pace, possibly even speeding up! Little did I know that I would be feeling the way I did when I got there.
Despite feeling not all that super, I knew that I was only a few miles away from the finish. The last six miles are the hardest, but little did I know how emotionally hard they would be - and not because of me! By the time I got to mile 22/23, my butt was really dragging, but I was getting there. Then, at mile 24 a few weird things happened...
Any runner who has raced in numerous road races knows that spectators (who are not runners), seem to think that misleading a runner is a Good, Helpful Idea. As in, you're running in a 5 mile race, and the spectator just after the mile 3 water stop says, "You've only got a mile to go!! GO GO GO" What do they think you're going to do? Pour on the speed for a mile and then... bonk? Yeah, thanks. No, seriously, this is OK - as a runner you get use to this first-time-spectator phenomenon and filter it out. Except, at exactly 24.2 miles into the race (according to my GPS watch), a runner yells at me: "They've shortened the course! You only have two miles to go!" What? Yes, I only have two miles to go. Also, you do not shorten a marathon. It is 26.2 miles. Not 26.1, not 26.3. Huh? Whatever.
Then, I notice a helicopter flying over the course. I think, "oh look, here comes some news helicopters to shoot footage of determined finishers of the marathon," or whatever sort of logic my feebly performing brain manages to squeak out. This is all well and good until the public address system strapped to the helicopter blurts out "HRRMRPMGRGHH MHPRMRHPPPPG FRRRRBLGRGBRGH!" I look up and notice that the underbelly of the helicopter says "CPD," which would be the Chicago Police Department.
I'm still not sure of what to make of this. Weird stuff happens during races. Maybe the police are saying "go runners go!" or "remember to hydrate!" or "you down there in the red Mazda Miata! If you don't put money in the meter we're going to nuke you from where we're hovering!" I mean, I don't know how this works. All I know is, they think they're telling the runners something important, but it's coming out sounding like the Swedish Chef yelling through a harmonica into a third-rate sound system.
Lastly, at the final water stop, some guy with a reflective vest that says "head waterstop volunteer" (yeah, okay) gets on a megaphone and says "attention everyone! The Chicago Marathon is now cancelled! You can start walking now. If you choose to keep running, you are running in the Chicago Fun Run."
WHAT?!?!!?!!?!!
News flash: Running about 25 miles of a 26.2 mile, standard issue marathon, only to be told that you are running/walking in a "fun run" is NOT FUN. A "fun run" is the kind of half-mile run they set up for kids, when their parents are running a 5K later that day.
Extra news flash: You don't tell someone who has willed themselves to run 25 miles of a 26.2 mile marathon that now would be a just dandy time to start walking!
Ok, fine, whatever. I'm going to keep running/walking my way to the finish line, despite the ultimate mind-fuck/excuse to punk out that was just dropped on everyone like a ton of bricks. Right? I mean, who or what's going to stop us before the finish line. There is going to be a finish line, right? I sure hope.
Keep in mind that beforehand I did not bother to study the race course. I figured it would be an exercise in futility. I have such a bad memory anyway, and besides, what good will it do? Probably no good. I'll just end up psyching myself out before the race. There's a video of the race course as driven by a volunteer with a camera strapped to their car. I neglected to watch this too. All I knew about the course was a short description of the one measly "hill" in the course, which happens to be at the end of the race. You're running all the way up Michigan Ave into the heart of downtown Chicago, and at the end there's a quick right turn, you go up a little hill/over a bridge, make a quick left, and you're less than 500 meters from the finish, in a straight shot.
Armed with the ridiculous "cancellation" of the Chicago "marathon", but still knowing that the race has to be over in less than 1.2 miles, I plod onward looking for this fabled right turn. Finally it arrives - but not all is as I imagined it. It turns out that runners are starting to pile up (not severely though), in an improvised cattle chute right before the right turn. Two policemen are bottlenecking the runners into a single file line. WHY on earth would you do this? If this had been anyone other than policemen, they would have been trampled for doing this. I give the policemen credit for being as ballsy as this. Their plan was to individually tell every runner at this point to STOP RUNNING and start walking, and that the race was over. Why you would tell people who have run 25.8 miles of a 26.2 mile race this NOW, boggles the mind.
So I did what any other self-respecting runner would do. I merged into the pack, walked single file through Officer Tweedledee and Officer Tweedledum's bottleneck, and then took off running again. If you think that several thousand runners are going to just say, "you know, forget it, I'm going to kick my shoes off and lay in the sand when I could be finishing the last measly 800 meters of a marathon. What a delightful showing, ha ha ha. Muffy, ask Terrence to bring the golf cart around and we'll go for tea," then balls to you and the wonderful City of Chicago. Balls with a capital B.
I don't remember much about running the last 800 meters or so other than mentally pingponging between "AAAUUUAAAAUGH FINISH go GO go GO" and "I wonder if there IS a finish line?" When I got over the bridge and made the left turn, there was in fact a finish line, and I did see the ChampionChip timing mats, so my sole goal was getting my race time clocked. As soon as I passed over the racing mats I stopped cold. Well, I stopped smoking hot, not cold, but I sure did stop.
After all of that you would think I would be on top of the world, in some sort of post-marathon runner's high state of euphoria. Well, I look forward to having that at some other race, possibly a marathon. But it wasn't going to happen at this race. Hell no, there was still craziness yet to come. You see, 99% of the people running in the Chicago race were using race-provided loaner ChampionChip timing devices. As a racer, you are given zip-ties to affix the device to your shoe. At the end of the race, understandably, the last thing you want to do is figure out how to undo the device from your shoe. So, you're supposed to put your shoe up on a low bar, and volunteers will clip the zip-ties and take back your timing device.
Except, in this case put on your physics, fluid mechanics, or plumbers' hat and imagine that people finishing the race are like a certain amount of water running into, say, a pipe. And imagine the metal cage that holds the ChampionChip-clipping volunteers as a smaller, extremely sticky solid cylinder on the center/inside of that pipe, through which water cannot flow but is attracted. Immediately after finishing you are wedged into a backed-up finish line area in which everyone is trying to get their chips clipped, and no-one is moving forward. Now, instead of being able to walk, even at a very slow pace, through the finish chute, you are packed into a steaming hot pile of runners, standing straight up. You cannot move around, much less move your limbs. This is the most horrible feeling. You are baking, and your knees are screaming at you. You wish you could even just sit down, or even walk in a circle, but instead you cannot do anything.
On the right there was a huge tent marked "ICE TENT." Exciting! Except that the volunteers in there are just constantly yelling "Sorry we're out of ice!" Damn. In the meantime, volunteers up on raised platforms are equipped with megaphones. Instead of announcing "congrats on finishing the race! Please exit left for baggage claim, or right to meet up with your waiting family" or whatever, they have been reassigned to yelling "RUNNER DOWN" and pointing, trying to help emergency teams locate the runners who are passing out in the river of crammed runners. In the ten minutes it took to get through this crowd, I personally witnessed three runners pass out, one of whom I personally helped catch before they keeled over. Aaaaugh!
After I got out of that mess, I picked up my bag of stuff, and headed over to the "family/team greeting area" where I met up with Jonathan, Jonathan's wonderfully supportive sons, Pradeep, Tim, Stu, and Stu's wonderfully supportive sister. Jonathan, who is 57 and diabetic, finished in an astounding time of 4:08:51. He did it for himself, and he did it to prove to his sons how much of a badass he is (as if any of us had any doubt.) I am so proud of him. After I found the CRC group, I resigned myself to laying out on the ground, waiting for the inevitable cramping. Here's a bonus photo of Jonathan and I in our post-marathon passed out state:
How did I do? Well, "it ain't pretty but I'll take it."
Despite being upset about the race, I'm not too upset about my personal time. Sure, it wasn't my "goal" time of 3:30, but considering that I had to deal with a self-imposed sabotage of my training due to the tendinitis (15 of the last 25 days I did not run at all), and that the temperatures for the marathon were out of control, being a little over an hour behind my lofty goal was not entirely unreasonable. CRC elite runner Mike dropped out of the race, as did Suma, a very fast female runner in the group, and Erin another CRCer who had finished all five of her previous marathons. It seems like finishing itself was an accomplishment.
And that, my friends, is how I did at the Chicago Fun Run.
Side note: CRC's Mike went on to run a kickass Philadelphia marathon! Way to go Mike!
The morning of the marathon, Pradeep and I were in charge of waking each other up. This was a good plan - somehow I had screwed up my alarm, so Pradeep saved me from the utter embarassment of sleeping through the start. All of the CRCers in the Chinatown Hotel hopped on the L to downtown. We were ready for the morning. We were refreshed, well nourished, and ready to go. We deposited our bags at the bag check, took care of last minute details, stretched, and crammed into the start corrals. Before I knew it, I had said goodbye to Pradeep and Jonathan, and took my place in the corral.
Shortly thereafter, we were off; all 36,000 runners making their way through the course. It was unlike any other race I'd been in, for numerous reasons. As you'll notice on the course map, the first three miles weave through the heart of downtown Chicago, including a section in a tunnel. These conditions, combined with a high density of runners, created this bizarre scenario where the heat of the runners in front of me wasn't ventilating upwards; instead it swarmed through the crowd of runners as they moved. Imagine jogging on a treadmill in the middle of a wind tunnel. Now, imagine there's an oven set to 'bake' about ten feet in front of you, whose door is wide open. That is how it felt for the first three miles. I'm glad I was in a start corral, and not in the open start - that would have been even worse.
No matter how reserved you are, you tend to start out harder at the beginning of the race, because you have that extra kick of adrenaline when the start gun goes off! As you and the runners around you get into their groove, the initial start line congestion will resolve itself, and people will trend to space themselves out a bit. This helped to resolve the sauna situation of the first three miles.
The whole time I was running with my trusty Garmin Forerunner 305 GPS watch, which faithfully informed me of my pace. It was all I could do not to run faster than my pace goal of 8 minutes per mile. I reasoned with myself, "if 8 minutes per mile feels like I'm running too slow, that means I'm saving up energy for later." As the runners continued to space out and I had a little breathing room, I started taking in the surroundings. By now I've been running for more than 3 or 4 miles. I start noticing how awesome the crowds of spectators are. They're more than three deep, holding up signs and cheering loudly.
Before the race I had slapped "ANDY" tags on the front and back of my racing singlet, in the hopes that spectators would cheer for me as I ran. Indeed they did. The next time I race I will put slightly more permanent tags on my gear, because I sweated the signs off around miles six and ten. Whoops!
The spectators were awesome. However I've learned my lesson and I will not take water from random spectators again. A little girl was pouring water, with help from her mom. She wasn't pouring fast (or accurately) enough to keep up with the demand, so a few runners ended up gathering around her. One of those runners bolted out of the line and we cracked skulls. OWWW! I shook it off and proceeded onwards.. no water for me.
The first ten miles went by otherwise uneventfully. I kept to my 8 minute pace without any problems. But around ten miles in, I started to lag a bit, and ended up switching to a 9 minute pace. "Given the heat, you're being responsible by backing off slightly," I thought. realistically I should have backed off from the beginning, but I didn't think that through. This would come back to bite me later..
At various spots in the course, I noticed huge signs proudly declaring members of "Liz P.'s midwest fan club." This made me smile. Liz P. is a friend of mine from CRC, who it turns out also went to CMU. We have several mutual friends from CMU.
All along the course there were bands playing. This musical element added to the already festive atmosphere around the spectators. Soon enough though, festivities were pushed out of my mind. 13 miles in, just half way, I realized that I was starting to fatigue. I had been taking in water, and had taken the recommended amount of energy gel at the appropriate times, but given the heat of the course, it just wasn't enough to keep me running even at a 9 minute pace. Thus began my slow pace descent that would last for the remainder of my race.
The heat of the day was now in full swing. At one point during the race, as Jonathan would later tell me, he observed a bank whose front sign read a temperature of 93 degrees. Perhaps that was an in-the-sun reading, but hey -- we were in the sun too! Over the course of the second half of the marathon, my pace would slow down gradually, and while dealing with the decline, my muscles started cramping up and I found myself adding in more and more walking moments. Determination drove me onwards anyway.
In a surreal way, I found myself craving the next water stop shortly after leaving the previous one. No amount of water, Gatorade, GU, or bananas would have keep me in peak shape, however. I just focused on the determination I had to finish my first marathon, make my running friends proud, and do right by my non-runner friends who were eagerly awaiting news of my split times over email/SMS from afar. This allowed me to get through the second ten miles, putting me up to the twenty mile mark. It was there, in my original race plan, that I had expected to possibly divert from my 8 minute/mile race pace, possibly even speeding up! Little did I know that I would be feeling the way I did when I got there.
Despite feeling not all that super, I knew that I was only a few miles away from the finish. The last six miles are the hardest, but little did I know how emotionally hard they would be - and not because of me! By the time I got to mile 22/23, my butt was really dragging, but I was getting there. Then, at mile 24 a few weird things happened...
Any runner who has raced in numerous road races knows that spectators (who are not runners), seem to think that misleading a runner is a Good, Helpful Idea. As in, you're running in a 5 mile race, and the spectator just after the mile 3 water stop says, "You've only got a mile to go!! GO GO GO" What do they think you're going to do? Pour on the speed for a mile and then... bonk? Yeah, thanks. No, seriously, this is OK - as a runner you get use to this first-time-spectator phenomenon and filter it out. Except, at exactly 24.2 miles into the race (according to my GPS watch), a runner yells at me: "They've shortened the course! You only have two miles to go!" What? Yes, I only have two miles to go. Also, you do not shorten a marathon. It is 26.2 miles. Not 26.1, not 26.3. Huh? Whatever.
Then, I notice a helicopter flying over the course. I think, "oh look, here comes some news helicopters to shoot footage of determined finishers of the marathon," or whatever sort of logic my feebly performing brain manages to squeak out. This is all well and good until the public address system strapped to the helicopter blurts out "HRRMRPMGRGHH MHPRMRHPPPPG FRRRRBLGRGBRGH!" I look up and notice that the underbelly of the helicopter says "CPD," which would be the Chicago Police Department.
I'm still not sure of what to make of this. Weird stuff happens during races. Maybe the police are saying "go runners go!" or "remember to hydrate!" or "you down there in the red Mazda Miata! If you don't put money in the meter we're going to nuke you from where we're hovering!" I mean, I don't know how this works. All I know is, they think they're telling the runners something important, but it's coming out sounding like the Swedish Chef yelling through a harmonica into a third-rate sound system.
Lastly, at the final water stop, some guy with a reflective vest that says "head waterstop volunteer" (yeah, okay) gets on a megaphone and says "attention everyone! The Chicago Marathon is now cancelled! You can start walking now. If you choose to keep running, you are running in the Chicago Fun Run."
WHAT?!?!!?!!?!!
News flash: Running about 25 miles of a 26.2 mile, standard issue marathon, only to be told that you are running/walking in a "fun run" is NOT FUN. A "fun run" is the kind of half-mile run they set up for kids, when their parents are running a 5K later that day.
Extra news flash: You don't tell someone who has willed themselves to run 25 miles of a 26.2 mile marathon that now would be a just dandy time to start walking!
Ok, fine, whatever. I'm going to keep running/walking my way to the finish line, despite the ultimate mind-fuck/excuse to punk out that was just dropped on everyone like a ton of bricks. Right? I mean, who or what's going to stop us before the finish line. There is going to be a finish line, right? I sure hope.
Keep in mind that beforehand I did not bother to study the race course. I figured it would be an exercise in futility. I have such a bad memory anyway, and besides, what good will it do? Probably no good. I'll just end up psyching myself out before the race. There's a video of the race course as driven by a volunteer with a camera strapped to their car. I neglected to watch this too. All I knew about the course was a short description of the one measly "hill" in the course, which happens to be at the end of the race. You're running all the way up Michigan Ave into the heart of downtown Chicago, and at the end there's a quick right turn, you go up a little hill/over a bridge, make a quick left, and you're less than 500 meters from the finish, in a straight shot.
Armed with the ridiculous "cancellation" of the Chicago "marathon", but still knowing that the race has to be over in less than 1.2 miles, I plod onward looking for this fabled right turn. Finally it arrives - but not all is as I imagined it. It turns out that runners are starting to pile up (not severely though), in an improvised cattle chute right before the right turn. Two policemen are bottlenecking the runners into a single file line. WHY on earth would you do this? If this had been anyone other than policemen, they would have been trampled for doing this. I give the policemen credit for being as ballsy as this. Their plan was to individually tell every runner at this point to STOP RUNNING and start walking, and that the race was over. Why you would tell people who have run 25.8 miles of a 26.2 mile race this NOW, boggles the mind.
So I did what any other self-respecting runner would do. I merged into the pack, walked single file through Officer Tweedledee and Officer Tweedledum's bottleneck, and then took off running again. If you think that several thousand runners are going to just say, "you know, forget it, I'm going to kick my shoes off and lay in the sand when I could be finishing the last measly 800 meters of a marathon. What a delightful showing, ha ha ha. Muffy, ask Terrence to bring the golf cart around and we'll go for tea," then balls to you and the wonderful City of Chicago. Balls with a capital B.
I don't remember much about running the last 800 meters or so other than mentally pingponging between "AAAUUUAAAAUGH FINISH go GO go GO" and "I wonder if there IS a finish line?" When I got over the bridge and made the left turn, there was in fact a finish line, and I did see the ChampionChip timing mats, so my sole goal was getting my race time clocked. As soon as I passed over the racing mats I stopped cold. Well, I stopped smoking hot, not cold, but I sure did stop.
After all of that you would think I would be on top of the world, in some sort of post-marathon runner's high state of euphoria. Well, I look forward to having that at some other race, possibly a marathon. But it wasn't going to happen at this race. Hell no, there was still craziness yet to come. You see, 99% of the people running in the Chicago race were using race-provided loaner ChampionChip timing devices. As a racer, you are given zip-ties to affix the device to your shoe. At the end of the race, understandably, the last thing you want to do is figure out how to undo the device from your shoe. So, you're supposed to put your shoe up on a low bar, and volunteers will clip the zip-ties and take back your timing device.
Except, in this case put on your physics, fluid mechanics, or plumbers' hat and imagine that people finishing the race are like a certain amount of water running into, say, a pipe. And imagine the metal cage that holds the ChampionChip-clipping volunteers as a smaller, extremely sticky solid cylinder on the center/inside of that pipe, through which water cannot flow but is attracted. Immediately after finishing you are wedged into a backed-up finish line area in which everyone is trying to get their chips clipped, and no-one is moving forward. Now, instead of being able to walk, even at a very slow pace, through the finish chute, you are packed into a steaming hot pile of runners, standing straight up. You cannot move around, much less move your limbs. This is the most horrible feeling. You are baking, and your knees are screaming at you. You wish you could even just sit down, or even walk in a circle, but instead you cannot do anything.
On the right there was a huge tent marked "ICE TENT." Exciting! Except that the volunteers in there are just constantly yelling "Sorry we're out of ice!" Damn. In the meantime, volunteers up on raised platforms are equipped with megaphones. Instead of announcing "congrats on finishing the race! Please exit left for baggage claim, or right to meet up with your waiting family" or whatever, they have been reassigned to yelling "RUNNER DOWN" and pointing, trying to help emergency teams locate the runners who are passing out in the river of crammed runners. In the ten minutes it took to get through this crowd, I personally witnessed three runners pass out, one of whom I personally helped catch before they keeled over. Aaaaugh!
After I got out of that mess, I picked up my bag of stuff, and headed over to the "family/team greeting area" where I met up with Jonathan, Jonathan's wonderfully supportive sons, Pradeep, Tim, Stu, and Stu's wonderfully supportive sister. Jonathan, who is 57 and diabetic, finished in an astounding time of 4:08:51. He did it for himself, and he did it to prove to his sons how much of a badass he is (as if any of us had any doubt.) I am so proud of him. After I found the CRC group, I resigned myself to laying out on the ground, waiting for the inevitable cramping. Here's a bonus photo of Jonathan and I in our post-marathon passed out state:
How did I do? Well, "it ain't pretty but I'll take it."
Despite being upset about the race, I'm not too upset about my personal time. Sure, it wasn't my "goal" time of 3:30, but considering that I had to deal with a self-imposed sabotage of my training due to the tendinitis (15 of the last 25 days I did not run at all), and that the temperatures for the marathon were out of control, being a little over an hour behind my lofty goal was not entirely unreasonable. CRC elite runner Mike dropped out of the race, as did Suma, a very fast female runner in the group, and Erin another CRCer who had finished all five of her previous marathons. It seems like finishing itself was an accomplishment.
And that, my friends, is how I did at the Chicago Fun Run.
Side note: CRC's Mike went on to run a kickass Philadelphia marathon! Way to go Mike!
Saturday, October 6, 2007
11 hours to go...
Well, I have packed my check-in bag and I've set out my running gear for tomorrow morning. My alarm is set. My bib number is pinned to my jersey (which also now reads "ANDY" on the front and back.) Breakfast is waiting for me on the table, and my friends from CRC are going to be waiting in the lobby at 6AM. I'm as ready as I'm ever going to be.
First let's rewind by a couple of days. My last post was on Thursday, after I got back from dinner. I spent a few more hours in the office, and then I caught a train down towards the University of Chicago, where I met up with BUDA Frisbee league buddy John W, who graciously hosted me for the night. He's got a great place and friendly roommates.
The next morning I went back in for another day in the office. It was a particularly busy day and there were a few small unexpected fires to put out, but all in all it was a good day. Every friday every office has TGIF - beers and socializing at the end of the week. I took full advantage of this (after extinguishing one last fire), and I met several people from one of the Chicago teams, and played ping pong with one of them. (I lost best of three by one point, doh!)
Then my CMU buddy Tim R showed up, fresh from the airport, and we drove over to the Chinatown Hotel, where I am staying for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights. We met up with a whole cast of CRC characters, including Erin K, Pradeep S, and Jonathan D and two of his sons. On a recommendation, we went to Rosebud's in the theater district, which was great. I had the steak with Portobello mushrooms and wine sauce. How we managed to cram seven people into Tim's rental car, I don't know.
By the time we got out it was late and everyone had a big day, so we retired to the hotel. Unfortunately Tim and I weren't able to go to John W's house party, which was a bummer.
Saturday was a pretty busy day too. The CRC crew and two people we met at the hotel, Jim and Jane, went out for breakfast. Then we split up - Jonathan and Erin went to relax in the Chicago Public Library, Pradeep went to the hotel to watch college football (he's a diehard LSU fan), and Jim, Jane, and I went to the expo to pick up our race bibs and do some shopping. All was well, except that we foolishly decided to walk back from the expo rather than take the somewhat slow shuttle. This cost us an extra hour and I think I got some noticeable UV exposure out of the deal.
Once I got back, Pradeep and I went out for Chinese at Three Happiness Restaurant. Then we had a small pocket of downtime before all of the CRC people (plus Tim and one of his Hoboken Harriers friends) gathered together to carbo load at Mario's Gold Coast Ristorante. It was great getting to see the usual CRC adventurers, including Mike McK, Jay S, Steve K, Ethan D, Liz P, and many others. Hopefully I'll post a picture here when I get it. For our last minute preparations, we ducked into a Walgreen's and stocked up on safety pins, Gatorade, and granola bars. Typical runners' gear. :)
When we got back to the hotel, Liz and Gabrielle gave me the "marathoner's boot camp" last minute pep talk about what to expect on the road, how bag checkin works, etc. etc. I went back to my room and sorted out all my stuff to make it easy for tomorrow. So here I am. All I need to do is get to sleep, so I'm going to curl up with a book and zone out. Wish me luck folks, because tomorrow is GO TIME.
First let's rewind by a couple of days. My last post was on Thursday, after I got back from dinner. I spent a few more hours in the office, and then I caught a train down towards the University of Chicago, where I met up with BUDA Frisbee league buddy John W, who graciously hosted me for the night. He's got a great place and friendly roommates.
The next morning I went back in for another day in the office. It was a particularly busy day and there were a few small unexpected fires to put out, but all in all it was a good day. Every friday every office has TGIF - beers and socializing at the end of the week. I took full advantage of this (after extinguishing one last fire), and I met several people from one of the Chicago teams, and played ping pong with one of them. (I lost best of three by one point, doh!)
Then my CMU buddy Tim R showed up, fresh from the airport, and we drove over to the Chinatown Hotel, where I am staying for Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights. We met up with a whole cast of CRC characters, including Erin K, Pradeep S, and Jonathan D and two of his sons. On a recommendation, we went to Rosebud's in the theater district, which was great. I had the steak with Portobello mushrooms and wine sauce. How we managed to cram seven people into Tim's rental car, I don't know.
By the time we got out it was late and everyone had a big day, so we retired to the hotel. Unfortunately Tim and I weren't able to go to John W's house party, which was a bummer.
Saturday was a pretty busy day too. The CRC crew and two people we met at the hotel, Jim and Jane, went out for breakfast. Then we split up - Jonathan and Erin went to relax in the Chicago Public Library, Pradeep went to the hotel to watch college football (he's a diehard LSU fan), and Jim, Jane, and I went to the expo to pick up our race bibs and do some shopping. All was well, except that we foolishly decided to walk back from the expo rather than take the somewhat slow shuttle. This cost us an extra hour and I think I got some noticeable UV exposure out of the deal.
Once I got back, Pradeep and I went out for Chinese at Three Happiness Restaurant. Then we had a small pocket of downtime before all of the CRC people (plus Tim and one of his Hoboken Harriers friends) gathered together to carbo load at Mario's Gold Coast Ristorante. It was great getting to see the usual CRC adventurers, including Mike McK, Jay S, Steve K, Ethan D, Liz P, and many others. Hopefully I'll post a picture here when I get it. For our last minute preparations, we ducked into a Walgreen's and stocked up on safety pins, Gatorade, and granola bars. Typical runners' gear. :)
When we got back to the hotel, Liz and Gabrielle gave me the "marathoner's boot camp" last minute pep talk about what to expect on the road, how bag checkin works, etc. etc. I went back to my room and sorted out all my stuff to make it easy for tomorrow. So here I am. All I need to do is get to sleep, so I'm going to curl up with a book and zone out. Wish me luck folks, because tomorrow is GO TIME.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Chicago!
Today I got up at 4:30 AM pacific time in order to fly to Chicago. I'm here and it's great! The city--from what I've seen thus far-- is pretty neat. I took the blue line from O'Hare into the city, and I waltzed right in to my company's engineering office and got a visitor's desk. The Chicago engineering office is really cool; it simultaneously reflects the culture of the west coast campus, yet it has a very distinct feel of its own.I wasn't here more than a few minutes when I discovered a large removable markerboard that I took over and wrote:
HOWDY. MY NAME IS ANDREW AND I AM VISITING FROM THE MOUNTAIN VIEW OFFICE AND AM HERE FOR THE MARATHON. PLEASE SAY HI - I LIKE MEETING NEW PEOPLE!
I didn't even get a chance to catch up on my email before a few people came by and introduced themselves. People are so friendly! Here's another example: I had brought my laptop but I had planned on using a provided desktop machine. The machine wasn't at my desk when I arrived though. One of the guys who came over to say hi gave me a tour of the place, and then when he realized that I didn't have a machine, he invited me to sit in his cube and use one of the spare computers there. It turns out that this guy co-invented the Subversion revision control system. And now, I'm sharing a cube with him and one of the other co-inventors. Wow!!
In other news, I went to a really tasty Italian restaurant tonight called Volare. It was pleasant walking through the city to and from the place. I had a delicious serving of very light gnocci with peas and prosciutto in cream sauce.
It appears now that there's a countdown to race time up on the Chicago Marathon web site. Also on their web site you can track my progress during the race, via SMS or email. Details are here.
Tomorrow night Tim R gets in and we'll go party it up in the city and surrounds. More later...
Bone scan results
So you might be wondering what the results were of my meeting with the podiatrist. In an astonishing turn of events, Dr. Watson was able to get me a rush referral for a bone scan, which I had on Tuesday. Wednesday I met with the podiatrist. She was awesome - she went to Drexel and ran in the Philadelphia Marathon years ago, and understood where I was coming from. After looking at the bone scan, she was highly confident that I did not have a stress fracture. I have much more peace of mind now than I did previously, since the bone scan is much more definitive than an x-ray. What is the explanation, then, for the pain I've been experiencing? She was able to isolate the area of my right foot that has the pain, and she determined that I have tendinitis. This should not prevent me from running in the marathon, and I should not be at risk of rupturing a tendon. She prescribed me a serious anti-inflammatory drug that I've been taking since Wednesday, so that I should be able to use my foot through the whole race. We'll see how it goes. In the meantime though, I am GO for the Chicago Marathon! Hooray!
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