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Behind the Abs: Some Detail and Instruction on How I Got Them and How You Can Too

When I first saw the above picture, taken at the Peapod Half Madness Half Marathon a few weeks ago, I had to do a double-take.  Who the hell is that guy?!?!  Is that really me?  Holy shit!  When did I become… that?!?

I posted the picture on my Facebook, and before I knew it I was receiving an abundance of messages, comments and texts, all asking the same thing:

HOW DID YOU DO THAT?

It’s a great question.  And the answer is layered, with several components.  But it’s an important one to address because by examining exactly how I did transform from a tired, overweight, boozing nicotine addict into the uber-fit, lean ultrarunner I am today, I think others will discover that it really is possible — that if one is determined enough, he or she can have the type of body people dream about.

Me, summer of 2009. Pudgy and buzzed with questionable tastes in fashion.

The problem with acquiring that perfect dream body is the simple fact that it is definitely not easy.  In fact, it’s really damn hard.  The only way it can be achieved is through determination, practice and discipline.  That’s good news if you’re a runner, because running requires all of the above.  In fact, that’s how it all started for me.  Once I became a runner and began setting and accomplishing my goals, then I realized that I could accomplish any reasonable goal I put out there, as long as I made use of the same principles.

Determination, practice, discipline.

Determination:
Tired of always thinking what if, I decided I was just going to do it.  No matter what.  I was going to get a six-pack.  Whatever it took.  Once I became determined and really prepared myself mentally for the kind of struggle that would be necessary, I went on to the practice phase.

Practice:
Knowing it wasn’t going to happen overnight, I started at zero and worked my way up.  I learned some basic physiology tenets and found exercises that would get me where I wanted to go.  I did the work.  Lots and lots of work.  And while this may not be what most people want to hear, it is the truth that it took about two years of hard work to get my body to look like it does today.  Two years.  Anything that takes that long requires…

Discipline:
To quote Scott Jurek, “Sometimes you just do things.”  I’m tired today.  So what.  There’s work to do.  I’m really craving that Ben & Jerry’s.  Too bad.  There’s work to do.  Can’t I just skip this workout?  Sure, but you can kiss that six-pack goodbye.

With those principles in mind, let’s next look at the three major components of my total body transformation — the actual practices that made it possible:

1)  INTENSE CARDIO
This may be obvious, considering this is a running blog and I am a runner, but that doesn’t diminish its importance.  I lost all the “fat” I had by running a bunch.  And it’s not like I have been running crazy mileage forever either.  In 2010 I averaged 25 miles a week.  In 2011 it went up to about 40 miles a week.  This year I’m averaging 70 miles a week, but such mileage is not necessary to lose the fat.

What is necessary is getting that heart rate up.  One can do this by swimming, biking, boxing, jazzercising… it doesn’t matter.  Just devote some time (20 minutes a day would be a good start) to an activity that requires a sustained, elevated heart rate.

The effects of my intense cardio sessions (running mostly) were that, after about 12 months, I eventually reached my ideal base weight — a number backed up by simple body mass index formulas.

2)  DIET
This is probably the hardest aspect of body sculpting, but I assure you it is the most important.  And it is possible.  Again, it just takes determination, practice and discipline.  The truth is: what you put into your body is paramount to how it will look and operate.  For me, adhering to a good diet required a complete overhaul of my understanding of food — where it comes from, how it is prepared, how it affects my body.  Realizing I knew very little about general nutrition and the science around it, I bought some books and read up on it.  What I discovered was as exciting as it was alarming.

The most important step I took was eliminating virtually all processed foods from my diet.  I got rid of anything full of high fructose corn syrup and eschewed all other engineered food products.  I stopped drinking calories.  No more soda.  No more concentrated “juices”.  No more crap.  I stopped boozing.

I quit eating fast food (the WORST!!!).  When eating out, I opted for the healthier options whenever possible.  And most importantly, I began to focus my diet on a variety of whole foods, paying special attention to those categorized as “super foods” (whole grains, leafy greens, berries, quinoa, legumes, eggs, Greek yogurt, sweet potatoes, broccoli, almonds, salmon, etc.).

Dessert became a four-letter word.  That is not to say I wouldn’t, on occasion, partake in a small bit of ice cream or a cookie now and then, but those occasions became extremely rare.  Even now, I have little room for junk food (pizza, sweets, chips, etc) in my diet.  Every great once in a while I will indulge, but I often don’t feel too well afterward — my body’s way of reminding me that that shit is not good for me — so such happenings are rare.

In fact, I would assume very few people get the beach body by eating like shit.  It’s just not conducive to how our bodies work, naturally.  Our bodies respond to good, wholesome, nutrient rich foods, not engineered foodstuffs full of ingredients that no one can pronounce.

3)  SUPPLEMENTAL BODY & CORE SPECIFIC TRAINING
If you have the intense cardio down and you’re eating right, you should already be looking pretty damn good!  What is left is only a matter of specificity.  Decide what it is you want, then do the work it takes to get it.  I wanted a six-pack.  So I started doing workouts that focus on the core.  Outside of running, I like to box, so I trained with some boxers in my neighborhood and picked their brains for advice.  I bought books on core training.  I started to see results (albeit slowly, remember, these things take time) within six months or so and I just kept at it until the definition finally arrived.  And when my training needed a bit of variety — a boost to get into that pop-out territory, I eventually hired a trainer to teach me more advanced workouts.  I learned them well and I teach them now .

Me in 2010 (left). Me in 2012 (right).

I should also add that, in my supplemental body and core specific training, I do not lift a lot of traditional weights.  I do from time to time, but I’m a runner.  I need to be as lean as possible, while still maintaining a high level of strength and support.  Instead of lifting weights, I utilize full body weight training.  Resistance training.  I do some band work and a few kettle bell workouts, but otherwise, all of the exercises I do require little else than my own body (think push-ups, pull-ups, dips, planks, etc).

The key to this sort of training, in my opinion, is to vary the exercises.  Just like with food, the more varied, the better.  If I am doing my workouts correctly, I should experience soreness in the day or two after.  Of course, like any other exercise, intensity should be based on whatever the body has that day, but in general, I like to push myself to get just one more sit-up… just one more push-up… just… one… MORE!!!

BUT WHAT DO YOU ACTUALLY DO, JEFF???

When I put it all together, it goes something like this:

I run.  Six days a week.  The distance varies, and I run at different intensities, but the heart rate is always elevated.

I do two or three 40-60 minute supplemental body and core specific workouts, depending on how my body feels that week.

Here is an example workout. Keep in mind that I prefer the active recovery model, so I’m never fully resting. I generally do two sets of each exercise, and in between sets I jump rope as “rest”:

Jump rope
Up-down push ups into high bar pull-ups
Jump rope
One legged squats
Jump rope
Hanging leg raises
Jump rope
Dips into knee raises
Jump rope
Stairs
Jump rope
Scorpion push-ups
Jump rope
Hindu push-ups
Jump rope
Traditional planks
Jump rope
Side planks
Jump rope
Bear push-ups

I eat well.  I eat a variety of whole foods, focusing on the “super” foods.

I also sleep 7-9 hours every night.

I don’t drink much alcohol.  And when I do drink, I only have a few.

I take one day off a week — from everything — and I force myself to kick my feet up and enjoy a good game or movie or book.

But, MORE than anything:

I believe in myself and I believe in what I am able to do, physically and mentally.  I feel like every day is an opportunity to get better, to do the work it takes to be who I want to be.  It’s something we are all capable of, every single one of us.

So what are you waiting for?

– – –

PS.  I am not a doctor.  The above is not intended to be medical advice.  Always consult with your doctor if there are doubts.  If you are interested in getting started yourself and want a learned trainer to get you there, please let me know.

Posted by  |  September 14, 2012 | Categories: Philosophy, Training | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Simply Super

Anastasia Andrychowski “Supergirl” Rolek winning the Hallucination 100.

My running resume got a big boost of BOOYAH this weekend as I had the pleasure of pacing Anastasia Andrychowski “Supergirl” Rolek to her EPIC overall female VICTORY at Run Woodstock’s Hallucination 100 Mile Race in Hell, Michigan.  Already known as 100 pounds of pure inspiration, Supergirl not only completed the Midwest Grand Slam of Ultrarunning, but she did it with a new personal best of 21:46 while taking home the female victory, finishing sixth overall!

My part in getting her to the finish line started on Friday night at 10:23 p.m. and lasted for 7 hours 26 minutes and 32 miles, ending at 5:49 a.m. on Saturday.  Those 32 miles were some of the toughest 32 miles I’ve ever faced, and unlike most of my race reports, I’m finding it very difficult to describe the specific action, thoughts and struggles that took place in that particular block of time.

The main obstacle?  RAIN.  Like, a LOT of rain.  A constant, unforgiving downpour of cold, pounding rain.  From the time I picked her up for her third 16.4 mile loop on Friday night, all the way until I let her go Saturday morning: RAIN RAIN RAIN.  This continuous onslaught from mother nature not only made the trail a dangerous slip-n-slide-shoe-sucking-mudfest, but it also had the potential to drain all positive energy that lay in its path.

But not Supergirl.  Hell no.  Supergirl was upbeat, fast and full of life!  All I had to do was put my head down and keep up.

Quick pic between loops 3 and 4

We fought right through the muck.  We put the hammer down on the paved straightaways.  And while the majority of runners moved slowly through the night, shoulders slouched and spirits broken from the relentless water torture thrown down from above, Supergirl and I found a high, sustainable gear that suited her indomitable will and unbreakable spirit.

SMACK!  BAM!  ZOOM!

I wish that I could provide a detailed, minute-by-minute race description of this experience; but honestly, because of the treacherous footing and the dark blanket of night, I never even saw the actual course.  All I could see was the ground directly in front of me and an aid station every four miles that clued me in to where I might be at any given time.

It was such a running anomaly for me that I lost all sense of place, of movement.  It was like running on a muddy, slippery treadmill in the dark while someone sprayed me with a never ending stream from a fire hose.  I lost all track of time.  Because of the slow numbing from the chilly rain, I couldn’t even tell if I was really tired or not.  I just… was.  In fact, that was the crux of this running experience: I felt so awake, so alive.

You know that feeling you get when you jump into a cold swimming pool?  You know that bit of hesitation you feel right before barreling in?  Then there’s that moment where you just do it and suddenly your body is saying “WOOOOOOAHHHH!”  You’re extremely uncomfortable, but if you take the time to get passed the discomfort, you eventually find yourself really living life.  You feel every single hair raise, feel every breath with an unprecedented alertness and purpose.

That’s what pacing Supergirl at Hallucination was like.  I felt alive and well and motivated and present.

My entire world boiled down to one, single task: RUUUUUUUUUUUUN!!!

And I know that I was the “pacer”, that I was there to keep Supergirl on track.  But let me tell you something: Supergirl doesn’t need anyone to keep her moving.  She has all the determination in the world right there inside of her jubilant little self.  If she wants something, she works hard to get it, and this weekend was no exception.  She got it done.  With style.  And speed.

She could have moped through that awful, stormy mess.  She could have taken her time at the aid stations, to warm up, to be comfortable.  She could have complained about the conditions and decided today wasn’t the day for a personal best, that this race wasn’t the race to win.  She could have done all of that and NO ONE would have had a bad word to say about it.

But no.  She isn’t about that.  She is about overcoming the odds.  She is about ignoring the elements and pushing through the hard times knowing that something better waits on the other side.

Supergirl is simply super.

And now she is a CHAMPION as well.

Post-race with Supergirl and Siamak

*Also of note is the fact that my friend pictured above, Siamak Mostoufi, who has appeared on this blog several times already, ALSO kicked some major trail butt at Run Woodstock as he set a new personal best, won his age group and took home 4th place overall in the 50 mile race.  What a great performance!  Can someone say SUPERFRIENDS!?!?

Posted by  |  September 9, 2012 | Categories: Philosophy, Race Reports, Training | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Choose Your Own Adventure!

When I close my eyes and venture back to the happy place of my youth, I am always outside.  I’m exploring.  I’m looking under rocks and following creeks and rallying my sisters to follow my lead.

Back then I knew, just as I know now, that there is something inherently special about doing something I’ve never done before.  There’s something intoxicating about going someplace I’ve never been, about stepping out on that ledge to see the world from an entirely different point of view.

Running fits that natural call for adventure like no other activity, and the ultra distances set the stage for bigger, better and bolder treks.  I’ve run miles and miles through enchanted forests.  I’ve explored old farm roads, scaled mountainous switchbacks, cruised barren beaches and plucked through quiescent cityscapes.  I’m a runner.  I know no other purer form of joy.

And I like to cover distances on foot.

So on Friday, August 31st, at 1o p.m., I left my home on the south side of Chicago and ran.  I ran with no other purpose but to explore, to have fun, to revel in the level of fitness I have that allows me to keep going and going and going.  I ran north on Halsted, then east on Roosevelt.  I shot up Michigan Avenue, taking in the lights, the sounds, the plumes of cigarette smoke from jetlagged tourists.

I turned left on Chicago Avenue, then right on Clark.  I zoomed by Old Town, passed through Lincoln Park.  I ran further north through Wrigleyville, marveling at the level of insecurity of the drunken hooligans giving me a hard time for my choice of activity for a Friday night.  “It’s Friday night, dude, running is not necessary.”… “Run Forest Run!”… “What are you doing, dude? You’re crazy!”…

I just kept… running.

I ran by Wrigley Field, touched the Ernie Banks statue for good luck.  I ran by my old house in Buena Park.  The lights were off.  Nobody home.

I passed the old Jewel I used to frequent, the liquor store where I used to buy my booze — both distant reminders that I didn’t always have super powers.

Heading west on Montrose I ran by the Brown Line station and the Starbucks and the Mexican restaurant where I tasted the best chorizo burrito I’ve ever had.

When I got to Lincoln I went back south.  I looked at my watch.  I picked up the pace.

At 1 a.m. I was to meet my friend, Siamak, just outside The Second City at North and Wells, so I sped up so I wouldn’t miss him.  As I navigated my way through the pockets of drunken crowds along the way I noticed the stillness in the air, that it hadn’t rained as previously forecasted, that the blue moon hanging high above was blanketed by a beautifully savage cloud system.

“Jeff!” yelled Siamak.

We were both right on time.  Early, actually.

Giddy as only adults who aren’t afraid to unleash their inner exploratory children can be, we caught each other up.  We explained to one another how we got where we were, what sights we’d seen, what cat-calls we’d received.  And then we kept running.

With CVS, Starbucks and multiple Walgreens as our “aid stations”, we were never without fuel.  We ran south down LaSalle, through the Gold Coast and by the Viagra Triangle.  We stopped and salivated at the Rolls Royce dealership, imagining what we’d look like tooling around town in a chrome colored $400k power machine.  I got a tour of Siamak’s personal architectural projects further dotting the downtown area and soon we found ourselves running through the Loop — a Chitown staple — at its quietest and spookiest of hours.

By the time the bars were letting out we were all the way back south, heading west on Roosevelt, then south on Halsted.  We ran through UIC, glided through Pilsen, then took a left on Archer, following the Chicago Marathon course all the way into Chinatown.  Even with all the lights off and no patrons to speak of, Chinatown’s smells (the good, the bad and the rancid) still permeated the summer air.

Making our way through old Chinatown, we followed Wentworth all the way to 35th, tagging our second baseball stadium of the journey.  “Do you realize how much of the city we’ve covered tonight?” I asked Siamak, still unable to fully conceive the relative distance compiled in my now very tired, achy feet.

“Yeah, this is really the existential run,” he replied. “I love it. The run is whatever we want it to be.”

When we hit Halsted from 35th, we headed back north, passing my house.  And even though it was right there, calling my name with a warm shower and soft bed, we kept going.

And going, and going, and going.

We crossed the Chicago River (for the fifth time) and soon found ourselves at Randolph, where we turned west to explore the stillness of endless restaurant supply chains.  At Ogden, having just run by a brewery whose massive casks seemed to beg me to drink from them, Siamak showed me another architectural project of his and then somehow I was ranting about Michael Jordan.

At Grand we headed back east, moving slowly with short walk breaks interspersed to mix up the otherwise steady 10-minute-miling.  By 4:30 a.m., we reached Grand and Wells, where we would separate for the last hour and a half — giving us each time to decompress, to go back and find ourselves through the grandness of our night.  With 34 miles in the bank, we fist-bumped and went our separate ways.

I headed further east until I got to State Street, then went south.  I played with my speed.  Slowing down.  Speeding up.  Quicker turnover.  Elongated strides.

“I’m playing!!!”

I knew that if I could get to Roosevelt by 5 a.m., then I could hit the Lakefront Path at Museum Campus and end my night with a familiar 5-mile stretch that I could probably do in my sleep.  I almost did do it in my sleep!

At 5 a.m. on the dot I was standing outside the Shedd Aquarium, trying not to yawn.  I took some caffeinated GU and stopped to stretch.  I said “hello” and “good morning” to the handful of runners and bikers out early to train, then I put my head down and trucked.

Of course, I made sure to stop outside Soldier Field, to pay homage to DA BEARS and revel in the reality that in one evening alone I visited Wrigley Field, Sox Park AND Soldier Field!  Not only that, but as I continued south on the Lakefront Path, a hint of sun peeking up over the black horizon, I realized that in this one run alone I pieced together most of my favorite landmarks Chicago has to offer.

In one epic, adventurous evening, I experienced my city like I’ve never experienced it before.

I hit the homestretch of 31st street — head down, speeding west.

When I got a block from my house the clocked turned to 6 a.m.  The Chinese ladies were in McGuane Park waving their flags in rhythm.  The sky was a gentle blue.

42 miles were in my feet.

I did it.  I lived the adventure.

And it was simply awesome.

Posted by  |  September 1, 2012 | Categories: Philosophy, Training | Tags: , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

“Hi, Jeff, It’s Me, Your Central Governor”: The 2012 Peapod Half Madness Half Marathon Race Report

Dan, Me and Otter, post-race. 12 beers consumed among us (though one of us was responsible for 8 of those on his own).

As my summer of ultras comes to a close (but not definitely… yet), I begin to turn my attention back to what made me such a running fanatic in the first place: RUNNING FAST.

There is just something immensely rewarding about moving my body as fast as it will go, powered on its own, that hypnotizes me, calls me, begs for me to do it.  Even though it hurts.

My ultimate “things-I-must-do-before-I-die” goal is to run a sub-3 hour marathon.  My current personal best is 3:15 and my first valid attempt at cracking three will be this coming January, again in Houston.  While I know the chances of me pulling off such a feat in such a short amount of time are almost as insane as they seem impossible, I figure the bar is better set high than not high enough.

Challenge is good.  Besides, I keep surprising myself with what I’m able to do, on any given day, so I might as well keep crawling deeper into the caverns of my mind to slay every last dragon of doubt.

DIE, BITCHES!!!

Enter the Peapod Half Madness Half Marathon in Batavia, IL.  I ran this race last year and had a blast, so I made sure to sign up again.  This time I would be joined by two new friends: Dan Solera, who is just past the halfway point in running 50 half marathons in 50 states; and Dan “Otter” Otto, who impressed the hell out of me by downing six Old Style heavies WHILE RUNNING a sub-2 hour race at Batavia (more on this a bit later).

Pre-Race 4 a.m.

I’m up before the alarm.  I went to bed at 9:30 last night, so I wake up feeling fully charged.  Ready to rock.  I sip a half a cup of coffee, eat a banana and some toast with jelly before checking the weather report.  It’ s already 72 degrees, so I slap on my 1:30 pace bracelet knowing it’s pretty much a given that I won’t be hitting these splits today.  But I’m wearing it anyway because I think a PR is definitely possible.  I haven’t run too many half marathons; and I’ve never trained to peak for one, so I enter Batavia with a 1:34 best, confident that, as Ice Cube reminds me via my laptop, today always has the potential to be a good day.

5 a.m. and I swing by to pick up Dan and Otter.  We are leaving Chicago, on the highway by 5:20 a.m.  All is well.  There’s something comforting about company just prior to a race.  It lessens the nerves, distracts the mind from busying itself with senseless worry.  I enjoy the conversation, especially as I learn Otter’s race plan to carry a pack with six Old Styles stowed, with the goal of downing them all prior to the finish.

Holla!

6:30 a.m. and I’m jogging my warm-up.  Holy Nikes!  I bump into a friend of mine from high school whom I haven’t seen since the late 90s!  It’s so cool to see her!  We make plans to meet up at the finish and I go on my merry way, feeling out the legs, wondering Do I have it today?

Early signs point to… probably not.

6:55 a.m. I enter the chute and stand next to Dan towards the front.  We fist bump, the horn blows and I… am… ruuuuuuunnnnnnnniiiiiiinnnnnng!!!

Miles 1-6

This is just four 5Ks and a jog, Jeff, I tell myself. Run four decent 22ish 5Ks and you’re good.

Thanks, me!  I appreciate that!

I also appreciate the course.  Though the beginning has changed a bit from last year (they got rid of the big hill at the start), I am still impressed with how quiet and quaint this little town of Batavia is.  Its river-centric, historic downtown and sprawling neighborhoods with lots of green reminds me of my hometown of Quincy; and the people who are standing out on their lawns at 7 a.m., though not in great numbers, are especially awesome in my book.

Thanks for coming out, everybody! I yell with a smile. I like your town! It reminds me of home!

And boom!  Just like that I look down to see I’ve come through the first 5K mark in 20:44.  Not too shabby.  The 1:30 pace group is about 3o yards ahead of me, running ahead of schedule, but already I can tell that today will not be a 1:30 day for me.  I’m totally cool with it though because I feel fine right now and know that holding on to 7-minute pace will be more than enough for me to consider this a solid performance.  It’s warm.  The sun is blaring down on me at certain points along the course.  But I feel fine.  My legs are moving in a rhythm that seems sustainable.

I hit the big downhill section just before the 6-mile mark, build speed then bang a hard left onto the bike path that runs alongside the Fox River.  Ah yes, this is where I built momentum last year, I recall. Time to push it a little bit.

Vroom!!!

Miles 6-10

Covered by the abundant shade, this sudden injection of conscious speed should be sustainable… except that, well, it isn’t.  Around the 7-mile mark, the voice of fatigue makes a home between my ears.  I take a GU and down some liquids, hoping to shut its ugly face, but alas, here it is, still talking shit.

Okay, dude, you can chill out now, you’re not going to PR so… yeah. It’s too hot. You haven’t been speed training. You can’t even see the 1:30 pace group anymore.

I run harder to shut him up.

Oh, so you think you can shut me up, Jeff? You know who I am, right? I’m your central governor and I make the decisions around here. Just try to get anything past me.

I push.  I push again.  Yikes!  Pull back.

Haha! See. Told ya. I, am, the master.

I look at my Garmin, which tells me I just ran mile 9 in 7:29, a number I don’t like right now.  Who’s the boss of who?  I decide it’s time to stand up to Mr. Central Governor.

I am the boss of me, Central Governor. Not you. Not anyone. Just me! And look! I’m almost done!

Miles 10-13.1

Ha!  Yes, this is the beauty of the half.  Ten miles into the race and I’m almost done!  After the summer of ultras, where training runs regularly lasted 4-6 hours and races 8-10 hours, oh what a glorious feeling it is to know I am an hour and eleven minutes into a race and I’m almost done!  With so few miles to go, of course I can go faster!

So I do.  The central governor tries to stop me but I pick out a guy ahead, the guy in the green singlet, and reel him in.  Concentrate, I tell myself.  Catch that green man! 

I catch him, he speeds up to race, I go a bit faster and then I’m by him.

I pick out another.  Guy in red.  I look down at my watch and see I’m cruising at 6:40 pace — something that felt hard just 20 minutes ago seems so easy now, because I have focus.  I am here to do something.

Mile 11 and I realize it’s all downhill from here.  Literally.  The last two miles of this course are a continuous downhill.  Ideal for building speed and passing people.

I do both.

I can’t believe how good I feel right now.  Who does that central governor jerk think he is?  I’m gonna have to learn to shut him up quicker next time.  Maybe I’ll train to do just that.

Up ahead I see the big orange sign instructing runners to turn left.  I know that once I get there, I’m at mile 13, with just one tenth of a mile (the “jog”) to go.  A quick glance at my watch informs me that I AM GOING TO PR TODAY, marking yet another victory over my Debbie Downer subconscious.

Eat it, Central Governor!

I turn left onto the bridge, turn right then left onto the last bridge before making the hard right turn to the finishing chute.  I blaze in with the emcee announcing my name, across the line at 1:32:37.

Ice Cube was right.  Today was a good day.

Post Race

There’s something uniquely awesome about eating pizza and drinking Sam Adams before 9 in the morning, so I take full advantage of that as I meet up with Dan, whom I learn had me in his sights for the first half of the race before trailing off a bit.  He still finished with a solid 1:36 and was smiling at the end so all signs point to GREAT JOB!

We both look out for Otter, wondering if Dan might get the call from the county jail that he’s been picked up for public intoxication WHILE RUNNING A HALF MARATHON.  Luckily, Otter’s drinking on the run made him a race favorite, a point the emcee even brings up as Otter chugs his final beer, crossing the finish line in under two hours.

I am extremely impressed.

High fives are had.

– – –

The Peapod Half Madness Half Marathon proved again to be a great event.  It’s just small enough that it doesn’t feel crowded and big enough to feel like each runner’s needs are being met.  From the big downhill after mile 5 all the way to the finish I think the course is just fantastic.  The aid stations were a bit small for my liking, but the volunteers more than made up for that and everyone out there was extremely positive and energetic.  Also, just like last year, the hardware doubles as a bottle opener, which may be the running gods’ way of telling me that, indeed, beer and running do make a beautiful couple.

Posted by  |  August 26, 2012 | Categories: Philosophy, Race Reports, Training | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Inspirations, Warriors, Angels and Victors: Team LOL’s Run Across Illinois Pre-Postscript

Every once in a while life allows us the rare opportunity to really live, in the moment for an extended period of time, undisturbed and unfazed by distractions from the outside world.  Beginning at 5 a.m. on Friday, August 17, and all the way through 6 p.m. on Sunday, August 19, my life had but one purpose: get my friends from the Mississippi River to Lake Michigan as they ran 161 miles along the northern border of Illinois.

To say it was one of the most phenomenal experiences of my life would be an understatement.

Which is why a typical race report will not suffice.  How does one even begin to summarize the myriad stories, themes and struggles that developed over 58 harrowing hours?

It is impossible.

Yet, not impossible.  In fact, if I learned anything over this past weekend, it’s that pure guts and determination and confidence can overcome anything.

ANY.

THING.

So instead of the typical race report, I’m going to take on my biggest literary challenge yet.  It may take some time — I may get tired, I may bonk, I may do the zombie walk — but for someone who enjoys hours and hours and hours of perpetual motion in the way of running, sitting down for the hours and hours and hours it will take to flesh out this epic tale seems quite fitting.  And now, it also seems doable.

So to Juan, Chuck, Kamil, Tony, Brian, Mike, Kathy, Scott and the steady stream of heroic volunteer pacers and crew who made Team LOL’s Run Across Illinois a beaming success, I tip my cap.

And I thank you.  From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.  You inspired me beyond words, and you also showed me that if you really care about something enough, you will find a way.

I am going to find a way.

– – –

Team LOL’s Run Across Illinois was done to raise money for Chicago youth charity Chicago Run.  And there is still time to help!  Please consider supporting this worthy cause so that today’s youth can overcome the obesity crisis that it currently faces.  You can support Team LOL’s efforts for Chicago Run *HERE*.

Posted by  |  August 21, 2012 | Categories: Philosophy, Race Reports, Training | Tags: , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Dissuade Discomfort, Move Your BUTT: The 2012 Howl at the Moon 8 Hour Run Race Report

(Image courtesy of Brian Gaines)

I have run enough marathon+ distance races now to know that aches and pains are simply going to come.  There is no shortcut.  I know this.  I either accept the discomfort and move on or I suffer defeat.  I also know that anything can go wrong, at any time — that a successful race is never a given and the best runners are those who are able to adapt on the fly.

Yet I somehow still seem to underestimate just how uncomfortable I will be at times and how I might possibly struggle to keep up the fight.  In my mind, it’s always a given.  In reality, it is much harder.

In preparation for the Kennekuk Road Runners’ 22nd Annual Howl at the Moon 8 Hour Run, a race that typically features hellaciously high temps and unforgiving humidity, I heat trained in winter gear at high noon and suffered through several long road runs outside of Houston, TX, just so I would be ready for whatever mother nature would throw at me.  I put myself in painful situations and prepared my mind to reinterpret the norm.

Naturally, August 11, 2012 would bring unseasonably cool temperatures (mid-high 50s for low, low 80s for the high) to the Danville area, I would be bothered by an old nemesis that had been dormant since October 2011 and I would realize that one can train and train and train, but that there really is no substitution for the feelings associated with running 50 miles other than running 50 miles.

The Night Before

Me, my sister Cara and my friend Jerret all arrive together at the Kennekuk Cove County Park where we will camp along the course prior to the race.  It turns out that even though I have recently acquired a strong taste for all things outdoors, I am still an idiot when it comes to putting things together, as is evident by my inability to put up our tent.  Luckily, ten or so special aides jump in to make fun of assist me.  These helpers are just some of the 30 or so runners from my New Leaf and M.U.D.D. groups, fellow ultra junkies who know how to have a good time.  It turns out we’re all having such a good time that the tent is thwarting our focus.  Finally, Tony and Alfredo save the day and I can begin my pre-race routine.

I have ONE beer, eat a salad and some pasta, then try to relax as much as I can as the group gathers around to share race stories and good cheer.  Admittedly, it’s hard for me to calm my nerves when there is so much excitement in the air.  I’ve been looking forward to this race for a long time now, mostly because of how many familiar faces I will see on the 3.29 mile looped course and how good I feel knowing that, right now, I am in the best shape I have ever been, my whole life.

My sister and I have already had an EPIC week, so I’m taking those positive vibes, channeling them through my mind with deep belly breaths, and being confident in my training.  I begin to yawn, so I say good night to everyone and retire to the tent.

Race Morning

The air is cool.  Dew all around.  The chill peps me out of my zombie-like state.  Did I sleep last night?  A little, but not much.  Cara’s allergies had her coughing most of the night and my rookie camping ass didn’t bring a soft base layer for the tent, so I rolled around on uneven ground most of the evening.  Still, it’s rare that I get a lot of sleep the night before a race anyway, so I’m not too bothered.  Instead, I go about my normal routine, which includes a liberal application of heavy-duty lubrication (you knew that was coming, right?).

I make sure I proudly display my red short-shorts around the start/finish area so everyone can get their taunting out of their system (I say this in the most endearing of ways, because I know the shorts are insanely short, and are considered a running fashion faux pas by some — that some not including me, obviously).

I check in with my official scorer, Pat, the man who will be recording each of my laps as I pass by throughout the day.  I introduce myself and shake Pat’s hand.  He seems just as excited as I am, so I know he and I are going to have a connection — whether he knows it or not.  “Nice meeting you, Pat.  I will see you soon!” I say as I head back towards the tent.

My mom arrives to help my sister crew the race.  I give Mom a big hug and marvel at the shirt she has on!  Both she and Cara are wearing custom made shirts that read “Jeff’s Crew” on the back.  Wow!  How awesome is that!  I know I am spoiled having a family that is so supportive of my never-ending running adventures.  I don’t take that for granted.  Having them involved by crewing my races, sharing in my ups and downs, serves as a real mental boost.  Makes me feel special.

I go over last minute instructions with them both, but Cara has done this before, so we all feel confident and are ready to go.

7:00 a.m. to 10:00 a.m.

As the race director makes his announcements, I position myself at the front.  My goal for this 8 hour run today is to be in the mix.  Ultimately, I want to run no less than 50 miles, hoping that is enough to get me another top ten finish; but deep down, I want more.  I want to push and see what happens.  That doesn’t mean I am dumb enough to kill myself early on, but I do plan to straddle the line between stupid and daring.

We take a moment of silence to remember Scott Hathaway, a remarkable runner who died on the course five years ago.

And then…

WE’RE OFF!!!

I dart out, being led by the man who has owned this event since 2004, Scott Colford of Logansport, IN.  He has the course record (61.72 miles) and has won it every year he has participated.  I figure he is going to set a pretty quick pace to drop as many of us as he can, and, indeed, he does just that as we settle around 6:30 to 7:00 minute pace out of the gate.

As we hit the first turn onto shaded rocky trail, we all take a moment to touch the memorial set up for Scott Hathaway — a salute to a fellow ultra runner.  We all touch it for good luck.

(Image courtesy of Brian Gaines)

About a mile in and already the lead pack is well separated from the rest.  Colford takes off at a pace I simply can’t match — not this early anyway.  There is a young fellow with him and a slim runner dressed in Marathon Maniac gear chasing close behind, but I settle into my own 7:00-7:30 pace, and focus on memorizing the course.

From my training I learned that one way to beat the monotony of a looped course is to know its every nook and cranny, to know where to accelerate, where to slow down, what tangents to run to shorten it up, to isolate any spots that may offer trouble along the way.  This course is mostly grass and dirt trail, with some occasional pavement.  There’s one tricky spot in the middle that throws a gauntlet of uneven footing highlighted by a couple of ankle traps.  There is one relative downhill section, just after the first aid station at the halfway point, where one can genuinely take advantage of free speed.  And there is one significant uphill section that I decide to run the first few times, but know I will have to walk at some point.

I finish the first loop in a quick 23 minutes.  I run by the tent where my mom and sister are waiting for me (something they will do a lot of all day long!).  I assure them I’m good to go and I zoom on by.

My kick-ass crew! Mom on the left, Cara right. (Image courtesy of Brian Gaines)

I make eye contact with my scorer, Pat, we establish the first of many connections we’ll have throughout the day and now I start to think about what I’m really in for: 7 hours and 37 more minutes of RUNNING!!!

After a couple of steady 25-minute loops, and no change in the three leaders up front, I settle into the chase pack that offers another familiar face, John Kiser from Grayslake.

“I remember you,” I offer to John.  “You blazed by me at the Earth Day 50K with just three miles left.”

“Yeah, I was feeling good that day,” he says with a good-hearted smile.

We carry on, running and chatting here and there with another runner, Gary, who hails from Mokena, IL.  For the next several loops, we ebb and flow, picking up, slowing down, chatting every so often and trying to catch up to one another just as much.  I feel especially confident on the down and uphill sections, so I tend to drop them there only to have them catch up to me soon after.  In fact, I crown Gary as “The Accelerator”, because no matter how big a gap I put between us on the hills, he seems to have no problem closing it with his speed.

Back and forth we go… back and forth for one loop, two loops, three loops.  Back and forth.  Back and forth.   UGH!  The more we exchange positions, the more irritated I become.  I can’t seem to drop him.  My mind is losing focus!  But before I can battle any of my thoughts, another obstacle is kicking me in the butt.  Literally.

And I’ve nowhere to hide.

Piriformis syndrome.  A real pain in the ass.  Deep down inside the gluteus maximus.  A condition I have been dealing with off and on for a few years now, it is most positively rooted in the fact that my day job has me sitting for eight hours a day.  It probably doesn’t help that, when I’m not running or working, I am usually writing, from a sitting position.  The only way to beat it is to apply great pressure to the piriformis itself — a muscle that excels at being elusive to even the deepest of deep tissue massages, or settle for a series of elaborate stretches that help elongate it.

Unfortunately, none of those remedies are very applicable during a race.  It flared up on me during the 2011 Chicago Marathon, but I was able to run it off after 20 minutes or so.  That isn’t happening today.  I’ve been redirecting my attention from the aches for almost an hour now but as I finish up my 7th loop, this time in 27 minutes, I slow down considerably as I approach my crew.  I bark orders at my sister, then immediately feel guilty for letting my frustrations dictate my voice.

“Sorry,” I offer.  “I’m just not feeling so great right now.” I try to explain.

Supergirl (yes, THAT Supergirl) is there with my mom and sister now, and she offers to help, but I know there is nothing that can be done for this royal pain in the butt, so I just grab some grapes and a new bottle and head off knowing I’m going to have to slow it down.

I think I was sorta short with Supergirl just now, too.  What is wrong with me?

In fact, my mom’s notes from the race at this point read “Shitty”, and well, yeah.  That’s about how I feel right now.

10:00 a.m. to 1 p.m.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUU —

I want to scream.  But I can’t.  I can’t be a baby now.  I just gotta suck it up.  Or… drop.

That’s right.  I could drop.  I could just stop now and say I gave it my all.

But… am I giving it my all?

No.  Yes, my butt hurts.  Can I still move forward without causing any further damage?  Yes.  It’s just a butt-ache!  It will go away!

But…

There goes Gary, flying by me.  For the last time.  I can’t keep up.

Damn it!  I should just DNF.  Who cares?!?  It’s stupid if I’m not having fun!

Why aren’t you having fun?  That’s no one’s fault but yours… mine.  Suck it up, Jeff!  This shit isn’t easy.  It’s supposed to be tough!

Of course, it is.  Just keep moving.

John flies by me.  A few minutes later two guys I passed earlier in the race whiz by me.  A few minutes later, another.  I’m fading.

So what?  Be glad you’re moving, dummy.  Be glad you’re alive, running around this park with your mom and sister waiting on your every need, a friendly face around every bend.  Wake up!!!

There’s Alfredo up ahead.  Let’s go catch him and see how he’s doing.

“Jeff!” he says, excited to see me.  “How are you doing?”

I want to tell him about my issues, about how I was in 4th and now I’m in… I have no idea where I am now and that my butt hurts and that it’s hot now and I want to be sitting down with something cold in my hand and I am feeling sorry for myself and I am thinking about dropping and THEN…

“I’m doing okay,” I say.

We run along together for a short bit and he spontaneously tells me that I inspire him.  He tells me that he uses me to push himself to be better — this coming from a man who went from being a 250+ pound alcoholic to a sober, slim running beam of light!  Wow.

I really am being stupid.

“Thanks, Alfredo.  You inspire me too.”

In fact, he’s inspiring me RIGHT NOW.

I dart off, fully aware of the lingering pain in my butt, but accepting (finally) the fact that mulling about it in my own head isn’t going to help me run any faster.  I’m going to run this next little bit for Alfredo.

Then I catch up to another friend, Art.  I’m going to run this little bit for Art.

And there’s Jeremy.  I’m gonna run this little bit for Jeremy.

And Eric.  And Kelly.  And Tony.  AND MY LORD I COULD RUN THE WHOLE REST OF THIS RACE ON THE ENERGY OF ALL MY FRIENDS!!!

I may be slowing down considerably as I roll past my crew and check in with Pat for my 10th, 11th and 12th loops, but I see I’ve logged 39.48 miles with two hours to go and suddenly I am ready to MOVE AGAIN!

Ultrarunning Rule #1: Always smile. Even if it hurts. (Image courtesy of Brian Gaines)

1:00 p.m. to 3:00 p.m.

Pain in the ass?  WHAT pain in the ass?  Move along, son! 

Okay, so it’s not the most conventional of running mantras, but it’ll work.  Especially now, since this is a race against the clock!  I have two hours to run 10 miles, something that I could normally do with my eyes closed and feet shackled.  Of course, it’s a bit harder with 40 miles already in the legs, but I get another boost of inspiration from my friend, Whitney Richman, who sneaks up on me as I start running out of the start/finish area aid station.

I am officially getting “chicked”.

So what?  It’s Whitney!  Whitney is a badass.

She is currently running in the first female position.  I respect her speed as much as her toughness.

“You started running again just as I pass you,” she says jokingly.

“It’s all good, Whitney.  You’re going to pass me.  And you’re going to win!  Great job!”

Getting “chicked” (passed by a female competitor) can be a big stain on the psyche of many males.  I used to think it was just out of jest, but apparently some dudes do take it very seriously.  I am not one of those dudes.  I started off in road running, where I was getting beat by fit, fast and elite women quite regularly.  What the hell do I care if a girl passes me?  She must be fast if she’s blowing by me so more power to her!

All I care about now is getting my 5o miles in.

And I’m gettin’ it now.  In fact, I even have a little bounce in my step.  I keep a decent 9:00-9:30 pace at this point and just concentrate on moving forward.  For a little while I run with another Kennekuk regular named Scott who tells me this is his 20th year running Howl.  20 YEARS!  WOW!  Eventually he runs on past me but I definitely appreciate the conversation while it lasted.

*Running with Siamak (Image courtesy of Brian Gaines)

My pal Siamak catches up to me and we run together for a while.  Hmm, been in this situation before, I thought.  I could get used to this!  It really is comforting to have a familiar face join you in your most primordial pits of pain, if only to distract the mind and body from feeling so crappy.

We eventually separate, and once again, I concentrate on catching up to the next friend, and then the next.

I finish my 13th loop in 33 minutes, a whole five minutes faster than the 12th loop as my mother quickly points out.

“Why do I do this stuff again, Mom?”

“Because you’re going to feel really good once you’re done.”

“Exactly.”  I knew the answer.  Deep down I know that.  But sometimes, in the middle of it all, it’s easy to forget.  It’s nice to be reminded by someone who has your best interests at heart.

“I’m getting my 50 miles.” I declare.

The 14th loop is a blur.  Really.  To keep my mind from doing annoyingly instantaneous calculations that never seem to accumulate fast enough, I force myself to look down at the ground in front of me, so when I eventually do look up and see that I’m done with the loop, it doesn’t seem like it took that long.

“I got you down for 14 loops, headed out for your 15th, Jeff.” says Pat.

“Thank you, Pat!”

I like Pat.  I really like that guy.  Something about the way he says my name every time and looks me straight in the eye and raises his hand so I know he is talking to me… I don’t know him, but I think I know that he’s an awesome dude and he probably has a whole circle of friends and family who would back that up.

This last loop is for Pat.

I get to the bottom of the great big hill.  I power hike my way up and thank the aid station volunteers at the top.  Nearly ever time I crested that big old thing I immediately craved ice cold water.  And there, every time at my service, were the kind souls at the top of that hill with just that very thing to ease my pain.  This last swig of water is for you, awesome aid station workers!

Up ahead of me is Jerret.  We’re runnin’ this in together.

Jerret and I, finishing strong. (Image courtesy of Brian Gaines)

I finish the 15th loop alongside Jerret.  We have 20 minutes left, but since we don’t have enough time to make another full 3.29 mile loop, we now have to hit the quarter mile out-and-backs as many times as we can before the eight hours are finally up.  I need just two out-and-backs to make 50 miles.

I run three and finish with 50.85 miles.

Whew.

Post-Race

My mom and Cara are there to hold me up, because now that the race is over, I don’t feel like using my legs much at all.  I lean on them both as we make our way back to the tent so I can begin the healing process.

As usual, tears start to fall out of my face like a big old softy.

“Why does this always happen to me, Mom?” I ask.

She says something about serotonin overdrive or something like that and I realize it doesn’t much matter.  These are tears of joy.  I fought the fight today and I won, because I’m still standing.

I didn’t give up.  And in the end I won my age group, finishing 8th overall.

The New Leaf/M.U.D.D. crew showing off the hardware. (Image courtesy of Brian Gaines)

– – –

Everything else was just gravy.  The folks who put on this race are awesome people!  As the RD repeatedly said, they love to party.  We ate, we drank, we hung around for a kick-ass awards ceremony where our New Leaf and M.U.D.D. groups took home some major bling.  We hung out and just relaxed knowing that we all did something special out there while most of America was probably busy sitting down, watching awful reality TV, eating something engineered in a chemistry lab.

Congratulations to Whitney Richman who won the women’s race, coming in 6th overall!  And, of course, a tip of the cap to Scott Colford, the winner and STILL champion of  Howl.

I’ll be baaaaaaack…

(Image courtesy of Brian Gaines)

Also, thanks, Brian for all these fantastic pictures!

Posted by  |  August 13, 2012 | Categories: Philosophy, Race Reports, Training | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 14 Comments

Mindful Perspective, Reinterpreting Pain

During U.S. Olympian Aly Raisman’s gold medal floor routine, NBC commentator Tim Daggett mentioned her unique ability to view the nervous energy associated with such daring gymnastics (something most of us call “pressure” or “anxiety”) into something much more performance enhancing.  He called it “excitement”.

What a novel yet extraordinarily simple idea!

Embrace the nervousness, the anxiety, the pressure and transform it into something positive.  Use it as a springboard for optimal performance.  Face it.  Take it.  And run with it.

Digging deeper, I know that, for me, most of that pre-race energy comes from knowing the type of pain that will be involved.  If you have ever raced a race, I mean, really put yourself out there, leaving nothing behind, then you know the type of pain I am talking about.  It’s the type of pain dictated by the central governor, that annoyingly present theoretic portion of the brain that says, “Stop! Are you crazy? This is unnecessary!”

It’s also the type of pain that, when challenged and overridden, leads to bouts of ecstasy.  That’s one of the reasons why I love racing.  I love pushing myself beyond what I think I can do.  Even in failure, I am guaranteed to experience something most people never will, a satisfying feat all by itself.

Overriding the central governor, attempting to accomplish extraordinary goals, I remind myself of Dave Terry’s wisdom as told by Scott Jurek: “Not all pain is significant.”

And just in case you don’t believe that, consider the fact that Jurek won the 2007 Hardrock 100 on a severely sprained ankle, or that Thomas Voeckler’s captivating Stage 10 victory at the 2012 Tour de France — the one that had him making all sorts of uncomfortable faces towards the end — was done despite a bum knee.

I know a thing or two about pain myself.  Just look at my face as I crossed the finish line during my current marathon PR.  That was a painful race, no doubt.  But the pain has long subsided and all that is left is the purest joy I have ever come to know.

Posted by  |  August 1, 2012 | Categories: Philosophy, Training | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Chicago Run: Empowering Our Youth, One Mile at a Time

On Saturday, I ran 32 miles around the 400 meter track at Dunbar Park.  That’s 128 dizzying laps, 512 left turns and a lot of people asking me: Are you okay? 

The smile on my face reassured them that indeed, I was just fine.  Ecstatic, actually.  Hours and hours of running tends to leave me with a permanent grin, even if the body aches.

After my first couple of hours circling the track, one of the dads from a nearby little league game approached me with his young son.  “Man, you’re a beast,” he said.  “I’ve been here for two baseball games and you’ve been running the whole time.”

I smiled in response, a bit shy.  “Just doing what I love,” I said, “it’s a nice day for it.”

The dad looked down at his son holding his hand.  “Do you mind if my son runs a lap with you?” he asked.

“Not at all.  Let’s go.”

The boy let go of his father’s hand and hitched on to my heels.  I slowed my pace and asked him his name.  He responded by giggling and sprinting off ahead of me.  I ran to catch him.

Laughing and running.  I got a little chill up my spine.  This kid was having a blast.  And before I knew it, as we circled the track (a bit slower now that he reached his lactate threshold level, I assume) we gradually picked up other little leaguers from his team.  I counted six happy little runners following me in circles.  No talking, just giggling.  And several pick-ups in pace among them.

I didn’t say anything either.  Just smiled and kept on.  Our actions were more than enough.  I felt like the pied piper of fitness.  The kids were having fun just moving.

Because kids love to run!  It’s part of their nature!  It’s who they are!

Unfortunately, many Chicago kids are forced to curb that natural instinct.  They live in unsafe environments.  Their homes are in food deserts that leave them with poor nutrition.  They go to schools with budgets that fail them.

But Chicago Run, the non-profit organization Team LOL is running across Illinois for in a few weeks, is restoring that natural freedom back to the children who so desperately need it.  They are working with Chicago Public Schools to get kids active again.  They are building the foundation for a future of educated, empowered, physically fit young people — a foundation that is paramount to the wellness of our city.

They are doing amazing things.  They are putting smiles on kids’ faces.  They are making a difference.

And they need our help.  You can help by visiting *HERE*.

In the meantime, consider the case of Alex, a student from Walsh Elementary in the Pilsen neighborhood.  A participant in Chicago Run’s “Running Mates” program, affected by the program’s nutrition lessons and running challenges, Alex soon started to notice that his belt was in need of extra holes, that his pants were getting bigger and no longer fit properly.  He took the lessons he was learning and shared them with his family, igniting a healthier lifestyle at home.  Months later, Alex found himself on the steps of the White House, giving a speech on how Chicago Run empowered him to be healthy before introducing first lady, Michelle Obama.

Chicago Run is bringing health and longevity back to our kids.  Consider being a part of this important mission.  You won’t be sorry.

Posted by  |  July 22, 2012 | Categories: Philosophy, Training | Tags: , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

The 2012 New Leaf Ultra Runs Sunburn 8-Hour Run

All smiles on the loopty-loop (Image courtesy of Brian Gaines)

As soon as I finished the Chinatown 5K, I hopped in the car and headed out to the suburbs to meet all my ultrarunning buddies for the New Leaf Ultra Runs Sunburn 8-Hour Run.  Like our other club timed events, this fun run took place on a short 2.2 mile looped trail of crushed limestone through exposed prairie grass and big open sky.

The perfect recipe for… a sunburn.

And I got one.  But I ain’t sweatin’ it because the smiles and high-fives and good times were well worth it.  And though I showed up two hours late, I was happy to get in a nice and easy 50 km run while sharing the communal good cheer with all my pals.  Here are some of the highlights:

  • My short shorts make for a great conversation piece, or, at least they make for a good show.  I’m used to getting cat calls when I hit the city streets dressed in my open split racers, so being serenaded by my peers with songs like “I’m Too Sexy”, “We Wear Short Shorts” and “She’s Got Legs” just make me want to wear them all the time, not just when I’m running.
  • If you’re going to wear your hat backwards in the hot sun, be ready for an awkwardly placed tan square on your forehead.  Yes, yes, yes, I know it’s there, but thanks for pointing it out.
  • Running a hard 5K, followed by an hour long car ride is a good recipe for stiff legs.  Though I had a blast running around in circles with all my friends, I never could get my legs to loosen up, which resulted in tight IT bans, tight piriformis, tight everything and a slower pace.
  • Coca-Cola can save the day.  I don’t drink soda, but for some reason, during ultra events, I crave it.  And I have never craved it like I did on Saturday.  Thankfully, my friend Juan saved the day by giving me one of his.  It was like sweet, sweet nectar from the running gods.  Ahhhhhh…
  • Good company makes the time FLY!!!  Seriously, getting to run alongside so many cool and interesting people does make the miles tick by quicker than if I were running alone.  Each time I glanced at my watch I was surprised at how much time had gone by.
  • Which leads me to the realization that I need to focus better on nutrition, even during club runs.  Because I was spending so much time socializing, I wasn’t paying much attention to what I had eaten or how much I’d been drinking.  There were several points where I felt a little woozy, mostly because I wasn’t eating and drinking properly, so I will know better for the future.

But maybe the biggest thing I took home from Sunburn is the fact that a kiddie pool full of ice water needs to be a staple of every single summertime running event.  YES?!?!?  Having reached the 50 km mark in my run with a little over a half an hour left on the clock, I headed out for another loop when, from the corner of my eye, I caught a friend of mine soaking in the kiddie pool.  She looked so happy and so at peace.

I want to be there, I said to myself.

So I hung ’em up, soaked my legs, and enjoyed the last bit of running from the sidelines, which also gave me a head start on the delicious smorgasbord BBQ potluck.  Nothing goes together like running and eating, which means I’ll be looking forward to this event again next year!

My friends can’t hold back their excitement! (Image courtesy of Brian Gaines)

Posted by  |  July 15, 2012 | Categories: Philosophy, Race Reports, Training | Tags: , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Full Circle: The 2012 Chinatown 5K Race Report

The Chicago Chinatown 5K will always hold a special place in my heart.  It is the first race I ran post-transformation, and it was the springboard for my running obsession — one that never seems to let up.  The 2012 edition was my third running and it has been fun to see the same faces come out, not to mention the joy of watching my finishing times drop from 24 minutes to 21 minutes to 19 minutes.

This race is always hot.  It’s in July, and there’s little shade along the course.  But I showed up perky as could be, ready to do a little speedwork.

– – –

I park the car at my office on South Michigan and run a 20 minute warm-up to the start line.  It has been a year since I last ran a 5K, but I do remember the importance of a warm-up.  If I’m going to start hard at the beginning, the legs need to be ready.

I haven’t tapered for this.  I’m just doing it for fun.  In fact, for the week, I’ve already run over 40 miles so I’m not sure there’s much steam left in the engine, but I do want to go hard and see what happens.  My mind thinks I can get done in the 18:30 range, and as I slowly churn the legs, priming them for a hard effort, it seems they aren’t so sure.  It’s warm.  80-something degrees.  There are no clouds in sight.

At the start line, I look around and can’t help but think snobbish thoughts (when did I become a running snob?). 

Is a 60 oz. Camelback really necessary for a 5K?, I wonder as I count three of them in the crowd of 500+ runners.  And what’s with all the Nip Guards?  How long do these guys plan to be out there?

But to me, the most hilarious thing is being pushed out of the way by some, er, “bigger” runners who feel they need to be right at the front when the gun goes off.  The starting chute is already narrow enough, I don’t see how blocking the faster guys who are going to run them over anyway is going to make their race experience any better.  I’m chalking it up to inexperience.

Thankfully, some race official with a megaphone instructs those out-of-place runners to move to the back.

3… 2… 1…

We’re off.  I’m through the chute, fighting my way past a few ambitious 12-year-olds and a slew of overzealous adults.  We fly east down Archer, take a sharp right turn on Wentworth and head towards Old Chinatown.  I already know, from years past, that the Old Chinatown section is the worst part of this race.  In fact, in my training runs that take me through Chinatown, I make sure to always avoid the old section on Wentworth.  I love Chinese food and all, but when red-lining, the toxic combination of Chinese food + garbage + old men chain-smoking on the street is just lethal.

Sure enough, my nose is hit with the aforementioned poisonous waft and I do what I can to breathe through my mouth so I don’t die.

Just off to my right, it sounds like someone else is dying.  I look behind me and it’s a little kid.  Couldn’t be more than 10 years old or so, yet he’s sticking with me at 6 minute pace.  He’s huffing and puffing and struggling and coughing.

You okay?  I ask.

He’s oblivious.

Maybe you should slow down a little, I offer.

He takes off, past me.  But he doesn’t get far before he just stops.  Completely.

I zoom on by.

And now I’m already halfway done!

I hit the turnaround aid station just north of Sox Park on Wentworth.  I’m going too fast to drink anything, so I just dump all the water I can on my head.  It helps.  Barely.  I try to run along the tiny bit of shade that the highway barrier offers there, but so are most runners, so as it crowds, I just hop back in the sunlight.  I’m almost done anyway.

I hit the 2-mile mark and the clock says 12:00 exactly.  Damn.  I’m doing pretty good, I think to myself.

So I start calculating in my head and start thinking about how this will end up being a great race for me and how much I’m going to brag to my old man about it and then, I’m back in Old Chinatown, struggling to not puke from the food/garbage/second-hand smoke onslaught.

I feel… gross.

Just before I reach the turn on Archer to head for the finish line I look at my watch and see I’m at 19 minutes and change.

WHAT THE????

Oh well.  I sprint through the finish line at 19:47 — not terribly excited but not terribly disappointed either.  As I grab some water and a banana, I think my lack of concentration towards the end is what slowed me down.  But I’m not gonna dwell on it.  I ran sub-20, bettered my time from the year before and I have to get in the car to meet my ultra buddies for a whole day of running yet anyway.

This was just a warm-up.

(for the main event, continue reading *here*)

Posted by  |  July 15, 2012 | Categories: Philosophy, Race Reports, Training | Tags: , , , , | 4 Comments