Cozumel Ironman

So we think a 10K is tough, or a marathon or half. Welcome to the world of the iron men and women. Since I began running regularly about 6 years ago, this has been my principal form of exercise and recreation. I like it and I'm stubborn enough to have had some modest success at distances I would previously have never imagined being within my reach. In my 20s and again in my 30s I would pretend to be a runner, thinking one day of running a marathon, that is, a 10K. I'm afraid that's still a prevalent misconception amongst the uninitiated. Friends will query of me: "How long is this marathon you're going to run?" Answer: marathon - 1. a foot race over a course measuring 26 mi. 385 yd. (42 km 195 m). Of course, the next option is: 2. any long distance race.

A couple of years ago I decided to try my hand at triathlon. At that time (and perhaps it still is) the sport of triathlon - swimming, bicycling, and running - was one of the fastest growing recreational sports in the country. I came into the sport clueless, really. In this case, I was the poor newbie asking: "How long is a triathlon?" The internet came to the rescue as I learned there are different grades of triathlon, ranging from a sprint distance (750m swim, 20km bike, 5km run) to the Olympic distance ((1.5km swim, 40km ride, 10km run) and beyond. The grand-daddy of all triathlons is the Ironman. This demands of the athlete a swim of 3.8km, a 180 km bike ride, and a marathon run. Translated into miles, the distances are swim 2.4 miles/bike 112 miles/run 26.2 miles/total 140.6 miles.

My career as a triathlete only lasted a year, though I may return to the sport at some future time, and the only race I competed in was at the sprint distance. This gave me plenty of respect for those who stick with triathlon. It's funny. Triathletes are often people who became frustrated with marathoning. When I tell them I run marathons they at the very least feign awe. "If you can run a marathon, you can complete a little ol' triathlon," they say. Don't believe them! This is a tough sport and one which requires superb discipline.

This is why I am still slack-jawed in awe and envy at the accomplishments this weekend of my friends Dorian and Fred Ramirez. While the rest of us ran a Turkey Trot (at best), Dorian and Fred were in Cozumel for the realization of their dreams of completing an Ironman competition. They proved it: dreams do come true. Dorian finished her first ever Iron(wo)man in 14:26:55 while Fred finished in 15:34:50. Congratulations!

I've known Fred and Dorian for a number of years. Dorian is a lawyer who is also a cellist with the Mid-Texas Symphony. Fred is an engineer who in his undergrad days at UT Austin played the Euphonium in the Longhorn Band. Our team of musician runners from the Mid-Texas Symphony has included Dorian and Fred as we have competed in the Beach to Bay Relay Marathon in Corpus Christi (which happens to be home for both Dorian and Fred) and the Texas Independence Relay. I know their story of transiting from out of shape (Fred described himself as a couch potato) to being two of the most fit people I know. Though I won't pretend to give a blow by blow of how they did it, I will say that they moved towards their goals in measured steps. It has taken them 3 or 4 years to graduate to Ironman and now that they have made it I suspect they have their eyes on something beyond. I consider myself lucky to have them on my team.

Turkey Trot 2009

Although there is something not quite right about a run which is taken by many just so they can load up on calories at their later in the day Thanksgiving Feast, the Turkey Trots which are becoming more and more popular across the country do offer opportunities to "do the right thing." In the best light, a Thanksgiving morning trot of 4 miles, or so, is a superior alternative to turning off the alarm clock and simply sleeping in. And yes, it does allow the runners and walkers to burn some calories and maybe to even begin their new year early with a resolution to exercise more. If we must cast out a bait to get people off the couch and into some athletic shoes, a turkey trot, or a fun run, as this might be called on a different day, may be the ticket.

For me, these runs pretty much represent all of the above. I know my tone was derisive when I suggested these runs were simple justification for the calorie binge which is so often our Thanksgiving feasts, but let's get real. I do like a good feast and you do too; rarely are these low-cal affairs. This is my second year to run the Turkey Trot, sponsored by the San Antonio Road Runners, and I've been impressed both times with the large turnout. Race organizers estimated today's run/walk attracted some 2500 participants.

For the second year in a row I ran the turkey trot with Zenna James, a young runner who a year ago was just beginning to run with me from time to time. Four miles was ambitious for her a year ago, but she had higher aspirations - to run the Rock'n'Roll Half Marathon in 2009. Her running year had its peaks and valleys, but race by race she came closer to the half marathon. We ran the 3M Half Marathon last January as a relay, calling ourselves James² - you know, my first name is James and her last name is James. Zenna then ran a leg of the Beach to Bay Marathon Relay in Corpus Christi in May and finally the 10 miler at Ft. Sam Houston in September. An aspiring runner learns something from every race, even from every training run, and Zenna learned some valuable lessons with each of these experiences. She capped it off with the Rock'n'Roll, running on that day a longer distance than she had ever run before. She deserves to be proud of her accomplishments; today's running of the 2009 Turkey Trot gave us both a chance to reflect.

All of this is to say that a turkey trot, or the next 5 or 10k on the calendar, might be the start of something new for you if you accept the challenge. Don't just be a spectator! Run, or walk, as an active stage of your new fitness regimen and maybe you too will be running next year's Rock'n'Roll San Antonio.

What Now?

It's been a week now since the Rock'n'Roll San Antonio Marathon and Half Marathon. How have you used the time? For many, post-race is an opportunity to reconnect with family, get caught up at work, kick back and take some time off your feet. But how much of this do we need? There is still a rough formula which one sees from time to time, a formula which advises to take one day off for every mile you raced. Well, this was my 6th marathon (plus a couple of 50Ks) and I've NEVER taken a month off from running after a race.

"Well," you might say when you've looked at my race time, "you don't really race. The rule wasn't written for runners like you."

To which I reply, "No offense taken, but I used up as much of my body in my 5 hours on the course as the runner who managed the distance in 4 hours."

This discussion can go on ad infinitum, but I see no point to it. We run because we love to run, fast or slow matters not. So let's get back to the point, that being that anyone who loves running is not likely to take a month off from that which they love in order to recover. Even more to the point, the competitive runners and especially the elite runners don't take off a month. The truth is, none of us should.

Every runner has to find what works for them. But I would encourage all to get out and test the legs the week after the marathon, or half marathon. I noticed some tweets from runners who got back to light mileage the day after marathon weekend. If you can do that, I guess it's OK, though I'm not sure it's prudent. I intended to lace up my shoes on Wednesday, but there was still way too much catching up that I needed to take care of. I could stand it no longer on Saturday as I finally dropped the stacked up tasks at hand and jogged a light 2 1/2 miles. Although the soreness in my legs is now gone, I could still feel that the muscles weren't very well fueled. That is the more obvious purpose of recovery, and we manage the refueling by refueling. Is anyone else still feeling famished? My calorie consumption has been on the high side since the race, and I guess that's another good reason to get back to a moderate mileage routine.

I find it helpful to put my sights on another race. There's no better motivator than a 10K or half marathon on the horizon. A few years ago I jumped right into a half marathon only 2 weeks after a marathon, and I did OK. On the other hand, if your are still feeling sore, tight, low on energy, go ahead and take a few more days off. But I beg of you, don't let these recovery days become weeks or even months. Keep in your mind how great it feels to be conditioned after months of training. We lose it if we don't keep ourselves motivated. I hope to see everyone out there again, soon.

I leave you with a motivating point which I read in the publication Inside Texas Running. Ironman competitor Lisa Tilton McCarthy observed: "....at the end of the day, it is not about the results but about the experience of the event."

Amen.

Meet Joy and Jay Hilscher

I'm still reflecting back on Rock'n'Roll weekend and how quickly it flew past us. The training months go on forever and most of us are about to renew our training for whatever the next event might be, maybe a Thanksgiving Day turkey trot, another marathon or half. But isn't it amazing what a whirlwind we were swept up in the weekend of November 15th? Let's cherish those memories and the many other things we learned about ourselves through the challenges we jointly undertook.

I was thrilled to finally meet Joy and Jay Hilscher at their Lone Star Relays booth at the Expo. If Lone Star Relays doesn't ring a bell, you might know of Jay and Joy for the Texas Independence Relay (TIR). That's why I went out of my way to say hello. The TIR happens to be my favorite race. I've captained the Mid-Texas Symphony team through the race twice and am looking forward to the third race in early March 2010.

Actually, I think I have said hello to Joy at the TIR finish line each time (they are hands-on organizers), but this was my first time to shake Jay's hand and thank both of them for the wonderful relay they brainstormed. They are now branching into sponsorship of a couple more relays, the Hillie Billie Relay around Canyon Lake and the brand new Capitol 2 Alamo (C2A) Relay scheduled to debut next August. These now reside, along with the TIR, under the auspices of the new brand of Lone Star Relays. Check them out.

Thanks again, Jay and Joy, for the wonderful experiences I've had with my team at the Texas Independence Relay. Go Mid-Texas Symphony!

Finish Line Video

What a great treat to find that the Rock and Roll Marathon has video of the runners crossing the finish line. You can check out Bill Bittick crossing the finish line with his daughters assistance, see James Baker pump his fists after crossing the finish mat, or look up anyone else you might have been following (like the mayor of San Antonio).

Starting Line Video

Start to Finish

As my sister Brenda and I drove the Rock'n'Roll Marathon course on Saturday we were reminded once again of what the distance of 26.2. miles really means. It's a heck of a long way. I can attest to it from the ground level. Feet running, feet running, feet running. Great beginning! I look ahead, down Broadway, and there are runners as far as the eye can see. I look back and see a solid mass of runners. This is the thrill of running in a field of 31 thousand. It always makes my eyes begin to tear. I'll admit it. I love running and those others who love running.

I took my place in corral number 20, shepherding Zenna, my sometime running buddy, as she prepared to run her first half marathon. Bill Bittick, my nephew-in-law, was here to run his first full marathon. He started in one of the faster corrals. Elbow to elbow with runners, Zenna and I moved slowly forward as the corrals of runners were started in a staggered manner which serves to spread out the field at the beginning. By the time we got our start signal the elites were rounding the corner into San Pedro Park, six miles away. When the runners in the last corral started their race the elites were almost half done. I wish I had a bird's eye view which would allow me to see this long, serpentine parade of running humanity.

Crowds along the way cheer and encourage, sometimes watching us dumbfounded as they wonder why in the world we were doing it. The half marathon of 13.1 miles is a distance the average person has never run. Those who do become the exception. It's what I have told Zenna over the months we trained. Maybe it sounds egocentric, but we do take pride in doing something that most peoples will never even attempt. A half marathon runs the body's fuel tank to about half empty. It's a great distance, and one which almost any able-bodied person can manage if they've trained properly. The 26.2 miles of the full marathon is a different story. It's not proper math, but it's the truth that a marathon is more than double a half marathon. The body exhausts its fuel and continues to run on grit and determination. I think it was Frank Shorter who said the marathon is only half done at mile 20.

A huge crowd greets us at the Alamo. The runners take energy from the cheers and begin the winding way through parts of downtown and eventually onto Euclid, Atlanta, Gillespie, Evergreen, off the tourist path. Residents of this old part of San Antonio watch, clapping their hands in encouragement. A turn onto McCullough takes the now endless procession of runners up a hill, turning on Craig and suddenly slowing as the grade becomes steeper. Finally, the hill gives itself up to a downhill turning onto Flores as San Pedro Park looms ahead. Banana Man, as you would imagine dressed as a banana, is there with his disciples passing out chunks of banana. The corner, littered with banana peels, invites my imagination to invent the iconic slapstick moment of slipping on a banana peel but no one does. Again the crowds cheer. Ordinary runners become heroes. We slap hands with the kids along the street. They smile and we take from the exchange a spark which gives the courage to continue on.

Huge crowds await us as we loop back through downtown. The canyons between the tall buildings resonate with the constant clap of shoes on the pavement, this giving a rhythm to the loud greetings from onlookers. Here determination begins to fuel our efforts. Still miles from any finish line, the runners harden their resolve, drink water, and continue clip clop, clip clop, clip clop.

This is how a marathon is run. One foot in front of the other. The splitting point on the route, where the half marathoners turn back into their final 3 miles, seems a betrayal to those of us who know that our finish line is still only a mirage. We have another lifetime of running ahead. The field thins dramatically as over 20 thousand half marathoners yield the longer track to 5 thousand diehards who begin to take to heart the messaging on many banners and signs: "Pain is weakness leaving the body."

Mother Nature was not particularly benevolent on this day. It was warm and it was humid. Mid-morning the clouds broke and the sun beat down on the thousands still running. A head wind buffeted along a stretch near Stinson Field. But the field of marathoners moved ever forward. By mile 18 I discarded my goal of 4 hours 45 minutes. This wouldn't be the day for a new personal record (last year I broke 5 hours - that's good for me). At mile 21 I knew I wouldn't crack 5 hours as I alternated walking with running. Finally I mustered the last of my resolve into running the last mile, struggling up the cruel hill just outside the Alamodome before turning to the finish line. 5 hours, 11 minutes, 14 seconds. I survive to run another day and, for sure, another marathon. See you at the starting line a year from now.