The WestMONSTER!

The Hills Have Eyes!  Aaaaaaah!  Run for your lives.  Sadly I have to admit that I love horror films so this was the first thing that came to my mind when I saw the WestMonster 2013 Logo.  For those with the memorable experience of running this 5K before, the site of the logo causes you to pause and take a deep breath.  Get that deep breath now because there won't be any of that available at the top.

This year was the 4th annual running of the WestMonster, a challenging cross-country style 5K looping through the gorgeous Westmont College campus.  This was my third visit to the race and I arrived as the two-time defending women's champion.  There was that little twinge of pressure to make it a three-peat which made it hard to approach it with a "let's just go out there and have fun" mentality.  I so wanted to just go out and have fun but the memory that most stuck in my head from the previous confrontations with the course was that of pain, relenting hills, and oxygen debt.  But there is something about it that grips you, digs into your skin and makes you come back for more. 

I've been training for the Santa Barbara Triathlon for many, many months but my main focus and mode has been putting extra miles in on the run.  In an effort to work on my overall endurance, I've grown in strength this year and I've enjoyed the running events so much lately.  Though my success has been up and down, good races and not so good, for the most part the training has been going well and the racing has been getting progressively better.  John and I recently competed in the Goleta Beach Long Course Triathlon and had a really fun experience.  I was so relieved to find that after the 1500 Meter swim and the 22 Mile bike, I had a really solid 5 Mile run to finish it off and it has helped my confidence.  To know that you can run well on tired legs with a pre-fatigued body has it's benefits as you toe a line to run a 5K on rested legs with fresh lungs.  So training for the triathlon has fed nicely into some successful running races and I came into this years WestMonster staring it right in the eyes.  Bring it on!

Thursday night, 5:00 PM, I arrived at Westmont College to check in and warm up.  I smiled as I looked around at the assembling runners and thought to myself, "ah, so many fellow crazies out for some evening, mid-week suffering."  I warmed up over the first loop, trying to shake out nagging bursitis that was flaring up in my right hip.  It lingered but it was more of an annoyance than a problem and I hoped it would not factor in to tonight's race.  Summer has been very cool and overcast, but of course tonight was warmer than it had been, darn it.  The shade was nice and I stretched for a long time in it.  Another half mile on the track and some strides on the grass and I was ready to go.  John had intended to race tonight as well but texted me to say he didn't think he'd make it.  As I got ready to head over to the starting line I was surprised to see him hustle by.  John is a great multi-tasker.  He was walking and pinning on his race number all at the same time.  No warm up for him but he made it.  This was a good sign and brought a smile to my face.  I love that we can share these things together.

There was a smaller crowd this year and as I can't help but do so, I scanned them for potential competition.  I began to think that maybe I wouldn't be closely challenged by any other female this year but then Bethany Nickless arrived to the starting line.  Bethany is a top-notch runner and is in her prime.  I have all the respect in the world for her so I accepted her presence and recalculated my will and heart to win. 

A few race instructions and then we were sent off on our way and I eased into the first mile, passing the young boys who quickly blew themselves out on the first hill.  I tried to settle into a pace as soon as possible and from past experience, knew to take it out moderately.  The first mile includes a downhill start which hits a short but significant uphill, right turn onto a slight decline which flattens out before you finally begin a steady climb up.  The steady climb up can take you by surprise but I was prepared.  Bethany came alongside me at this point and I decided I would test it out and see if she might be my tool to a PR on the course.  Either I would hang with her or she'd run away from me.  By the time we hit the first mile mark we were settled into a group which included Bethany, myself and Eric Widmer with Jim Triplett striding just ahead of us.  Not a bad group to be stuck in.  I hung on Bethany's shoulder through the passage of the middle of campus and when we came back out again to the downhill section I passed her.  My intent wasn't to pass and run away from her but rather to share the pressure of leading.  Bethany hung on my shoulder around the second loop, down the hill, back up the short, steep section and around through the middle of campus again.  We came out and were directed to the right which as I well knew was in the direction of the Monster.  The Monster is the portion of the course that can suck the remaining life out of you faster than a dementor (Harry Potter reference).  It is a significant climb, that gets steeper as it progresses and gives you the added gift of a false flat at the top.  It isn't longer than maybe 200-300 meters but it comes at the end of the 2nd mile of an already tough course and things burn as you climb.  Eric and I ran side by side up the Monster and Bethany slipped in between us to take the lead.  She was sweet and said "excuse me" as she passed.  We hung with her and all crested the top as a group and let the legs chill a bit as the incline began to transition into a nice long decline.  We wound around tight corners, across pine needles, dirt paths, sidewalks and finally onto a dirt road that led back to the paved road.  Bethany and Eric, like many that day, were unsure of which direction to go but I directed them and we regrouped as they recovered from a near disastrous wrong turn.  I tucked in behind them and we added Jim to our happy little group as Bethany and I spat directional instructions throughout the remainder of the race.  "Up there turn left and then go straight across."  "Just up ahead take a sharp right."  We came down the hill, across the main road, around the tennis courts, back through the parking lot, down the steep hill and whew! onto the track for a 350 meter sprint to the finish.  Jim was leading the way, then Eric, Bethany and myself.  This was gut check time and I attempted to imagine running intervals.  Nash Jimenez, who has been adding his years of knowledge, experience and success to John's and my training and racing, has had us do intervals with a jump in pace at the end of each.  You have to believe you have that extra gear and I'm thankful that he had been teaching us and reminding us of that.  At the 200 meter mark (that is 200 meters to go) I picked up the pace around the turn and passed Bethany and Eric.  Eric responded and picked up his pace while at the same time finding the breath to say "good race" to me.  Thank you so much for that Eric.  That was awesome.  He also urged me on in the final stretch and I gutted it out to finish just behind him.  Boom, race over, time to double over and try to find extra oxygen in the atmosphere.  I know it was a gutsy race for all of us as we stumbled about afterwards.  I'm thankful it wasn't just me stumbling around.  Bethany finished just behind and I puzzled over why she hadn't run away from me and dropped me early in the race.  Later I talked with her and she had taken some time off after the track season and hadn't been training much.  She came out to do the race as a training run and wasn't in excellent shape but she said she worked hard and her competitive juices had kicked in.  That explained things a bit and in the end I was so very thankful to have that challenge to push me to my best time on that course by 22 seconds.  And a three-peat!

The Santa Barbara Triathlon is a week away and I couldn't have asked for a better race for final preparation.  It was a race challenging enough to test me mentally and physically, and the boost in confidence to complete it and feel like I had a really good race was priceless.  It hurt but not too much and I totally enjoyed it.  There was no panic, no time that I didn't think I could hang with my fellow racers and I had the guts to finish well. 

Semana "Not"ica 15K

Weather and life can't always be perfect in Santa Barbara ... sometimes there's humidity.  The week leading up to this year's July 4th long time traditional running of the Semana Nautica 15k, can best be described as goopy, sticky, heavy air.  I love humidity (our version of it) most of the time but I got a little nervous during the days before the 15k.  My legs and lungs lacked enthusiasm and each run was rather depleting.  My confidence was up though and I wasn't going to let a little soggy air dampen my outlook.  Never mind the fact that I had to take extra care to cough fluid out of my lungs every 5 miles.  I rattled like I had pneumonia.  Yep, humidity.

But race day was kinder than the days leading up.  It remained mercifully overcast and "cool", somewhere I think in the mid to upper 60's, but still on the humid side, making if feel warmer than it was.  I usually like calm days with no wind, but a little breeze moving things around a bit would have been nice.  But what are you going to do?  It was near perfect for a July 4th race.

Training has been good.  Somehow my body has held together and has allowed me to continue to increase my weekly mileage.  I trick it by throwing in some bike training and swimming so it gets confused and forgets to get injured.  See how that works?  So I've been sneaking in an extra 10 a week just so I could look this 15k in the face and say, "You ain't so bad.  I could waste you in like, 58 minutes and not lose any sleep over it."  Yah, long miles make long races feel short.

Confidence.  That's what the extra mileage has given me.  Even though I wasn't feeling great the day before the race when I did my light 4 miles and strides, I trusted my body was ready.  I studied my training paces, recent race paces and picked my goals for the race.  I squinted a bit thinking about what it will feel like to hold a 6:11 pace.  I couldn't do that in training even if I were being chased by a rabid raccoon.  But I knew those mysterious systems would take over and it would be more than possible.

I lacked nervousness the morning of the race.  That's an oddity.  I just felt happy, calm, and resigned.  I did have this dilemma which was driving me crazy.  Should I wear the Hokas or the Newtons?  I brought both thinking I would probably opt for the Hokas and chose them for the warm up.  But I had a last minute change of heart and ditched them for my trusty, though worn-out, Newtons.  I was happy because as I strided out several times prior to the start, I felt more agile in them.  So the Newtons prevailed, and my dilemma was solved.  Now onward to the starting line.  Getting to the starting line is half the battle.  From there all you have to do is finish ... which today as it turns out was going to be a losing battle for me.

I was happy to see Drea sporting the same Olympic team uniform that I was.  I wore mine only once before, at last year's Semana Nautica.  You must wear a red, white and blue for that race.  I am proud of my Olympic uniform.  It is the real deal.  I bought it a few years ago because I was entered in the Master's World Track and Field Championships but failed to compete due to injury.  But I'm proud of it nonetheless.  I had to mention to Drea that I cut the elastic band that forms the bottom support of the running bra portion.  I seem to have a larger ribcage than some and everything fits perfectly except for that tight band.  It leaves little room for my lungs to expand during exertion.  So I totally sliced up my Olympic team uniform just so I could breathe.

Back to the starting line.  We gathered, heard last minute instructions and soon the word was given and we were off.  The first 2/3 of the course can best be described as anything but flat and straight.  There were false flats up, then sharp turns to the right, more false flats and then a long false flat.  And then a left turn and then a hill.  There is a lot of character to the course and the worst mistake is to take that first 5K too fast.  I was faring well although my mile splits were all over the place: 6:09, 6:17, 6:06, 6:19 and so forth, but that was the profile of the course and I kept my effort steady.  I settled into the race after the first mile and paid little attention to what other runners were doing.  I had to run my own race for the moment and leave the gut wrenching part (where you pounce on your prey like you haven't eaten in a week) for the last 5K.  For now I didn't want to succumb to the temptation to go too hard over the hardest part of the course.  I watched those ahead of me and kept my goals in sight.  My first 5K split was right on pace but I can't say it was as easy as I'd hope it would be.  I blame that on the heaviness that still lingered in the air.  Yes, the humidity was still a factor and needed to be considered.

I pushed onward down the slope that began the second 5K portion of the race, gaining without extra effort on the female that ran ahead of me.  She had gone out too fast.  Too bad.  I passed her as we moved into the upward slope and focused on keeping a steady pace.  I felt the pressure push against me as I strode up the slope but I reminded myself that there was not much "hill" left on this course so just get through it.  Don't let the hill beat you.  Up and over, and then soon, up and over the last significant rise.  I grabbed a cup of water at the aid station, rinsed my mouth, took a few strides of easy motion to recover and pressed on.  Mentally I began to feel the need for deeper concentration because I was feeling the pressure of my pace and wasn't gaining much on my competitors who lingered just ahead.  But there was calm.  I was in fact nearing the 10K mark and was collecting my confidence so that I had something left for the pouncing.

This though is where my race slipped through my fingers.  There are things we can control and things we can't.  As I began the slight decent back toward the bike path my body began to signal intestinal distress.  For me this is one of those enemies that may show up at any time, in any race, at any point and if it decides to attack at the wrong time, I'm basically doomed.  Within a couple of minutes of the first warning, and as soon as I had reasonable opportunity, I dashed off the course, down a private ravine.  It was a steep ravine and I slid several feet trying to gain footing for stability.  The clock was ticking and I was seemingly moving backward.  It's like that bad recurring dream.  You know the one I mean.  I left my watch ticking the whole time and I lost over a minute in the whole process.  My pit stops are not quite as efficient as Nascar.  This occurred at the 6 mile mark.  I dashed back to the path (more like stumbled) and I struggled to regain my stride.  Miraculously I hadn't lost my placement in the race but did lose all contact with those I had been running with.  I tried to keep the frustration at bay and do my best to regain as much of that minute + as I was able.  My 10K split reflected the devastation to my overall pace.  Minus that lost minute, the pace would have been right on.

Not much went through my mind over the next mile.  I just ran and hoped everything else would stay put until the finish line, but often this enemy doesn't strike just once.  And so it happened that as I neared Hollister the warning came again.  I was forced off the course, dragged down into another ravine and this time I watched a group of runners pass by, two of which were females.  Females that were 2 minutes behind me but were now in front of me and moving on without me.  I dashed out from the grips of the enemy once more and gained my stride again but now the mental anguish was setting in.  I had now lost over 2 minutes and had just over two miles to go.  I had lost my place, lost my pace, an had very little hope of even breaking the hour barrier whereas I was on pace for a sub-58 minutes.  And then there was the lurking reality that the enemy was probably not done with me yet.  When the warning hit a third time at mile 7, I stopped my watch, stopped running and left the course.  I took a few steps the other direction, turned around, started my watch again and rejoined the race for about 10 steps and then stopped for good.

I was done for the day.  I lingered and watch other runners go by.  I would have cheered for them but my heart was downcast and all I could do was watch them go by.  I wouldn't be celebrating at the finish line today and they would be.  I waited until John ran by and then I started my slow jog back through the neighborhood so I could watch many of them complete the race. 

Somehow as I made my way back, I realized, other than my GI tract (which, by the way, I hate), that I felt pretty darn good.  I just completed 7 tough, fast miles and had something left in the tank.  That was what lingered with me for the rest of the weekend.  I wasn't sad and I didn't feel devastated.  It just was what it was.  I have to admit though that I did punish my body a bit the next few days with a 6:52 paced 10 miler on Friday and a 44 mile bike ride followed by a 6:48 paced 5 miler on Saturday.  I just wanted to make sure it was still there.  And it was.  I consoled myself by entering the next possible event I could, the Goleta Beach Triathlon.  Take that you GI Joe enemy.  You stole my 15K but you ain't getting nothing more than that.

I'm still frustrated because I have to find a way to keep that enemy away from me.  This week I will be doing a food sensitivity test and will be experimenting a bit with my diet ... again.  I'm pretty sure strawberries are a no no - which is a HUGE bummer.

Thank you whole heartedly for the Semana Nautica 15k organizers and volunteers.  It was awesome and you are the greatest.  And congratulations to all the finishers.  Getting to the starting line is half the battle but getting to the finish line is the other half. 

2013 State Street Mile - Dream On

Picture taken by Ruth Morales

If you'd have asked me about two weeks ago, my opinion regarding the mile distance, I wouldn't have even needed to ponder before answering.  It sucks - it's stressful and painful: my hands and feet go numb at 800 meters; I get sick with nerves for a week beforehand; it's too short for old people like me who have lost precious speed; there's too many things that can go wrong and one mistake can blow the whole thing.  There's no way to train hard enough to not feel the searing pain of the red line.  There is no comfort zone in the mile.

I was a miler in high school.  In fact, still to this day, my single greatest moment in running and racing occurred when I won the mile at the State Championships.  I was not supposed to win "on paper."  But tell that to a 17 year old girl who ran in honor of her father who had passed away at the age of 47 just a few months earlier.  My dad always told me, "Cindy, you're going to be in the Olympics some day."  That memorable mile race just happened to fall on his birthday (it would have been his 48th birthday) and I gave it to him.  I gave it to the competition as well.  I won.

Was the mile easier back then?  I wonder.  I don't remember it hurting the way it does now.  Was that because I was young and had greater pain tolerance?  Or was it because I had not yet learned how to really get deep down into the hurt locker and stay there a while?  I think that pretty much sums it up.

I hadn't run a mile race since the few track events I did in college.  A few years ago, in 2010 I decided on some odd whim to enter a road mile in La Jolla, CA.  I entered as an elite.  I was 41 at the time, the oldest to enter the elite division, the only master female to toe the line with the youngins'.   The nerves just about drove me out of my mind.  I was unprepared for how crazy the mind and body get before a stinkin' mile.  Then there was the ensuing oxygen debt that began to build at the 800 meter mark and finally my body succumbing to it by denying oxygen to my extremities.  I placed third in that race and had a new respect for the mile.  Ouch.  I'm not sure I want to do another one of those.

The next road mile I finally had the chance to do was the 2012 State Street Mile.  It must have taken me a while to forget the pain, and then there was the little matter of injuries that began to plague me.  I entered initially in the elite division but switched to the Master's elite division after seeing the depth of young competition.  I finally decided that I would embrace my age and run as a Master and in the process, go after the Master's Elite record.  The down side was that I ran the race alone as there was such a variance in the speeds of the different women.  Each did amazing for her age, but in the raw speed category, there wasn't anyone to run with.  Somehow or another I still managed to send myself into some place of hell and string myself out to the very limits of my cells' ability to carry oxygen (as in, my hands and feet went numb around the 800 meter mark).  I was able to break the record but fell short of that sub-5 minute mark. 

The next mile I did is a bit of a sad, boring story.  It was in August of 2012.  It was the USATF So Cal Association Championship Road Mile.  That's a mouthful.  We just call it the Irvine Mile for short.  It is a straight shot from start to finish on an old abandoned airstrip, and it draws some talent.  I didn't have to worry about running alone in this one except that I might possibly be left in the dust.  The bummer is that I had committed to participating in the Santa Barbara Triathlon as the runner in a relay.  So on the day before the "Irvine Mile" I ran a 10 mile race.  I thought I'd be fine, no problem.  Plenty of time to recover.  Reality hit at the 1/4 mark of the "Irvine Mile."  Every other female in my race took off in some kind of an all-out sprint - even the old ladies.  What were they thinking?  My legs were pretty much glued to the tarmac (which was actually concrete) and I watched them all run away from me.  Then, (this was getting predictable) my hands and feet went numb at the 800 meter mark and I wildly made my way to the line somehow from there.  I remember wanting to quit.  But mostly it's a blur.  I do remember passing a few at the very end and eeking out third place in the Master's division, but I didn't feel my weak 5:18 time deserved anything but a trash can.  The pain from that one lasted for several days.  The air had been hot and dry leaving my lungs feeling scarred and damaged.  This is not the distance for me.

The next mile finally brings me to the point of this blog, the 2013 State Street Mile.  Nerves began to build one to two weeks before the event.  I hated even thinking about it and began wishing I hadn't entered.  The pressure was too much.  It wasn't so much any competitive pressure, it was more of a goal oriented pressure AND the fear of pain.  It was just going to hurt ... no if's, and's or but's.  As well, I desperately wanted to break the 5 minute barrier.  Last year I did it in 5:03.  I needed to shear off 3 (or 4 to be safe) little seconds.  I spent several nights falling asleep as I envisioned the race I wanted to run.  I saw every 1/4 mile marker, heard my splits, felt fresh and bouncy, heard and felt the cheer of the crowd and saw myself cross the line in 4 minutes and something.  The "something" part was insignificant.  It was the 4 minute part that I kept trying to see. 

This is how my goals work these days.  First is my time goal which is only a reflection of how I run and has nothing to do with any other person in the race.  This typically is my most important goal.  For State Street this one was set firmly as a goal to go under 5 minutes.  The next goal pertains to making a mark on history.  I wanted to break the record (which in this case I already held) and lower it so that it would be able to stand for a longer period of time.  The final goal was to win.  The Master's elite race is scored by age-grade so even if you cross the line first, you will only win if you also ran better for your age than any other woman.  I wanted all three of these goals.  I figured if I could manage that first goal, the other two would obviously be met.

Arriving about 90 minutes before my scheduled start time, I was able to enjoy watching the other races.  I loved seeing so many familiar faces, smiling faces.  I couldn't help wonder, "why are they smiling?  Obviously they've never run a mile before."  The weather was just perfect.  Overcast and cool, no notable wind.  Ah, the nerves just began to mount.  I kept taking deep breathes and going through the mental exercises I've learned over the years.  You finally just have to let it go and just know that you will survive (most likely) so just give it to God. 

It will forever baffle me how it is possible to run so much faster in a race than you are ever able to do in training.  You cannot run race pace for race distance in any other circumstance than in a race.  This tells me that there is something inside of us, beyond our control to summon at our whim, that is beyond ourselves.  The hormones that surge in times of greatest demand take us to a whole new ability.  It is something in our make up as human beings that was knit into us.  We can't be praised because of it.  It is God-given.  Only He can be praised for it.

During one of my many trips to the porta-potty, I gave my State Street Mile to God and I knew I would be capable of something beyond myself.  There were 6 of us women in the Master's elite race.  All older than me except for one.  That just made it all more uncertain.  An older woman could beat me but still finish far behind me.  So I needed to run to my utmost for the entire length and then wait and see.  I had a plan and splits in my head.  We toed the line, and then the start.  I ran hard at first and was relieved to hear footsteps close behind.  I wanted to be pushed.  As we neared the first 1/4 mile though, I no longer could hear anything behind me.  In fact, it was as if I was in a cloud of complete silence, like everything around me was in slow-motion.  I heard and saw my first 1/4 mile split, 68 seconds (I glanced at my watch to confirm).  Oops, that was not the plan (a bit faster than I expected).  But at the same time, I felt good, my breathing was calm, I was relaxed and I went with it.  The 1/2 mile mark was quickly within my sight and I concentrated on my form, staying relaxed, running a straight line and passed that mark in 2:24.  I still had enough oxygen in my brain to calculate - "Oh, hmmm, that's ahead of pace.  Good."  I still felt decently good.  I knew my hands and feet would go numb so when it happened, this time it didn't bother me as much.  I had experienced this 3 other times and I knew I could still keep moving.  It was just my body's way of conserving precious oxygen for my heart.  I'd rather my heart continue to beat than to have sensation in my hands and feet.



Picture taken by Fritz Olenberger for Noozhawk

Here's where my dream began.  I was pushing on to the 3/4 mark feeling strong, beginning to feel the pain, but not too bad.  I was in deep concentration and a million thoughts were fluttering through my mind but not distractions.  If I could just hit that 3/4 mile slightly under pace, I'd have a chance.  I felt like the Terminator or Iron Man crunching little red numbers in my peripheral vision.  The crowd lined the street at that point and I became aware of comments being made, and in some cases I heard my name.  The feeling at this point is hard to describe.  You almost feel like you're asleep but are vaguely aware of things going on around you.  You feel it, to some extent hear it, but it seems like it's a world away.  I approached the 3/4 mark and heard John yell "Kick."  I laugh now because John's a swim coach and he's telling me to kick.  I got confused - wait, am I swimming or running.  When you can't feel your hands and feet, really, who knows?  And was he serious?  Kick NOW?  But my 3/4 mile split was 3:38 - still under pace for a sub-5 minutes, so maybe yah, kick NOW.  From there all I remember was my form coming apart, my desire to meet my goal escalated 100%, the shouts from the crowd.  I actually pondered in the midst of searing pain, how amazing the shouts were.  I felt the will of those watching and I grew stronger instead of weaker.  I saw the clock ticking just ahead.  It was at 4:40 when I first could make out the numbers.  But I know all too well how fleeting those precious seconds are - would I make it in time?  Was there anything more I could give?  Please don't let me come this close and falter.  It's amazing how little control you have over yourself when you are completing spent.  I watched the clock and kept my eyes focused on it willing it to slow down and me to speed up.  I watched it until I ran right underneath it with my arms up in victory - 4:56 was what I saw when I crossed.  4:57 was the official time.  I did NOT even need to bend over in exhaustion.  I was floating.  I was energized and I was finally smiling in a finishing chute.  Thank you God for that part of me that is beyond me and is just You.

I managed to meet all three of my goals.  I am still getting older and faster.  I like that!  This is something that would not have been possible without the crowd and the cheers, and my husband yelling at me to kick and I wish there was a way to share the feeling with all of you who were there.  This race will stand as the second greatest running moment in my life, save the aforementioned State Championship mile.  Ruth Morales took some amazing pictures, one of which captured faces in the background that bring tears to my eyes.

Picture taken by Ruth Morales

So if you were to ask me today what my opinion is of the mile distance, I wouldn't have to ponder long before answering - it's awesome.

New Book, New Shoes, An Interview and a Battle

If I had a bit more time these days, I wouldn't have to cram 4 topics into one blog.  Life has been busy with many good things but I've been trying to get to this blog for a while.

New Book: I've been using Greg McMillan's training calculator and training/racing paces for about 3 1/2 years now.  I use them to guide my training and to give me realistic expectations for races based on what I am able to do in training or in previous competitions.  I had not delved too deep into his philosophy beyond that but knew that he had some interesting insights into different bodies and how training needs to be different from one person to the next.  He finally came out with a book, (which I pre-ordered so I could get a signed copy) that explains his whole training plan and how to build an individualized plan for oneself.  I was so excited when it arrived on my doorstep and dove right into.  As a self-coached athlete I try to be open to what's available but also am guarded about what I try to do in my training.  With so many injuries in the past few years, I've been on a quest to be super smart!

I have since built my new McMillan training plan currently targeting a half marathon distance, although I will be running several different distances in the meantime, including a road mile.  I have increased my mileage this year ... carefully I might add ... because as long as I can keep my body in check and avoid injury, it adds strength, endurance and mental toughness.  From McMillan's book, I learned I am a combo-runner which a slant toward speedster.  Translated into English, this means I do equally well at varying distances but longer race distances and training are much harder on me than the fast stuff.  It takes me longer to recover from a long workout than it does a speed workout and I enjoy the faster, shorter stuff much more than the longer, slower stuff.  So with this in mind, I have been able to build a training plan that includes a lot of mileage (for me a lot means around 45 miles a week) but includes carefully inserted quality workouts that both challenge me and yet sit in my sweet spot.  I have placed enough recovery after the long workouts to keep me fresh for the fast workouts.  I'm still going through the book and building my plan but so far it all feels great and I'm hoping will translate into better running and racing.  I highly recommend the book.

New Shoes: I have talked about my Hokas before.  To sum up what I've said in the past, the shoes are heavenly but for me have to be used sparingly because they have proven to be too much of a crutch in workouts and led to weakened performance and the inability to easily switch into racing flats for fast workouts and races.  I use them on days when my legs are really feeling beat up and usually not more than twice a week, but mostly just once a week.  The that once per week run in my Hokas is what I look forward to.  I wake up excited for my Hoka run.  I now equate running in Hokas to swimming with fins.  The feel great, help you run faster with less effort, but can make you weaker if you rely on them.

Recently I had the opportunity to try a new model of Hoka, which is still in the design stage.  This new model is designed more for fast running and even possibly for fast racing.  They still have the thick cushion and bulk but are less "marshmellowy", more narrow and look a bit more like a typical shoe.  They are very light and somewhat flexible.  I have wanted to see if this new model might bridge the gap between my traditional running and racing shoes and the over-stuffed swim fin shoe and perhaps could be my new every day shoe.

When I first laid eyes on the new model my observation was that they were much more narrow.  This concerned me because my feet need space or else I begin to have some issues with blisters and neuromas in both forefeet getting irritated.  The new shoes were plenty big but unfortunately my feet felt smothered in the narrow toe box.  Their maiden voyage of 7 miles produced blisters on the top and bottom of my right foot, the tongues of both shoes slipped down and seemed to make them bend in the wrong spots, and I felt serious friction in both forefeet.  It was a totally different experience than my regular Hokas but I was optimistic that the next run would fare better.

The next run in the newbies was a 10 miler and I had similar issues but also additional issues.  I first noticed that there seemed to be some sort of clicking going on inside of the deep cushioning of the shoe as if there was a bubble inside there.  It was annoying but otherwise not too much of a problem.  Early on this time I began to feel a pain along the outside of my left foot.  It felt a lot like a cramp and didn't keep me from journeying on but was worrisome.  As I hit the more flat ground the friction began and hot spots developed this time on both my right and left feet and again the tongues slid to some strange location causing the shoe bend to irritate the tops of my feet.  I stopped more than once to pull up the tongues but they wouldn't stay where I needed them to stay.  I also had to stop to remove both shoes and allow my feet to "cool."  The friction that was being caused was intense and very uncomfortable.  In the end, that run ended up being miserable and left me with a slight injury in my left foot which ran up into the calf.  My Chiropractor determined that my foot had to be landing improperly and was compensating.  In general the toe box seems too restrictive and I still haven't figured out why there is friction in the forefoot area.  On the good side, the shoes have that great cushion and impact control and are less bulky than my regular Hokas.  I plan on trying them again but for the moment am hesitant.

An Interview:  John and I were guests on Coach Z's Endurance and Strength radio shoe.  John was the USMS Master's Coach and I was the elite runner :)  It was fun to talk about recent races and strength training advice, but I kind of think the boys (Zack and John) went off on some crazy open water/Wild Flower/Ironman France tangent and I sat there with my mouth open waiting to interject but then cocked my head to the side and just listened.  Ha ha, you know I'm kidding.  It was all good and very fun.  Here's the link to the podcast if you'd like to listen: Coach Z's Endurance and Strength Podcast - John and Cindy

Finally, a Battle:  Every year the Santa Barbara Tri-Club competes against the UCSB Tri-Club (and the Rincon Tri-Club as well) for dibs on the coveted Battle in the Sand Trophy.  The victor gets to possess the trophy until the next year's competition.  Our SB Tri-club claimed it last year and were poised to defend it.  The competition is won by the team which claims two out of three wins in the following categories:  All Women's Team, All Men's Team, Co-Ed Team.  Each team (relay team) has 6 members who switch off between swim and run.  So the first member swims, the second runs, the third swims, and so on until all 6 team members have done their part.  Therefore each relay team has 3 swimmers and 3 runners.  This year I was on the All Women's Team - as a runner.  The run is a beach run and this year is was nice and short (less than a mile).  We were up against excellent competition and after the first swim leg, had some ground to make up.  We remained behind the UCSB's all women's team through our first run leg, but our second swimmer, Tina, made up all the ground (er, water) and passed the other team and put some distance between us and them.  From there we kept the gap or lengthened it making my anchor leg quite easy - which was nice because I was running on dead legs as is typically the case on any given Saturday.  So our All Women's team won, but unfortunately our All Men's team and Co-Ed teams both lost to UCSB meaning the trophy left our possession ... until next year.

Upcoming events:  Next week I will be doing the State Street Mile as a Master's Elite.  Road miles and other short races are so nerve wracking and I'm already nervous but yet looking forward to it.  Last year was my first State Street Mile and I broke the Master's record with a 5:03.  Of course you can't come that close to breaking  5 minutes and be satisfied so this year I have already heaped pressure on myself to go under 5 minutes.  That would require me to get older and faster which I'm not so sure is happening.

Thanks so much for reading.  I feel like I'm a bit caught up now with the blog and hope to follow this one up with a race report next week.  Blessings to you!

Stellar Night

At the waning of the day, the air began to cool.  It was a nice kind of cool, while the sun still hung, rich and gold on the horizon to the west.  I arrived at Elings Park early, an hour before the race.  I was unfamiliar with the park, the course and the routine.  My legs were heavy from a long 14 mile run the day before, and a spirited effort at the Cbad a few days before.  I wondered if there was much wisdom in running the Stellar Nights Trail 5K on tired legs, but a trail always beckons you.  A trail is always a good idea.

The Stellar Night Trail race series had been going on each Wednesday for over a month.  My training schedule and race preparation plans kept me from participating but I put April 10th on my calendar, thankful to partake before the final opportunity passed.

There is most definitely a uniqueness to trail running, and trail racing, and I had done very little of either here of late.  I ran a short cross-country series the previous fall and a few of those courses were challenging, off-road adventures that I never quite felt prepared for.  Then there were a few wonderful, blissful ventures out on our local trails with John over the winter-time.  Those were great ... except for the endless hills.  What is it with trails and hills around here?  When someone mentions a trail run, what registers in my mind is a 4000 foot elevation gain in 10 miles.

The Stellar nights 5K (oh, and let me be clear here, it was farther than a 5K), is what I would call a "killer" course and I mean that in both ways.  I was indeed lucky to come out the other end mostly unscathed, but it was mere luck.  There were plenty of opportunities to fall off the mountain, suffocate in the sand pits of hell, pop an ankle in a ground squirrel hole, inhale a big bug, tumble down stairs, slide off embankments of bark chips, and exactly how many sports fields did we have to traverse, because every time I thought we were done, there was another soccer field in the way.  But most everybody eventually finds their way to the finish unscathed.

I intended to run with moderate effort because I didn't have enough in me for much more than that.  Oh, and I was hoping not to paint the trail with my recently eaten salmon patty.  But I soon discovered that it is impossible to run this course with moderate effort.  It required everything.  I discovered that my Hoka's were a bit on the loose side and rounding all the hairpin turns caused some unauthorized movement inside my shoes and my feet took some kind of insane battering.  It was not a course for the faint of heart or the weak knee'ed.  What were all these kids doing out here?  Are you kidding me?  This is a grown-up course.  Or maybe the reality is that it is a kid's course - kids run for fun, grown-ups run at your own risk!  The kids are crazy and fearless - perfect for such a race.

The starting line was upon one of the sports fields (a softball field I think), and we gathered in a

crowd near there for instructions.  When it was time to start, I wasn't quite sure which way we were headed.  Have you ever gotten into an elevator and instead of facing the door like everyone else, you turn and face toward the other passengers?  Well that's how I felt when all the veterans who had run the race 5 times were facing one way and I was facing the opposite way.  Um, hm.  But I eventually figured it out and we were off.  Watch out for that big hole in the middle - the one with the garbage can on top of it.  It was a narrow area around the field so unfortunately I ran harder than I otherwise would have liked, just to get a clear position.  We headed all the way around the field until we popped out onto the roadway and headed up.  There was a lot of up, and this was just the beginning.  We followed the paved road (I should have appreciated the even ground when I had the chance) up toward a trail-head and of course went onto the trail from there.  The sun was vibrantly bright and shining directly into our eyes as we wound up in one direction, then switch-backed toward another direction, and I think we did that a few more times before finally cresting the top.

The top was my favorite part of the whole course.  It was a spine along the mountain and we followed what became a narrow single-track trail which compassionately sloped slightly downward.  The spine became treacherous though as it narrowed and descended along a down-ward switch-back pattern.  There was the incessant need to slow your pace in order to stay on the trail when you hit the turns.  My feet were in pain and I feared my knees would not make it through the next mile, and this was the "easy" part.  Down, down, down we wound, and I had trouble staying on that single-track.  Toward the bottom, where spectators had gathered to watch the suffering, I almost launched myself into the crowd like a drunken concert-goer (although I've actually never been drunk).  The trail turned but my body had a delayed reaction.  Then it was back up again, not quite to the spine and then back off the trail onto, ahhhhh, pavement.  That was loop #1.

The pavement lasted only a short while and then it was off onto more sports fields.  We first ran by the starting line, and then in cruel fashion, we ran past the finish line, around a field (softball again I think), then around another field (soccer I think) and then another field and some kind of BMX bike course.  This part was flat or slightly downhill but the footing was rough.  After the final sports field (more sports fields to come later) we came back out onto the main road, making a sharp right turn (which of course I was unprepared for so I ran way out into the road instead of turning onto the sidewalk) and down a bit until we cut into a final loop.  By now, I was fully fatigued from both the uphill effort and the downhill pounding and my legs were beginning to feel gelatinous.  I thought maybe I had one more hill in me but being that I didn't know the course, I could only hope that it was doable.  What I soon discovered is that there is a beach in Elings Park.  Why is there a beach in the middle of a trail?  It wasn't actually a beach because that implies "flat."  This was more of a dune.  Yes it was a sand dune.  At the base of the sand dune hill I thought "ok, I can get through a little sand.  As long as it doesn't swallow me, I'll be fine, and it will soon be over."  But the base of the sand dune was like the tip of the iceberg.  It was a sand hill that just wouldn't end.  If I had any energy at the moment, I would have laughed.  It was like, "just keep moving because if you don't move forward, you will surely go backward."  Backwards into the sinking sand of doom, mua ha ha ha.  And getting to the top and over the top didn't really help that much because you had to go back down the sand hill and on Jello legs that doesn't work.  My saving grace was my clown sized Hokas.  I swear those shoes were made for sand ... or snow shoeing.

I desperately looked at my watch.  Is it 3.1 miles YET?  It almost was but not quite.  Back down off that beach loop and then it was back up toward the sports fields again.  I caught up fairly even with the guy who had been running just ahead of me and I focused on what I thought must be the finishing stretch.  According to my watch, we were past 3 miles so the finish line had to be just up ahead.  He grunted out something like, "great job.  Now all we have is heartbreak hill."  Heartbreak hill?  Aren't we mostly done with hills?  And before the thought fully formed in my mind, there lay before me some sort of embankment of loose bark which was worthy of being crawled up, and above that was the "stairway to heaven."  I would rather refer to it as ankle-break hill, and not only that, but also we were running up while other runners were still running down.  Collisions were eminent.  I managed somehow to drag my body up the bark, up the stairs and back onto the nearest sports field.  Ah, this is the field around which must lie the finish line.  I picked up my pace, seeing as how I was already over 3.1 miles, and prepared to gut it out around the back of the softball field.  When I came around to where the finish line was SUPPOSED to be my every bit of strength fell flat.  There was no finish line around this softball field.  Wrong one.  They all look alike to me.  I had another one to go around before reaching it and I had totally misjudged the entire finale.  By the time I reached the actual finish line, my legs were barely functioning and I might have staggered a bit after stopping.  I'm not sure what words came out of my mouth but I don't think they were pleasant words.  You want to be always appreciative of the volunteers and organizers, but as I wrestled to rip off my race tag (I had accidentally removed it before the race, so had to pin it onto the rest of the race number) I was looking for someone to strangle.  MUST HAVE OXYGEN.  And an Americano.

And people do this race week after week.  They think it's fun.  I limped around, breathing as much as possible, reminding myself that I ain't gonna be back next week.  Yah, that's what I said after my first Camp Pendleton Mud Run, and I ended up doing at least 10 of them after that.  That's sort of what I said after giving birth to my first child, but somehow I managed to have another.  It's funny how we soon forget the pain and begin to see all the beauty in the challenging things.  It's like a cream that settles on top after the agitation stops.  That was a Stellar race on a Stellar night and as I cooled down in the warm sunset I was so glad I'd done it.  I began to wonder ... what if?  I knew the course now, what if I did it again - could I do better?  What if I gave it a go on rested legs in tighter shoes?  The Stellar Nights Trail Series gets under your skin.  I think I'm going to get a Stellar Nights tattoo.  It would say something like, "I lived to tell the story."

Thanks to Zack Bertges and Nancy Kaplan for all your work and effort in creating this event and offering such a unique opportunity to our running community.  You and your many volunteers did an exceptional job week after week and with such a great turn-out of runners, it's clear Stellar Nights is here to stay, etched into running history and a new tradition.  I'm going to be back next year and take back the part of me it claimed.

The Carlsbad 5000 in the Master Book

I'm from north San Diego County, just inland of Carlsbad and I have run the Carlsbad 5000 many times.  All of those occurred during my less competitive, family focused years and they were fun.  But that's what they were back then, fun runs.  In 2009, the year I would be able to compete in the Master's race, I opted to do the Oceanside Half Ironman Triathlon instead (which occurred the day before the CBad that year). So no Masters Carlsbad race in 2009, however my full-on competitive years came back to me and I began to train again as a serious competitor.  I eagerly looked forward to running my first Masters Carlsbad race in 2010.  But in 2010, I was injured.  So I eagerly looked forward to running my first Masters Carlsbad race in 2011.  But in 2011, I was injured.  So I early looked forward to running my first Masters Carlsbad race in 2012.  Yes, in 2012 I was injured.  I watched from the side-lines each of these years, feeling like my best Master years were torn from my hands and I didn't get the opportunity when I really wanted it.  In 2013, I finally competed in my first Masters Carlsbad race.  It is rare to be able to compete in a solo, masters female race against the very best of them.  They come from far and near to run in this iconic, historical race and to compete for a Masters prize purse that's worth the effort.

I'm 44 years old.  I was toeing the line with other over-40 women, but I couldn't help reminding myself that many of them are yet younger than me.  I set goals for myself as the race approached.  You never know how your body will react on the day and you never know how everyone else's body will react on the day.  You never know who will show up.  So I set "hopeful" goals and "satisfactory"
goals.  Either way, I was going to give it my all.

My goals were:

Hopeful:  Break 18:00 minutes
Hopeful:  Finish top 3 overall
Satisfactory:  18:20 or better
Satisfactory:  Top 10 overall

I rarely set up a big "Focused" race that I taper for and gear every bit of my training toward, but this was one for which I did these things.  I laid down a steady set of preparation races, each of which got progressively faster and felt better.  After the Agoura Hills race two weeks prior, I had a huge week of hard training and laid out full effort.  Then I followed that up with a week of gradual tapering right down into the lap of Carlsbad.  I wanted fresh legs, fresh lungs but a steady, confident mind at that starting line.

The nerves were relentless.  It had been so many years of wanting and waiting and it was a bit surreal to finally be at the CBad starting line, healthy, ready.  But I was there.  I had already witnessed the men's master race early in the morning and was inspired both by my husband's huge course and master PR of 18:39, and Rusty Snows ridiculously fast second place finish overall.  And the announcer was insistent that we were all going to set PR's today so the nerves, blood and adrenaline were flowing.

Our start was unhindered.  How refreshing to actually have a race where organizers don't let slower runners steal the best spots on the starting line.  They put space and time between the "elite" group and the rest.  I really can't remember when I've ever actually had my toe on the starting line and to be able to look forward and only see the open road.

Our race began and there was that really quick bunch that darted out, many of whom I recognized.  There was Grace Padilla, Michellie Jones, Tania Fischer, the Canadian lady from my last race, Julie Ertel, and a few others.  Wow, look at them go.  But I don't like to over run the first mile and I chose to hang back a bit.  It was an odd thing to watch that group up ahead, and the group behind me dropped back.  There I was in no man's land within the first mile, maneuvering the headwind on my own.  Even still, I made the first mile in around 5:38 (depending on if the clock was in the right spot or my watch was off).  I happened to know that once you drop down around the hairpin at Tamarack, you begin the uphill slope.  It was my expectation that some of those ahead of me would begin to slow, and that is what happened.  I felt steady in my pace and effort and although I'm sure my pace did slow a bit going back up the slope, I felt strong and I loved seeing myself close in on Grace who began to struggle on that stretch.  My second mile split was 11:39, which was just at 5:50 pace and meant I couldn't slow down.  I passed Grace and aimed for Tania and Michellie who were so close up ahead and yet so far.  In order to catch them, my pace needed to quicken.  I knew from experience that Tania goes out fast and dwindles down so I kept my glare on her.  We rounded the final hairpin and had about 1200 meters to go.  I kept the pressure on my body, and even began making odd grunting sounds.  I was really about done and having a difficult time telling my body to kick it in.

That glorious final bend onto the home-stretch was heavenly.  I passed the 3 mile clock and must have looked at it because I knew that if I were to have a chance to break 18 minutes, I needed to be at around 17:25 at that clock.  I can't recall what my 3 mile split was, but I know it occurred to me that I was missing the mark.  I tried only to focus on the blond hair ahead of me and just finish.  Over the railroad tracks, across the finish line.  And done.  I missed my hopeful goals but achieved my satisfactory goals.  I finished in 18:19, 8th overall.  I beat a few tough competitors, came in just a few seconds behind others and marveled at the top finishers.

It was relief and fun after that.  We watched some of the other races and cheered for fellow Santa Barbarians, and topped it off with the Elite Races as they went for a world record.

I am grateful that in 2013 I finally got to run in the Masters race with my friend Anita!  I had hoped for some better results but what I always really hope for is that I just do the best I can on the day and finish with no regrets.  I had no regrets!  And I plan to be back next year!

The Great Race of Agoura Hills

Here's where my mind goes in any 5K right around mile 2 - "Oh crud, I think I'm going to die.  I'm going to literally pass-out right here and now, they'll be scraping me off the pavement."  Racing on a fast course is no different.  At mile 2, the same thought creeps into my mind, as my face is turning blue from O2 debt.  Such is the pain in a 5K.  Last weekend, seeking one last build up to the CBad 5000, John and I, along with a talented handful of Santa Barbara runners, ventured south about 1 hour to race in The Great Race.  The Great Race is really a lot of great races as it features 6 different options, including a 5K (known as the Deena Kastor 5K), a 10K, two different 1/2 Marathons (Road and Trail versions), and a family fun run and kids mile!  They put together a very well organized event, with each race starting from a different location, but all culminating at one finish line at Chumash Park.  The expo is fabulous and the post-race activities are worth hanging around for.  For our race day, the weather was exceptional, as in sunny, no wind and temps in the 60's.

The Deena Kastor 5K course is considered to be PR friendly.  A "fast" course.  Let me emphasize that this in no way means it's easy.  If you want your PR you better arrive willing to work for it, dig deep and hurt.  There are a few key downhill portions but they are nicely off-set by uphill portions, making it essentially a rolling course.  The race begins on a very significant downhill (significant enough that it requires energy to hold back), and ends on a nice downhill slope.  I love reading race reports with lots of "during the race" details so I thought I'd write this race report in similar manner.

As there are thousands of participants in the events, it is important to arrive early to the venue.  We arrived at 7:30 am for our 9:00 am race and still had to park a mile away.  This works well for me though because I prefer a nice walk as a pre-warm up.  So we found our parking spot in the neighborhood of Agoura Hills, and walked with the masses toward Chumash Park for packet pick up and a look at the finish line.  We picked up and pinned our chip-timed laden race number, switched into our racing flats, checked in our bags to be baby-sat in our absence, and began our warm-up.

The 5K starting line is about 1/2 mile around the corner and up the hill so we jogged our way in that direction, along the course of other races that were already in process.  The race starting line was perched up at the peak of a hill and we jogged over the crest, down the hill, around a portion of the first mile and then made our way along the end of the course back to the park.  The air was still chilly, particularly in the shade.  I was finding it difficult to work up a sweat.  Unfortunately, because our bags and gear needed to remain locked at the finish line, and we needed to be up the hill at the starting line, we had to take off our warm clothing earlier than I would have liked and hoped to stay warm with movement.

Off we went back up to the starting line where we did our strides and drills and kept in constant motion until the "go" went off.  Thankfully they do the 5K in two waves which allows for fewer accidents at the start.  With a steep downhill start, my expectation was that too many people would be pushing forward at the start and it could be easy to be tripped.  Then also there were the speed bumps to be aware of.  But our start went off without a problem and down the hill we proceeded.  It wasn't too difficult to get into a rhythm and it seemed that most runners were making a reasonable effort to not overdo it on this first section.  Very smart.  I tucked myself in behind Rusty and Drea to help me gage my pace.  Clearly the first 400 to 600 meters were going to feel fairly easy, but soon after, the course would take a slight uphill slant and reality would ensue.

Because of that initial hill, I expected the first mile to be faster than usual and it was.  I came through the first mile in around 5:30, but at that point my pace had already headed back the other direction.  We were on a long gradual climb and the runners in front of me were beginning to thin out, most falling off the pace and dropping behind me.  There were a couple of younger looking females that I soon passed but up ahead remained Drea and another woman (the woman in orange).  Picking and using your pace at this point is important.  By running my own race I am able to gage whether those ahead of me ought to be ahead of me or whether I should be aiming to pick them off.  Drea began to pull further ahead, which was not at all a surprise, but I noticed too that the woman in orange also began to put more distance between us. 

We continued slightly up through the neighborhood and passed around a hair-pin turn which more or less marked the 1/2 way point.  Glances at my watch indicated my pace had slowed but still remained under 6 minute pace.  In my mind I focused on getting through the middle mile as I knew that the final mile had more downhill than uphill and I looked forward to that.  The second mile passed by in 5:56 which was both expected and a bit distressing.  It meant that my pace needed to pick up considerably from here on in but I felt like I was basically done, ready to pull off the course and suck in oxygen.  As we turned onto the long straight away that made up most of the final mile, we began encountering 1/2 marathon participants that were headed to the same finish line.  Thankfully they were fairly thinned out and although it required more mental energy than I had to give, it wasn't too difficult to make my way around them.  It did make it more difficult however to keep the woman in orange directly in my sight.  I had caught up to the man running ahead of me (a 5K'er not a 1/2 marathoner) and he and I competed from that point on.  We hit the sharp right turn both having to take a different line due to slower runners blocking the best path and then up the final hill we pushed.  This hill was, hmmmm, hard.  It lasted maybe 400 meters, crested and then shifted with a left hand turn into the final decent to the finish line.  I ran this hill as if the finish line was at the top waiting for me.  In doing so I was able to pull ahead of my male competitor, breaking him mentally.  He must have been focused on the length of what remained whereas I tried to forget that more remained.  I came up over the hill and more or less fell forward into the downward slope.  My mind was elsewhere looking for a happy place and my body seemed to move in a detached feeling.  A final turn onto the grass finish, with 1/2 marathoners all over the place, I gave it one last effort to the finish line. 

I have to be honest, I had hoped to finish under the 18:00 minute mark and without a finishing clock to look at, I had no idea what my time was as I approached the finish.  But as I strided toward the line I heard the announcer talk about one of the men ahead of me finishing just under 18:00 minutes, and it registered in my mind at that point, before I had crossed and checked my watch, that I didn't quite make my goal.  I ended up with an 18:06, which is my fastest true 5K ever.  Chip-timed on a USATF certified course, my watch confirmed the distance as 3.16, meaning it was very accurately measured.  I wanted to be really, really happy but I just took it for what it was.  I didn't feel elated but I felt satisfied.  My first thought was toward Drea who had finished up ahead of me.  If I ran 18:06 I knew she must have thrown down a keeper, and she did!  Way to go!  And the woman in orange whom I never caught up with, who was she?  Rumor was that she is a former Olympic triathlete from Canada.  I was impressed.  She was older than me and faster than me.  This always gives me hope that there are strong days ahead!

I had only a short time to wait for John to glide through.  His finishing time was excellent but didn't reflect the advantage of the beginning hill.  His journey down the hill was with caution and therefore he wasn't able to fully take advantage of it.  But he ran a solid race and has been consistently finishing in the low 19 minutes.

So that was The Great Race!  It was fun after the fact, painful during!  It was great preparation for what's to come.  On our journey back home we stopped along the way to "ice" our legs in the Pacific ocean.  Thankfully we remain injury free, mentally fresh and looking forward to the next race.  But first, one more hard week of training and then a taper.  Carlsbad 5000, Sunday April 7th.