5K, 10K, 15K / 9:00 AM Start
Oakland, California
Time for 5K: 26:42 (my GPS) / Official time on website: 26:40 / Pace: 8:35 or maybe 8:46*
Buddy runner: Jack Mingo
Again I decided to run a race at the last minute. My uberwife Lori promised she would go with me next time. That was contingent on giving her more than a few minutes of notice, of course. But ever-ready Jack agreed to get up and go with me to Lake Merritt in the center of downtown Oakland to do this 5K around the lake.
I had joined the LMJS (www.lmjs.org), “The East Bay’s Oldest Running Club,” as a way to enter into the local running community in an official way. The Club hosted a set of races on the last weekend of every month which sounded fun. Membership was very reasonable and the entry fees for the races were even more reasonable.
From 2000 through 2006 I drove to Lake Merritt with a friend to run around the lake most days of the week. So this was familiar territory to me. And I drive to “the lake” from my residence in Alameda infrequently, but I still do it because I like running the three mile loop around the perimeter of the lake and the park that bounds it on its west side.
It was very cool in the morning so I donned a sweatshirt and stayed warm right up until start time. Registration was quick and easy and I even had time to jog for a warm up. I doffed my sweatshirt and I am glad I did because it warmed up very quickly. My illusions of a fairly casual easy-going race were dashed when I perused a bulletin board with a printout of members and their best race times. For 2007 it listed distances and each age group. Out of fifteen runners listed in the 60-69 age division more than a third had run a 5K faster than I. Whew. Oh well, I would just enjoy the fun of the event.
Jack and I chatted with a few very welcoming and friendly members of LMJS and then lined up on the street for the start. There were probably about fifty or sixty runners. That included all of the distances (5K, 10K, 15K) because we were all starting concurrently. I was standing near the white chalk starting line and no one was joining me. That seemed odd and I commented on it to Jack. If I had waited a few seconds I would have seen that everyone moved right up to the chalk once the starter was ready to go. Maybe this was a Club ritual? His little horn went whoop whoop and we sped off. I was going too fast. I knew it, I couldn’t (or wouldn’t) slow down and all I could do was smile at my audacity. Jack was a bit ahead of me in his bright yellow shorts. I followed him on the right side of the course but he was going even faster than I was. But I decided to try to stay within visual contact of that yellow “flag.” I shut off my brain, willed all of my blood into my lungs and legs and kept moving. Eventually I got behind a tall older man and drafted behind him for the whole first mile. That first mile was a 7:46 mile. My mind was still blank but I was smiling because I hurt like hell and there was no way I could keep this up but I liked trying. And I could still see those yellow shorts bobbing along about thirty yards in front of me. Jack was gaining on me, of course, but not in great dashes but slight increments.
I lost my draft at the 1.5 mile mark but I kept pushing. At two miles the time was 16:10 so I had run the second mile at an 8:25 pace. I was running out of steam and eventually at the 2.5 mark I had to walk. But I walked for only 35 seconds. Then I started up and hit my stride fairly quickly. We had been running alongside the east side of the lake on the bike/running path. For a short distance we were back on a sidewalk that went around most of the perimeter of the lake and park. In about a hundred yards we turned off the perimeter sidewalk onto a street that was the major entry way into Lakeside Park.** I saw the yellow “flag” and could see that Jack was about a minute ahead of me or maybe a bit less than a quarter of a mile. (Jack finished in 26:13).
Since I had run this course hundreds of times during the years I lived in Oakland I knew what was coming. Our last third of a mile had a slight decline right back to the center of the park which was next to the Boat House where we had started. When I turned the last slow curve and saw the flags and electronic timer sign I took a breath and started to sprint. When the small crowd gathered around the finish line saw me sprinting they started yelling and whooping which spurred me on. I came through the chute so fast that the tag takers had to get out of my way. There had not been any runners ahead of me or behind me for that matter so sprinting was just me pushing my body, and having fun doing it. I love that finishing sprint; I hope I always will. I collected my yellow ribbon, dropped it once in my post race daze, Jack saw it on the street, I picked it up, and found myself smiling. Jack congratulated me and remarked that he hadn’t expected to see me come in so soon after him. That made me smile all the way home.
** Lakeside Park is historically significant as the United States' first official wildlife refuge, designated in 1870.
PS: So this logo –without the oval- was printed on a beautiful RaceReady CoolMax long sleeve blue shirt, and with the member’s discount price I had no other option but to possess it immediately.
*For a 26:42 5K my Garmin GPS Foreunner 201 calculates the pace at 8:46 and the Cool Running Pace Calculator online calculates the pace at 8:35. I would like to know why the discrepancy but it is probably because they use different formulas for their calculations. It would just be nice to know why they use different calculation equations?
Lake Merritt Joggers & Striders
The Glide Floss Bridge to Bridge 7K
7K / 12K / 8:20 AM Start
San Francisco, CA (From Ferry Bldg through Fisherman’s Wharf to Presidio)
Time: 40:08 / Pace: 9:14
My first pit crew. Lori and Camille were getting up at 6:15 AM to join Erin, Jack and I at the race. It meant that we would have a ride to the starting area near the Embarcadero Center in downtown San Francisco and a ride home from the finish and the surrounding festival in the Presidio. It made the whole morning seem easier. And it meant that we could all go out to breakfast after the race and gorge ourselves. One of the traditions we most enjoy!
There was a bittersweet edge to the morning and to this particular race. Originally Dick, my older brother who lives in Vancouver, WA, was registered for this race and he was looking forward to coming down to run and visit. The Bridge to Bridge was one of his first road races last year and it was to be an anniversary of sorts. He had even come to a couple of my races (one in Washington, one in California) but he had not felt ready to enter himself. Last year he finally made the leap and decided he could do 5Ks and the Bridge to Bridge 7K. Last year we had a great time at this race although, as everyone knows by now, he is so much faster than me that I can’t keep up with him during an actual race. But a few weeks ago his cancer returned for the sixth time and he could not come down for that visit and the race. That damn lymphoma was pissing me off. We want Dick to be an integral and close member of our family for a long time. So I had made a vow to run the race with a prayer on my lips for Dick and for his bout with the recurring war of the cells. His treatment consists of four “infusions” of Rituxen (the cancer fighting drug), scheduled for once a week (Mondays) for a month. His first had been the Monday before the race and his second was the Monday after the race. He told me that he can’t really tell after the first infusion if it is working. But he said he can usually tell after the second and third infusions whether the tumors are decreasing in size. The good news is that after his second infusion the treatment did seem to be working again. We will pray that continues.
Lori and Camille joined us at the staging area where we picked up our timing chips and made the usual last minute bathroom stops. Then Lori and Camille headed off to the Presidio so they could see us come across the finish line. Jack was running the 12K so he had an 8 AM start. He was in no hurry this morning and after the start gun went off he actually waited until the whole 12K crowd moved across the timing pads. Later he said that it helped to do that because then the runners had already spread out and it was easier to do the normal dodge and scoot to move ahead of slower runners. Usually we both try to start at the front so we don’t have to dodge around other runners but his waiting strategy seemed to work well that morning.
Erin and I had an 8:20 AM start for the 7K distance and we did move closer to the front just because it was easy to do and the crowd was smaller than usual. Erin thought it was because there were big major events going on in the city that day and I thought it was because the start time was an hour early and many runners probably just bagged it or were late. But the crowds for both distances were definitely smaller.
When the gun went off (loudly) we flinched and then proceeded under the large red U shaped balloon which marked the starting line. It was too crowded to just sprint out of the starting gate. But Erin didn’t waste any time getting up to speed. Within a short distance we were hitting a 9 min pace and she seemed to be running strong. I stayed with her although I might have started a bit more slowly. Very quickly I did notice two things that were very different from previous years. One, there were very few people on the sidewalks cheering us on, as the streets were deserted at this hour. Even one hour later seems to make a huge difference in who is out and about. And second, it was unearthly quiet. I don’t know why. Usually this is a voluble field of runners but not this morning. Every few minutes Erin and I would chat about something and I could feel myself talking quietly because no one else was talking. It was odd enough that when you did hear someone talking it seemed to break the mood.
For the first mile we did have the irritating experience of having to dodge walkers who were not keeping to the sides which is normal race etiquette. It is even a bit dangerous to insist on walking right in front of runners who are barreling along. I bit my tongue but I was just nanoseconds away from cursing a few of them. After the first mile the problem didn’t arise again until we hit the steep hill right after the Fisherman’s Wharf area.
As we wound our way through the Fisherman’s Wharf area Erin did slightly decrease her pace as her asthma required her to calm herself down. She motioned me to keep going and not to slow down so I finally increased my pace just a bit and headed toward the hill. This hill is actually steep enough that I don’t even try to run up it. I always walk, quickly but still I walk. I also do that because I seem to be able to run down hills hard and fast without banging my knees and hips so I know I am going to make up some of the time I have lost. Today was no exception. I strided quickly up the hill and began my somewhat wild descent, scooting in and around much slower runners and walkers. At one point I had to move a runner out of the way although I did it gently and excused myself. Well, I tried to do that gently but I was coming down the hill rapidly. She didn’t seem to mind and as soon as she figured out what was going on she slipped to the side.
At the bottom of the hill you have to make a ninety degree turn onto Bay Street right near a very busy Safeway, the Fort Mason area, and the Marina Green. One side of this busy street is “coned” off for the runners but the other side is handling traffic. It is a rather disorienting transition because up until now it has been very quiet, no cars, no traffic, we ruled the whole street. But not now, suddenly we were in the mix of the city. And now people were talking again. It was as if the other noise gave permission for the runners to make more noise. I thought about why some runners like trails instead of running on the streets and now it made sense even if I would never do it. Running trails is asking for an injury and I need to run every day so I am not going to chance it. But I loved the quiet and I think I need the quiet. In the quiet it felt as if the whole race was praying for Dick and I loved that illusion. I rode the wave of it and alternatively cursed the cancer and asked for healing.
As usual in these more crowded races I wasn’t paying attention to fellow runners. Slowly their presence began to make itself known. I noticed one woman right in front of me who was running my exact pace. I had no idea how long she had been doing that. But she was tall and was running strong and I could see that she was getting ready to push the pace for the finish. I didn’t care. I knew what was coming and could see it ahead; the left turn off Bay Street that began the dreaded half mile uphill finish. Oh, I loathed this finish, passionately. As much as I loved this event and the joy of running through the city I hated this stupid ill conceived finish. I wanted to shout and scream at somebody in authority about how much I hated this uphill struggle to the finish line in the Presidio.
Then it was upon me and I made the turn. I couldn’t believe my eyes or my ears. Right there beside me was a runner pushing a stroller with a baby screaming his head off. The mother was trying to soothe “Joshua” but he would accept no soothing. And she was not about to stop at this junction in the course to pick him up and minister to his needs. The hill slowed me down and I was strangled with desperation. I couldn’t bear to listen to this for an entire half mile. I had to make a decision to slow down or speed up. All of my understanding of the physics of sound vanished from my brain. Would the sound diminish more quickly if I was ahead or behind? I had no idea. So I gambled and crankily forced myself to speed up. Now this was not fair. I had already decided I was not going to sprint at the end, almost as a defiant act against the powers that be. But now I had to get away from this great cyclone of sound that was ruining the whole race for me. Okay, I am very auditory and this kind of thing almost hurts me but I make no apologies.
This last stretch wound up, turned right, then turned left and then seemed to stretch into infinity. I thought of Dick, I thought of Jack’s silly bromide that you must “flatten the hills in your mind”; I then remembered that Lori and Camille might be waiting for me at the end. What if they were? My goodness, then I would have to sprint just to give them a good show and make it worth their gracious act of getting up in the early morning to join us for this venture. Okay, maybe this was okay; their presence would help me overcome my hatred of this hill and this finish. Then I saw them and heard them and realized that I had to go for it. If not for myself, at least for them. So like a madman I sprinted. It wasn’t very far but it was enough to get my blood racing and to put a stop to the yammering inner voice about not being to run up a damn hill. I had no recollection of who I passed although I think I did pass a few in those last fifty yards. But that didn’t matter either.
I was through the chute and handed a bottle of water. It was over; my time was slower than last year but only by twenty four seconds. I could live with that since I was still making my comeback after my pneumonia.
Erin came in just a few seconds behind me so she really kept up her pace. And Jack did well also. We all enjoyed the festival and had a scrumptious lunch at Crepevine in the Fillmore to make sure we honored our Bridge to Bridge tradition.
I must say that I loved having a pit crew and was glad that their presence made me sprint. You can get by with a little help from your friends (and family). And I did dedicate the race to Dick and his journey of healing once again.
Palo Alto Moonlight Run 5K
Friday, September 28, 2007 (8:45 PM Start)
Palo Alto Moonlight Run 5K
Palo Alto, CA
Time: 27:59 / Pace: 9:00 min/mile
It turned out to be a night of belief vs. unbelief. Belief won. But I was the unbeliever until the very last seconds. The week before had been sunny and clear then Friday arrived with clouds and even some slight chance of rain. Why couldn’t that one day be clear when we wanted it most? In the afternoon Fr Jim arrived at the house and we zipped off to Palo Alto. We were going to visit my favorite running store (Runner’s High in Menlo Park, a store where all of the staff are runners and they create a runner friendly atmosphere) and Stanford University Bookstore (one of the finest university bookstores in the nation) which is also Jim’s alma mater. We also slipped in a light dinner (at Café Borrone, a delightful and healthy food café for the book reading set in the Menlo Park/Palo Alto area, because Europe is too far to go for lunch or dinner) so that we would have fuel for the race. It is so unusual to have a night race that you do have to think through how to rest, eat and prepare so that you are not depleted and tired by race time.
But Jim was more concerned about taking stock of the cloud movement and ascertaining whether the moon really could appear. That appearance was important since this was his first experience of the Moonlight run. I had no faith in such an appearance. Evidently the thick gray clouds and misting rain were affirming my position. Even when we pulled into the very crowded parking lot the intermittent rain continued, though it was still more than an hour before the race. As we were walking from the car to the race grounds (a ten minute walk as it turned out) to pick up our bibs and tee shirts, Jim kept finding blue sky poking through tiny holes in the clouds. He really was adamant about this visible moon- rising possibility. I tried to be supportive because it would be a less than interesting race if there were no moonlight but I was still an unbeliever. We had noticed earlier in the day that the clouds were moving right along in a southeasterly direction although it was not supposed to clear up until Saturday. But I did not think the gray clouds were going to move aside quickly enough for Jim’s desire to have a run bathed in moon glow. According to Google this night would bring a “waning gibbous moon at 80%” which I imagined as shimmering provocatively over the bay and turning the race course into a surreal landscape.
After picking up our bibs and tee shirts we hustled back to the car to deposit them. We then did a bit of jogging to warm up. It always helps me to warm up for a 5K although it doesn’t feel like it helps much with a 10K. Jim and I did our own private rituals and routines to get ready for the start. This event has a history of being slightly disorganized and this night was no exception. Every year “they” try something new; this year it was different start times for the two big events –the 5K and 10K—and a new course for the 5K. So the 10K runners, by far the larger crowd, took off thirty minutes before we were to start the 5K. By the time our start time had come around the moon was out! I couldn’t believe it but the sky had cleared up and that old devil moon was hanging low and shining bright. Jim seemed quite pleased and I had to swallow my unbelief.
The announcer for the race kept warning us about being careful and now that I have run the course that was rightly said. It included the chaos right at the beginning where a wide parking lot of runners quickly hit a very narrow bike/run path along a levee. We all tried to avoid bumping but it couldn’t be avoided, one slower young woman got bumped hard when I went by her on the left and another runner went by her on the right. Fortunately no one tripped or fell but it was close.
Suddenly we were in the dark running along this narrow paved path and all you could hear was the slap of shoes and the labored breathing of everyone who started out too fast. The moon was sitting right there in front of us even though it didn’t seem to give off a lot of light. I have a vague memory of Jim explaining that phenomena to me but I don’t remember what he said. There were people in front, behind, and passing me who had those “neon light sticks” that glow in the dark. They don’t shed light but they do help you keep track of the path because of the sheer number of runners wearing them around their necks and other body parts. And they are rather surreal, often they look like a circle of light bouncing along a dark path held up by a shadow.
The paved path didn’t last long and that was unwelcome news. Now we were on a gravel road; there was more room to run but much more chance for a bone bruise or a strained ankle. I hate running on gravel and I had to change my stride in order to accommodate the uneven surface. But it was nice to have some room to run and I was able to get into a semi-steady pace. I could never check my GPS because there was no light. Finally at the first water station with its blazing flood lamps I could see that we had gone 1.89 miles but it went by so quickly I did not see the pace. I kept lying to myself about how I didn’t care about my pace but it didn’t work. I knew that the minute we came out into street lamp lit roads I would want to know.
Eventually we did turn onto a paved road again and I could finally see runners more clearly. Now we had about a mile left and I moved out to the left fringe of the pack so that I could keep my pace and not lose ground. I seemed to running around a 9 min/mile pace and I had hoped it would be faster but then considering the running conditions it was acceptable. With this race I do know that I am going to begin a series of “sprint calculations.” When would I start pushing the pace, when would I motor up into full sprint mode, when would I have a sense of my remaining physical resources? I didn’t feel strong and I thought I would. I had not pushed the pace so I wasn’t sure why I didn’t feel perkier. So that meant I would need to back off the full tilt sprint until I was sure I could keep it up all the way into the chute. I don’t think I am actually very adept at these “sprint calculations” and I keep thinking that the more races I complete the more adept I will become. It hasn’t happened yet.
Now we had made the last turn onto the street right before the finish with all of the flood lamps blinding us, but it is still more than a quarter of a mile to the line and I knew I could not sprint that far. So I held back and then I realized I had held back too long. So I made a headlong dash and almost knocked over a couple of people as I bolted ahead of them by inches to enter the chute. Usually everyone is slowing down before the chute and I was speeding up, a clear prescription for a collision. We avoided it this time.
Jim found me and told me his time and I was excited for him. He could easily have won his age division with that time. But the weather turned bitter cold and we were both freezing. We tried to hang around but they only posted the 10K times and didn’t seem to be rushing to post the 5K times. We even checked at the official booth and the girls who were working on it were clearly behind and overwhelmed. So we headed back to the car, briskly, since we were now really quite cold. As it turned out once the times were finally posted online Jim had won his division and now he was “undefeated” for the season. It was great news.
I had maintained a 9:00 min/mile pace for the course and reframed that pace as progress toward my attempts to increase my pace after my bout with pneumonia. I was on the comeback trail. And I was thrilled to celebrate Jim’s success.
I Must Run
I must run. I have no choice. It began on a Thursday afternoon in early February of 1999. My vision had been blurred for two weeks; my other symptoms were extreme hunger and thirst, and other odd goings on with my body, which finally compelled me to make an appointment to see a doctor. On the same day as my doctor’s appointment my sister called to tell me that my dad had died earlier that morning. I needed to make plane reservations and get there (Portland, Oregon) as soon as I could the next morning. As thoughts of my father and his death were running through my mind I faintly heard my doctor inform me that I had Type II diabetes and that everything in my life had to change. He said, “This is a serious disease and you must make lifestyle changes immediately as well as begin a rigorous regime of medication.” So my diet, my exercise habits, my stress management, everything, according to him, seemed to be affected by this disease. Now I needed to monitor my blood sugar levels and prevent the consequences that would inevitably result if I didn’t take care of myself. As you can imagine, having blurred vision for a book editor is one scary symptom. I often read two or more books a week and many emails, manuscripts, and proposals. I wasn’t in shock by the juxtaposition of these two traumatic events, but I was close to it. So now I had to begin running every day to monitor my diabetes and maintain my physical and mental health.
Races became the way I motivated myself to run regularly and the way I began to build a community of runners that could also push me along. The joy of racing and doing that activity with friends increases every year.