Fresh from running the Maui Marathon in mid-September 2007, I decided to sign up and run the Run Like Hell half marathon here in October. The race was just over a month from the marathon, and my spur of the moment decision led to a rigorous training routine in which I executed faithfully. I ran two times. No more than 5 miles each time! Seriously. Yeah, that's gonna win me a prize.
But, I was out to have some fun and fun it was. My next door neighbor Jesse, who ran his first Hood to Coast with me in August 2007, joined up with me on the spur of the moment and off we set for downtown. It was a chilly morning, and if the temperature is above 40 I'm ok with wearing shorts, as long as my upper body is warm. I used to buy cheap white cotton gloves to wear at the closest convenience or grocery store and just toss them afterwards. But no, couldn't find any but they had bulky black ones. OK, they'll do!
At packet pickup the coolest (no pun intended relating to how cold it was) thing happened - the number bibs were vertical! Maybe I'm just naive but in all the races I've done I've never seen bibs like that. It was perfect to put on the leg of my shorts instead of my top. As you can see I was very proud.
As we ran, I overheard a conversation that three young ladies were having regarding different translations of the Bible. Wow! I get to run and have a theology discussion too! I politely inserted myself into the conversation and we had a good discussion.
By that time Jesse had already pulled way ahead of me, go Jesse go! We began a gradual but long hill up Barbour Boulevard. The sun actually peeked out from the clouds and the fall leaves gave a vivid tableau of beauty that I enjoyed.
As I ground my way up the hill, I noticed the footfalls and panting of a runner that was attempting to pass on my right. I made some room but ever so gradually picked my pace. Sneaking a look over my shoulder I saw a girl probably 30 years my junior. She picked up her pace. I picked up mean. This was all very subtle, but it was clear that two runners would make it to the top of this hill, one would be first - and one would not.
I'm realistic with my abilities, and knew that it was inevitable that she would beat me. I could sense that she was the stronger runner. However, I'm pretty strong on hills and knew I could make her fight for it. And I did.
At about mile 11 a young kid, probably no more than 18; flew past me. I plodded along and then saw him with his hands on his knees, chest heaving at a dead stop. I plodded past him. About a 1/4 mile later - wham! He passed me like I was standing still. About a 1/4 mile later I passed him - he was, you guessed it - at a dead stop in the middle of the street. The cycle repeated itself twice, and by now the finish line was less than a mile away. I steeled my 50 year old muscles, dug in hard, played the Chariots of Fire theme song in my mind and ran past him, picking up my pace as I did so. It worked! I beat the young whippersnapper. However, I have no illusions that he will learn how to pace himself and become the threat to all us old guys.
As we ran, I overheard a conversation that three young ladies were having regarding different translations of the Bible. Wow! I get to run and have a theology discussion too! I politely inserted myself into the conversation and we had a good discussion.
By that time Jesse had already pulled way ahead of me, go Jesse go! We began a gradual but long hill up Barbour Boulevard. The sun actually peeked out from the clouds and the fall leaves gave a vivid tableau of beauty that I enjoyed.
As I ground my way up the hill, I noticed the footfalls and panting of a runner that was attempting to pass on my right. I made some room but ever so gradually picked my pace. Sneaking a look over my shoulder I saw a girl probably 30 years my junior. She picked up her pace. I picked up mean. This was all very subtle, but it was clear that two runners would make it to the top of this hill, one would be first - and one would not.
I'm realistic with my abilities, and knew that it was inevitable that she would beat me. I could sense that she was the stronger runner. However, I'm pretty strong on hills and knew I could make her fight for it. And I did.
At about mile 11 a young kid, probably no more than 18; flew past me. I plodded along and then saw him with his hands on his knees, chest heaving at a dead stop. I plodded past him. About a 1/4 mile later - wham! He passed me like I was standing still. About a 1/4 mile later I passed him - he was, you guessed it - at a dead stop in the middle of the street. The cycle repeated itself twice, and by now the finish line was less than a mile away. I steeled my 50 year old muscles, dug in hard, played the Chariots of Fire theme song in my mind and ran past him, picking up my pace as I did so. It worked! I beat the young whippersnapper. However, I have no illusions that he will learn how to pace himself and become the threat to all us old guys.
Jesse ran out to meet me at about 5 city blocks from the finish. He gave me some gatorade and a good slap on the back as I ran across the finish line. I was tired, cold, and my knee hurt - and I'm sure I'll do this one again in 2008!
