Chicago Half Marathon Race Report

As part of my Chicago Marathon training, I ran the Chicago Half Marathon.  The more I've been training, the faster I've been getting, and I decided I wanted to see what I could really do in a half.  (I ran a 14 mile "race" in January, but the conditions were horrid, and I was slow)

My wife and I had people over for a BBQ the day before to celebrate our softball team's fairly good year, and I asked that everyone come over early so I could get to bed early and get a good nights sleep.  I also had 6 or 7 beers to help me sleep.  That part may have not been the best idea.

Come Sunday morning the alarm went off at 5:15, I geared up and grabbed my bag, and was on the road by 5:45.  I had to avoid Lakeshore Dr as it was being shut down for the run, but that only added a few minutes to the commute.   I stopped at McDonalds for a pre-race breakfast; I swear an Egg McMuffin really sounded like a good idea at the time.  One truly good idea was paying the extra dollars for VIP parking: that got me into the YMCA South Side lot which was a block away from Jackson Park.  I put on my bib, grabbed my Power Gels, and strolled over to the corrals.

As I got to corral D, it was very obvious that the weather wanted everyone to run a PR.  It was perfect!  My concerns about it being chilly we gone - it was in the low sixties, and looked to warm up to the low seventies by the end of the race.  Not to cold, but not going to get hot either, and not a cloud in the sky.  I ate my first double caffeinated Power Gel and waited for the fun/torture to start.

There weren't a lot of people in front of me in corrals ABC, so once the gun went off, I was cruising out of the gate within the first minute.  Last year in the Chicago Marathon, my first 5k was 23 minutes, but I got slower and slower every mile.  My last 5k was damn near 30 minutes.  That was what I was trying to avoid here - start fast, and end fast.

The first 4.5 miles were winding around Jackson park, but they lead to Lakeshore Dr, and the pack really opened up.  It was very nice to know you had a straight shot where didn't have to worry about an inside track, and could spread out with the other runners.  It was also a good time to eat another Power Gel (vanilla this time - a boy can only have so much caffeine).

I fell in with some runners of a similar pace that were keeping me honest for the next few miles.  Then, around mile 6.5 I realized that my nonchalance with my nutrition had finally gotten the better of me.  I'm not sure if it was the Power Gels, the McDonalds hash brown, or the beer the day before (hint - all of the above), but something inside of me was angry.  I've dealt with things like this before, and I've always been able to keep it under control and finish my run.  I thought I'd probably be able to do the same today, but it was going to really slow me down, so I enacted plan B.  Lucky for me, plan B simply involved making it to the Port-a-potty that I could see in the distance right on the course for idiots like me.  I pulled into the pits at mile 7.5, and 2 minutes later I was out again.  I felt much better, but was quite angry that I had wasted precious minutes do to poor planning.   I increased my pace for a quarter mile, but decided to slow back to my original pace if I was going to be consistent at the end.   I also decided it was time for my last Power Gel, double caffeine and all.

Pulling into the last few miles, mental fatigue was kicking in.  I was going through all of my tricks to keep my pace up: tracking every .01 of a mile as I went, trying to ignore my mileage for a quarter mile at a time, counting steps, singing along to ridiculous 90's ska under my breath. The one thing that kept me going strong was remembering my 20 miles on the treadmill.  It takes a lot more mental strength to run long distances out doors without screens for distraction and drink in arms reach.  I think of treadmill running as cheating, but it does something very important: it shows me what I am physically capable of.  I know that I ran a 6:50 mile for my 20th mile because I turned that machine up, and saw what the dials said.  Now, I knew I could turn up my pace because my legs had done it before.  With that knowledge, my last mile was at a 7:00 pace.

As I looked back at my time, with the obvious exception of my pit stop, my miles were very consistent. The marathon is still another month away, and I'm going to try and cram in some last minute endurance training, but I'm very happy with my fitness level right now, and like how things are progressing.  And any morning is a good morning when it ends with beer and pizza.

Where should I run?

I live in Chicago, not far from Lake Michigan.  I love my neighborhood, and I it gives me some amazing options for running.  For starters, there's the Lakefront Trail.  It is 18 miles of uninterrupted running and biking, and the views are spectacular.

And when I get bored of that view, there's all of the North Side to explore.  I love picking an area a few miles away, running over to it, running around a bit, and then running home.  There are a lot of streets, restaurants, and homes that I would have never noticed if I didn't run around aimlessly.  It's nice to just get lost for a while.

Running outside also give me to opportunity to be a bit creative.  I have an annual tradition of running 10 miles on opening day.  The area around Wrigley Field really is quite lovely.

2013

2014

And while in Florida a few weeks ago, I had to take a detour during a run to go visit a neighborhood at mile 6.

I'd like to meet the civic planner that dew this one out.

As nice as running outside in the Chicago summer is, I sometimes end up at the YMCA for my long Sunday runs.  For runs over 12 miles, there's something to be said for AC, a place to put my food and drink, and a movie on my tablet.  Music and podcasts help me deal with long runs on the road, but they don't compare to some good old fashioned violence in a good action or superhero movie (I'm looking at you Steve Rogers).  It's nice when you forget you're running because you're so excited some bad guy just got thrown off the plane.

And while we're talking about running on treadmills, lets not overlook the speed difference.  I'm MUCH faster on the treadmill during solo runs.  When I run on the street, I fall victim to a very common mistake: I start fast when I feel strong, then get tired, and struggle to keep my speed up.  On a machine, I can set my initial speed at a reasonable pace, and then slowly build the speed mile by mile.  In my last 15 mile run, every mile was faster than the last, and my last mile was 1.3mph faster than my first.  That's what I need to know I can do during races.  It feels like cheating (the treadmill has freaking fans you can aim at yourself), but my legs are doing the work, and I'm getting faster.

I think the real reason that I'm faster at the gym than on the road is that I can defeat my built in governor.  When I'm running in the wild, I get tired, as people do.  While I know what my goal time is, I'm fighting my body's urge to take it easy, slow down a bit, and run within my means.  When I'm on the treadmill, I'm staring at the speed, time, and distance the entire time.  I set the dial for what my goal is, and there is no way in hell thats going down.  If I'm not going to change the speed, I'm left with 2 options: run fast, or fall off of the treadmill.  The human body is capable of quite a bit when pain and embarrassment are looming.

When all is said and done, I think as long as I get my miles in, I'm doing ok.  Even if they are country club miles with movies and drinks and food, they are miles.  And I'm running them fast.  I have a half marathon on September 7, so we'll have an opportunity to see if I'm right.  If I run a good race, the weekend crew at the Y may see a bit more of me.

Knowing what you're capable of

Every time I hear that phrase, I think of the Viagra "Knowing what you're made of" commercial where some middle-aged guy makes his horses pull his truck, and then goes to enjoy chemically enhanced sex afterwards.  Lucky for you (and me) I'm not writing about 4 hour erections.

I've been sticking with my early runs, however painful the alarm may be.  On Thursday, the alarm went off at 4:50 (and 4:51, 4:52, and 4:54) and I laid in bed thinking about the run I was supposed to be getting up for.  My training schedule called for a 10 mile interval run, with the majority of the run at a 7:30 pace.  As I laid there groggy and exhausted, I knew that there was no way I could keep that pace up.  And if I couldn't keep the proper pace, should I even bother with the run?  I could get an extra hour and a half of sleep and still get up with time to make breakfast.

Then I remembered last years marathon, and I remembered how I surprised myself training for it.  I remembered that even on recent runs I've been able to run faster that I thought I could.  Then I remembered what I'm supposed to do:

Once I got on the road I was fine, and I realized how hard the first steps usually are.  Even though I KNEW I could run what I need to run intellectually, my body wanted to hibernate and conserve energy.  Over the next 2 years, there are going to be many days where I feel like I can't accomplish what is required of me, and it's going to be very difficult.  Not just the runs, bikes, and swims, but hearing the alarm, taking a mental step back, and knowing that I can finish this.  Every day is just a little more than the day before, and I survived that, right?

I don't need to know what pace my body is capable of.  I just need to know that I can finish what I've started, and that every time I train, I get closer to my goal.

Morning Runs

Did you know that some people consider the time before 6am the morning, and not the middle of the night?  Crazy, right?  Regardless of what time "Morning" starts, I'm not a morning person.  Getting out of bed is tragically difficult for me.  In highschool, I had be in the building by 7:30 at the latest.  It took 15 minutes to drive there if I drove there like a reckless teenager.  I usually woke up between 7:15 and 7:20.  Caroline and I trade weekend days for sleeping in, and if any of the boys get up before 7, we are VERY annoyed.  

I've avoided morning training as much as I could since I started running a couple years ago.  My old point of view was:

Running a long time sucks.  Mornings suck.  Running a really long time in the morning REALLY sucks. 

But now that I'm taking my marathon training seriously, and I'm going to have to add in swimming and biking, I have a few reasons to run early.   Four reasons to be exact.

My weekday runs are starting to go past an hour, so if I'm going to work, train, and still have time to see these boys and my ridiculously supportive wife while they are awake, I have to run while they are asleep.  This means starting before sunrise, or as I call it: 5am in the night.  

Three days this week I drug myself out of bed after on of my alarms went off. (I'm not sure which one, since I have them set for 5:00, 5:02, 5:03, and 5:04)  Once I get past the anger that it's still dark, things start to slowly improve.  I crawl into the running clothes I've laid out, and scrounge around in the kitchen for some kind of food I wont want to throw up 4 miles in. By the time I make it outside, I'm feeling fairly awake, and off I go.  I really like running in the city before everyone else gets up.   The traffic is minimal, and I get to explore areas that are usually too congested to run.  I've found myself running faster than I anticipated, and now I'm optimistic about my marathon goal time.

I have evolved into the next stage of runner: that super annoying guy that owns spandex (for races) and runs before others wake up to make them feel guilty for sleeping in.  I'm trying to combat the doucheyness by not posting about my runs on facebook, although I did put this blog on facebook, so I guess I'm failing at that.  Oh well.  

Burpees are fun!

I lied. Burpees are not fun.

They are, supposedly, the "best" exercise you can do.  The burpee uses many large muscle groups, strengthens your core, and increases balance.  It also makes you want to cry if you do too many in a row.  It's a fairly popular training method now a days, due to crossfit.  It's popularity is best defined by a quick google search.

Jenny was a large advocate of the burpee, and the Burpee Challenge.  It's starts off so simply - on day one, you do one.  Easy and smooth.  On day 2, you do 2.  Please, thats not hard.  By day 40, you're breaking them into several sets, and you're starting to regret this decision.  Then, you miss day 44, and you have to do those the next day with the new 45.  89 burpees later, you hate life.  

This was my experience the fist time I tried the challenge with Jenny and her facebook group in the fall of 2012.  I did not make it, and I felt so shame in that.  After we lost her, my gilt kicked in, and I felt like I let be she and myself down.  I immediately started my own 100 day challenge, and powered through it.  I found that I actually liked the concept of the challenge one I really committed to it.  You do the burpees everyday, so there's very little thinking involved.  "Is today a rest day?"  NO.  "How many burpees do I do today?"  One more than you did yesterday - it's not rocket science.  

As I finished my personal 100 day challenge, I felt empowered, strong, and entirely sure that I would be done with these self induced torture moves.  Then, someone suggested on the 100 Day Challenge Facebook group that we do a challenge that ended on Jenny's birthday.  I knew that I could complete it,  and I'm a glutton for punishment, so I joined in.  We all posted video's and pictures on the group page, and I feel like a lot of people completed that one together.

Then someone wanted to do another challenge that ended at the end of the year, just like Jenny did the last year.  What the hell, lets see how much I can handle in year.   I exposed my poor friends to watching me do burpees on new years eve while normal people were having drinks.  15,500 burpees later, I declared myself King of the Burpee, poured myself a celebratory drink, and promptly stopped doing them.  

This year, I've been a slacker, and I'm completely OK with that.  I did an abridged challenge over lent where I went up by 2 each day, but other than that, I've been avoided them.  But now, it is time to climb back on the torture horse.  Yesterday was day 1 of the next 100 days, and I'll finish exactly one week before the Chicago marathon.  

My burpees will be my companion for the summer.  They will always there, waiting for me at the end of the day, making me stronger, making me want to puke, and humbling me.  

My First Triathlon - Bigfoot Sprint

So I completed my first tri, and everything went perfectly.  The minute I hit the water, I was like a fish.  I was able to draft a carbon bike on my ride, and I had a PR on the run.  (Did that read as ridiculously unreal as I meant it to?)

My race didn't go quite as smoothly as I had hoped.  When I was topping off my bike tires the night before, my pump broke, and my back tire deflated.  I could have taken that as an omen if I believed in that sort of thing.  The Triathlon motto is Swim, Bike, Run.  My performance was more like Flail, Bike, Walk, Repair, Bike, Run.  At least 2 things did go well: I had a good time, and the people I met were great!

Before the race could start, the officials had to clear the start.  The fog on the drive over was intense, and as we were waiting on the beach, you couldn't see more than 2 buoys out.  I walk talking with new friends on the beach, and I said that they would let us start either when the fog cleared, or everyone got too frustrated.  After a half hour of waiting and worsening fog, we were informed that we were going to start, but there would be no olympic swim.  The frustration got to them, so here we go.

1st: the Swim.  I'm not a great swimmer, and I know that.  I started at the back of my starting wave, entered the water gingerly, and started to make my way through the half mile.  I started with a freestyle for a few minutes, but had trouble regulating my breathing.  I did a bit of side stroke, but spent most of the time on my back.  The backstroke isn't the fastest, but mines fairly strong, and it got my through.  Half way through, my goggles completely fogged up, and combined with the sky, I couldn't see a thing.  Popped them on my forehead, and just kept going.  I think that's the real motto of Triathlons: Just Keep Going.

My transition was slow, but not too bad.  Half the bikes in my area were already gone.  I hung the wetsuit, grabbed my helmet and bike gear, and got on my way.

2nd: the Bike.  The bike ride starts with a decent sized hill.  My legs were fresh, so that didn't seem like a big deal.  As a started, my chain popped off.  OK, I can deal with that; put it back on and continued.  then my back derailer started to stick.  I pedaled through it, and kept going.  Then, .5 miles into the 12 mile ride, my chain completely broke off.  So, I picked up my chain and coasted down the hill, and then walked the rest of the way to the nice mechanic tent that helped me fill my tires before the race.  He had no extra chain, so he removed a couple of links and told me "it isn't perfect, but it'll get you on the road".  That it did.  I reclimbed the hill, and got back on my way.  I actually had a fairly good ride from then on, and tried to make up time.  I passed many mountain bikes, and got passed by many carbon bikes.  At one point, my wife drove by, and at a stop sign I was able to pass and say hi.  It was a little thing, but it put me in a better mood, and sped me up.  About halfway through, I passed a lovely dairy farm with a lovely dairy farm smell.  I joked about it with an older woman that was deceivingly fast on her tri bike, and we kept pace with each other for the rest of the course.

Time didn't really matter anymore for my second transition, so I took my time.  Almost all of the bikes in my area were already back.  I put on my running shoes and got back into my comfort zone.

3rd: the Run.  This was a trail run.  It's not what I usually do, but it's not totally foreign either.  I ran hard, and actually started to catch the slower people in my original wave.  It wasn't record setting, but I was in the top 20% in this section.  At least one leg went well.

Overall, I had fun.  The swim was rough and I was incredibly frustrated by the chain failure, but the ability to get back out there and finish turned everything around.  I had my beer (or two), hung out with my wife and new friends, and enjoyed the morning.  It didn't all go to plan, but I kept on going. As I do more races of all types, my new mantra is: Just Keep Going.

I made a blog! That's still a thing, right?

Welcome!  This is my new blog about my journey to finish an Ironman, and everything else along the way.  I'm going to post about my training and races.  I'll try to post on a semi-regular basis, but no promises.  This first post is going to be a little lengthy, so bear with me.

So lets start at the end, that makes sense right?  I'm going to compete in Ironman Madison on September 11 2014.  That day will be the 15th anniversary of 9/11, the 5th anniversary of when Jenny Carter Boyce completed her Ironman, and her birthday.  There are at least 6 of us committed to this insane adventure, but I think I'm the first IronVirgin.

Now, lets jump back to the beginning.  Jenny was a friend of mine from high school.  I say was because she was taken from us all to early.  She was an amazing woman.  As she aged, she became a better version of herself.  She started running, she started biking, and she started swimming.  I remember watching an Ironman competition on TV, and thinking that it was almost literally impossible.  Then, Jenny goes and does one on her 30th birthday.  She showed me that anything is possible.  She showed a lot of people anything was possible.  She convinced a ridiculous amount of people to do the burpee challenge with her.  She made the world a better place, and she did so by the sheer power of her will.

The next year, she ran the Chicago Marathon.  I got to see her, cheer her on, and do a burpee with her.  As we were talking afterwards, she told me that it was my turn next year.  Like an idiot, I committed, because hey, I could always back out.  3 months later, she was gone, and there was no backing out.  Team Jenny was formed, and the training had to begin.

As I ran, Jenny ran with me.  Whenever the runs got long, and things started to hurt, she was always there with me.  Well, not so much with me, but just in front of me, passing me, and showing me that I could do more.  I learned that I'm actually not a bad runner.  I stuck to my training (kinda), and by the time the Marathon rolled around, something clicked.  I wasn't just running for Jenny anymore; I was running for me too.  By the time the other members of Team Jenny got to my house, I was a runner.

Now I'm moving onto the next step in my grand experiment to find out what I can do.  My first Triathlon is a week and a half away.  A friend from work recommended the Bigfoot Tri in Lake Geneva.  Training is underway, and I'll keep you updated here.