Leona
I did not yog thee. I DNF thee. I finally contracted Maya's stomach flu, and if not for the fact that Geronimo came to life and I was giving him and Jason a ride to the race, and for my burning disgust with the Suffer Seeker and American Hero for the way they backed out, I never would have gotten out of bed. Rising up at 1:15a.m., I sat on the couch for an hour, analyzing my shooting stomach pains, dull headache, full body aches, raw skin, and overwhelming exhaustion and tried to force myself to the conclusion that I was in fact not sick. I couldn't muster the energy to walk 20 feet and get a glass of water, so the task of driving 150 miles and then running 50 more seemed a bit daunting. But I'm glad I tried.
I got to spend 16 silent miles fully focused on my misery and wrapping my head around the specific aspects of discomfort that makes one decide to quit instead of soldiering on. After quitting, I enjoyed analyzing my reaction, and specifically how in ultra, quitting after 16 miles feels like going out the door for a run in the morning and quitting after one block. I reminded myself a few times that 16 miles on trail with a few thousand feet of climbing is actually a nice weekend long run. It felt like zero. It felt like less than zero, if that's possible. It felt like a complete abortion.
I got to see Rob Krar's dominant victory, crossing the finish line in front of about 10 spectators in the finish area who provided him with a few scattered claps, everyone assuming that he was a middle of the packer in the 50k. He crossed the line, dropped his head, softly muttered "Oh shit", then found a partially shaded area in the dirt and collapsed. Slowly a few whispers came on, "Did he just destroy the course record? I think he might have. Who is that?" Stunning effort, 50 minute victory in a Montrail race, a course record on a very hot day when everyone else melted, and it went completely unacknowledged. So fitting for ultra.
I got to see Geronimo suffer like I never have before in ultra. He tried Muscle Milk for the first time at mile 42 and was a puking mess for the rest of the race and the first half of the car ride home. We were truly a sorry bunch, but the humor of our reduced condition wasn't lost on me, and I reminded him a few times that at some point, we would realize that this was fun. Jason was a hero for chauffeuring us home.
Fathering/Uncling
Maya spent 10 days with the stomach flu, spraying it from both ends, including a few horrific events in the middle of the night. I would joke about it, but it was entirely true that the smell of diarrhea and vomit was burned into my nostrils. It stayed with me everywhere I went, and it was particularly strange to continually experience the subconscious urge to recoil in disgust from the stench every time I went to hug and hold Maya. Glad that's over.
Scene from yesterday afternoon. I was babysitting Maya and her two older cousins, girls 3 1/2 and 6 1/2. The 6 1/2 year old announces that she has to go to the bathroom, as if this required some kind of response out of me. Somewhat surprised, I say, "Okayyy, can you handle everything on your own?". Her response, and I quote, "Wellll, I haven't quite figured out the wiping part yet." I immediately knew that I would never forget that sentence, and would never let her forget it either.
Scene from yesterday evening. Situation in my home reminded me of a Jeff Foxworthy punchline... You know you're a redneck (or in my case, you know you have a 2 year old) when your clogged kitchen sink drain backs up and spews out all over the floor, and it actually makes it cleaner!
Monday, May 6, 2013
Thursday, April 25, 2013
Leona, I shall yog thee
I signed up for Leona Yog several months ago. I was really looking forward to it, as it had a ton of stuff going for it. The American Hero decided the event would mark his return to the ultra scene for the first time since defiantly tearing off his wristband at mile 93 of Western States in 2011. The Suffer Seeker signed up, needing redemption after last year's shameful DNF. Geronimo quietly added himself to the entrant's list. Even legendary distance yog dabbler/ Insanity workout enthusiast Scott Sundahl decided to make his 50 mile debut. The course itself is about as gentle and painless as you could ever imagine while still being a legit 50 miler. I've survived four 50 mile OTCYs up to this point, and this would be a perfect opportunity to put in a wee bit of training and actually try to race one.
Then stuff started happening. The American Hero and Suffer Seeker, showing the lack of resolve that has marked their recent DNFs, slithered into the darkness and declared their intentions to DNS. Geronimo refused to answer my calls or e-mails about whether or not he was going, and if he wanted to carpool. The advent of Maya's terrible twos and a series of other life factors limited my preparation to one single Lake Hodges 'thon yog a few weeks ago. The race director sent out a mind boggling e-mail indicating that much like Stevie Janowski at the cookout in season 1 of Eastbound and Down, she was one of the only cool people around and was very disappointed to find herself surrounded by a bunch of posers and hos and shitheads. There was a brief glimmer of positivity when the great BSK decided to take the Suffer Seeker's bib and make his ultra debut, but then he flip flopped and decided against it. If I were the type to look for signs, everything imaginable would be telling me, "DO NOT YOG LEONA". But it's all had the opposite effect on me. I'm going. I'm fucking going. If every force on earth is trying to keep me away from this event, then that's exactly where I'm going to go. Something worthwhile is going to happen there. I'm sure of it. Screw you guys...I'm yogging Leona.
Then stuff started happening. The American Hero and Suffer Seeker, showing the lack of resolve that has marked their recent DNFs, slithered into the darkness and declared their intentions to DNS. Geronimo refused to answer my calls or e-mails about whether or not he was going, and if he wanted to carpool. The advent of Maya's terrible twos and a series of other life factors limited my preparation to one single Lake Hodges 'thon yog a few weeks ago. The race director sent out a mind boggling e-mail indicating that much like Stevie Janowski at the cookout in season 1 of Eastbound and Down, she was one of the only cool people around and was very disappointed to find herself surrounded by a bunch of posers and hos and shitheads. There was a brief glimmer of positivity when the great BSK decided to take the Suffer Seeker's bib and make his ultra debut, but then he flip flopped and decided against it. If I were the type to look for signs, everything imaginable would be telling me, "DO NOT YOG LEONA". But it's all had the opposite effect on me. I'm going. I'm fucking going. If every force on earth is trying to keep me away from this event, then that's exactly where I'm going to go. Something worthwhile is going to happen there. I'm sure of it. Screw you guys...I'm yogging Leona.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Scene from Monday Evening
For my domicile, there used to be 2 community sized dumpsters and
about 8 individual sized recycling trash cans that were inconveniently placed
in a parking lot about 200 yards and down a hill from my condo. Somebody
at the HOA recently had the genius idea to remove all of the recycling
dumpsters and just label one of the two existing community sized dumpsters as
recycling only. So the 20ish homes sharing this setup now have half of the
capacity to put their trash in, and the dumpsters have been overflowing as
people literally just place their garbage on the ground next to the
dumpsters. I decided not to contribute to this mess on the ground with my disgusting diaper filled
trash bags and so I had been letting my garbage build up to the point that the
trash can on my patio was overflowing.
On Monday when I got home I decided I had had enough, as the lid
could no longer even close on my trash can and so I decided to roll the thing
down the hill and deposit the garbage whether there was room or not. I
was managing ok rolling this stinking heap down the hill when I felt a small
tickle on my right hand and looked down to see a giant field mouse escape from
the depths of my trash can, jumping onto my hand then down off my leg before
scurrying away into the street. I stopped, cursed, laughed, then
proceeded to kick the can a few times and demand to know if any more little
fuckers were hiding in there. Satisfied that I heard no squeaks or other
movements, I continued, more cautiously this time, to roll the trash can down
the hill. Because I was now being more attentive, I immediately saw when
the next giant behemoth of a well fed field mouse emerged. I shrieked
like an 8 year old girl, threw my hands up, dropping the entire trash can,
sending all of the putrid contents spilling out onto the sidewalk, and then
clutched myself and writhed in horror as I watched the mouse speed away to safety.
I then collected myself and the garbage and finished the
job. The end.
Monday, March 11, 2013
I AM IN CHARGE
They say if you repeat a lie often enough it becomes the truth. Well, I'm not sure they actually say that, but it certainly sounds like something they might say doesn't it? In any case, I'm vigorously testing the veracity of this statement. Long ago I decided that when it comes to parenting, it's of the utmost important to establish dominance during the toddler years. This obviously doesn't guarantee success (relative, of course) for the remainder of the child rearing process, but if the child doesn't respect your authority early on, you've got a deep pit to climb out of by the time the kid is a school aged monster. So, with 2 just around the corner, my approach to becoming a credible authority figure is simply to continually claim that it is so. When Maya is at the height of her disobedience, I conjure my most dominant energy, pound my index finger into my chest multiple times and assert that "Maya, I AM IN CHARGE. YOU, are NOT in charge!" Then I lay out my next set of commands, and come hell or high water, make sure that my will is actualized, because I AM IN CHARGE (Mommy is also in charge).
But here's the thing. I'm not in charge. Not remotely. Not even a little. Not in any aspect of my life. In fact, in the history of life on this planet, it's hard to imagine that there's ever been a living organism less in charge than I am. Usually the moments when I'm pounding my chest with false bravado are the very moments when the degree to which I'm not in charge is at its zenith. The idea of a person like myself trying their best to prop up this charade of authority is so absurd that it's almost overwhelmingly hilarious sometimes.
Oh well. Onwards and forwards.
But here's the thing. I'm not in charge. Not remotely. Not even a little. Not in any aspect of my life. In fact, in the history of life on this planet, it's hard to imagine that there's ever been a living organism less in charge than I am. Usually the moments when I'm pounding my chest with false bravado are the very moments when the degree to which I'm not in charge is at its zenith. The idea of a person like myself trying their best to prop up this charade of authority is so absurd that it's almost overwhelmingly hilarious sometimes.
Oh well. Onwards and forwards.
Monday, February 18, 2013
10 Commandments of Yog
I'll try to amend these regularly as needed, but I think it's important to get started with the founding 10 commandments of yog.
Commandments
1. Always yog.
2. Never not yog.
3. When considering not yogging, don't do it.
4. When yogging longer distances, consume a Carls Jr breakfast burger prior to yog.
5. Make sure people know that you yog.
6. Use whatever means necessary to communicate that you are here for yog (H4Y).
7. Put stickers on your vehicle indicating that you yog.
8. Tattoo your body in conspicuous locations to celebrate your yogs.
9. If you are not sure where exactly the yog begins, ask politely for directions to yog.
10. Blog. About your yog.
Additional rules
11. When dumped by your spouse/fiance/significant other, now is the time for more yog.
12. Less yoga, more yog.
13. When out of shape, sign up for the next organized, timed, competititive yog (OTCY) anyway.
14. When signing up for an OTCY, expect to pay $10/mile of paved road and $4/mile of trail. This is the price for yog. Beware of OTCYs that will let you yog for less than this.
15. When just starting out in yogging, sign up for a marathon that is less than 6 months away. Especially if you're significantly overweight.
16. Frequently announce your retirement from yog.
17. There is no retirement from yog. Always more.
18. Buy photos of yourself yogging. Frame them and put them on your wall, to remind you of the time that you yogged.
19. If people are not interested in hearing about your yog, keep talking about it anyway.
20. There is no shame in crapping your pants during yog.
21. If you are displeased with the result of an OTCY, make stupid sounding excuses, or claim that you weren't racing.
22. If you are pleased with the result of an OTCY, claim that you are not.
23. Before yogging, waver back and forth several times on whether or not you will actually yog.
Commandments
1. Always yog.
2. Never not yog.
3. When considering not yogging, don't do it.
4. When yogging longer distances, consume a Carls Jr breakfast burger prior to yog.
5. Make sure people know that you yog.
6. Use whatever means necessary to communicate that you are here for yog (H4Y).
7. Put stickers on your vehicle indicating that you yog.
8. Tattoo your body in conspicuous locations to celebrate your yogs.
9. If you are not sure where exactly the yog begins, ask politely for directions to yog.
10. Blog. About your yog.
Additional rules
11. When dumped by your spouse/fiance/significant other, now is the time for more yog.
12. Less yoga, more yog.
13. When out of shape, sign up for the next organized, timed, competititive yog (OTCY) anyway.
14. When signing up for an OTCY, expect to pay $10/mile of paved road and $4/mile of trail. This is the price for yog. Beware of OTCYs that will let you yog for less than this.
15. When just starting out in yogging, sign up for a marathon that is less than 6 months away. Especially if you're significantly overweight.
16. Frequently announce your retirement from yog.
17. There is no retirement from yog. Always more.
18. Buy photos of yourself yogging. Frame them and put them on your wall, to remind you of the time that you yogged.
19. If people are not interested in hearing about your yog, keep talking about it anyway.
20. There is no shame in crapping your pants during yog.
21. If you are displeased with the result of an OTCY, make stupid sounding excuses, or claim that you weren't racing.
22. If you are pleased with the result of an OTCY, claim that you are not.
23. Before yogging, waver back and forth several times on whether or not you will actually yog.
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
San Dieguito OTCY report
There are two types of people in this world. Those who are here for yog (H4Y), and those who are not. On Sunday, I was one of the former.
The Leadup
Last year my yog was poor. I made a decent attempt at training for the bench-your-marathon challenge before dislocating my shoulder for the 12th time and scrapping those plans, and was consistent about squats and dead lifts in an attempt to stay balanced and injury free. Injury prevention was successful, but I was also miserably sore 5 days a week. Week after week, I was just too fucking sore to stand up out of a chair or walk down a hallway without looking like a geriatric, and certainly way too sore to scrape everything possible out of my minimal talents during an OTCY, which is always the goal.
Somewhere along the way in 2012 I also became bitter and crotchety about the trend of rampant price increases at OTCYs. So the priorities for 2013 seemed clear; 1) Figure out a way to be active, healthy and strong without feeling destroyed so much of the time, and 2) Stop overpaying for yog. This allowed only 3 OTCYs to enter my schedule, the first of which was the San Dieguito Half Marathon. I got hit with the realization a few weeks ago that I had forgotten to train and it was now too late to train, but I wasn't feeling horrible during my infrequent yogs either and had entirely neutral expectations. Then last week I got sucked into a busy work week leading to less than 1 hr of total exercise combined with continuous consumption of alcohol and comfort foods. On Wednesday I noticed that my normal belt notch was becoming a little bit more snug. I was downright sucking it in to keep using that notch by Friday, and by Saturday I had to relent and loosen my belt. Increasing pessimism towards yog resulted. At about 10:30pm Saturday night as I was nursing my 5th or 6th beer I decided I would not yog. I felt good about the decision.
Nevertheless, I found myself driving towards the ranch the next morning, not exactly sure why. Thoughts of an appropriate drinking challenge to combine with half marathon yogging filled my head. The obvious one seemed to be more beers the night before than minutes-per-mile pace during the race. Drink 7 beers the night before, average sub 7 min miles during half marathon. Decent right? But the problem with that is it seems to get easier and easier the more you drink. So to counteract that, I decided to insert a time clause the challenge. Drink X number of beers in 13-X hours before the yog, and average under X minutes-per-mile for the OTCY. Mmkay? For example, if you drink 7 beers, you must drink them all in 13-7=6 hours before the race, and then average under 7 min pace. 10 beers in 3hrs before the race and 10 min miles. I think that's a credible challenge. I did not qualify for the challenge this time around, but I'll keep it in mind for the future.
Yog
I was kind of late for the start, didn't get to warm up, said hi to a few friendly faces and toed the line. The Shoulder Toucher arrived just a few moments before the start, looking kind of ragged and sporting a fresh shiner on his right eye. I asked if he had gotten into a fight, and he informed me that his friend's 3 year old had taken the liberty of jumping on his face while he was sitting on a couch. He described the incident with his signature vivacity and Matthew McConaughey style laugh, the horn sounded, and we began to yog.
I do not yog with a garmin, but usually pay decent attention to the splits if someone is calling them out. To the best of my recollection:
Mile 1 - 5:43. Not terrible. It's a significant downhill. Expect to get slower as the climbing begins. I settle into a group of 4 with the Shoulder Toucher, track club Bobby and unknown older guy.
Mile 2 - 11:57. Ok. We're climbing. My rested, untrained legs are burning a tiny bit, but my stomach is churning, burning and hating me.
Mile 3 - 18:10. More of the same. At least this section of climbing is over soon.
Mile 4 - 24:11. Wait a minute, the hill ended a while ago and we're running downhill. I'm still over 6 min pace? Ugh. Oh well, I guess that's reality.
Mile 5 - Forget the exact time. My shoelace comes untied and I have to pull off. The group gaps me. Legs burn as I try to get back into the rhythm of my yog. I like running alone better anyway. I see the ranch boys (Suffer Seeker, Todd and Luc). They are not H4Y. They are here to heckle. Good. I'm pathetic. I wish I could explain that the lost shoelace time has me looking worse than it really is, but there's no time.
Mile 6 - Forget the exact time. My shoelace comes untied for a 2nd time and I totally lose touch with my former group.
Mile 7 - 42:51. Getting wayyyy behind 6 min pace here, but at least I'm done with climbing for a bit and my stomach is feeling better. Starting to reel in my former group, which has splintered.
Mile 8 - 49:00. Oh my. I feel like I'm finding a groove and I'm definitely going to swallow up the Shoulder Toucher soon, but a 6:09 mile? My pace is declining and I'm on pace for >1:20. Whatever. It is what it is, but it still sucks a little bit. When I decided years ago to make some consistent effort to improve my yog, there were several long term goals in my head. Sub 5min mile, sub 17 5k, sub 35 10k, sub 1:20 HM, sub 3 Marathon. I wasn't particularly close to any of those when I started, and there was a reasonable satisfaction a few years later to know that I not only got all of them, but put them all significantly in the rearview mirror. So going back above any of those lines in an OTCY stings a bit. On the bright side, the humiliations are a big part of what keeps me coming back. I'm committed to putting in my best effort for the rest of the OTCY but I'm fully prepared for the time to be ugly.
Mile 9 - Forget the time. I pass the Shoulder Toucher. He's starting to struggle.
Mile 10 - 1:00:30. I felt like I sustained a good effort going up the 2nd to last significant hill. I see the ranch boys again, who this time give me a more positive reception. I give them the H4Y sign(cheerleader H, flash 4 fingers, cheerleader Y) as I go by, so they would know why I was there, but they don't seem to understand.
Mile 12 - 1:11:32. Mile 11 and 12 are downhill and fast. I clear my mind, and just keep thinking relax, relax, relax. Relaxed shoulders, relaxed legs, relaxed turnover. Imagine that red line in my head, and put my effort right up against it and keep it there without going over. I see Healy around Mile 11.5 and he screams not to save it for the last hill. Absolute best advice ever and he's standing at the perfect spot that the yoggers need hear it. I'm stunned after making my peace with running ~1:20 to hear the time at mile 12 and know I'm going to run 1:18.
Finish - 1:18:10. The last hill in reality isn't all that bad, but feels like an absolute monster at this point of the OTCY. I'm closing on one guy, the unknown older guy from earlier in the race, but he's got a sizable gap. I keep my head down and focus on the effort. No trying to close the gap and then giving up when it's too big, or looking at the top of the hill and getting discouraged by how it never seems to get any closer. Just be here right now, getting what I can from every step forward and doing it without enough effort that I won't be disgusted with myself later. I didn't catch unknown older guy. I've pussed out on the hill many times, but I'm ok with my effort this year.
Post Yog
I was pleasantly surprised with the finish clock. With very humble expectations, a good workout on a nice morning and a tiny PR at the distance after 4 years, even though it's still weak, was all I could hope for. Beer tasted great afterwards. All you can drink Green Flash, Stone, Ballast Point and Lost Abbey. Unbeatable. There was no Queen this year, just a woman with a sign saying "Queen Wannabe". I hope the real Queen is ok. Two days later, my legs are still wrecked, in the most satisfying way possible. Every single usable muscle in my legs is still raw to the touch. Unfit and rested is a fun way to race. Get off the couch, crush yourself, and back to the couch with you.
In other news, the return of Walking Dead on Sunday night sucked hard. Very disappointing.
The Leadup
Last year my yog was poor. I made a decent attempt at training for the bench-your-marathon challenge before dislocating my shoulder for the 12th time and scrapping those plans, and was consistent about squats and dead lifts in an attempt to stay balanced and injury free. Injury prevention was successful, but I was also miserably sore 5 days a week. Week after week, I was just too fucking sore to stand up out of a chair or walk down a hallway without looking like a geriatric, and certainly way too sore to scrape everything possible out of my minimal talents during an OTCY, which is always the goal.
Somewhere along the way in 2012 I also became bitter and crotchety about the trend of rampant price increases at OTCYs. So the priorities for 2013 seemed clear; 1) Figure out a way to be active, healthy and strong without feeling destroyed so much of the time, and 2) Stop overpaying for yog. This allowed only 3 OTCYs to enter my schedule, the first of which was the San Dieguito Half Marathon. I got hit with the realization a few weeks ago that I had forgotten to train and it was now too late to train, but I wasn't feeling horrible during my infrequent yogs either and had entirely neutral expectations. Then last week I got sucked into a busy work week leading to less than 1 hr of total exercise combined with continuous consumption of alcohol and comfort foods. On Wednesday I noticed that my normal belt notch was becoming a little bit more snug. I was downright sucking it in to keep using that notch by Friday, and by Saturday I had to relent and loosen my belt. Increasing pessimism towards yog resulted. At about 10:30pm Saturday night as I was nursing my 5th or 6th beer I decided I would not yog. I felt good about the decision.
Nevertheless, I found myself driving towards the ranch the next morning, not exactly sure why. Thoughts of an appropriate drinking challenge to combine with half marathon yogging filled my head. The obvious one seemed to be more beers the night before than minutes-per-mile pace during the race. Drink 7 beers the night before, average sub 7 min miles during half marathon. Decent right? But the problem with that is it seems to get easier and easier the more you drink. So to counteract that, I decided to insert a time clause the challenge. Drink X number of beers in 13-X hours before the yog, and average under X minutes-per-mile for the OTCY. Mmkay? For example, if you drink 7 beers, you must drink them all in 13-7=6 hours before the race, and then average under 7 min pace. 10 beers in 3hrs before the race and 10 min miles. I think that's a credible challenge. I did not qualify for the challenge this time around, but I'll keep it in mind for the future.
Yog
I was kind of late for the start, didn't get to warm up, said hi to a few friendly faces and toed the line. The Shoulder Toucher arrived just a few moments before the start, looking kind of ragged and sporting a fresh shiner on his right eye. I asked if he had gotten into a fight, and he informed me that his friend's 3 year old had taken the liberty of jumping on his face while he was sitting on a couch. He described the incident with his signature vivacity and Matthew McConaughey style laugh, the horn sounded, and we began to yog.
I do not yog with a garmin, but usually pay decent attention to the splits if someone is calling them out. To the best of my recollection:
Mile 1 - 5:43. Not terrible. It's a significant downhill. Expect to get slower as the climbing begins. I settle into a group of 4 with the Shoulder Toucher, track club Bobby and unknown older guy.
Mile 2 - 11:57. Ok. We're climbing. My rested, untrained legs are burning a tiny bit, but my stomach is churning, burning and hating me.
Mile 3 - 18:10. More of the same. At least this section of climbing is over soon.
Mile 4 - 24:11. Wait a minute, the hill ended a while ago and we're running downhill. I'm still over 6 min pace? Ugh. Oh well, I guess that's reality.
Mile 5 - Forget the exact time. My shoelace comes untied and I have to pull off. The group gaps me. Legs burn as I try to get back into the rhythm of my yog. I like running alone better anyway. I see the ranch boys (Suffer Seeker, Todd and Luc). They are not H4Y. They are here to heckle. Good. I'm pathetic. I wish I could explain that the lost shoelace time has me looking worse than it really is, but there's no time.
Mile 6 - Forget the exact time. My shoelace comes untied for a 2nd time and I totally lose touch with my former group.
Mile 7 - 42:51. Getting wayyyy behind 6 min pace here, but at least I'm done with climbing for a bit and my stomach is feeling better. Starting to reel in my former group, which has splintered.
Mile 8 - 49:00. Oh my. I feel like I'm finding a groove and I'm definitely going to swallow up the Shoulder Toucher soon, but a 6:09 mile? My pace is declining and I'm on pace for >1:20. Whatever. It is what it is, but it still sucks a little bit. When I decided years ago to make some consistent effort to improve my yog, there were several long term goals in my head. Sub 5min mile, sub 17 5k, sub 35 10k, sub 1:20 HM, sub 3 Marathon. I wasn't particularly close to any of those when I started, and there was a reasonable satisfaction a few years later to know that I not only got all of them, but put them all significantly in the rearview mirror. So going back above any of those lines in an OTCY stings a bit. On the bright side, the humiliations are a big part of what keeps me coming back. I'm committed to putting in my best effort for the rest of the OTCY but I'm fully prepared for the time to be ugly.
Mile 9 - Forget the time. I pass the Shoulder Toucher. He's starting to struggle.
Mile 10 - 1:00:30. I felt like I sustained a good effort going up the 2nd to last significant hill. I see the ranch boys again, who this time give me a more positive reception. I give them the H4Y sign(cheerleader H, flash 4 fingers, cheerleader Y) as I go by, so they would know why I was there, but they don't seem to understand.
Mile 12 - 1:11:32. Mile 11 and 12 are downhill and fast. I clear my mind, and just keep thinking relax, relax, relax. Relaxed shoulders, relaxed legs, relaxed turnover. Imagine that red line in my head, and put my effort right up against it and keep it there without going over. I see Healy around Mile 11.5 and he screams not to save it for the last hill. Absolute best advice ever and he's standing at the perfect spot that the yoggers need hear it. I'm stunned after making my peace with running ~1:20 to hear the time at mile 12 and know I'm going to run 1:18.
Finish - 1:18:10. The last hill in reality isn't all that bad, but feels like an absolute monster at this point of the OTCY. I'm closing on one guy, the unknown older guy from earlier in the race, but he's got a sizable gap. I keep my head down and focus on the effort. No trying to close the gap and then giving up when it's too big, or looking at the top of the hill and getting discouraged by how it never seems to get any closer. Just be here right now, getting what I can from every step forward and doing it without enough effort that I won't be disgusted with myself later. I didn't catch unknown older guy. I've pussed out on the hill many times, but I'm ok with my effort this year.
Post Yog
I was pleasantly surprised with the finish clock. With very humble expectations, a good workout on a nice morning and a tiny PR at the distance after 4 years, even though it's still weak, was all I could hope for. Beer tasted great afterwards. All you can drink Green Flash, Stone, Ballast Point and Lost Abbey. Unbeatable. There was no Queen this year, just a woman with a sign saying "Queen Wannabe". I hope the real Queen is ok. Two days later, my legs are still wrecked, in the most satisfying way possible. Every single usable muscle in my legs is still raw to the touch. Unfit and rested is a fun way to race. Get off the couch, crush yourself, and back to the couch with you.
In other news, the return of Walking Dead on Sunday night sucked hard. Very disappointing.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
No gifts part 2: charlatans unwelcome
Overall I don't have a strong sense of entitlement. Presenting myself as something more than I am, or asking for something that I don't feel I truly deserve are things that make me feel disgusting, and unsurprisingly I find them difficult to do. However, I do have a fascination with minimally accomplished, shameless, narcissistic, handout-seeking self promoters. I admire their innate ability to do the things I find so difficult, and have a grudging respect for the number of people they're able to hoodwink and the places in life they are often able to take themselves. Nevertheless, I do feel a basic gratification when a charlatan, identified for exactly what they are, gets the door slammed right in their face. Even if that charlatan is me. Let's proceed to the anecdote.
A few weeks ago the great BSK sent out an e-mail to our yogging team with a link to apply for free complimentary elite entry to the Carlsbad HM or Marathon. I did a quick scan of the elite standards and saw that they demanded a sub 1:12 HM or sub 2:30 Marathon within the last two years at a bonafide organized, timed, competitive yog (OTCY). I have not yogged these times. I have not yogged all that closely to those standards that any reasonable person would be tempted to make an exception. I sent out a flippant reply-all e-mail to the team asking if lying was acceptable on the application and thought no more of it. Then I saw Mr. BSK at a track workout and he encouraged me to ignore the standards and apply anyway. Fluff up my accomplishments. "Tell them who you are!" Ok. Sure. That'll happen.
A few days later I found myself chatting online with the Suffer Seeker, sarcastically talking about applying as an elite, admitting how disgusting that would make me feel, and bemoaning the fact that an OTCY in my back yard that I'd like to do is now so unappealing because of the near triple digit price tag that I'd have to pay just to compete along one of my regular yogging routes. I surmised that as a relative front of the packer, I take up a minimal amount of resources, and wisted away for a reduced entry fee, perhaps $40, that would allow me to take part without being gouged. The Suffer Seeker offered up an idea. How about he spice up my elite application and submit it on my behalf, and I pay him the $40 when it was accepted. Interesting. A loophole around my conscience! I need more of these. I accepted the terms of the Suffer Seeker's offer, provided him some personal information and accurate OTCY times across varying distances, and he informed me that the application had been sent, with his overwhelming confidence that I would be granted a free yog. The next day I received the following e-mail from the OTCY co-ordinator:
· Obtain a bib transfer from a participant who is unable to run- learn about our transfer policy HERE.
· Our full marathon is still open for registration if you are interested in running a longer race.
A few weeks ago the great BSK sent out an e-mail to our yogging team with a link to apply for free complimentary elite entry to the Carlsbad HM or Marathon. I did a quick scan of the elite standards and saw that they demanded a sub 1:12 HM or sub 2:30 Marathon within the last two years at a bonafide organized, timed, competitive yog (OTCY). I have not yogged these times. I have not yogged all that closely to those standards that any reasonable person would be tempted to make an exception. I sent out a flippant reply-all e-mail to the team asking if lying was acceptable on the application and thought no more of it. Then I saw Mr. BSK at a track workout and he encouraged me to ignore the standards and apply anyway. Fluff up my accomplishments. "Tell them who you are!" Ok. Sure. That'll happen.
A few days later I found myself chatting online with the Suffer Seeker, sarcastically talking about applying as an elite, admitting how disgusting that would make me feel, and bemoaning the fact that an OTCY in my back yard that I'd like to do is now so unappealing because of the near triple digit price tag that I'd have to pay just to compete along one of my regular yogging routes. I surmised that as a relative front of the packer, I take up a minimal amount of resources, and wisted away for a reduced entry fee, perhaps $40, that would allow me to take part without being gouged. The Suffer Seeker offered up an idea. How about he spice up my elite application and submit it on my behalf, and I pay him the $40 when it was accepted. Interesting. A loophole around my conscience! I need more of these. I accepted the terms of the Suffer Seeker's offer, provided him some personal information and accurate OTCY times across varying distances, and he informed me that the application had been sent, with his overwhelming confidence that I would be granted a free yog. The next day I received the following e-mail from the OTCY co-ordinator:
Hello Yogger,
Thank you so much for your interest in running at our 2013 Tri-City Medical Center Carlsbad Half Marathon. Unfortunately your PR does not qualify for a complimentary race entry, even though it is a very impressive and respectable time! At this time, our half marathon is sold out but there are still a couple options for obtaining an entry:
· Partner with one of our official charities to obtain a spot- click HERE To learn more· Obtain a bib transfer from a participant who is unable to run- learn about our transfer policy HERE.
· Our full marathon is still open for registration if you are interested in running a longer race.
Thanks again for your interest, and congrats on the new coaching responsibilities! Please don’t hesitate to contact me with any questions or concerns.
Take care,
XXX
I read the e-mail and was immediately filled with joy and warmth that radiated throughout my body. Justice served! Charlatanism defeated! Sleazeball with loose moral underpinnings denied at the outer gates! I needed to thank this woman and pay my respects. Not that easy to do without sounding bitter, so I took a moment to think and came up with this reply:
Thanks for the quick response XXX! You are absolutely correct in that my times are in no way worthy of a complimentary entry, and I commend your decision to keep a handout seeking charlatan such as myself out of the elite field. I've always enjoyed your race and I'm sure you'll put on another great event this year!
-Yogger
And she in response to that:
Thank you for one of the best responses I have yet received, and please don’t refer to yourself as a “charlatan”! Your time may not qualify, but your speed and endurance are still extremely admirable. You are surely no fraud.
Aww. What a sweetheart. But. Let's call a spade a spade here. I am the Yogging Charlatan.
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