Essence of Freedom – Memorial Day 5K (Deerfield, IL) - 5/25/15

Well, my loving followers/blog worshipers, I have finally made my long-awaited return to racing! Despite a cross country move, 10 days in California, and the start of my new job with HOKA ONE ONE, I was still able to pull off the dub and a shiny new sub-17 5K PR. How does Sam do it, and stay so good looking? Only one way to find out...

~

My last day in Colorado was oh-so bitter sweet, leaving the beautiful Rockies for the interminable cornfields of the Midwest. Thankfully though, the transition was made easier with ten days of sunbathing running job training in Berkeley, California. As your new Illinois (and parts of Wisconsin, Iowa, Missouri, and Kansas) Field Service Representative (FSR) for HOKA ONE ONE (all caps), I had the opportunity to meet and train with the 15 other FSRs working to spread the great message that is HOKA ONE ONE (parentheses).

Don't tell anyone, but I'd do this for free!

Not only am I beyond grateful to be working with such an innovating and prolific company, but my coworkers really are the best of the best, and it’s an infectious environment to be around. The highlight of this trip, though, was most definitely witnessing HOO sponsored athlete Mike Wardian race the 50K World Record on a treadmill…in the middle of our annual sales meeting. And not only that, but I was able to run alongside him for a couple miles, something that probably would’ve been my dream for the Make-A-Wish Foundation.

Thankfully, you can’t see the stains on my running shorts here.

It was during that run on the treadmill, though, that I realized I was in pretty good shape. See, I was able to set the pace to whatever I wanted, and managed to average roughly 5:20 pace for those 2ish miles (kinda felt like a dickwad  next to Wardian, but I DID have a workout scheduled for the day…). There's also a really cool video documenting Wardian's record-setting run, found here: http://www.runnerspace.com/video.php?video_id=144492. I'm the squealing 5-year old at 1:17.

 

After returning home, moving into the oh-so accommodating basement of my Dad’s house as I search for a place of dwelling, I decided to also look for a local race, quickly finding a 5K later that week up in Deerfield. With the day an official holiday and no work obligations, I decided to pay the exorbitant race registration and soon found myself standing on the starting line of the Essence of Freedom Memorial Day 5K!

~

Despite some solid training the days and weeks preceding this race, race-day conditions were far from ideal. With 20mph gusts and close to 80-degrees of muggy, humid Midwest moistness, I remember being distinctly slimy and dehydrated on the starting line.

Having raced 17:08 two months ago at the St. Patrick’s Day 5K (which you can read about here: http://samwelchruns.blogspot.com/2015/03/st-patricks-day-5k.html), my goal was to slip under 17 for the first time ever. I knew that if I stayed relaxed and raced like a competent human being, averaging 5:25s wouldn’t be an issue, now that I was back at sea level.

When the gun went off, I immediately flew to the lead, with only one other runner sitting on my shoulder. We ran for about ¼ mile when I looked over, or more accurately, down, to find a kid no older than 10 years old. Thankfully, he dropped back soon after that, but it WAS a mighty blow to my ego. After dropping the pre-pubescent middle-schooler though, it was just me and the dozen motorcycles parading/pace setting right ahead of me. I’ve never been in this situation (LEADING a road race), and I quickly became aware that it kinda sucked, as I was inhaling nothing but diesel fumes.

The one plus was that they kept a consistent 5:15 pace, and I was able to zone out for the first mile, just following the noxious exhaust along the rolling course through a Deerfield neighborhood. I remember checking my GPS watch at 1.5 miles, having slowed to 5:20ish pace, and feeling pretty tired, but just stuck with the motorcycles and just kept trucking.

Going through mile 2 just a ½ mile ahead though, and I was really tightening up, having slowed considerably going up the slightest of hills. I trudged through that next ½ mile at 5:40ish pace, but with the end nearing, I was able to drop my pace back down to something resembling a kick. My upper body (forearms?) really tightened up on the last straightaway (1/4 mile), and of course I reverted back to that weird grunting thing with each exhale, but seeing the clock tick up, still in the mid-16s, was motivating, and I crossed the line totally spent, and official time of 16:40.

Some stiff competition, if you ask me...

Exhausted, it took a good minute or two to catch my breath, and having a sip of water was like drinking the nectar of the gods. Racing under 17 has been a goal since my collegiate days, and demolishing that barrier left me pretty stoked. Second place came through a couple minutes later, which made me wonder how I’d fare with some other runners to help pace me/compete against. 

Racing in my HOKA ONE ONE Huakas, I was able to talk up the Hoka brand with the first place female finisher Katie Haberman (who happens to be an old coworker at JCC Camp Apachi!), and later collected my first “1^st Overall” award from a road race, which sounds cooler than the reality: me beating some 6^th graders and their moms.

The legacy of 'that naked runner' lives on...

But if I can race 16:40 in sub-par conditions, it leaves me hungry to keep training and go for that ultimate goal of running a sub-16 5K (there, I said it). I’ve got no race planned next, but will make sure to find something soon, so until next time!

Hoka One One

WARNING: Sam gets all soul-searchy and weird in this reflective mushy post!

I’ve gone through much of my life with little direction or end goal. It’s weird, because while I consider myself a very motivated and driven person, there had never really been a destination. In a way, there are many pros to this way of life – you get to live in the moment, taking chances and opportunities when they come. But there’s never been that raison d’etre that so many of my friends had.

I was recently talking with a friend, and I confessed that, embarrassingly, up until a couple years ago, I thought there were only like, 10 jobs in the world. Throughout middle school and high school and college, you hear the same professions over and over: teacher, doctor, scientist, lawyer, astronaut, professional soccer player, and “businessman,” whatever that meant (wear a suit and carry a briefcase and just generally be boring, probably). Really though – school made it seem like there were a very finite number of categories to choose from, and my majors in college simply reflected which classes I found interesting, with zero forethought as towards a future career.

It became glaringly obvious my senior year of college when everyone and their mom (literally) was asking me what I was going to do after graduation, and I’d give them that deer-in-the-headlights look. With majors in Psychology and French (the former because I found it interesting, the latter an automatic from studying abroad), I think it was somewhat obvious that Sam had no idea what the eff he was doing. So what was I doing those four years, besides playing way too much Super Smash Bros. and StarCraft?

Running. A lot. Twice a day most days of the week. Core and plyometrics to help with proper running form and injury prevention. Swimming and biking to cross train. Spending an insane amount of time with teammates-turned-family, eating and sleeping and laughing and racing with them. Running was hardly even a hobby in high school, but in college, it became life, paramount to my very existence.

 Something happened Freshman year of college – maybe it’s because it was the first time I was “on my own,” and I was scared and in need of something to hold onto, but running became that support I could rely on. Teammates became closer than family, and despite running for a DIII school as a student-athlete, I felt very much like an athlete-student. Classes were merely a nice distraction between workouts, and even then, most of my notes had goal 400-splits scribbled in the margins.

What’s funny though, is that I’m not even that good. I’ve had decent success and some great races, but I’m nowhere near elite status. But there was passion there, enough for me, a classic type-A overachiever, to get burned out and over-trained on the regular. Despite going through multiple phases of forsaking running and pledging to become a ‘real person’ that doesn’t think about running 24/7, I haven’t been able to stay away for long. Any unbiased person could claim I’m addicted to running, and I wouldn’t disagree.

I thought I was done running when I moved out to Martinique, a tiny, hot and hilly Caribbean island, but only made it two months before I found myself logging 2-hour daily runs. Then, when I moved out to Colorado and started teaching high school French, stressed out of my mind, I only made it 1.5 months before picking up the habit again. While there’s no obligation to run, no set practice time or meets I need to train for, I can’t help but wake up every morning and lace up my shoes to hit the pavement.

Running is my passion, my raison d’etre. It’s the reason I wake up in the morning, it’s what I look forward to each night I go to bed. It influences everything from what I eat to who I hang out with to where I live.

Everyone has their passion, whether it’s drinking at the bars or playing the piano or following their favorite NBA team. Running is my rock, and God help whoever asks me about something related to running. I can be a shy person, but I will be that annoying kid WHO WILL NOT SHUT UP if I overhear someone talking about Sage Canaday’s recent OTQ attempt or Ryan Hall DNFing again. While I couldn’t name 5 professional MLB players, I can rattle off America’s top contenders in any distance, 100 meters to 100 miles. Though I couldn’t tell you who won the Super Bowl (or who played? Or what sport that is?), I can describe the subtle differences between a Hoka or a Brooks or a Newton or an Altra.

So when I was offered a Field Rep position with Hoka One One, I was happy. Ecstatic. Over-the-moon elated and more relieved than I’d ever been in my life, because I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. I confessed to the kind HR Manager I interviewed with that “if I had known such a job existed, I wouldn’t have been dicking around for so long” (exact words). But after two phone interviews, a 24-hour trip back to Chicago for an in-person interview, a Skype interview, and two interminable weeks of waiting, receiving that phone call letting me know that I got the job was life-affirming.

If I’m going to spend the majority of my waking life earning a living in exchange for food and shelter, you can be sure as hell that I’m gonna enjoy it. I tried working in a 9-5 suit-and-tie when I first graduated as a Marketing Assistant, and I swear I could feel my soul slowly withering away. Teaching has been rewarding, but my goodness am I not meant for it. Working at the local running stores in my hometown have been my most enjoyable and “fun” jobs, but making near-minimum wage 30 hours/week will hardly put ramen on the table (provided I could afford a table).

I remember going to a fancy-shmancy evening soiree with my uncle when I was like, 14. My uncle’s a big-time advertiser in New York, is the nicest dressing man I know, and is the quintessential definition of a gentleman (fun fact: he gifted me the book “How to Be a Gentleman” when I was 10, and is my most treasured possession). Plus, he’s crazy-successful. He has a swanky apartment in downtown New York City, plus a luxurious weekend home (with pool and horse stable) in the countryside.

So when he brings along my ragtag family to this evening dinner party at a veritable mansion on some ungodly number of acres, with servants offering the daintiest of cocktail weenies, my jaw hit the floor. My Dad had warned me we’d be among some rich folk (thus the reason why I wasn’t allowed to bring my Gameboy), but I had honestly never seen anything so lavish.

And I remember my uncle pulling me aside (probably to tell me to pick my jaw up off the floor, or to let me know that my fly was down). He could tell that I was in awe, and he pointed out a couple people, explaining that that so-and-so was a multi-millionaire, while that lady was the owner of blah-blah-blah. Then, my uncle looked me in the eye, and he said: “Do you know why they’re all so successful?”

I probably gave him a dumb look, because he elaborated for me. “The reason all these people are here? How they can afford parties like this? How they’re able to literally be the most successful people in their professions?” He paused for effect. “It’s because they love what they do. When you’re passionate about something, money and job-status become irrelevant. If you can find a job that you’d do regardless of money, that you love simply for being able to do it, then you’ll be successful.”

~

On May 1^st, I’ll be making the 16-hour drive back to Chicago. I’ve grown to really love Colorado, and I’ll genuinely miss (some of) the kids I’ve been able to teach, the people I’ve met, and of course the trails. But it’s a small sacrifice to be able to pursue this dream job with a dream company. I’ll post below the cover letter I sent Hoka when I first applied, as it succinctly describes my passion for the Hoka brand. I’ll be back in Chicago for a total of 24 hours before they fly me out to California for 10 days (!!) of training, then I’ll be able to start repping Hoka for Illinois.

As for racing? We’ll see – obviously, there won’t be a race for at least a couple weeks. But you can be sure I’ll be rocking a pair of Hokas :P

COVER LETTER:

My first experience with the ubiquitous Hoka One One shoe was on the French Caribbean island of Martinique, back in December 2013. I was teaching English there, but also figured it would be the perfect training ground: with unwavering 70-degree weather year round and a meager 10-hour work week (yes, that’s per week), I would be able to run as much as my body could handle. I’d return to the States as an insanely fit (and sunburnt) ultramarathoner, and dominate the mountain-ultra-trail scene.

However, as a transplant from Chicago, I was totally unaccustomed to gaining anything more than 10 feet over the course of a 2-hour long run. So when the steep and unrelenting island terrain quickly began trashing my quads, I knew my minimalist New Balance Minimus would no longer suffice.

Let me back up a bit. I’ve been running competitively since 8^th grade, converting from soccer to cross country and instantly falling in love. After high school, I attended Illinois Wesleyan University, and raced DIII Cross Country and Track all four years (minus a semester abroad in France). After graduating, I floundered a bit without a team (or, any idea at all about what I wanted to do with my life). The one thing I knew: I loved running, and worked at a local New Balance store until the day I left to go teach in Martinique.

So, it’s December, and noting a sale on irunfar.com, I bit the bullet, paid for the insanely-steep shipping costs (not your fault – Martinique is pretty unheard of), and (im)patiently awaited these new marshmallow shoes. Hokas were purported to absorb all the pounding my knees normally brunt, alieve the neuroma developing on my right foot, and drastically reduce the DOMS I’d experienced from workouts (and I wouldn’t be surprised if it cured cancer, too).

The Bondis I’d ordered seemed too good to be true, but when they finally arrived and I was able to bomb down that hill that previously had me wincing, I knew Hoka was on to something. I was able to completely beat myself up in training, but come back the next day totally refreshed and ready to tackle the hills again.

Fast forward 4 months, and I’m back in Illinois, racing my first 50k. Despite racing my first 5 miles faster than my half-marathon pace, I managed to finish 2^nd place overall. Two weeks later, I raced the Ice Age 50k up in Wisconsin, finishing in 3^rd place overall, less than a minute behind 2^nd place (and I was closing strong!). A couple weeks after that, I made the trip up to Michigan, where I competed in the Yankee Springs Trail 26.2, and won my first race, placing 1^st overall by more than 5 minutes.

That summer, I was working at a local running store, trying everything I could do to land a job as a Field Rep for a running company (I even chatted with XXXXXXXXXXXXXX, the Illinois Hoka Rep). However, living in my parent’s basement was far from ideal, and so when I found a job as a High School French Teacher in Colorado Springs, I had to jump on it. I had spent a summer in Boulder training with teammates in college, and had dreamed of making Colorado my home ever since. So I made the drive from 0 ft. to over 6,000 ft. above sea level, eager to train with (arguably) the best running community in the country.

But then school happened. I took on the duties of the middle school cross country coach, agreed to sponsor a couple clubs, and on top of the struggles of being a first-year high school teacher, free time to run fell by the wayside. While I love teaching and sharing my passion for French, the lifestyle itself didn’t meld with my love and aspirations for running. Visions of training with pros and joining a running club and becoming a regular at the local shop were replaced by grading and lesson planning.

So when XXXXXXXXXXX emailed me, letting me know that he had received my resume and had an open position as a Field Rep for Hoka (Hoka!), I was excited, to say the least. See, running is, and forever will be, an integral part of my life. Combined with my love for teaching, the duties of a Field Rep describe what I would honestly call my ‘dream job.’ So I was a tad heartbroken when XXXXXX later let me know that the position was filled. But it lit a fire in me, sparking a realization that this was what I wanted to do. To be able to share my passion for running with a community who may not know the incredible feel of the Stinson or how light the Clifton really are.

Hopefully, it’s apparent how much I want this job, and how perfect a fit I am. 

XTERRA Cheyenne Mountain 24K

It’s been quite some time since my last race – in fact, 4 weeks is the longest I’ve gone this year without racing! Despite that, I’ve had some pretty solid weeks of training, with Spring Break, Jordan and Willyum visiting me here, and a short trip back to Chicago for some fast miles at sea level.

But, I was still relatively nervous for this race, for two reasons. 1: It was being held at Cheyenne Mountain State Park, a mountainous and technical course that my worshippers followers will remember I raced back in October, and got my butt kicked, hard. Reason 2: this would be the furthest I’ll have raced, let alone run, since re-starting this whole running thing at the start of 2015.

For whatever reason, the whole ‘24K’ eluded me when I first signed up – probably ‘cuz I’m AN AMURRICAN!!!!!!1!1one!! (eagle screeches) But a couple days before the race I did some intense calculus and with help from the full moon, a math teacher at my school, and the Pythagorean Theorem, I managed to discern that 24K roughly equates to 15 miles.

Unfortunately, the race itself was on a Sunday, the worst possible day (for me) to race. This is because I have to essentially “waste” Saturday: no epic long run, no hiking all day, no Incline-athons. Just me, getting not-tan, playing videogames (I did manage to watch nearly the entire Frieza Saga, so the day wasn’t a total waste).

~

Waking up race morning, I downed some coffee, laced up my Hoka One One Cliftons (super cushioned shoe, and would be a godsend for bombing down these trails), and made the quick drive over to Cheyenne Mountain State Park. There would also be a 12K and 5K racing at the same time, and I soon learned that my race would consist of two 12K loops. So after an easy 10-minute warmup and some bouts of anxious self-doubt, I jogged up to the starting line, only to find a fellow Winter Series and recent 5K racer Colin Knaub. Colin had finished just behind me at the last 5K, and was in the middle of training for a May marathon – we both agreed to start nice and slow on the first loop, then pick it up the second.

However, that plan went totally out the window when the gun went off, as I quickly shot up front, finding myself in 2^nd place within the first 30 seconds of racing. First place (who’s name I later learned is Kory) looked fast, and I sort of let him go from the start, content with trying to ‘take it easy’ this first lap. By ½ mile in, Kory was out of sight, and I was leading a string of 4-5 runners, which soon became three, then two, then just me. By mile 2 I was all alone, half-worrying I took a wrong turn somewhere, then seeing another little blue flag to let me know I wasn’t totally lost.

Maybe we should rate this blog PG-13?

The course itself was interesting, as the entire first half of the loop was uphill (see below for the course profile), so after mile 3, I was able to really open up and start to push the pace a bit. Despite telling myself to chill the first 12K, I was feeling pretty good, and combined with the downhill and the pretty girls cheering for me, I threw down some faster miles to finish up the first 12K.

1,700 ft.+ of elevation >.<

As I finished up my first loop, and knowing what to expect this second time around, I decided to try and push this first half hard, considering those last 3-4 miles were primarily downhill. And despite that, I still managed to suck wind and slowdown bigtime that second loop. Uphill running is still not my forte, but it fortunately didn’t last too long, and getting to the downhill sections I was able to turn on the gas again, passing other 24K runners along the way.

At this point, I totally thought I was in first place – I’d assumed that Kory, running fast up front, had only completed the 12K race. Volunteers working the race all seemed surprised to see me (granted, could have likely been due to my lack of clothing), and so I told myself I was racing for the win. 

Coming into sight of the finish line, I threw down one last kick, crossing the line totally spent.

After some stumbling around and choking on my own saliva, I somehow managed to discover that Kory, in fact, was racing the 24K, and had soundly beaten me by nearly 5 minutes. Feeling like death, we waited a couple minutes for 3^rd place to come in (Colin!), and we soon received our medals.

*That's not actually Colin on the right there*

Overall, I was relatively happy with the day’s race. I would’ve like to have gone faster (and win, duh), but I definitely haven’t been training on mountain-y technical stuff – in fact, this just made me want to sign up for something fast even more. While I’m not quite sure what my next race will be, there’s a chance I’ll sneak one more in this April – there is definitely no shortage of racing in Colorado, so until next time!

St. Patrick's Day 5K

This past Saturday, I raced the Colorado Springs St. Patrick’s Day 5K, and ran the fastest 5K of my life to date. This race has it all: drama, suspense, hot chicks. But before I delve into this epic journey for my new 5K PR, I’d like to take the time to fill you in, my loving, doting fans, about the hellish week that preceded this race.

I guess it all starts with my drive back from the Winter Series #4, where the ‘Check Engine’ light on my car came on. STFU Sam this has nothing to do with running or your gorgeous bod. Bear with me here; see, when I first drove out to Colorado back in July, that same light came on. But because it was my second day of owning my car, and I’m a procrastinator, and I’m poor, I sort of just…ignored it. This was until my mom came to visit me and vowed to disown me if I didn’t have my car checked. So I did, and thankfully, the awesome mechanics at ToyTech fixed my car, good as new.

So when that light came on again, I decided to be a somewhat-competent adult and actually have it checked out right away. But this time, it wasn’t an easy fix – this time, that check engine light was flashing, which is your car’s subtle way of telling you it’s (actually) about to explode.

My colleagues actually think I'm Chris Traeger now

ToyTech said they’d need to work on my car for a couple days (spoiler alert: turned into 8 days). And during this time, I still had to get my daily run in, AND get to school every morning. So I did as any idiotic masochist did: I ran the 8ish miles to school. There’s no great route, which means I literally have to run on a highway for a portion, but for about a week, I ran the 8ish miles to school (of note: all money I saved on gas was instead spent on copious amounts of food).

My colleagues were gracious enough to provide me with rides home after school most days (shout outs to CG, Veronica, and Brandon!), and I actually really enjoyed it. The whole ‘illegally running on the shoulder of the highway’ thing kinda sucked, as did commuting a good 2 hours before sunrise, but it felt good knowing I was logging some decent mileage without really trying. I did in fact run home one day, which stifled any more desire for this run-commuting thing. This past Wednesday, I ran to school, then, thanks to the sun’s decision to exist again, decided to make the commute home after school. But: I was pulled over by a cop, got lost, and stumbled home in the dark for an 18-mile day. Good news: got my car back the next day!

~

So, needless to say, I felt like butthole this past Thursday, then Friday. Honestly, I was considering DNSing this race, on account of this feeling like butthole. But waking up Saturday morning, and realizing that I’ve already paid for this race, I might as well go pick up my tee-shirt. So I made a slow and painful jog over to the race course, still sore and tired and butthole-like. But once I picked up my tee-shirt and found some friends Phil and Brian (who even read this blog! So it’s not just my mom!), I figured I’d yog a nice and easy 5K, “for fun.”

But, as I stepped up to the starting line, it hit me: I don’t know how to not race. I don’t do “fun” – I run to slowly and painfully kill myself. Plus, soooooo many hot chicks to impress.

At the start, behind a million people.

When the gun went off, people started flying (video of the start is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TWysUOYMoQY. I'm at around 30 seconds in). My GPS watch was telling me I was clipping off sub-5 minute pace for that first 400 meters, and I was probably in 25^th place, getting smoked by middle schoolers and geezers. Focusing on staying relaxed, I finally cooled down my pace to 5:30ish, intent on passing these little kids ahead of me (seriously, who do these 11 year olds think they are, making me look slow in front of all these ladies?) The course itself was relatively flat, but had a total of three 180-degree turns that basically required you to come to a stop, or swing waayyyy wide.

Mile splits and a general map of the course.

Finally getting into a rhythm, I went through my first mile split in 5:30ish. Quick for sure, but I felt relatively good, so decided to try and push this mile, as I’ve always got something left for the end. So I worked on passing the guy in front of me, then the next, then the next…the benefit of racing in a big race (more than 2,000 in this 5K) is that there’s always someone to run against, and so I was able to pick off people over that second mile.

After making two quick 180-degree turns, we were finally on the homestretch, about .8 miles to the finish. I’d stopped checking my watch at this point, focused solely on closing the large gap between me and the next runner. At this point in the race, the rest of the 5Kers were making their way out to the 180-degree turns, so flying by them with the occasional cheer was a big boost. With probably .5 miles to go, I started my signature grunting with each exhale (but really, when did that start?), and my form must’ve started to look real atrocious, because I definitely saw someone hurl.

But I was making up ground on that guy ahead of me! As we neared the finish line, I heard someone shout “Don’t let that kid pass you CJ!” Obviously I’m not CJ, so as “that kid,” I had to show this CJ who was boss, and threw down the nastiest kick (and not in a good way) to just narrowly fly by him in the finishing chute.

Suck it CJ.

Checking my watch, I couldn’t believe it. Just 6 weeks ago, I’d raced the Gameday 5K and finished in 17:49, a time I was very pleased with. My PR in college was a 17:17 (although it’s definitely possible I split a faster time in an 8K race), and without any (like, zero) speed training, I would’ve been happy with another sub-18. But my official finishing time was a 17:08, a 5:31/mile pace, good for 15^th overall (and at 6,000 ft. too!).

Going from feeling like butthole and almost not even racing to finishing 40+ seconds faster than last month, I was pretty stoked. But, there were still 14 people ahead of me (winner finished in 14:45!), so I’ve still got work to do. I’ve got a slight break from racing, my next being the XTERRA Trail 24K on April 12^th, so until next time!

Winter Series #4

Woof. If there’s the perfect word to summarize the last race in the Winter Series, this would be it.

Since my last race two weeks ago, Colorado decided to be Colorado, and we got veritably dumped on. Little did I know that February 14^th would be my last time seeing sunshine, as these past two weeks have brought ridiculous amounts of snow, ice, and cold, which even amounted to two snow days last week (probably the only good thing to come out of all this fluffy white stuff). Desire (and physical possibility) to run in this cold has waned, especially considering where I was this time last year (for those of you who don’t know, it was the muthaflippin’ CARIBBEAN).

This would've been around this same time last year...

So when we had another snow day the day before Winter Series #4, I was fairly relieved. See, I had run the race of my life two weeks ago, and having filled the time since then with slow trudging through mountains of slippery snow, a weight was lifted. I knew there’d be no way of racing a really “fast” race – instead, I had to race smart and just attempt to solidify my 2^nd-place standing in the overall rankings.

~

Arriving in Black Forest Saturday morning, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I knew our race would be roughly 20 kilometers (Strava data post-race had it 12.4 miles), but this was the furthest I’d driven for a race in this series, and I was in unknown territory. After collecting my bib and nearly busting a blood vessel in the port-o-potty, I managed a slow 10-minute warmup where I came to the conclusion: it’s cold. In addition to the slippery snow and 10-degree temps, unsheltered areas had some nasty gusty wind.

Now, this is going to sound inconsequential right now, but it’s a necessary detail: I thought I was going to be an idiot and race in my short-shorts. So this morning, I put on my tights over my shorts, then laced up my shoes ONCE, because I figured I’d be unlacing them soon to take off my tights. But during this 10-minute warmup, I made the executive decision to race avec tights, and the idea of double-knotting my shoes went out the window. You can probably guess where this is going…

Starting video of the race (I’m literally there for 0-1 seconds at the very start, which makes it look like I’m in first, but the camera guy just started late): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hJGfgbBrUZE

I run up to the start line with 10 seconds to spare, see Alistair (semi-pro who’s currently 1^st in the series), and then we’re off. Alistair and another runner (spoiler alert: the eventual winner by more about 4 minutes) fly off into first and second place, while I’m content holding down third at an easy effort, keeping the two in sight. Not a minute into the race, though, do I notice: my shoe’s untied. Cuss. I briefly toy with the idea of running the entirety of the race with it untied, but after a mile of my foot gradually slipping more and more, and the laces continually whipping my ankles, I realize how stupid of an idea that is.

Through the mile at 6:30ish, I’m sitting 15ish seconds back from 1^st and 2^nd, and decide I need to stop before this hill and tie both shoes. If you check my Strava data, you can see a blip where my speed drops to 0 for 10-15 seconds, during which another runner passes me, and I find myself in a chase pack (runners in 4^th-7^th place). I somehow manage another 6:30 mile, despite the shoe-tying, and gap the pack I’m with, inching my way back to the 3^rd place runner 15 seconds up (AKA that’s where I should be had I not been an idiot).

You've gotta admit, the shades are fly

Then, we all ran. 1^st place was out of sight by now, but Alistair was probably 40 seconds ahead in 2^nd, 3^rd place was 15, and 5^th place was probably 15 behind me. We rolled in this train, each runner gapped by 15-20 seconds, as we all made due with the terrible footing and steep hills. I wish this was more exciting, but everyone maintained these gaps until about mile 10, clipping off ~6:30s.

GAP: Grade Adjusted Pace, making me feel a little less crappy about such a slow run

It was with about 2 miles to go when us 20K runners merged with the 10K runners, and combined with some long hills late in the race, made things more interesting. See, I found myself flying with ease on the flats and downhills, but towards the end, even the slightest of uphills really took it out of me. At mile 10.5 we hit a pretty nasty uphill that gapped me from the 3^rd place runner, and I even heard 5^th place right on my heels. Bridging the crest of that hill, I completely lost sight of the 3^rd place runner amidst all the 10K runners we’d been joined with. But passing people always helps, so I started picking it up again, breaking away from the 5^th place guy and after one more hill climb (plus someone telling me it would be the last hill), found myself flying downhill towards the finish.

So fly

Strava will tell you my pace going down that last half-mile was 5:11 pace, of which I’m not surprised. I was surprised, though, that I never got sight of the 3^rd place runner; soon, I was making a quick 90 degree turn into the finishing chute. Official time for the race was 1:21:03, a 6:30 average for 4^th overall. Turns out, Alistair got 2^nd in less than a minute ahead of me, with 3^rd less than 40 seconds (5^th just 30 seconds back from me). Fairly pleased with my performance, yet totally trashed, I yogged an easy 10 minute cooldown with Rocque, stretched, then sought warmth.

However, despite my 4^th place finish, I managed to secure my 2^nd place standing in the overall series! Something I didn’t even dream about doing when I initially signed up, I was pleased with how this race series went, and pretty stoked about where my training’s at, just two months into the New Year - it looks like my 5 am runs before school aren’t just in vain.

I’ll attend an awards dinner next weekend, but won’t race again until March 14^th, which will be a St. Patrick’s Day 5K. Soon, I want to start logging some heavier mileage and get back into marathons/ultras, but I’m content to wait until the earth unfreezes. Until next time!

Winter Series #3

After a solid week of training and a weekend off from racing, I felt fresh and confident coming into this Saturday’s 10-mile Winter Series #3. This is in stark contrast to my usual smelly and awkward self, and when I found out that Alex Nichols (the local stud who’s been winning these races) would be racing elsewhere, well, you could say I was able to experience that elusive trait that most humans have called ‘self-esteem.’ While this would be my longest race since the Ascent last August, it was also relatively flat, and I figured I could come away with a podium finish.

(Obama 'Not Bad' meme)

Waking up race morning, I nearly kissed my iPhone when my weather app told me it would be mid-60s and sunny all day. I downed way too much coffee, took care of business (a euphemism for ‘clearing the pipes’)(if you’re not sure, that means I pooped), and drove down to the El Pomar Youth Sports Park. I jogged a slow 10 minutes, stretched, hit up the port-o-potty a total of three times, then anxiously walked around like a crackhead during the worst part of any race: waiting for it to start.

Finally, the race officials called 5 minutes, and I trotted over to the starting area, finding a spot right up front. Like, as front and center as you can get. I saw Alistair (semi-pro triathlete who beat me last race), and we chatted about pacing: his plan was sub-6s, while I was hoping to start at 6:30, then negative split my way down to low 6s, hopefully.

In first, like a dingus

But of course, when the starting gun went off, I was that idiot sprinting into first at quite nearly my 400m PR pace. Here’s some video footage of me being a total idiot: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pubrl5QKFD8

Because I was so jacked up on adrenaline at this point, I had no idea I was running 5:15 pace until Alistair gave me a little nudge (SAM WTF SLOW DOWN NOOB), and two other runners caught us by the mile marker, right at 6 flat. The four of us chilled in this front pack through 2 miles, when it dawned on me: dufuq am I doing? It was clear I wasn’t going to win this race, and was already 45 seconds ahead of my planned pace, so I eased up and let Alistair take off, followed by another runner (who I learned post-race is named Matthieu). I focused on staying relaxed – because this race was an out-and-back, I knew the real racing wouldn’t start until after the turnaround, and was content to sit 20 seconds behind Matthieu as we rolled through miles 3 and 4.

Soon, as we approached the turnaround, Alistair came flying towards us, looking like he was taking an afternoon stroll, but within a minute, Matthieu and I hit the turnaround. Either I slowed down here, or Matthieu put on a surge (let’s be honest - probably both), because he was soon a good 30-40 seconds ahead of me, almost out of view. But, because we were now heading backwards on the course, I was passing runners still heading out, and the fact that multiple people used their valuable oxygen to cheer me on was a big boost (plus, there were a ridiculous number of hot chicks racing. The best motivation there is).

From miles 6-9, Matthieu and I played a weird accordion game where I’d close within 10 seconds, then he’d open it to 30. I had put a big surge in at mile 8, convincing myself that “only 2 more miles of racing was nothing!” This was stupid. I found myself within 5-10 seconds of Matthieu right before the 9-mile marker, and then it hit me: I still have another 5,280 feet of racing left. And believe me, I felt every inch. Throughout the first couple miles of the race, I couldn’t help but imagine how I’d throw down a sick 5-flat mile, closing hard for the win. But now that I was in the moment, all I wanted to do was slow down, or walk, or stop and take a nap. Literally anything but keep racing.

But, the fact that I could still see Matthieu up ahead kept me pushing. In fact, it was around a half-mile to go when (cue fangirl squeals) Peter Maksimow and Simon Gutierez, who had finished the 5-mile race, cheered me on during their cooldown. I knew my form was the picture-perfect antonym for flawless (flawfull?), and I’d started doing that oh-so attractive grunting thing with each exhale. But the finish was so close!

Quadzilla, on the hunt

Unfortunately, the finish was a long 300m straightaway that resembled the Serpent Road from Dragonball Z (fellow nerds know what I’m talking about, but if you’re not a total geek, this is essentially a never-ending road). Finally, with the end in sight and a large clock showing 1:01:40, I crossed the line, completely and utterly spent.

Maybe because it was the distance, or I pushed myself more than I have in recent memory, but I very nearly fell over the line, soon collapsing in the grass field nearby. It took awhile to get my feet under me, but it was fun chatting with Alistair, who easily took 1^st place, and Matthieu (a competitive half-miler from Texas), in addition to some other runners. Having beat both my B-goal (sub 65) and A-goal (sub 62:30), averaging 6:10 for 10 miles here in Colorado was easily my best effort to date.

 I’ve now got two weeks to get a bit more fit before the last race in the series, a supposedly hilly 20K February 28^th!

Gameday 5K

Due to a down week between races in the Winter Series, and because my social life is non-existent, I opted to race the Gameday 5K this past Sunday in downtown Colorado Springs on a whim. There’s absolutely no reason why I should’ve expected a decent race, as my training is limited to short 30-minute runs in the morning before school, with nothing that can be remotely close to being considered “fast.” But, I’d raced a surprisingly-respectable 8-miler at last weekend’s Winter Series #2, and I was curious as to what that could translate to on terrain that wasn’t undulating and icy mountain trail.

Waking Sunday morn, I made the slow jog over to the race as my warmup, about 2.5 miles from my house. Flabbergasted upon arriving at the race scene, I would soon discover there would be close to 600 racers in the 5K alone (another 500ish in the half-marathon that would also be racing).

A couple minutes of terrified hyperventilating later (to this day, cannot race without an initial anxiety attack), I ran some quick strides, then hopped on the starting line. It was sunny, but still pretty chilly – probably no warmer than 30 degrees, we were lucky that there was hardly any wind. Trying to not be a total idiot, I decided to race clothed this time around, sticking to some shorts, tee-shirt, and gloves (also, some sick shades to hide my deer-in-the-headlights look). I also opted to race in my Hoka One One Cliftons, as I’d been feeling pretty great in them recently, and finally had to chance to use the road shoe on … well, some roads.

Because this was my first road race since my collegiate days, I had absolutely no idea what to expect. I had no idea how I’d react to some back-to-back sub-6 miles, as: 1. I hadn’t run that fast since June, and 2. I’d NEVER run that fast at 6K ft. of elevation. But I came in with a goal of going sub-18, which would equal roughly 5:50 pace per mile, and based on last week’s performance, something I figured I’d be able to manage. Maybe. Hopefully. We’d see.

The whistle blew, and we were off, me quickly finding myself in ~6^th place. Two runners nearly sprinted to the lead, and I was happy to let them go, telling myself to relax this first mile, then negative split as long as I felt good. We started down a relatively steep downhill, and within a quarter mile were we onto a packed dirt trail, three of us running in a pack, chasing three runners ahead. I chilled the first mile, taking the lead of our chase pack but making sure to relax until we hit the first mile: 5:40ish. A tad faster than I had wanted, I took stock and felt pretty good, so decided to leave my pack and start bridging the gap to the 3^rd place runner. The two leaders were already at least 40 seconds ahead, but 3^rd place was within 20 seconds, and I could tell I was slowly gaining.

(Getting my kicks off beating high schoolers)

The race was an out-and-back, and as I neared the turnaround cone, I saw first and second come blazing by me, probably with ~a minute lead on me. But, I was able to catch 3^rd place right at the turnaround, relatively close to the two-mile marker, and decided to throw down. Used to longer races, the fact that I only had 1 more mile was a relief, and making sure I had nothing left, I opened my stride and really started pushing. Plus, the fact that I was currently in 3^rd place (podium!) was pretty motivating, as well as passing the rest of the runners still making their way out (hearing a couple Go Mr. Welch! means at least a few of my students saw my atrocious form).

(Sucking wind, hard)

I checked my GPS watch a couple times that last mile, and surprised myself when I regularly found myself running 5:30ish pace. It was around 2.6 miles when things started hurting, and I probably checked the distance left on my watch every 0.1 miles until the finish. Soon though, it was in sight, and I threw in one last kick, finishing down the last straightaway with the clock in sight, ticking up to 17:45, 46, 47…

Even the race officials are amazed I managed to finish with THAT kind of form...

My official time was 17:48, a 5:46/mile average, and good enough for 3^rd place overall. To be quite honest, I was ecstatic with my time, despite finishing ~a minute behind 2^nd and 1:20 behind 1^st (uff da). But this race marked my first “fast” (in quotes for a reason) effort here in Colorado, and the fact that I was awarded 3^rd place up at the award ceremony was a pretty cool experience. Obviously, there’s still a lot of work to do, but my first month of real (regular) training is starting to pay off. The Winter Series #3 race isn’t until February 14^th, which means I’ve got a little less than two weeks to put in some solid training before a trail 10-miler with some stiff competition!