HOKA ONE ONE '17 DMR - 5/7/17

"We the best" - DJ Khaled

First, to answer the obvious question: I’m not dead. Mom, you know this, but for the other reader of the blog (sup random Bulgarian, who I’m pretty sure only clicks through my blog for the half-naked photos): a pesky Achilles injury has all but sidelined me since last May. Full-fledged blob status was avoided thanks to a gym membership, an indoor bike trainer, and the removal of Poptarts as the foundation of my diet. 

Something I’ve come to realize is that, while I may mentally still be that 12-year old who plays Pokemon into the wee hours of the morning, the stupid fragile vessel that is my bod has indeed aged since 2002. I mean, I still can’t grow a beard and continue to wait for my voice to drop, but my days of 8-hour WoW raids while fueling on Hot Pockets, then waking up for cross country practice at 5:30am, are (hopefully) behind me.

And so, prioritizing my Zs, consuming things that are green (not including Shamrock Shakes), and stretching pre/post run have become necessary if I want to keep racing. Plus side: I’ve become quite adept at making sweet, sweet love with my foam roller, skills that I’m sure will one day, in the hopefully-not-too-distant future, pay dividends in other, real-life situations.

Running became possible again this past April, and so, with a solid month of training under my belt, I flew out west to Santa Barbara for the biannual HOKA ONE ONE Brand Conference back in May. My devout followers surely know by now that my twice-per-year vacation out at HOKA’s headquarters in sunny California always results in a solid tan, too many adult beverages, and a glorious foot race amongst the entire company. While last Brand Conference saw me race a mountain 5K across some gnarly SoCal terrain (and get my ass dusted by multitudes of old dudes), we opted for the track and a return to the annual HOKA ONE ONE DMR (Distance Medley Relay) for this year’s race.

Our running shoe company is better than your running shoe company.

It should come as no great surprise, but HOKA has some seriously fast runners who work for the company. From National Masters winners (Mike McManus, Senior Director of Sports Marketing) to Olympic Trials Marathon qualifiers (Dustin Emerick, Indianapolis FSR) to World Championship competitors (Rolanda Bell, New York FSR), there’s no lack of competition. And no matter our current fitness level or degree of manboob jiggle, a group of runners will always be competitive, both on and off the track (see: Beer + Marshmallow Relay photos below).

Planning for this year’s DMR started a week prior, when I received a text from the Carolinas FSR Tom “TAHM!” Hopkins. Tom, fresh off of taking time off post-racing Boston, and myself, fresh off of beating the new Zelda, both agreed we were severely out of shape, but could most likely find a pretty decent team. I’d received some insider info from Suzie Clark back at HOKA HQ about the new New York FSR Rolanda being a total friggin’ stud, so I suggested we con her into running the mile portion of the race, and Tom snagged up Lindsay “Major Key” Jones, Philadelphia FSR, to represent the speed of the team in the 400.

For the confused/uninitiated/readers who don’t get sexually excited watching runners loop around an oval countless times, the DMR is a four-person relay on the track, where runners race: 1200m (3/4 of a mile, or 3 laps), 400m (1 lap), 800m (2 laps), and 1600m (basically a mile, or 4 laps). For whatever reason, I opted to lead us off in the 1200m, to be followed by Lindsay in the 400m, Tom in the 800m, and Rolanda to finish off the race with the 1600m.

It should be noted, but we raced the DMR at the HOKA ONE ONE Brand Conference last year at this time, though I didn’t blog about it. The emotional turmoil I endured over the course of that short race still haunts me at night, but for you, my dear readers, I’ll provide a short recap.

Basically, us FSRs had crafted a world-class team to take on the sales reps and marketing teams; with phenomenal performances from Brandon Hosch in the 1200, Alex Kurt in the 400m, and Tom in the 800m, I was handed the baton in 2^nd place, ready to run the mile of my life. Two laps into the 4-lap race, I confidently passed into 1^st place with conviction, accelerating with the knowledge that us FSRs would win this race, affirming our superior strategic prowess and vO2 max potentials amongst the entire HOKA ONE ONE company.

As I entered my final lap, though, something was amiss: the spectators started screaming at me to run faster! By the confidence with which I passed the 1^st place runner, I knew there could be no way he was catching back up to me, but I started my kick 300m out, pumping my arms and legs like a bat out of hell. Somehow though, with only half a lap to go, I could feel someone creep up on my shoulder. There’s no way! I told myself, but glanced to my right, only to find…Craig Lutz.

Craig, a HOKA ONE ONE sponsored professional athlete, with a sub-4 mile to his name, was surreptitiously enlisted by the marketing team in a devious ploy to win the DMR. What was less running and more transcending the physical planes of our Earth, Craig put 100m on me in the blink of an eye. The velocity by which he passed me (and simultaneously shat on my ego) in those few milliseconds still torment me; if there’s any consolation, I was able to learn firsthand why I am not, and will never be, a sponsored athlete (also stoked Craig is part of HOKA!). With my ego shattered, I limply crawled my way to the finish line, securing first-last place for the FSRs, and instigating a crippling depression that’s lasted until this day…

~RACE DAY~

Up at well-before-sunrise, our unnamed and underhyped team made our way over to San Marcos High School’s track. After a laughable warmup, we learned we’d all have access to the new HOKA ONE ONE track spike, the Speed Evo R. Perhaps it was blind faith in the company I work for, or perhaps I’d run out of f*cks to give, but despite my horrendous track record of racing in spikes (blisters, injuries, having to poop, etc.), I opted to give them a shot.

With only enough time for a single stride, we were called to the start, provided directions (move legs, turn left, etc.), and lined up. As is typically my M.O., my expectations here were pretty minimal; I’d warned my team numerous times that my fitness was essentially nonexistent. 5-minute mile pace would have me through the 1200 at 3:45, so I made that a lofty goal; I’d literally not touched anything at that pace since last year’s DMR. 

Classic Kimura

A short whistle, and we were off; I quickly moved to the inside lane and fell in behind Brandon and Ian, focusing on staying relaxed and comfortable. I was honestly amazed how quickly my mind and body fell into a state of flow; I was very much racing myself here, but happened to sit comfortably in third place, and before I knew it, we were rounding the first lap in 68-69 seconds. I didn’t pay any heed to the fact that I was literally 6-7 seconds faster than I’d intended on being, and so short into the race, as I was still feeling smooth. Kimura had made a quick run for glory, but Brandon, Ian and I passed him early into the second lap, and we continued rolling at essentially the same pace through lap 2. 

Lots of cheering from the rest of my team/HOKA employees kept me in the game, and after another 69-second lap (although I didn’t know it at the time), I was on my last lap. Things started to shake up and I made a big push with 300m to go; I crept up on the shoulder of Brandon, but with 200m to go, both Brand and Ian started pulling away. At this point, my body was able to familiarize itself again with lactic acid, and as my form cramped up hella bad, Josh (Minnesota-based FSR) inched by me. After (subjectively) the longest 100m straightaway in history, I passed off to Lindsay in 4^th place, ecstatic with running a 3:25 1200m (roughly 4:35 mile pace). 

Would eventually get outkicked so hard by these two.

After that, the rest is history. Lindsay absolutely annihilated her 400m leg, splitting a 64 and putting us into 2^nd place. T-Hop shat all over his competition for a 2:12(!?) half mile – not bad for someone who threw up after a 5:15 mile a year and a half ago…Tom handed off to Rolanda in 1^st, but with Master’s Champ/Sports Marketing Director Mike McManus right on her heels. He followed her until 800m to go, then made a move that Rolanda was able to deftly match. Finally, with just a lap to go, Rolanda regained 1^st place, and despite Mike’s formidable/universally recognized old man strength, Rolanda was able to take the dub for the FSRs by mere milliseconds. 

#Paparazzi

I know I say this a lot, but I friggin’ love this company. Not just the product (of which I’m a definitive fanboy), but there really aren’t too many sales meetings that start with a 6:30am balls-out track race (and then culminating in a beer and marshmallow relay. Seriously. 4 people, 4 beers, 400m, and 4 marshmallows apiece. It should be noted, but I was also on the winning team here. Can you say ‘Common Denominator’?). 

College, this is what you were for...

Literally doing everything I could to not blow chunks...

This is somehow my job.

The stoke is real following the Brand Conference, and y’all best believe there are some hella dope HOKAs coming out soon. I’m also easing back into this racing thing, and am simply waiting on the photographic evidence before I inundate you with yet another race report on Leon’s Triathlon from just a couple weeks ago!

Illinois Half Marathon - 4/30/16

Last weekend, I raced the 13.1 mile distance down in Champaign at the Illinois Half Marathon, and finished in 1:15:30, (technically) a new PR. However, my official finishing time is listed nearly a minute and a half slower, at 1:16:56. How is that possible? Why the discrepancy? 

Poop. Lots and lots of poop.

Needless to say, this blog post isn’t for the squeamish. (Un)lucky for you, my poor followers, I lack any sort of self-consciousness (sorry Mom), so read on at your own risk to discover why some untimely doodoo butter robbed me of a somewhat decent time and place (also needless to say, but I'll be getting as creative as possible when referring to my own excrement). Enjoy...?

~

The usual pre-race days prior to the half ensued: work tirelessly to set up, then man, the HOKA ONE ONE booth at the expo, standing for 10-12 hours the day before the dance. Of course, this would be less-than-ideal if I were in anything but the cushioned moonboots that are Hokas, so I was able to go to bed Friday night, ready and eager to solidify a new PR at the 13.1 distance. 

See, my last half marathon (blog post) was most definitely short, and while I'd like to be able to say I've broken 75, that's not really the case (as I mentioned in that race's blog post, I'd put the effort at a high 1:15:XX had it been a full 13.1 and not 12.9). So in reality, anything under 80 would net me a "PR," though really, I just wanted to run hard and compete.

Waking up Saturday morning, though, I was in for a surprise. No, the poop stuff doesn't start here (although I wish it had). I opened my moth-eaten Super8 Motel's curtains to find torrential downpour. That may be an over-exaggeration, but it was definitely raining, and raining quite hard. Checking my weather app, I noticed that the 100% chance of rain would continue until about 6pm that day. Woof.

With 45 minutes before the race start, I downed a 5-Hour Energy, then drove the 10ish minutes over to U of I's campus and the start area for the Illinois Half Marathon. Because I'm lazy and hate the cold, I figured I'd save my energy for the race and forgo any sort of warm up, instead opting for the Porto-o-Potty line (and so it begins...). I didn't really HAVE to go, but I figured it'd be a good idea just in case, and a good way to kill some time before the 7am start. 

However, I either got into the worst possible line, or everyone was stricken with intense constipation, because, after standing in line for 20 minutes, I realized I wasn't going to be able to number 2 before the start of the race. Frustrated, I hopped out of line, sprinted over to the gear check to drop off my rain gear, then made it to the front of the starting line, with just a couple minutes to spare. There, I found Phil (who was insanely jealous of my sick kicks - Hoka One One Tracers are soooo dope), and we nervously shivered, trying to stay warm before the start.

Phil had crushed it here last year, running away with a 1:13ish and a top 5 finish. While I knew beating him was a long shot, I wanted to see how long I'd be able to keep him in my sight. But this cold downpour forced me to throw away any sort of goal time, and after a quick national anthem, we were off!

No way I'm paying $74 for this photo, even if I do look fly as hell...

Right off the bat, I didn't feel that great. I had to essentially close my eyes due to the rain pounding my face, and I settled into what felt like a manageable pace, sitting in about 15th. Phil took off with the lead pack, and despite telling myself to take it easy the first mile, I found myself splitting 5:30 for the opening mile.

Ain't no thang I told myself, settling in with two other runners. Settling in meant around 5:45-50 pace, which is what a mid-1:15 should look like, but I still wasn't feeling that great. I told myself it was due to the cold and rain and I hadn’t really warmed up yet, but it was right around mile 4 where I felt the first rumblings. Just a slight pressure on my lower abdomen, something that made each stride feel a little too jarring. Rolling through mile 4 and slowing down slightly, it dawned on me: I think I might have to poop. Maybe it was just some peristalsis, or perhaps some cereal that forgot to be digested the night before. I continued on, wary.

Dayummmm, Sam. Back at it again with the blue Hokas!

See, this is where I should have stopped. There were Porto-o-Potties every 1-2 miles, and an early pitstop would've made a huge difference, getting that out of the way early. But, I'm an idiot, and somehow assumed I could "run off" the need to defecate. But every step made it more and more apparent that there'd be no way I would finish this race with my bowels full of brown stuff. 

I slowed considerably miles 5, 6, and 7 as that meme of the kid soiling his pants flashed in my mind. Would that happen to me? Would I be the face of the new racer meme who shat his shorts mid-race? I couldn't come to terms with that, and so, despite rolling with a great group of runners, stopped right at mile 8 (thankfully at a Porto-o-Potty). There's good news and bad news to this first bathroom break: it was no more than 30 seconds wasted, but it definitely left some "unfinished business." Hopping out, I saw my pack not too far away, and started rolling high-5:30 pace to catch them, feeling marginally better but bummed I'd lost the time.

*Not me*

However, just a mile post-pooping, I felt it again. I wasn't sure whether this was a fart, a false-alarm, but some testing made it apparent that, no, this was not a drill. While mile 8 felt great, mile 9 was a slog, and had I not found a Porto-o-Potty at the mile 10 mark, someone's lawn would've been fertilized.

It was this pitstop that cost me, though it was unavoidable. I was able to completely evacuate my colon, dropping ALL the Cosby kids off at the pool, but when I emerged (what felt like 10 lbs lighter), I was roughly a minute back from where I should've been.

Maybe it was the fact that I wasn't carrying a digested bowling ball in my gut, or maybe it was the minute reprieve, but with just 3 miles to go, I felt good. I started rolling 5:30 pace, and cheering from Kyle (thanks for the pics) and Tony, as well as some pacing duties from Patrick for 1/2 mile, kept the ball rolling. 

Before I knew it, there was about a mile to go, and Phil was in sight! I kept running 5:30 pace, surprising myself by how easy it felt, and ever so slowly crept up on him. With less than a 1/2 mile to go, Phil glanced back at me, and I knew I wouldn't catch him, though I was able to finish ~3 second back, finishing fast, strong, and with PLENTY left in the tank (but thankfully not my rectum).

Consistent, I am not...

My official finishing time had me crossing the line at 1:16:56 for 10th place. However, having stopped my Garmin every time I used a Porto-o-Potty, my unofficial time had me right at 1:15:30, or a 5:44/mile average. I'm not sure what to call my PR, but I know that, had my body not decided to evacuate my entire colon, my 1:15:30 would've put me right in 4th place. It's a tough pill to swallow, but has me more motivated than ever to tackle some more PRs this summer. While I don't have another race for a while (thanks to an obscene amount of traveling in May), I'll be sure to keep you (Mom) posted on my future escapades (just hopefully without any more poop).

Tour de 5K (d'Avril)

So cold, but Hoka racing kit SO on fleek.

Woof. It’s been awhile since I’ve updated the ol’ blog, but not because I haven’t been racing. Au contraire, mon ami – I’ve been running more miles and races than I ever have in my life. I’ve just been lazy (correlation? Probably).

After the LA Marathon, I took some much needed time off (which, honestly, was primarily because Chicago in February is akin to Antarctica and the desire to freeze my nards off was strangely equal to the temp outside #zero). I hopped into a small trail 10K while I was in San Francisco for my cousin’s wedding in March, but you all never saw a race report from that because I’m still embarrassed about it (took 2nd place, losing it the last mile. First place prize was a rubber chicken. So much shame).

*Casually stealing this from Katie's 'gram*

But then April hit, and with it came slightly-above nard-freezing weather, and I went a little stir-crazy signing up for as many 5Ks as I could find. See, I suck at the 5K distance. If I pace it poorly, which I always do, it just leads to a slow and inevitable death. I’m not fast enough, and it’s usually just a sloppy 17-minute bath in lactic acid. The more I’ve been racing, the more I’ve seen a trend that if I excel at this running thing in any way, it’s at the longer distances. But racing something you suck at can be fun (in a pretty masochistic way), AND, I can race a 5K and hop back into training without hardly a hiccup.

Caught laughing hysterically at Ethan's faceplant.

And so, my three-5Ks-in-three-weeks started off on April 10th with the Downers Grove Mustang Trot 5K. And boy was this a rust-buster. Having not run anything near 5K race pace (which, really, who knows what that is at this point) and spending the entire 3 days before sitting behind the HOKAmobile’s windshield and consuming wayyy too many gummy bears, this race just plain sucked. Thankfully, fellow IWU-alum and stupidly-fast Fleet Feet runner Ethan Wood decided to join me, so we were both able to wallow in self-pity as we stood FREEZING on the start line (not only was it a torrential downpour on the drive over, but it had snowed the night before. Classic Chicago).

Hurling the rainbow in 3, 2, 1...

Despite a hilarious face-plant at the start of the race, Ethan took the win in an embarrassingly-easy fashion. I followed in a lumbering and wheezing mess, a full minute back in 17:15. I’ve still never thrown up from running, but I’ve never come as close as I did after this relatively slow, embarrassing trot (note: gummy bears don’t make for good carbo-loading).

Splits not bad, just slow as balls...

~
6 days and a bajillion miles logged in the HOKAmobile later, I found myself on the track, under the stadium lights, lined up against 20 collegiate athletes, at the Wheaton Twilight Invititation. DAFUQ.

Thanks to some connections in the CCIW, I was able to secure a spot as an unattached runner in the open 5K at the Wheaton Twilight, which just so happens to be the last race I ever ran on a track, 6 years ago to the day. Needless to say, this sufferfest was only ameliorated by cheering from TJ, Elise, their puppy, and all the dope Carthage College athletes I met visiting their team the night before. You’ll note in my splits below: this is how NOT to race (and embarrass yourself irrevocably) a 5K. Plus side: I was able to test out the new HOKA ONE ONE Rocket LD spikes, and they’re dope AF.

Thankfully there's no photographic evidence of this trainwreck, just a very embarrassing Strava link...

~

Finally, a week later, I’m at the Ravenswood 5K, just a mile from my house. After a brief warmup over to the race start, some chatting with all the Fleet Feet/New Balance teams (hey Bobby/Johanna/Tony/Kyle/Robby/Draths!), I settled into the pack, with literally zero expectations. I’d worked myself up over the last two races, and they’d been less than ideal. Plus, in usual fashion, I’d been working pretty nonstop the previous couple days, I felt like I was still physically/mentally recovering from the suckfest that was last weekend’s 5K, and I definitely ate way too much Reeses Puffs the night before. So without a real goal and splits I was aiming for, I kinda just went out there and competed.

All I want to do is watch Judge Faith at 5:30PM...

And it worked! Focusing on relaxing the first mile, gaining ground on the second, and leaving everything left out on the roads the third, I was able to execute a nearly perfectly-paced race, despite not really checking my watch at all. Not only was I never passed, but in almost catching the NB guy ahead of me, I was able to run a (technically) PR in 16:34, or a 5:17/mile average. I say technically because, while I had won a Turkey Trot 5K last year in 15:57, it was by no means 3.1 miles (maybe barely just 3), and my Garmin confirms that the Ravenswood 5K course is legit (2L2Q). Racing in the new HOKA ONE ONE Tracers was a blast, as these shoes really are da (. Y .), and dropping 45 seconds over the last 3 races has been pretty confidence-boosting.

That spike right after 2 miles? Running past FF Lincoln Square and hearing the cheers from the awesome staff there!

And to finish off this whirlwind of a month, I’ll be heading down to Champaign next weekend for the Illinois (Half) Marathon. I’ve opted for the 13.1 distance, as it’s something more in my wheelhouse (and 3 marathons in 6 months kinda beat me up a little bit). Pray I’m not too lazy next weekend and you should get a race report from that ay sap!

LA Marathon - 2/14/16

Compared to previous marathon-distance races last year (re: Ironman Madison, Chicago Marathon), I actually had more than a week notice for the LA Marathon, meaning I could potentially train for this race (a funny concept, huh).

While my training has been going fairly well, evinced by recent success at last month’s Polar Dash 13.1  (blog post here: http://samwelchruns.blogspot.com/2016/01/chicago-polar-dash-131-1916.html), I’m a lazy bum who’d rather run 6 miles hard than 18 slow and endure these sub-zero  Chicago temps any more than I have to. And so, in this buildup for the LA Marathon on February 14th, my “long run” prior to the race was…that Polar Dash 13.1. Add that onto the fact that LA would be roughly 80 degrees warmer than Chicago, with exponentially more hills (I’ll be lucky to gain/lose 5 ft. over the course of a run on the Lakefront Path), and a placement into the Open Corral (or, behind the stroller moms shooting for a sub-6 hour finish), I went into this marathon the same as I’d done the races prior: with zero expectations.

Beats Chicago in mid-February, that's for sure...

Luckily, I was able to fly out to Los Angeles a couple days before the race, thanks to HOKA ONE ONE allowing me to work the expo the days prior. Soaking up the anticipation from the expo, then the excitement from the Olympic Marathon Trials (and not to mention the vitamin D from that big bright ball of light in the sky. What’s that thing called again?), I devoured a massive plate of Mexican food the night before, definitely not ready for that 3am alarm.

Staying in an Airbnb in Santa Monica, I was able to simply walk over to the shuttles bussing everyone over to Dodger Stadium, the start of the race. I’ve never raced a point-to-point marathon before (or any distance, really), which makes for: 1. An exciting and mentally-stimulating race; and 2. An incredibly inconvenient start, where I huddled freezing behind the port-o-potties for 2.5 hours (my fault for not bringing pants, California’s fault for being so cold).

As the start of the race drew closer, I decided to leave the wind-shelter-slash-undead-aroma of the port-o-potties for the start line, only to discover a veritable wall of human bodies. Start corrals definitely exist for a reason, so you can understand my frustration, after having emailed the race director/verbally assaulted the bib giver-outer/pitifully begged an employee of the LA Marathon itself, that I was stuck in the Open Corral. I understand that some blame lies on myself for signing up for this race after the corral placement deadline, but c’mon people, it’s downright stupid to have someone racing 6-minute miles starting behind and trying to pass people racing 12-minute miles.

And by racing, I mean walking. I couldn’t believe it when, crossing the starting line, the “runners” around me were starting their own race with a slow, meandering crawl (I’m sorry if I’m being overly insensitive here, but just writing about this is dredging up some pretty irksome memories). I’m generally not an angry person, and I’m definitely not one to yell f-bombs at my fellow runners, by my goodness was it frustrating literally running into and over people, trying to move faster than my grandparents on their casual Sunday morning stroll.

This first mile was honestly what my personal hell would be like, running four steps before coming to a complete stop, then taking two more strides before barreling down a 70-year old legacy runner. My Strava data doesn’t even show the half of it, but somehow, miraculously, I made it through that first mile “on pace.” Despite hitting my goal of ~6 minutes per mile, though, it was definitely a fartlek more akin to 5-minute mile effort. But getting out of Dodger Stadium, I was able to run on the nearby sidewalks, bypassing the masses, worth running some extra distance if it meant not dodging and weaving every other step.

Despite a horrendously frustrating first 1-2 miles, I was able to spend the next 20 or so passing people. Physically passing other runners has always been such a mental boost for me, so to be able to do so for such a long distance was perhaps the only benefit to such an unfortunate start. Pacing was akward, though; in retrospect, it probably would’ve been nice to be able to run with a group of fellow runners also shooting for a sub-2:40.

I guess it’s worth mentioning that a sub-2:40 was my tentative lofty most-likely-not-likely goal going into the LA Marathon. I knew I could take down my 2:48 from Chicago by virtue of not eating 16 Clif bars the night prior, but my lack of long runs made any definite goal very indefinite. Also worth mentioning: the rest of us HOKA ONE ONE tech reps have a little bet going. We’ve all put in $100, and whoever runs the fastest marathon before our next sales meeting (early May) wins all. The fastest PR put up by a rep had been a 2:45, so I knew it would take at least as fast as that to win this; I would be the first to race a marathon after making this bet though, and setting the standard for the rest. Anyways, back to the race...

As has been the case for the majority of my past races, I made it a priority to not check any of my mile splits, but more ran on effort. I knew a marathon was a long race, and by now, having raced 4-7 (depending on whether you include those trail 50Ks and 26.2-mile walk at the end of that Ironman), found it best to consistently feel not-great, but making sure there’s enough in the tank to make it to the finish. It’s not a very scientific method, but it’s worked relatively well in the past, and really, there’s no guaranteed way to race 26.2 miles. It’s gonna suck no matter what. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I’ll be sure to post my Strava data below, but rolling at what felt like marathon effort should be turned out to be around 6:20 pace, at least for the first half. It was definitely hot during this section, though I was pouring water on myself more than actually drinking any; I also took a gel right at 13.1, something (believe it or not) I’ve never done during a marathon before. Maybe it helped? I think? Who knows.

Net downhill? Awww chyeah!

What I do know, though, is that these hills really started beating me up. Many had warned me of the hills: these large sections of road that went up and down in gradient and that we don’t really have here in Chicago. Thankfully I was wearing Hokas, but those can only help so much, and my pace definitely lagged on some of the steeper uphills. I started to run scared around mile 15 (scared I wouldn’t be able to finish at this pace), then ran confident from 18-21, then back to terrified 22-onwards. Right around 20 I stopped passing people and started running alongside them, and definitely started pumping my arms more (a sign, since having put on a modicum of muscle mass, that my legs were tiring and needed every ounce of effort to propel myself forward).

Again, you’ll note in the Strava data that miles 23 to the finish were all downhill, something that I was definitely thanking the race directors for midrace. When it came to having only 5K left to race, though, something strange (and honestly quite terrifying) happened that’s never happened before. Trying to throw in a surge and dip below 6-flat pace, my throat closed up. All of a sudden, it felt as if I were breathing through a straw, and I was forced to slow down, which fixed the problem. Of course, my body was quite fine with slowing down, but I was at the same time frustrated my breathing was holding me back, as it’s rarely the issue while I’m racing.

I guess it's consistent..?

It happened twice more, both when I really tried to throw down some fast running; slowing down and breathing through my nose helped, and it was later confirmed through talking with others that the pollution in LA could very well have been the issue. Regardless, I was able to throw down at least one sub-6 at the end there, and the crowds along the final ½ mile were pretty incredible. That final stretch was interminable, helped from some cheering from Lindsay, whom I’d met working at the LA Marathon expo. Never have I heard someone scream louder, and I’m pretty sure it provided a surge of adrenaline brought on by sheer terror.

Crossing the finish line was, is, and forever will be, the greatest feeling. I had no idea what my finishing time was, as I’d started so far back from the actual gun time (turns out, it was roughly 7 minutes). I was able to meet up with the Los Angeles Hoka tech rep Christian right at the finish, and he confirmed that I’d finished at 2:43:5X; ecstatic yet hating life, he helped me limp over to the beer tent, where I proceeded to continue feeling sick and nursed some Gatorade instead.

The race was a PR, with the official finishing time right at 2:43:59. This is fantastic, only because I can say I ran 2:43; this sucks, because I know I can run faster, and now want that sub-2:40 even more. Interestingly enough, I’d (somewhat jokingly) told a friend that I thought I could finish in the top 50, with all the actual good runners racing the Trials the day prior: 26^th place overall was quite the surprise (as was 2^nd in my age group).

(Insert 'Not Bad' meme here)

I’m writing this 3 weeks post-race, mainly because I’m lazy. But also because I needed a little break from the whole marathon thing; I was pretty wiped out, and while I didn’t miss a day (don’t worry, my streak continues), I definitely took it easy jumping back into training. However, I’m feeling good now, and actually hopping into a little trail half marathon this upcoming weekend while out in San Francisco for my cousin’s wedding! Let’s hope I don’t take 20+ days to write that report…

Getting to hang with this girl was pretty cool, too.

P.S. My 2:43 was officially the fastest time in our tech rep bet for approximately 2 weeks; Brandon went on to run a 2:37 just last weekend, setting the bar pretty high (low? Uhhh…). And so, yes, I’ll be racing another marathon in a last-ditch effort to beat that time, in just over 6 weeks at the Illinois Marathon down in Champaign.

P.P.S. Sorry for the lack of racing photos - dat ish is expensive and I looked pretty gross in all of them.

Icebreaker Indoor Marathon Relay - 1/30/16

*Fire Emoji*

When Mark, owner of Fleet Feet Brookfield, asked me if I wanted to join the Fleet Feet Racing Team in their attempt for the dub at the Icebreaker Indoor Marathon Relay, I blindly yet eagerly accepted.

My ignorant enthusiasm quickly turned to apprehension, then to dread, as it soon dawned on me what we would be attempting. I hadn’t run on an indoor track since my IWU days, and those weren’t necessarily pleasant memories. On top of that, we’d be attempting a pace that I’d normally struggle to maintain for 2 miles; with 4 of us going for 26.2, that would mean I’d likely expect to run a total of 6ish miles at that pace. Woof.

~

The morning of the Icebreaker Indoor Marathon Relay had me up well before dawn, as technically I was also working this event (did I mention I have the coolest job in the world?). Chugging coffee, fitting runners in Hokas, drinking coffee, selling shoes, sipping coffee, chatting with runners, and downing some more coffee, I spent the better part of the morning fulfilling my duties as local HOKA ONE ONE tech rep while internally fReAkInG oUt about my impending doom, drowning that fear with probably-way-too-much coffee.

I had no idea who the other 3 members of my team were, only that their running accolades far exceeded what paltry times I’ve been able to jog recently. Mark had alluded to how fast these other guys were, casually mentioning PRs that made it seem like I’ve been running with a peg leg my whole life. There were no delusions as to who the weakest link was on this team; it was only my goal to not embarrass the rest of my team too much.

About 30 minutes before the start of the race, the rest of the Fleet Feet Racing Team showed up, consisting of Martin, Tim, and Jake. And while they would certainly live up to/surpass their projected potentials, they were also the nicest bunch of dudes to run with, making the whole race infinitely better than what it could have been. But I digress from the suckage that was to come.

Because the race was to take place around an indoor ice skating rink, it was downright chilly on the track. After a brief 5 minutes of warmup in jackets/gloves, we sat down to discuss our gameplan. The nature of a marathon relay is pretty unique: with 4 runners, we can determine how far/often we “handoff” to a teammate, until 26.2 miles are completed. We were running on a track larger than your traditional outdoor track – 3.75 laps to the mile, but with only 3 lanes. And a “handoff” to a teammate consisted of coming to a complete stop off the side of the track, taking off your ankle sensor, and strapping it onto the ankle of your next teammate. So in an ideal and perfect handoff, you’re losing 5-6 seconds to transition. More often than not, though, 10-12 seconds would be wasted fumbling with this Velcro straps, trying to remain calm yet be as efficient as possible.

Martin was volunteered by the rest of us to start, and the tentative plan going in was for him and me to switch off every 4 laps for the first 13ish miles, then have Tim and Jake finish off the last 13ish. This way, we wouldn’t become too cold waiting between reps, taking 5ish minutes between each session, and the race would end up looking more like a mile repeat workout than anything. However, spoiler alert: this plan went out the window within the first 15 minutes.

With 95 teams running on this 3-lane track, the start was jam-packed, but when the starting gun went off, Martin jumped into the lead, pulling away from nearly everyone within the first lap. This of course terrified me, because I would be following Martin, and would someone have to keep our lead. So, after 4 laps, we made our awkward exchange, and I was off!

Racing in a T-shirt? Whaaa?

Maybe it was the adrenaline, the fear of disappointing my teammates, the number of runners jogging around the track, or the inhuman amount of coffee I consumed over the course of that morning, but I took off sprinting that first lap. It’s hard to judge your pace when you’re literally passing everyone and vibrating with caffeine, but I definitely did what my teammate Tim told me not to do, which was go out too fast. 26.2 miles is a long ways to go, and although I was undoubtedly the weakest leg on the team, I was still a leg, and you need those to run well. I definitely started feeling it the last lap of my rep, realizing I probably pushed it a bit too much for my first mile(ish), so when Martin came by 4 laps later, I was kindly encouraged to just run 3 laps, which made a world of difference.

Martin and I switched off for the first 30ish minutes – with 95 laps to the ‘thon, I quickly lost count of how far we were, and simply focused on running fast. Thankfully, our sensor kept track of how many laps we’d completed, and we soon learned who our main competitors were, simply based on who else was running as fast as we were. Performance Running Outfitters (PRO) was not too far behind us, followed closely by Berkeley Running Company, and we made it our mission to maintain our lead over them. It became an interesting game, noting when and how often the other teams rotated their runners, and frankly, it helped pass the time while staying competitive. 

Probably 45 minutes in, we started to slowly introduce our other two runners, Tim and Jake. They were probably the fastest runners on the whole track, and throwing them into the mix really solidified our 1^st-place standing. The initial goal was to win – taking the dub last year meant running a ~2:18, or about 5:15 pace/mile. However, when Tim and Jake started throwing down some nasty (in a good way) splits, there became talk of going for a course record. While one of us was running, the rest of us were looking up results from previous years on an iPhone, and the fastest time we could find was a 2:12. And based on how fast we were running, it looked like it may be doable.

Again, it was a weird way to race, and I know I definitely lost track of time. However, Martin and I were quickly becoming fatigued, and Tim and Jake’s segments lengthened, while Martin and I started throwing in some 2- and 1-lap legs. I really enjoyed these, blasting them as fast as I could go, dodging and weaving through the other runners. At some point I must’ve been spiked by another runner, because I remember finishing a rep and looking down, only to find blood trailing down my calf.

But the adrenaline was pumping, and we were nearing the finish. We’d lapped both PRO and Berkeley Running Company, so now it was more a race against time, and Tim was sure we could run a sub-2:10. As the race announcer started counting down our laps for us on the arena speaker, we soon found ourselves with 8 laps to go, and agreed we’d all just start sprinting 1-lap reps until the finish.

For some reason, we had some trouble doing some very simple math – we’d wanted Martin to be the finishing leg of the race, considering he’d put in the most work and deserved a bit of the recognition. I was meant to go before him, but upon getting my ankle sensor strapped on, the announcer’s voice boomed across the loudspeaker: AND THE FLEET FEET RACING TEAM IS ON THEIR LAST LAP! Uh oh.

I threw down everything I had, pumped up by the cheers from other teams along the way, and gritting my teeth through the lactic acid, sprinted across the finish line (in some downright terrible form, I must add). But, we finished in a record-setting time of 2:09:33, three minutes faster than the previous record and nearly 5 minutes faster than second place. What's crazy to think about post-race, though, is that we ended up averaging 4:57 pace over those 95 laps. Accounting for 5-10 seconds of "transition" time, we ended up running significantly faster than I ever would've expected (again, all thanks to a baller team).

Totally spent, we begrudgingly limped our way onto the podium and grimaced for some photos with our medals and the 1^st place trophy, something that gets to stay with Fleet Feet Brookfield until next year’s race (spoiler alert: we’re planning on keeping it there. Can you say sub-2 for next year?). We all laughed at the notion of a cooldown, instead flopping onto the floor and devouring a few-too-many cookies.

I’m writing this recap 4 days post-race, and my calves are still sore. Turns out, racing on an indoor track for the first time since college can really mess you up. But confidence is still high as I start my taper for LA, now just 10+ days away! 

Chicago Polar Dash 13.1 - 1/9/16

Sometimes, without any reasonable explanation, races just click. Whether it’s a good night’s sleep (nope) or incorporating a vegetable into a healthy diet (never), a runner can only hope for those rare days where running just seems easy.

I had no reason to expect a decent race at this past Saturday's Chicago Polar Dash 13.1, seeing as I’d spent the previous two weeks barely running, definitely not sleeping, and spending much of my waking life behind the windshield of the HOKAmobile. Minus a fast-finish long run on Christmas Day (fueled by the copious amount of cookies consumed the night prior), I had little confidence going into this half marathon that I could hit my goal of 75 (5:43/mile), much less break 80 (6:06/mile, the pace I’m hoping to maintain x2 at next month’s LA Marathon).

A PR, though, seemed feasible, considering my last attempt was back in 2012(!!) in a dismal and untrained (and just plain fat) 1:22 (6:17/mile). Based solely on my base developed these past 365 days (see last blog post!), I figured I’d start the Polar Dash at 6:00/mile, then see what would happen from there. Plus, this time I was wearing Hokas:)

~

The race itself was unseasonably warm, but still downright cold (mid-30s) and misty – pretty ideal running conditions for me. I’d opted for a t-shirt, a rare occurrence in Sam Welch racing history, and can honestly say I regret it, having definitely gotten a bit too hot throughout the race. I started the race front and center, and after the starting gun went off, found myself in the lead within the first minute of the race. Spoiler alert: that never changed. 

Thankfully, the pace bike ahead of me provided a good target to pace off of, and after rolling through the first mile in 5:45, told myself to ease it back to 6-flat. When I came through the next 3 miles all in 5:45, I said eff it and kept rolling, knowing that I had a buffer on 80 minutes.

The course itself can’t be considered hilly, but definitely had more undulations than I’d been training on (despite being on the Lakefront Path, just further south). Miles 4-7 were definitely the most difficult, but hitting the turnaround point was a huge mental boost, as was passing all the other racers making their way out. I’m convinced it was the cheering during the Chicago Marathon that led me to my current PR, and it was the cheering on the course Saturday that really forced me to realize how much fun I was having.

Of course, this was short lived, as I was getting tired AF and developing a MASSIVE blister on my right foot. Telling myself to run in a fast last 5K, I managed to just barely maintain my 5:45 pace (race splits below). Weirdly, the mile markers on the course were spot on, according to my Garmin watch; however, the last mile came out of nowhere, and definitely seemed to be a bit short. So despite a surprised and abbreviated kick, I finished 1^st overall in an official time of 1:14:23. 

Honestly, I’d put this effort at a high-75, so I’m going to hesitate on ticking this (sub-75) off my bucket list. But, I’m definitely in better shape than I thought, or have ever been in my life. To put this race into perspective, 5:45 was my race average for 8K in college; Saturday, I managed that for 13(ish) miles, and it felt relatively easy. I’ve got a couple more short races (indoor marathon relay in 2 weeks, 5-mile trail race in 3), and a far-fetched goal of running my birthday miles on the 22^nd. But, the Chicago Polar Dash 13.1 bodes well for my big race, the LA Marathon, on February 14^th!

NO DAYS OFF - 2015

The above photo would at first appear to be a testament to my weird fetish with order, numbers, or that fleeting-yet-tantalizing rush of getting to cross something off a to-do list. Instead, upon closer inspection, you’ll notice that this unique poster is in fact a calendar, with 365 numbers to represent every day of every month of 2015. I’d started the year with a lofty goal – to run on every one of those days, rain or shine, no matter what. No days off. And while those 365 red Xs may represent 365 days of consecutive running, the 267 hours and 52 minutes spent putting one foot in front of the other, the 2,290 miles covered over the course of 448 runs, it’s what can’t be quantified that makes this achievement so gratifying.

~

In December of 2014, I was stressed out, tired, and just plain out of shape (unless you count fat as a shape). I was in the throes of my first year of teaching high school, and while my sole purpose of moving out to Colorado Springs was to better my running, my homework, lesson plans, and excuses all piled up (as did the el bees).

Thankfully, thanks to some late night Facebook stalking/cookie consumption, I stumbled across a status update: someone had managed to run for the past year without missing a day. Having been at a serious level of training, I scoffed at her sappy musings of how those runs changed her, and how difficult it was at times, but how it’s all paid off blah blah blah (don't worry, I get the irony here). What irked me the most, though, was that she wasn’t even that great of a runner! I mean, I may have been tipping the scales of the BMI, but I still knew what it took to train hard and get fit. If SHE could run every day for a year, well, why couldn’t I?

Literally just days into 2015 though, I very quickly remembered why I hadn’t been running for the past 3 months. Teaching required me leaving my house no later than 6am, getting me to school by 6:30 to get ready for a 7am start to the day. If I wanted to eat breakfast, shower (not mandatory) and wear clothes (very mandatory), I had to be totally done running and stretching by 5:30am. Which meant, if I wanted to get in a minimum of 30 minutes of running, I had to be out my door by 4:50am. Which meant setting my alarm for 4:30am every morning. In January. (Interestingly enough, by the time I left Colorado, those morning runs were still being done in pitch darkness.)

The first month sucked, hard. Every run was a struggle, and I was still tired and miserable all the time. The second month wasn’t much better physically, but became easier mentally, more habitual than anything. The third month found me in a rhythm, and soon I was signing up for local races, remembering why I was doing this in the first place.

I can't not mention those days. Where I was too tired, too sore, too in-the-mood-to-play-videogames-and-eat-Poptarts. There are 365 stories there, each red X a different route or mood or agenda. In January, I ran at 11pm on a treadmill while on a skiing vacation in Keystone, sitting at 10,000 ft. March, my car broke down, and I ran to/from school almost every day, toting a backpack with my teaching attire. In May, I broke my collegiate 5K PR, then did so again in November. I raced 7 times in 6 weeks, culminating in a new best time at the Chicago Marathon and a week of DEFINITELY being injured but limping one slow, pathetic mile to keep the streak going (1 mile was the minimum, and made up ~7 days of the 365). In a blizzard in Milwaukee this past December, I stopped into a coffee shop to change into my running gear to do several laps around the block, earning my X for the day. I raced my first Ironman, met some new (and fast) friends, and ate more Clif Bars than any human should ever consume in their entire life.

My biggest realization this past year, though, has been just how easy this was. With 24 hours in a day, it’s impossible NOT to find ½ an hour to fit in for some running. Sometimes that means laps around the airport, or running just minutes after leaving the hospital, or stopping in a cornfield in Wichita, Kansas to log some miles. Obviously, these past 365 days of running have improved my endurance, and a massive shout-out has to go to HOKA ONE ONE. As a runner severely prone to injuries in high school and college, I know there’s no way I could’ve managed the past year running in anything but the superior shoe that is Hoka (shameless plug FTW).

Perhaps the most common question I’ve received since starting this journey, though, is: what are you going to do once 2015 is over? Well, hopefully this next picture answers that:

Obviously, I'd totally recommend this little experiment. The poster is a nice little reminder every day, and it's totally free (you just pay like, $2 for shipping: https://www.tracksmith.com/products/no-days-off-calendar)

And below, you’ll find my tentative agenda for the 2016 year. Obviously, lots more running (and blogs!) to come:)

January 13^th – Chicago Polar Dash 13.1

January 30^th – Icebreaker Indoor Marathon Relay (Team of 4)

February 6^th – Subzero 5-Mile 

February 14^th – LA Marathon

March 20^th – March Madness 13.1

April 4^th – Shamrock Shuffle 8K

April 30^th – Illinois Marathon