Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Not Everything Sucks in Kansas - The Oz Marathon

I'm so glad it's over.  For a solid two weeks before my marathon I was nervous. Not the butterflies in the belly, palms sweaty nervous, but the, I hope all this work wasn't for nothing, I'm going to be super pissed at myself, be personally disappointed and go back to drinking, nervous.  Part of my nervousness stems from the fact that I put so much emphasis on this particular race.  Last year, I set my PR at this race and this year had geared my marathon training toward qualifying for Boston 2012.  I don't know how else to explain it but imagine you have been practicing anything, barbequing, piano playing, public speaking, for a year and then you have one chance to prove that all that training was worth it; that is what I was trying to do.

I got out of bed around 5:00am that morning.  That is paperboy early and I haven't seen 5:00am since I didn't go to bed, not because I was just waking up.  I am as anal as a proctologist when it comes to my prerace routine so needless to say, I had my race gear laid out, all my accessories in the right place, and while I budgeted myself 30 minutes to get ready, it took me about 15 minutes.  I was out the door and on my way to QuikTrip to for my pre-race drink. I had already downed a banana and two multivitamins (I don't know if the vitamins work but an ultra runner I read about does it and he's fast so why not) and got my RockStar.  It's the sugar-free white can, I have to watch my figure.  My intention is not to drink it all, but to take a couple swallows and get a bit of the caffeine into me as a slight pick me up. After my forty five minute drive, I pulled into a parking spot and realized it was too damn early to start warming up so I had to sit and fidget.  Most people in the parking lot had the same idea so we all just sat there trying not to make eye contact because God forbid we have to acknowledge each other. 

The conditions were mixed at best for an ideal marathon (probable excuse 1).  It was cold, not cool before the race, 37 degrees to be exact and windy as all get out. Literally, looking out my windows you would have thought we were in a storm.  30 mile per hour winds with gusts up 40 were expected and based on what I was seeing it was going to be brutal (probable excuse 2). Running in the wind is basically like running up hill and as one of the pace guys would tell me later, "the wind isn't bad as long as you run faster when it's behind you." Easier said than done smart ass.  Well, after getting through my routine, jogging, stretching, peeing, listening to GirlTalk, I went back to my car and dropped off my clothes, tore off my 3:00:00 pace band and went with the 3:10:00 band solo.  I had trained for a 3:10:00 and decided to keep a sharp focus. By now I was good and ready and headed out to the start line. 

I like to represent the Cape Girardeau when I race, so I was sporting the short orange shorts, and black tank top (both from Eastbay I love that magazine still). I was sporting a long sleeve white shirt for warmth, black gloves, and matching orange head band. Two points to note here: headbands are a plus in almost any endeavor, nothing gives that final touch of pizazz as a matching headband. 2. Short shorts should only be worn if you are fast.  If you are slow, it allows the spectators more time to make fun of you and makes it much more likely that your junk might make an appearance.  Luckily for me, I am fast and my junk is properly stowed away during races.

Starting lines are like speed dating, you have to find a partner and have about 30 seconds to do it. I knew they weren't going to have a pacer for my goal time 3:10:00 but I figured I could hook up with the 1:35:00 half marathon pacer and run with that group. During my chat with the smart ass 1:30:00 marathon pacer he told me that the 1:35:00 pacer had dropped out (probable excuse 3).  This is when I just start talking to all the dudes around me and ask them what times they were hoping to run. It took about one minute to find two guys who wanted to run 3:10 and they were both hoping to qualify for Boston as well. Sweet action! Unfortunately, one minute later they told me they were going to try to run even pace.  That means running a 7:15 mile the whole time. I am not a believer in this practice and you shouldn't be either. I run a smart pace, meaning I go out in a slow first mile and use the next two to get up to the speed I want to run.  This helps to burn less energy early and stores the needed energy in my muscles for later.

To speed this post along, I passed the first guy hoping to run a 3:10 at mile 4. He was already breathing heavy and I could tell if he was laboring with his breathing then, he was in for some trouble. I passed the second guy a few miles later and he tried to keep up but faded fairly quickly as well.  There are no friends during races, I feel bad when you know someone is not going to make their time but you shouldn't let it hold you back when you put in so much work.   Around mile nine I was getting really close to the 1:30 half group.  That is good and bad. Good because I was breathing easy and felt strong but bad because that is about five minutes faster than I had intended.  At this point I made a strong mental decision.  I was going to keep my pace at that rate as long as I could and not look at my watch until mile 18.  As the ongoing conversation took place in my head, because I had no one to run with and I consider myself a good listener, I rationalized that at the 18 mile mark I would be 8 miles out and could have a good idea of what was ahead.  Most distance runners give themselves milestones or posts to gauge themselves, sometimes it's only to the next street, sometimes it after then next ten miles, you just have to break it up.

At mile 18.25 I was at 2:04:50 which is a 6:51 per mile pace.  My confidence level was particularly high at this moment because the marathon is an out and back from when we split with the halfers.   This meant every step from there on out, is one step closer to the finish line. Again, I made the mental choice to not look at my watch until mile 22.  Four miles left would be when I decide if I'm going to go for broke and try to sub 3 hours, or if that was not going to happen.  At four miles left, I had a little less than 30 minutes to run for it.  I got to two miles left and had less than 15 minutes to go. With one mile left I took off my white, long sleeve shirt.  Let's be real here, looking good is as important as finishing good, plus the volunteers at most races pick up all the discarded clothes and donate them to charity.  Double Rainbow!  I was doing good and looking good.

With one mile left I had a little less than seven minutes to sub 3 hours.  You might be saying, "Ben you are golden."  Well, we had been running in the wooded suburbs for the past twelve miles and was at least partially sheltered from the wind. Not anymore. I was greeted by a fierce head wind saying, "Ha, ha, ha. You didn't think it would be this easy did you?" My visions of grandeur were blow away but not my sense of happiness.  I passed the 26 mile marker and could see the finish line.  The two guys I could see in front of me had just finished.  I could see my wife and kids standing by the finishing shoot cheering for me.  With about a mile left I had ideas of blowing them kisses, doing a cartwheel, or screaming at the top of my lungs. I did none of those.  Why wife was yelling, "You did it" and I was so happy.  I crossed the line, stopped my watch, and pumped my fist.  I might as well let you in on this side of it too.  When I staggered over to the finishing plaza I started to cry. Ruby would tell you the only time she has seen me cry is after a race and I shed some tears on this one.  Emily gave me a big hug and said, "you better call your Dad, he's called me like two times." Not surprising, next to my wife, he's my biggest fan.

I ran into another friend who came down to watch the finish but was a bit too late.  He could have cared less he was so stoked when I told him my finishing time.  3:01:39.  A new PR and a new title that I can take with me to my grave. Boston Marathon Qualifier.

Monday, April 11, 2011

A Lesson in Total Domination

Two weeks into the young season and our first smack down was issued.  When referencing my daughter's 5 year old soccer games I like to use adjectives like beat down, whooping, throttling, and massacre as often as possible. It provides the proper context for the level of play that I think all non-competitive, youth soccer teams should strive for. This Saturday the Yellow Bugs showed the Purple Polka Dots who was boss.

Fast forward to the end and the final score read 6-1.  While the disappointment in giving up the one goal was heavy on my shoulders, they weight was made easier by Susie and Ruby's dual hat tricks.  I have seven girls on my team and only three can play at a time. In an effort to be fair to other teams, I don't put Ruby and Susie on the field at the same time. Ruby is fast and very aggressive.  Susie has the foot-skills of an armless Brazilian and has moves straight out of HOT 103 JAMS!  Together they are like Magic and Kareem, Usher and Bieber, Peanut Butter and Jelly, so good separately but hot damn, amazing together.

The best part of the match was how much better the other five girls are getting.  Annie is my defensive stopper.  When she is out there, she just runs to the back and lets no one get by her it hysterical, I don't even tell her, she does it on her own.  Avery and Chloe are my twin towers and both are getting better but I have to teach them to be more aggressive and realize they aren't going to hurt anyone.  Maggie and Mackenzie are my gentle bugs.  One was crying at the start of the practice but was smiling by the end.  The other started running during the games and almost, almost got a goal.  I have set a personal challenge to get all seven girls a goal by the end of the season. I was so close a couple times on Saturday but we will get there.  The trick it is to put Ruby and Susie in at the same time and tell them to go get the ball, dribble to the goal and them somehow get them to pass it to the other girl. They have this scoring thing down, now they just need to learn how to share.

Coaching - teaching life lessons while kicking ass!

Monday, April 4, 2011

From Pink Elephants to Yellow Bugs

Alas the Spring soccer is upon us and we kicked off the new season with a new name.  Since, having a team name is one of my top tips to a successful under 5 team establishing the name early is important. In the fall we went with "Pink Elephants" due to the remarkable coincidence that our jerseys were pink and had elephants on them. Surprisingly, our jerseys are yellow with lady bugs on them so shockingly we are now the "YELLOW BUGS"!!!

I have mentioned this before, but I grade my coaching performance on a couple of ultra analytical measures requiring various algorithms and non-differential linear equations.  The first being how many kids came back.  We had seven girls, including my own, on the team in the fall.  We have all seven, including my own (as much as she would want to go elsewhere) back on the team again.  Success!  Honestly, I don't think it says much about the success or failure of my coaching abilities but I think it speaks to the communication I try to keep with the parents and the amount of fun I try to bring to every game and practice we have.

If you are an overly competitive jerk (I am a recovering competitive jerk) and base success on wins and losses then this season is off to a smashing start.  We played the only team that beat us last year. They have a couple of kids with the foot skills to do step overs and half garrinchas while maintaining possession and kicking while they are running.  For most of my girls keeping the ball close and being able to shield the defender away is a small feat.  Well, that was last year.  Now, almost all my girls and maintain possession and I have two that can actually out run defenders while they are dribbling.  Pretty sweet action!  Anyway, my little one was able to put two in the back of the net and my pocket Ace, Suzie, was able to make four goals.  Four goals, hell one was practically a half volley that went in the goal in the air.  That's amazing considering 95% of the kids at this age can't kick the ball off the ground unless by accident. 

The only downside to the start of this year was that some of the parents didn't recognize me without my luscious locks (see lasts years pic)


On the whole my new look lends to a bit more credibility and probably gives the parents more reassurance in who is leading their kids.

Here is to another great season for the Yellow Bugs!