Tuesday, May 08, 2007

Da Goat

Another Mountain Goat is in the books. Thank you to all the volunteers who made it all happen. It has already been said by others and will be repeated often: Without them there would be no Goat. Last year, due to injury, I and my family manned a water stop. It was a memorable experience and the only opportunity I get to see the front runners motor by. If all of us runners volunteered to help one race a year, it would be an awesome way to pay back the running community. We are a community, after all, aren't we? Now, if I could just pick a race that I can help at and not run in ...

Big props to the city of Syracuse for closing down the roads. That is such a nice thing to do for all the runners. We really do appreciate the extra measure of safety that provides. I'd like to stop at each intersection and say "Thanks" but that just isn't practical. It wouldn't effect my overall time all that much, however ;-)

Here are just a few random thoughts that haven't escaped me yet:
  • If asked pre-race what your time goal is and if you need use the word "hope" while replying, you probably aren't going to reach your goal. On race day, you get out what you put in during the previous several months (or more) of training. On race day you will know what you are capable of. It isn't a matter of hope, it is a matter of training. That is the great thing about running. You can't BS your way to a good race.

    When asked pre-race what my goal time was, I replied "I hope to be below 90 minutes". See above.

  • When out on the course, don't judge those in front of you. They are in front of you, after all. When you see a runner in front of you who is wearing ill-fitting cotton clothes and looks ready to fall over dead from exertion, don't make any rash assumptions about their running abilities. Just because you are wearing all the latest technical running gear and the person in front of you isn't, that doesn't make you "the man". Why would you feel obligated to expend energy trying to race that person when you aren't even half way through the course? Just to get in front of the amateur runner who doesn't even know how to dress themselves? That's a fine thing to do to motivate yourself. If, that is, you can pass the person and stay ahead of them. On the other hand, busting your hump just to pass a "rank amateur" isn't a good idea if they re-pass you and continue to leave you behind eating their dust. Trust me. It is a rather humbling experience. Congrats to the All Cotton Runner on your most excellent Goat. I am not worthy.
  • The section of the course up Colvin and over to Thorndon Park is tough. There are no two ways about it. Many of us can get to that point in the race without too much trouble. But Colvin will make your wheels fall off if they are the least bit wobbly. Wobbly. That's a technical running term.
  • For many of us on Sunday, running a 10 mile race is a difficult yet achievable goal. But we considered it. And trained for it. We are secure enough in our lives, families, jobs and communities to be able to devote big blocks of time for running. Running. For leisure. Re-read those last few words: running for leisure.

    How many people work more than one job and barely have time to sleep and eat, much less, time for running? How many people work such physically demanding jobs that they have no energy left at the end of the day? How many children can't even consider sports because they go to bed hungry? As we are out playing, how do we look to those on the sidelines? How many neighborhoods do we run through where people can't even comprehend why we clog up their streets, roads and parks? Are we simply an inconvenience to the majority of areas? "Get the hell out of my way, I gotta get to work." Any chance we briefly serve as a role model to one single adult? A child? Will that child grow up to be runner?

    What opportunities do the Children of the Goat have to succeed? From the comfort of my little world, it doesn't look like they'll have the same ones I had.
  • Coach K told me to run a normal week and then rest the Friday before the Goat. Throw in a short, easy run on Saturday and I'd be good to go, he said, all the hard work was in the past. He was right. I stood at the starting line feeling great. No stiff legs. No fatigue. Just excitement about the race.
  • "Coach A" recommended a light run on Monday after the Goat. Said something about lactic acid. Or was that lactose? I don't know which one. But whatever the hell he said, it helped. Burned up all the bad stuff that was in my legs. Now I feel great. Ready for the next round.
That's the end of my semi-random, semi-conscious thoughts.

So let's take the good times as they go
And I'll meet you further on up the road

elite runners are born, not made

So, while doing a little site clean-up, I came across this old post (from 2004 when I didn't know about the Shift key) that never made it out of the draft mode. I post it now. Only 3 years late.


http://www.active.com/story.cfm?story_id=11216&sidebar=13&category=running


<satire>

... well, now I finally have an excuse to stop running. Since I'll never run with the big dawgs, I better stay up on the porch with a cooler of beer, some pork rinds, a bottle of jack, a little weed, skynyrd on the 8-track and just watch the world go by.

the hell with being an elite.

i actually feel sorry for them. they'll be burnt out soon and since racing is all they've ever known, they will loose their sense of identity, question the meaning of their existence and be driven to the very edge of sanity.

</satire>

besides, they are missing out on the true meaning of running. it really isn't about VO2 MAX or anaerobic thresholds or efficient form. it's about shuffling along at the middle or back of the pack. about continuing to move forward even though you will not win or place in any age group. it's about running when all the world expects (and even encourages) you to stop; when you would be totally justified in doing so. water stops with nothing left. deserted finish lines with only the race volunteers left (and they are busy cleaning up). courses littered with empty water cups. cars beeping and drivers swearing at you to "get the hell out of the way cuz you ain't gonna win". being out on the course long enough to experience all four seasons of the year. dealing with serious hydration, dietary and bathroom requirements on training runs (not to mention during the event as well). it's about getting water bottles from elderly women in wheel chairs. dealing with the glances from others who just know you "are not a real runner". trails that were once pristine for the elites but are now nothing more than a muddy cow path. wondering if you missed a turn cuz you can no longer see anyone ahead of or behind you. learning during a race that the woman you have been running with for the last couple of miles is a hero: she is a breast cancer survivor who is running to raise money for research and is running in memory of her mom who didn't survive the disease. the pure, unadulterated, uncompromised, unsponsored, uncoached, unabashed joy of progressing from a serious couch potato into someone who can participate in an endurance event.