The Eugene Marathon

If I could tell you only one thing about the Eugene Marathon, it would be this: Go run it!

Of course, if you know me, you know that I have far more than just one thing to say on the subject.

Tracktown, USA!

Eugene first caught my eye last year when Charlie and I were scoping races for a spring marathon to run together. We figured Eugene would be a great place to run fast, and Big Sur would be perfect if we just wanted to relax and stick together for the whole race. Obviously, Big Sur was the right call, but after looking so closely at Eugene, I knew it was one that I wanted to run one day. Turns out, I only had the patience to wait one year.

My training has been what you might call bipolar. With an overloaded work schedule and a frequent lack of motivation, my main goal has been to enjoy my running. I didn’t do any of the long, goal-pace road runs necessary to run a truly fast marathon. It just didn’t sound like fun. Instead, I spent weekends in the canyons with Jamie. What my long runs lacked in speed, they more than made up for in enjoyment.

My weekly mileage for March and April averaged somewhere around 40. Not bad for marathon training, if not exactly spectacular. The only thing I did do to help myself was put in some solid track workouts.

I’m not afraid of a vicious set of intervals, although it’s true that my favorite part of any speed session is that slow, satisfying, barefoot jog around the soccer fields after it’s all over. I spent Tuesday evenings at the Reno High track and ran, among other workouts, a bunch of those damn Yasso 800s. Such a love-hate thing, interval workouts.

Marathon day approached, and I’d managed to average 3:01 for 8X800 during track workouts, but only 7:50 pace for a “long” road run of 16 miles. What did this mean for a potential finish time? No clue.

I was more than a little shaken by what happened at Boston, and I just couldn’t get myself out the door for any final training days. Sickened and confused by the bombing of an event I love, motivation abandoned me. It resulted in a significantly longer taper than I would normally give to a marathon leading into a season of ultras, but whatever. I truly didn’t care.

I knew the one thing that might lift my spirits though. Running a marathon.

I was also extremely lucky that Charlie had agreed to join me for the weekend, even though she wouldn’t be running. It’s so rare that I have my own, personal cheering section! I also have little interest in travelling any real distance for a race if I'm doing it all alone.

We spent Saturday hanging out at the farmer’s market in Eugene, getting a slice of the local culture. It was a perfect pre-marathon day. We sat on the grass in the warm sunshine eating tamales and watching the bluegrass kids vie for territorial rights to various street corners. I’m fairly certain U of O has some sort of entrance requirement about being able to play either the banjo or guitar, with extra credit given for fiddle or washtub base.

Sunshine, organic local produce, and banjos. Yes!

That night we ate Gyros and found an awesome movie theater where they serve you beer and burgers while you kick back on the couch and watch Ben Affleck get Americans out of Iran. We really need one of these theaters in Truckee!

Race morning arrived with perfect temperatures. The cloud cover meant it was warm enough to start in my tank but would never get uncomfortably hot. I made my way to corral B (for 3:05 to 3:25 finishers) and bid Charlie farewell.

Pre-race, with Chuck.

Before the gun, we had a moment of silence for all those affected by the bombings at Boston. It may seem cliché, but this was one of the most powerful moments of the race for me. You know how things are at the beginning of a marathon: The announcer’s getting everyone excited, telling us how many minutes to the start while enormous speakers pump out Eye of the Tiger; runners are bouncing up and down in the crowd or feigning last minute stretches; a mass of well-tuned and rested bodies is ready to bolt down the open road; energy fills the air. So to have that energy so quickly silenced, sucked away as if by a vacuum, was impressive. We all stood with bowed heads, no background chatter, not even a baby crying in the distance. Silence.

And somehow feeling slightly more connected to the runners around us, we headed off for our marathon adventure.

I had tucked myself between the 3:05 and 3:25 pace groups in an attempt to stay out of the crowds. Still, the first few miles felt uncomfortably tight, and I mostly focused on navigating among the other runners and not tripping.  We ran through quiet neighborhoods with adorable houses – thousands of feet stampeding through the middle of the street, while inside, people slept that beautiful sleep of Sunday mornings. Or maybe the thundering feet woke them up; I don’t know.

Excited at Mile 1

I made a lightning-fast outhouse stop at mile four, and when I emerged, I could still see the 3:15 pace group off in the distance.

I knew I really wanted to run faster than last year’s 3:19 PR at Napa, but I honestly didn’t know if I’d trained well enough for that. I felt wonderful, but of course it was still quite early. My strategy became “Don’t get ahead of the 3:15 pace group.” Sometimes I get a little annoyed at the pace groups because it’s always so crowded around them, but at Eugene, I was truly grateful for that 3:15 group.

Time and again I’d be running along, just going the pace that felt good, and all of a sudden, there he’d be – that guy with the sign that said “3:15.” I’d feel the claustrophobia of the crowd and slow down to let them go ahead. My body wanted to go faster, but my brain said, “Relax. Don’t be stupid!” Generally in these situations, it’s better to listen to your brain.

the night before, Charlie had studied the map for the best places to cheer, so I knew where to look for her: miles 1, 8, 16, and the finish. This was fortunate, since for most of the day I spotted her before she saw me, and looking forward to those brief encounters was a great way to break up the race.

Mile 8

I entertained myself by trying to memorize all the hilarious signs people had made so that I could share them with you guys. Of course, I can only remember a few, but there were so many good ones!

At mile 1: “The End is Far!”

More than once, I saw: “Pain is temporary, posting on Facebook is forever.” Oh how true.

Held by a dejected looking little girl: “This is the WORST parade ever!”

Held by some hipster kid: “Motivational Sign”

Eventually I promised myself that if I still felt good at mile ten, I would allow myself to pass the 3:15 group. Mile ten came and went, but I was just too uncertain to pick up the pace. Same story at the half marathon. Finally, at mile 15, a parting of the crowd coincided with a short downhill. I took that as a sign and went for it. I averaged seven-flat for the next five miles, and suddenly I only had six miles to go.

Mile 18. I felt completely amazing here!

I found myself at the most wondrous of places: at the end of a race, on PR pace, passing other runners like mad, and feeling great. Of course, most people will tell you that mile 20 is nowhere near the end of a marathon, and they’re right. But my ultrarunner’s brain knew it was nothing, and my body told me clearly that it was not going to blow up during the course of the next six miles.

My pace slipped to 7:10, and I focused on maintaining it. But here’s the thing: when you know you have a big PR in the bag, and you’re really not worried about anything, it’s kind of hard to push yourself. I kept thinking about how I felt during the final miles of Napa last year, and there was a stark contrast. I’d been hurting at Napa, and trying desperately to hang onto a sub-3:20 finish. I’d pushed hard with everything I had.

But in the final miles of Eugene, I had already exceeded all of my own expectations. I knew there was more in the tank down there somewhere, and I tried hard to go for it – to make this PR as big as possible. But I knew I felt nothing like the pain of mile 25 at Napa. I felt a little guilty for not being able to dive headfirst into the pain cave. A few twinges of guilt, however, could do nothing to derail this train of near marathon perfection.

The finishline is at Hayward Field, which is so totally, completely awesome, except that you only get to be on the track for, like, ten seconds. The stadium was packed with cheering fans, and people pressed up against the fences. I’m pretty sure they were all screaming my name. Next time, I will run slower for that part.

I looked at the clock, and it was rapidly approaching 3:12. I thought, “Ooh, I could go under 3:12!” and sprinted for the line only to miss it by one second. Then I sheepishly realized that was the gun time. My chip time was 3:11:42. Wahoo! An eight minute PR!

The finish line! You can see why I sprinted to make it under 3:12. Heh heh, silly me.

Charlie and I kicked back on the soccer fields with a beer while the worst 80’s cover band ever blared in the background. Just then, the clouds lifted, and the sun shone down on my blissful face.

Signing the poster for Boston.

Eugene sent the poster, signed by all the participants, to Boston.

I declared myself in need of a hamburger, so after showers at the hotel, Charlie Googled “best burger in Eugene.” We took a leisurely stroll along the Willamette, through green grass and sunshine and several parks, to get to a place called Cornucopia and the best burgers not only in Eugene, but probably the entire universe.

A few stats on the day:

Finish: 3:11:42

First half: 1:37:10

Second half: 1:34:32

Average pace: 7:19

I know what you’re thinking: “You started too slow!” But I really have to disagree. I always do better when I have a negative split. Maybe I could have picked up another minute with a faster first half, but I have absolutely no regrets about how this played out.

And seriously, you should go run the Eugene Marathon.

Canyons

Official Signs of Spring:

• Birds chirping on the morning dog walk
• Sunny skies at Way Too Cool 50K
• Neighbors seen raking pine needles in their yards
• Shorts instead of tights, tanks instead of long sleeves
• Sundays in the Canyons

Post-run glow at Michigan Bluff

Every year between late March and the end of May, I join Jamie for Sunday long runs in the canyons of the Western States Trail. This year marks the fourth in a row, and it already has the feel of tradition. Familiarity. 

If you've only ever experienced the canyons on race day, you're missing out on their best season. Absent the stifling heat of June, fresh from beneath winter snow and spring melt, the canyons come alive in April. Lush grasses, lupine, poppies, butterflies, singletrack, steep climbs, long descents, shade, sun.

The truth is, I'm supposed to be training for a road marathon - Eugene Marathon at the end of April. But really, who wants to pound out 20 fast miles on the roads when you could take all day to do 30 on the trails in the canyons? I can give up some speed on race day for a little spiritual balm from the trail.

I often find comfort in routine. The familiar can be soothing to the soul. While the Sierra high country will always be my favorite, this time of year in the canyons holds a special place in my heart. A long run stretches the mind as much as the legs, and emerging into the canyons from the snows of Tahoe is a welcome springtime awakening. 

Just another Sunday in March

What's your favorite spiritual training run?

Way Too Cool 50K

It has become something of a tradition for me to kick off the racing season at the beautiful, crowded, and fast Way Too Cook 50K. This year was much the same, except that I wasn't racing. I opted to forgo the start of last week's race, and instead spent my day cheering friends and pouring water at the Highway 49 Aid Station. 

It was perhaps even more abundant with inspiration that my years spent there as a runner.

As usual, I greeted many friends in the morning chill. Without exception, everyone wore a smile of pre-race excitement. 
 

Jenelle, Jamie, and Sarah ready for the fast trails of Cool.

Jill and John Trent heading to the start.

After the start, I found a beautiful spot in the trail about a half mile before the first aid station. I planted myself there, took photos, and cheered for the runners. They still looked fresh and smiley.

Women's winner Meghan Arbogast, cruising comfortably in second place at this point.

Angela enjoys the dirt and sunshine of the foothills.

By the time the last runner came through, it was time for me to head to the aid station at Highway 49 to help. This is the last aid station on the course, and I usually think of it as kind of unnecessary when I'm racing. With only 1.4 miles to go in the race, there never seems to be much reason to stop.

It was gratifying, however, to see that many people did not feel that same way. So many runners were grateful for the chance to pause, slam a coke, and grab a gel on their way through. As the day progressed and got warmer, more and more runners needed their bottles filled. Our aid station was open from 11:00 to 4:00, and I spent most of that time filling water bottles and hydration packs.

Not only did this give me a chance to greet every runner, but I got to see all my friends come through. The best part about working this aid station is that when you tell people they only have 1.4 miles left, they are incredibly happy. I received two different declarations of love from runners upon hearing this news. 

Ready for aid station hospitality!

Max King rounds the bend on his way to a new course record.

Without a doubt, a day well spent. Next year I hope to be joining my friends on the starting line, but I am pretty stoked about just being part of the action at Cool this year. I love this race.

The master of good mojo, Greg spreads the love all over the course.

Snowshoe Racing, Downton Abby, and the Iditarod

Snowshoe running: Neither for the faint of heart, nor the out of shape runner. In January, I made my second finish at the Tahoe Rim Tour Snowshoe Race. Somehow, I remember it being so much easier the last time I ran it. But then again, I suppose I was in better shape that time.

In fact, I think it was the ease and joy of the 2011 race that had me eager to return, and of course I had Jamie in tow this time as well.  What’s the fun in tromping through powder with tennis rackets on your feet if you can’t do it with your best friend? Unfortunately, for this year’s edition, we’d both run long just the day before, but I thought it would be a good way to get my winter ass back into shape. Ha! Well, it was. Depending on what you mean by “good.”

This is what it looked like at the start. Do you see anyone without skis on their feet? Yeah, me neither!

Ready for a long day on beautiful trails!

Here's Helen, getting ready to ski away from us at the sound of the gun.

Fortunately, the conditions were pretty firm, and we set a conservative pace early. This was a good move, since we certainly didn’t feel like it was easy at any point. Snowshoe running for me isn’t so much about going fast as it is about focused coordination: Don’t step on your own shoes (or your friends), don’t kick your ankles (Ouch!), and don't forget to point your toes on the downhills. 

The course, starting in Tahoe City and finishing at Northstar Resort, has a solid climb over a mountain pass. Not easy. We enjoyed incredible scenery and were happy to find some downhill running in the later miles.

Jamie, tearing up the downhill.

We finished exhausted and happy in the bright Tahoe sunshine. Thirty minutes slower than in 2011 and with our snowshoe craving sated for the year.

 ~~~~~

In February I joined many of the wonderful women of my family for the second annual Snowshoe Jamboree (aka “SnowJam”) in Arnold, CA. It’s ladies’ weekend at the cabin, and we always have so much fun.

More snowshoeing? Okay, count me in!

This year, my sister and I spent the first morning skate skiing at Bear Valley.

View from the summit!

Skate skiing is hard work!

I also learned about the quaint little town of Murphys, which was just a short drive from our cabin. If you like wine tasting, you will appreciate Murphys. The whole main street was packed with tasting rooms, and we had a grand time exploring. Perfect for ladies weekend!

A lovely afternoon in the tasting room at the Frog's Leap Winery.

See why it's perfect for Ladies' Weekend?

They sort of have this thing about frogs in these parts, especially the jumping kind. These two were just hanging out though.

On day two we went snowshoeing around Lake Alpine. The weather could not have been better!

Yosemite Gals at Lake Alpine.

With Mom and Sister.

I'm already looking forward to next year's SnowJam!

~~~~~

This weekend will see one of my favorite races take place: Way Too Cool 50K. I’m signed up for it, but I’m not sure I’ll be at the starting line this year. The prospect of not running it makes me mighty sad, but I still have some lingering health questions to answer for myself. I’d like to get those things figured out before embarking on any serious races.  Part of the reason I haven’t committed to the DNS is because I just can’t face it. I love this race!

We’ll see how the next week plays out, but either way, I will certainly be there. If I don’t race, I’ll be volunteering at the Highway 49 aid station, cheering you all that final 1.4 miles to the finish. My advice if you’re running Cool? Make friends and have fun. It’s a big race, and the upside of that is that you’ll get to meet a lot of great people. Ultrarunners are pretty cool folks (no pun intended).

~~~~~

And in extremely important non-running-related news, I burned through the entire second season of Downton Abby in three days last week. Based on the spoiler-y comments on Facebook, I have decided that I will not be watching season three. This is where it ends for me. As far as I’m concerned, there is no season three. Aside from the fate of poor Mr. Bates, (who, let’s face it, as the story’s martyr, is pretty much doomed), everything seems to be resolved quite nicely, thank you very much. The End.

And it occurs to me that this must be a particular challenge of writing for a television series – you never know just exactly when your story is going to end. If Downton Abby were a book or a movie, the end of season two would be a pretty solid ending. I mean, (Spoiler Alert!) the war is over, Sybil’s made her break, Edith has had some growing experiences and is more mature (less of a bitch), Anna and Mr. Bates are together (okay, sort of), and Mary and Matthew … Well that took long enough, didn’t it? It was very Pride and Prejudice. But nonetheless, resolved.

When you’re writing a book, you know exactly when it’s going to end, and you create your story arc to arrive there at the right time. Even in a series, if you were writing, say, seven books. You know that it’s at the end of book seven where either Harry or Voldemort is killed by the other. You wouldn't write that part into book five.

In TV, it seems that it’s more like, “Okay, we might get cancelled so maybe we’ll resolve this storyline, but leave these others hanging in case we do run next season.” But then if things are too resolved and the show does run for another season, they have to reopen old storylines, or invent some new ones, and eventually it all starts to feel rather ridiculous and contrived. I mean, how much drama can one family really go through?

So, anyway. Downton Abby. Only two seasons. End of story. (Unless there’s a season four, and it really rocks. Then, someone call me.)

~~~~~

And lastly, the 41^st Iditarod started this week! Once again, my 5th –grade students and I are following the race, learning about the history, and each choosing a musher to track online. Many of my students’ mushers are already in the top ten, so they’re pretty excited.

Last year, I chose to follow Dallas Seavy. Despite the fact that there were six past champions in the race that year, Dallas pulled out his first win as the youngest person ever to be Iditarod Champion. Of course I spent the last 3 months of school bragging to my students about how my musher kicked all their mushers' butts. 

I always give the students first choice of which musher they want to follow. This year, even though no one chose to follow Dallas, (I need to teach them better research skills!) I picked Aliy Zirkle. I still kind of think Dallas is the one to beat, but there are a lot of strong dogs and experienced mushers out there. Aliy is smart, has a strong kennel, and could definitely pull out the win! (I try to tell my students that it's not about choosing the winner, but it's hard not to want to see your musher first to Nome!)

If you’re interested in a silly thing like long distance foot races, you can check out the updates on Iditarod.com. The Iditarod Trail Committee also has a Facebook page, but I have found the best updates so far on Dallas Seavy’s Facebook page.

Happy running, doggies (and everyone else out there)!

Zoya DeNure's team at the 2011 Iditarod (Photo by Dana Orlosky)

A Tribute to Coach

For many athletes, the love and passion for a sport is something that grows through the years. It is fostered by a multitude of experiences and by the many wonderful people we meet and connect with along the way. This is largely true for me.

However, there is one person I can credit with instilling most of my passion and identity as a runner. That person is my college XC and Track coach, Coach Goldhammer, or, as we all call him, Coach.

I had six years of competitive running before college, but the 4 years with Coach are the ones I remember. It's hard for me to believe that it was only 4 years; it was a snippet of time with such an impact on my life. The passionate support of a huge number of alumni shows that I am absolutely not alone in feeling this way.

Recently, a group of alumni put together a tribute video for Coach. Although it may not be of interest to many who read this blog, I simply can't help sharing it. I want to share how awesome my Coach is and how many lives he's touched. To me this video is an inspiration itself because it shows me how much impact an adult can have in the lives of the young people with whom we work. It makes me want to be like Coach.






(Yes, I am in this video, but you won't see me until the second half.)

The Robert and Linda Mathis Memorial Run

 A foggy morning in Auburn, and a hundred or so runners gathered at the Overlook for the second Robert and Linda Mathis Memorial Run. This gathering has become a wonderful running event, and I can't think of better motivation to get out for some mellow miles on familiar trails with smiling faces.

A group of us carpooled down from Truckee for the 9:00 am start. Let's hear it for late starts in January! Jen Dicus read a heartfelt letter from Robert and Linda's families, and we headed off down the singletrack.

Helen, JP, Me

 The four or so miles downhill to the river were spent in pleasant conversation and concerted efforts not to slip and slide on our backsides down the mud. I was happy to keep the pace quite casual through this section.

After leaving the aid station at No Hands, I made the turn up K2. This is not the official course for the run, but I was pleased to see that every runner in my vicinity made the same choice for the big hill. I mean, why not, right? 

Down at the river, it had seemed we were actually below the fog. Halfway up K2, and it once again enveloped us. It lent quite a surreal atmosphere to the surroundings, and to be honest, I had a bit of trouble staying oriented. Since I'd veered off the marked course, this made me slightly nervous. Luckily, I could see a runner ahead who ran with the air of an assured local. I stayed close enough to keep and eye on him through the fog, and when he turned, I turned. Soon enough he led me into familiar territory, and we found ourselves at the turnaround at the Cool fire station. My strategy worked!

I made the return trip with two men whose names, in my usual fashion, I promptly forgot as soon as they were relayed to me. Sorry, guys! Nonetheless, they made great companions. We chatted about Miwok and Javelina as we picked our way down the wet trail. A light drizzle kept reminding me of my last race I did with Robert and Linda, on this very trail, and the memory kept me smiling. I decided to run strong up the climb from No Hands since I'm starting to get back into shape. The legs felt great, and all in all, it was a beautiful day!

The Truckee Carpool: JP, me, Geoff, Pete, Helen

There was a potluck at the end and an amazing slew of raffle prizes to be won. RD's and organizations really came through with impressive donations for the raffle! (Sadly, I came away empty handed, but a lot of my friends were lucky winners!)

And look who I ran into in the parking lot!

I think Auburn is the capital for serendipitous trail running experiences. Jamie and I made plans for our snowshoe race the following day (Our plan was to run slow!) and we all stood around snacking on a few of the potluck goodies before heading back up to Truckee.

Thank you so much to Jen and everyone who helped to put on this event. I think this is a perfect way to remember two wonderful people who were such huge contributors to this trail running community. I still miss Robert and Linda, but I think they would be pleased with they way they are honored - by a group of people getting together to enjoy a few miles on the trails.