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Palo Alto Moonlight Run 5K

2009-11-17T21:36:00.000-08:00

October 2, 2009, Friday Palo Alto Moonlight Run 5K/10K 25th Anniversary Bib # 273 Time: ?? Distance: 5K Okay, so even though I have never believed the bromide, “You create your own reality” I did do just that on Friday night. I am always stunned at how disorganized, even if well intentioned, the Palo Alto Moonlight run really is. And this year it was even dangerous. So as I was trying to let “all of that irritation go” I paid no attention to the logistics at the finish of the 5K and the tag I handed over at the end of the chute has just disappeared. On top of that snafu I forgot to stop my GPS watch so I really don’t know what my finish time was. Bitch, bitch, bitch, but I am not listed in the final results, even though I swear to you that I actually did run the race and I am not listed in the specific list for my age division. So I must take responsibility for of it. I created it, somehow, although I must admit I don’t know how I did that. Fortunately for me, since it added a positive note to my decidedly gloomy bitching, my brother Dick had a great time, and even placed second in his/our age group in spite of all of the mashing around. Dick and I both like to run at night so we usually feel stronger and run more easily at night. Friday night was clearly one of those nights for Dick. And he didn’t get caught up in the mash at the beginning of the race where a crowd of 20 runners across tried to smash into a path that held 3 runners across. It was quite a feat, and with so many children running I am happily surprised that no child was trampled. But I am also aghast that no one on the organizational team thought about that issue or realized what potential there might be for someone getting hurt. This lack of attention to the myriad details of keeping everyone safe at a race makes me want to take this race off my annual list, except it is one of the best tee shirts of the year. Although that is hardly a fair trade for the potential for harm. But it was a beautiful night, full moon glowing and even more runners enjoying the sport that I do love very much. In spite of everything that could tarnish the experience. *****************************************

Wharf 2 Wharf 09

2009-08-02T11:13:00.000-07:00

Sunday, July 26, 2009

WHARF TO WHARF SIX MILE

Bib # 3760

Time 59:54 via GPS / Gun Time 60:54

(It took one minute to get to the starting line after the starting gun popped)

Slide show from the Santa Cruz Sentinel: http://www.santacruzlive.com/blogs/photo/?p=324

I looked up and I was running next to an older man who was keeping a steady pace, a bit over 10 min per mile. On his left, running right next to him, was a much younger man carrying a large, long, thin triangular flag on a pole. I remember that it was light blue and it had one word painted on it vertically. I have no idea what the word was. On the back of the older runner’s shirt was a text about “challenging the course since 1973.” Impressive, but I had no blood in my brain so I couldn’t really compute how many times he might have run the race. But I do remember thinking that it made my 11th year seem paltry in comparison. I wanted to talk to him, but he had his head down and his younger companion kept yelling out at others around us, which inhibited me somewhat and I was in my “introverted, don’t bother anyone mood,” so I just nodded and kept on moving. Now I regret that I didn’t overcome my shyness and talk to this stalwart runner, because I have since found out that 1973 was the very first running of the Wharf to Wharf. So he was one of the original runners and was probably one of the organizers. But I missed my chance to meet him, although just watching him grind away gave me a little mental boost, so I upped my pace a bit. That turned out to be important as you will soon see.

The Wharf to Wharf, which starts near the Santa Cruz Municipal Wharf and snakes along the coast to Capitola Wharf, is dubbed the "Best Little Road Race in California." Thousands of spectators line the route--which is unusual for a road race and it is one of the aspects of this race that makes it more fun and more unique—along with bands--amateur groups who are wound up and doing their probably-late-night gig at 8:30 am--just to cheer us on. The race draws runners from all over the world and this year's event sold out in about eight weeks, according to race officials. While 15,000 runners had bib numbers, at least a few thousand more ran or walked the race unofficially as "bandits or outlaws," according to race officials.

I don’t usually dedicate my essays to any particular person, but this year I have to semi-dedicate the race to Professor David Kaun, who was my gracious host during this event. I had mentioned to another friend, Carmel, who lives in Santa Cruz that I had looked for a hotel/motel in which to stay on Saturday night before the race and had finally found one about 35 miles away, because everything in town was booked (and outrageously priced I might add, because now all hoteliers know that this is a must stay weekend for thousands of runners). So Carmel sent out an email about my plight and unbeknownst to me another friend, David (whom I had met earlier through Carmel, the director of Rising International[i]) had an empty room for the summer and graciously offered it to me. David and I proceeded to have a great visit over the two days of the weekend, including a wonderful tour of the campus at UCSC where he is a professor of economics. David had run the W2W a few times some years ago so he was all primed to help, and offered to take me down to the starting line on Sunday morning and pick me up after I was bussed back to Santa Cruz from Capitola where the race ends. It made the whole event easy and much more relaxing. I really can’t thank David enough for his kindness and graciousness.

So here is a picture of David by an amazing piece of driftwood in the middle of campus in the afternoon after the race. UCSC is a beautiful campus with quite a remarkable and unusual history in the UC system. And David has lived through it all since he was hired in 1966, the second year after the school’s founding in 1965. And he has stories to tell which should be integrated into a memoir someday.

But I am ahead of myself. Since this was my 11^th running of the W2W, and my total number of races entered and run since 1999 now numbers over 80, I now have my pre-race routines set in stone. On Saturday night I picked out my running clothes, laying them out for easy access, gathered my “paraphernalia” (GPS watch, cell phone, etc.) and pinned my bib on my shirt, I got to bed early, read a novel to relax, and then slept for 8 ½ hours. I got up about 15 minutes before I needed to leave for the event so that I would arrive at 8:00 am for the 8:30 am start. Once David dropped me off close to the start of the race I spent some time warming up by jogging up and down one block because there are fences everywhere to corral the runners and keep the crowds manageable. Then I wormed my way through the bustling throng up toward the start line so my GPS time would be closer to the official gun time.

It didn’t seem as crowded this year but it probably was, after 11 years I am probably just more aware of how to navigate around the throngs. I did find myself watching the whole scene more, since I was alone, although I didn’t say a single word to anyone except David on the ride down to the Boardwalk. I can’t remember every doing this race all by myself, so I retreated into my “introverted race mode” and just enjoyed the atmosphere and energy that is created by this unusual crowd. It was like most race crowds, of course, but it also unusual in some ways because it is so festive and as runners we all know that we aren’t there to compete. We can’t compete with the elite runners and there are no awards for age groups, so we really are doing it just for the fun of it, which includes running the along the beautiful coast line, listening to a cacophony of many amateur bands, and participating in the sheer joy of it all.

Usually the first music we hear is a lone bagpiper standing on a hill after we cross a small bridge. But this year there was a whole regiment, and it was thrilling to ride those waves of sound for several yards. I never know what songs they are playing, not being a bagpipe aficionado, but it does brighten your blood to hear that “call to battle” or at least that is what it sounds like to me.

What kept surprising me was that I couldn’t remember the details of the course and every hill was a new challenge with no time to prepare mentally. Once I got to each hill I had this vague memory of having run up it before in previous races but you would think after 11 times I would have this course etched into my brain. But I don’t and it didn’t matter, I had made up my mind not to walk any of the hills or even to walk at all, as I had done in the race two weeks prior, The Run to the Lake. (Even with walking hills in that race I did win third in my age group and received a wonderful medal/ribbon for the effort). And I was also determined to keep my pace going during this race, even though the up and down made the keeping of a steady pace more challenging. I had told David when he dropped me off that I would call him halfway through the race and let him know how I was doing. That also gave me another little impetus not to get lazy.

There were the normal pre-race comments and thank yous, then a lovely rendition of the National Anthem, and a loud pop and we were off. After a few minutes I estimated that my GPS would be at 10:30 min/mile when I crossed under a colorful arch of balloons marking the first mile. We could all hear the timekeeper pound out 11:31, 11:32, 11:33, and then 11:34 as I passed under the marker. So then I knew it had taken me about a minute to get to the starting line. I wanted to run this race in under 60 minutes so I also knew I had at least 30 seconds to make up. At the second mile I had not made any progress on that goal and I knew it was pitiful, of course, to care about each of those seconds but I felt good and thought I could start to make up the time mile by mile. And compared to my last race I felt exhilarated to know that by the third mile I was gaining on my goal.

I tried to use the rhythm/beat of the bands to push my pace but that didn’t always work, especially one time when I was straining to hear a small chorus of seniors singing barbershop quartet songs a cappella. But I scooted over to their side of the road so I could hear a few seconds of harmony. This was a first appearance for this group, at least from what I could remember of previous races, even if my memory was sputtering along that morning. This group needed a sound system, but compared to amateur garage bands it was a nice change.

So I got into a groove, loping along and shortening my stride up a hill, and stretching out down the other side. Now I can confess that I became a bit obsessive about breaking this 60 minute goal. Why? I have no idea, maybe just to reassure myself that I wasn’t really getting too old to do this pace? Maybe because I have attached some magical symbolism to running under 10 min/mile in a longer distance race. Maybe just because it makes me feel better. I don’t know, but I hedged my bets by making a quick call to David at home at about the 3.3 mile mark and said I thought I could at least break 63 minutes. He encouraged me on, which also kept my spirits up. I could tell that my endurance was slipping a bit. I had only been running 3-5 miles per day during the weeks leading up to the race and I had not pushed myself hard in my training. So I knew I was running out of steam. Now it became a mental game to keep it all going.

I distracted myself by listening even more closely to what was going on around me. It was a noisy race, partly because I was going slowly enough that people had the breath to chat, partly because there were a lot of people lining the route who were whooping and hollering to support all of us, and partly because there was music from a new group each ½ mile or so. I enjoyed the noise even though I usually bitch about it, because it can seem annoying. But that morning it just felt like an extension of the party.

When I glanced at my GPS right after the 5 mile balloon marker I noticed that I had a little less than 10 minutes to get to the finish so I had not made up as much time as I had hoped. Now a decision had to be made. I either had to push my pace and hurt, or let it go and enjoy a leisurely last mile. I couldn’t let it go, so I submitted my body to challenge and increased my pace. I was also hoping I could make up a lot at the end when I would sprint downhill that last 1/3 of a mile to the finish. Otherwise I knew I was not going “break the clock” this year. As I got closer to the finish I began to doubt I could pull this off. But then I thought more about it and cursed my laziness and started pushing harder. I can always feel the burning of my energy reserves and the pull on my lungs when I run faster than my training would support. As I came around the last bend and saw the downhill I knew I had to go full out or I would not make it in less than 60 minutes. Runners were now passing me as they too wanted to have a strong sprint at the finish. I took one last look at my GPS and moved into my sprint until-I-want-to-die mode. That last incline is steep enough that it even feels a bit dangerous to sprint so I made sure I was also watching the crowd around me. As I pushed the stop button on the GPS as I was flying under the finish sign my brain registered that it said 59:54! I had made it by 6 seconds. Even one quick walk or one long slow down would have doomed me to mediocrity! I joke, but it was fun to beat the clock.

The picture here does not really reveal my struggle to sprint nor the pain I was feeling but at least it proves I was there doing that.

The official clock said 60:54 so I was one minute off the official time but because this event doesn’t register official individual times, you must rely on your own watch or GPS. I must confess that I still can’t believe I broke 60 minutes. But for reasons I will probably never understand, this was a sweet victory for me. And now, now!, I am looking forward to the Palo Alto Moonlight 5K/10K on October 2 and the Bridge to Bridge 7K/12K on October 4. And even more so because my brother, Dick is coming down from Vancouver to join me for that insane running of two races within 36 hours of each other. So grab your shoes or your bike or whatever and get out there on the trails and byways and enjoy the sweetness of these attempts to fly beyond your limits.

And thanks again to Carmel Jud and David Kaun; it wouldn’t have happened without both of you helping.

PS: I usually buy the poster that is commissioned for the race and then the artist generously hangs around after the race to sign copies. But I passed on this one. That picture of pelicans at the beginning of the essay was this year’s poster. It just didn’t ring my bell, and David says pelicans are amazing creatures, but I think I will take his word for it and still not hang a picture of them on my wall.

[i] Rising International is a remarkable organization and you should check it out at www.risinginternational.org

Lake Merritt Joggers & Striders

2007-10-28T21:15:00.000-07:00

5K, 10K, 15K / 9:00 AM Start

Oakland, California

Time for 5K: 26:42 (my GPS) / Official time on website: 26:40 / Pace: 8:35 or maybe 8:46*

Buddy runner: Jack Mingo

Again I decided to run a race at the last minute. My uberwife Lori promised she would go with me next time. That was contingent on giving her more than a few minutes of notice, of course. But ever-ready Jack agreed to get up and go with me to Lake Merritt in the center of downtown Oakland to do this 5K around the lake.

I had joined the LMJS (www.lmjs.org), “The East Bay’s Oldest Running Club,” as a way to enter into the local running community in an official way. The Club hosted a set of races on the last weekend of every month which sounded fun. Membership was very reasonable and the entry fees for the races were even more reasonable.

From 2000 through 2006 I drove to Lake Merritt with a friend to run around the lake most days of the week. So this was familiar territory to me. And I drive to “the lake” from my residence in Alameda infrequently, but I still do it because I like running the three mile loop around the perimeter of the lake and the park that bounds it on its west side.

It was very cool in the morning so I donned a sweatshirt and stayed warm right up until start time. Registration was quick and easy and I even had time to jog for a warm up. I doffed my sweatshirt and I am glad I did because it warmed up very quickly. My illusions of a fairly casual easy-going race were dashed when I perused a bulletin board with a printout of members and their best race times. For 2007 it listed distances and each age group. Out of fifteen runners listed in the 60-69 age division more than a third had run a 5K faster than I. Whew. Oh well, I would just enjoy the fun of the event.

Jack and I chatted with a few very welcoming and friendly members of LMJS and then lined up on the street for the start. There were probably about fifty or sixty runners. That included all of the distances (5K, 10K, 15K) because we were all starting concurrently. I was standing near the white chalk starting line and no one was joining me. That seemed odd and I commented on it to Jack. If I had waited a few seconds I would have seen that everyone moved right up to the chalk once the starter was ready to go. Maybe this was a Club ritual? His little horn went whoop whoop and we sped off. I was going too fast. I knew it, I couldn’t (or wouldn’t) slow down and all I could do was smile at my audacity. Jack was a bit ahead of me in his bright yellow shorts. I followed him on the right side of the course but he was going even faster than I was. But I decided to try to stay within visual contact of that yellow “flag.” I shut off my brain, willed all of my blood into my lungs and legs and kept moving. Eventually I got behind a tall older man and drafted behind him for the whole first mile. That first mile was a 7:46 mile. My mind was still blank but I was smiling because I hurt like hell and there was no way I could keep this up but I liked trying. And I could still see those yellow shorts bobbing along about thirty yards in front of me. Jack was gaining on me, of course, but not in great dashes but slight increments.

I lost my draft at the 1.5 mile mark but I kept pushing. At two miles the time was 16:10 so I had run the second mile at an 8:25 pace. I was running out of steam and eventually at the 2.5 mark I had to walk. But I walked for only 35 seconds. Then I started up and hit my stride fairly quickly. We had been running alongside the east side of the lake on the bike/running path. For a short distance we were back on a sidewalk that went around most of the perimeter of the lake and park. In about a hundred yards we turned off the perimeter sidewalk onto a street that was the major entry way into Lakeside Park.** I saw the yellow “flag” and could see that Jack was about a minute ahead of me or maybe a bit less than a quarter of a mile. (Jack finished in 26:13).

Since I had run this course hundreds of times during the years I lived in Oakland I knew what was coming. Our last third of a mile had a slight decline right back to the center of the park which was next to the Boat House where we had started. When I turned the last slow curve and saw the flags and electronic timer sign I took a breath and started to sprint. When the small crowd gathered around the finish line saw me sprinting they started yelling and whooping which spurred me on. I came through the chute so fast that the tag takers had to get out of my way. There had not been any runners ahead of me or behind me for that matter so sprinting was just me pushing my body, and having fun doing it. I love that finishing sprint; I hope I always will. I collected my yellow ribbon, dropped it once in my post race daze, Jack saw it on the street, I picked it up, and found myself smiling. Jack congratulated me and remarked that he hadn’t expected to see me come in so soon after him. That made me smile all the way home.

** Lakeside Park is historically significant as the United States' first official wildlife refuge, designated in 1870.

PS: So this logo –without the oval- was printed on a beautiful RaceReady CoolMax long sleeve blue shirt, and with the member’s discount price I had no other option but to possess it immediately.

*For a 26:42 5K my Garmin GPS Foreunner 201 calculates the pace at 8:46 and the Cool Running Pace Calculator online calculates the pace at 8:35. I would like to know why the discrepancy but it is probably because they use different formulas for their calculations. It would just be nice to know why they use different calculation equations?

The Glide Floss Bridge to Bridge 7K

2007-09-30T21:19:00.000-07:00

7K / 12K / 8:20 AM Start

San Francisco, CA (From Ferry Bldg through Fisherman’s Wharf to Presidio)

Time: 40:08 / Pace: 9:14

My first pit crew. Lori and Camille were getting up at 6:15 AM to join Erin, Jack and I at the race. It meant that we would have a ride to the starting area near the Embarcadero Center in downtown San Francisco and a ride home from the finish and the surrounding festival in the Presidio. It made the whole morning seem easier. And it meant that we could all go out to breakfast after the race and gorge ourselves. One of the traditions we most enjoy!

There was a bittersweet edge to the morning and to this particular race. Originally Dick, my older brother who lives in Vancouver, WA, was registered for this race and he was looking forward to coming down to run and visit. The Bridge to Bridge was one of his first road races last year and it was to be an anniversary of sorts. He had even come to a couple of my races (one in Washington, one in California) but he had not felt ready to enter himself. Last year he finally made the leap and decided he could do 5Ks and the Bridge to Bridge 7K. Last year we had a great time at this race although, as everyone knows by now, he is so much faster than me that I can’t keep up with him during an actual race. But a few weeks ago his cancer returned for the sixth time and he could not come down for that visit and the race. That damn lymphoma was pissing me off. We want Dick to be an integral and close member of our family for a long time. So I had made a vow to run the race with a prayer on my lips for Dick and for his bout with the recurring war of the cells. His treatment consists of four “infusions” of Rituxen (the cancer fighting drug), scheduled for once a week (Mondays) for a month. His first had been the Monday before the race and his second was the Monday after the race. He told me that he can’t really tell after the first infusion if it is working. But he said he can usually tell after the second and third infusions whether the tumors are decreasing in size. The good news is that after his second infusion the treatment did seem to be working again. We will pray that continues.

Lori and Camille joined us at the staging area where we picked up our timing chips and made the usual last minute bathroom stops. Then Lori and Camille headed off to the Presidio so they could see us come across the finish line. Jack was running the 12K so he had an 8 AM start. He was in no hurry this morning and after the start gun went off he actually waited until the whole 12K crowd moved across the timing pads. Later he said that it helped to do that because then the runners had already spread out and it was easier to do the normal dodge and scoot to move ahead of slower runners. Usually we both try to start at the front so we don’t have to dodge around other runners but his waiting strategy seemed to work well that morning.

Erin and I had an 8:20 AM start for the 7K distance and we did move closer to the front just because it was easy to do and the crowd was smaller than usual. Erin thought it was because there were big major events going on in the city that day and I thought it was because the start time was an hour early and many runners probably just bagged it or were late. But the crowds for both distances were definitely smaller.

When the gun went off (loudly) we flinched and then proceeded under the large red U shaped balloon which marked the starting line. It was too crowded to just sprint out of the starting gate. But Erin didn’t waste any time getting up to speed. Within a short distance we were hitting a 9 min pace and she seemed to be running strong. I stayed with her although I might have started a bit more slowly. Very quickly I did notice two things that were very different from previous years. One, there were very few people on the sidewalks cheering us on, as the streets were deserted at this hour. Even one hour later seems to make a huge difference in who is out and about. And second, it was unearthly quiet. I don’t know why. Usually this is a voluble field of runners but not this morning. Every few minutes Erin and I would chat about something and I could feel myself talking quietly because no one else was talking. It was odd enough that when you did hear someone talking it seemed to break the mood.

For the first mile we did have the irritating experience of having to dodge walkers who were not keeping to the sides which is normal race etiquette. It is even a bit dangerous to insist on walking right in front of runners who are barreling along. I bit my tongue but I was just nanoseconds away from cursing a few of them. After the first mile the problem didn’t arise again until we hit the steep hill right after the Fisherman’s Wharf area.

As we wound our way through the Fisherman’s Wharf area Erin did slightly decrease her pace as her asthma required her to calm herself down. She motioned me to keep going and not to slow down so I finally increased my pace just a bit and headed toward the hill. This hill is actually steep enough that I don’t even try to run up it. I always walk, quickly but still I walk. I also do that because I seem to be able to run down hills hard and fast without banging my knees and hips so I know I am going to make up some of the time I have lost. Today was no exception. I strided quickly up the hill and began my somewhat wild descent, scooting in and around much slower runners and walkers. At one point I had to move a runner out of the way although I did it gently and excused myself. Well, I tried to do that gently but I was coming down the hill rapidly. She didn’t seem to mind and as soon as she figured out what was going on she slipped to the side.

At the bottom of the hill you have to make a ninety degree turn onto Bay Street right near a very busy Safeway, the Fort Mason area, and the Marina Green. One side of this busy street is “coned” off for the runners but the other side is handling traffic. It is a rather disorienting transition because up until now it has been very quiet, no cars, no traffic, we ruled the whole street. But not now, suddenly we were in the mix of the city. And now people were talking again. It was as if the other noise gave permission for the runners to make more noise. I thought about why some runners like trails instead of running on the streets and now it made sense even if I would never do it. Running trails is asking for an injury and I need to run every day so I am not going to chance it. But I loved the quiet and I think I need the quiet. In the quiet it felt as if the whole race was praying for Dick and I loved that illusion. I rode the wave of it and alternatively cursed the cancer and asked for healing.

As usual in these more crowded races I wasn’t paying attention to fellow runners. Slowly their presence began to make itself known. I noticed one woman right in front of me who was running my exact pace. I had no idea how long she had been doing that. But she was tall and was running strong and I could see that she was getting ready to push the pace for the finish. I didn’t care. I knew what was coming and could see it ahead; the left turn off Bay Street that began the dreaded half mile uphill finish. Oh, I loathed this finish, passionately. As much as I loved this event and the joy of running through the city I hated this stupid ill conceived finish. I wanted to shout and scream at somebody in authority about how much I hated this uphill struggle to the finish line in the Presidio.

Then it was upon me and I made the turn. I couldn’t believe my eyes or my ears. Right there beside me was a runner pushing a stroller with a baby screaming his head off. The mother was trying to soothe “Joshua” but he would accept no soothing. And she was not about to stop at this junction in the course to pick him up and minister to his needs. The hill slowed me down and I was strangled with desperation. I couldn’t bear to listen to this for an entire half mile. I had to make a decision to slow down or speed up. All of my understanding of the physics of sound vanished from my brain. Would the sound diminish more quickly if I was ahead or behind? I had no idea. So I gambled and crankily forced myself to speed up. Now this was not fair. I had already decided I was not going to sprint at the end, almost as a defiant act against the powers that be. But now I had to get away from this great cyclone of sound that was ruining the whole race for me. Okay, I am very auditory and this kind of thing almost hurts me but I make no apologies.

This last stretch wound up, turned right, then turned left and then seemed to stretch into infinity. I thought of Dick, I thought of Jack’s silly bromide that you must “flatten the hills in your mind”; I then remembered that Lori and Camille might be waiting for me at the end. What if they were? My goodness, then I would have to sprint just to give them a good show and make it worth their gracious act of getting up in the early morning to join us for this venture. Okay, maybe this was okay; their presence would help me overcome my hatred of this hill and this finish. Then I saw them and heard them and realized that I had to go for it. If not for myself, at least for them. So like a madman I sprinted. It wasn’t very far but it was enough to get my blood racing and to put a stop to the yammering inner voice about not being to run up a damn hill. I had no recollection of who I passed although I think I did pass a few in those last fifty yards. But that didn’t matter either.

I was through the chute and handed a bottle of water. It was over; my time was slower than last year but only by twenty four seconds. I could live with that since I was still making my comeback after my pneumonia.

Erin came in just a few seconds behind me so she really kept up her pace. And Jack did well also. We all enjoyed the festival and had a scrumptious lunch at Crepevine in the Fillmore to make sure we honored our Bridge to Bridge tradition.

I must say that I loved having a pit crew and was glad that their presence made me sprint. You can get by with a little help from your friends (and family). And I did dedicate the race to Dick and his journey of healing once again.

Palo Alto Moonlight Run 5K

2007-09-28T21:21:00.000-07:00

Friday, September 28, 2007 (8:45 PM Start)

Palo Alto Moonlight Run 5K

Palo Alto, CA

Time: 27:59 / Pace: 9:00 min/mile

It turned out to be a night of belief vs. unbelief. Belief won. But I was the unbeliever until the very last seconds. The week before had been sunny and clear then Friday arrived with clouds and even some slight chance of rain. Why couldn’t that one day be clear when we wanted it most? In the afternoon Fr Jim arrived at the house and we zipped off to Palo Alto. We were going to visit my favorite running store (Runner’s High in Menlo Park, a store where all of the staff are runners and they create a runner friendly atmosphere) and Stanford University Bookstore (one of the finest university bookstores in the nation) which is also Jim’s alma mater. We also slipped in a light dinner (at Café Borrone, a delightful and healthy food café for the book reading set in the Menlo Park/Palo Alto area, because Europe is too far to go for lunch or dinner) so that we would have fuel for the race. It is so unusual to have a night race that you do have to think through how to rest, eat and prepare so that you are not depleted and tired by race time.

But Jim was more concerned about taking stock of the cloud movement and ascertaining whether the moon really could appear. That appearance was important since this was his first experience of the Moonlight run. I had no faith in such an appearance. Evidently the thick gray clouds and misting rain were affirming my position. Even when we pulled into the very crowded parking lot the intermittent rain continued, though it was still more than an hour before the race. As we were walking from the car to the race grounds (a ten minute walk as it turned out) to pick up our bibs and tee shirts, Jim kept finding blue sky poking through tiny holes in the clouds. He really was adamant about this visible moon- rising possibility. I tried to be supportive because it would be a less than interesting race if there were no moonlight but I was still an unbeliever. We had noticed earlier in the day that the clouds were moving right along in a southeasterly direction although it was not supposed to clear up until Saturday. But I did not think the gray clouds were going to move aside quickly enough for Jim’s desire to have a run bathed in moon glow. According to Google this night would bring a “waning gibbous moon at 80%” which I imagined as shimmering provocatively over the bay and turning the race course into a surreal landscape.

After picking up our bibs and tee shirts we hustled back to the car to deposit them. We then did a bit of jogging to warm up. It always helps me to warm up for a 5K although it doesn’t feel like it helps much with a 10K. Jim and I did our own private rituals and routines to get ready for the start. This event has a history of being slightly disorganized and this night was no exception. Every year “they” try something new; this year it was different start times for the two big events –the 5K and 10K—and a new course for the 5K. So the 10K runners, by far the larger crowd, took off thirty minutes before we were to start the 5K. By the time our start time had come around the moon was out! I couldn’t believe it but the sky had cleared up and that old devil moon was hanging low and shining bright. Jim seemed quite pleased and I had to swallow my unbelief.

The announcer for the race kept warning us about being careful and now that I have run the course that was rightly said. It included the chaos right at the beginning where a wide parking lot of runners quickly hit a very narrow bike/run path along a levee. We all tried to avoid bumping but it couldn’t be avoided, one slower young woman got bumped hard when I went by her on the left and another runner went by her on the right. Fortunately no one tripped or fell but it was close.

Suddenly we were in the dark running along this narrow paved path and all you could hear was the slap of shoes and the labored breathing of everyone who started out too fast. The moon was sitting right there in front of us even though it didn’t seem to give off a lot of light. I have a vague memory of Jim explaining that phenomena to me but I don’t remember what he said. There were people in front, behind, and passing me who had those “neon light sticks” that glow in the dark. They don’t shed light but they do help you keep track of the path because of the sheer number of runners wearing them around their necks and other body parts. And they are rather surreal, often they look like a circle of light bouncing along a dark path held up by a shadow.

The paved path didn’t last long and that was unwelcome news. Now we were on a gravel road; there was more room to run but much more chance for a bone bruise or a strained ankle. I hate running on gravel and I had to change my stride in order to accommodate the uneven surface. But it was nice to have some room to run and I was able to get into a semi-steady pace. I could never check my GPS because there was no light. Finally at the first water station with its blazing flood lamps I could see that we had gone 1.89 miles but it went by so quickly I did not see the pace. I kept lying to myself about how I didn’t care about my pace but it didn’t work. I knew that the minute we came out into street lamp lit roads I would want to know.

Eventually we did turn onto a paved road again and I could finally see runners more clearly. Now we had about a mile left and I moved out to the left fringe of the pack so that I could keep my pace and not lose ground. I seemed to running around a 9 min/mile pace and I had hoped it would be faster but then considering the running conditions it was acceptable. With this race I do know that I am going to begin a series of “sprint calculations.” When would I start pushing the pace, when would I motor up into full sprint mode, when would I have a sense of my remaining physical resources? I didn’t feel strong and I thought I would. I had not pushed the pace so I wasn’t sure why I didn’t feel perkier. So that meant I would need to back off the full tilt sprint until I was sure I could keep it up all the way into the chute. I don’t think I am actually very adept at these “sprint calculations” and I keep thinking that the more races I complete the more adept I will become. It hasn’t happened yet.

Now we had made the last turn onto the street right before the finish with all of the flood lamps blinding us, but it is still more than a quarter of a mile to the line and I knew I could not sprint that far. So I held back and then I realized I had held back too long. So I made a headlong dash and almost knocked over a couple of people as I bolted ahead of them by inches to enter the chute. Usually everyone is slowing down before the chute and I was speeding up, a clear prescription for a collision. We avoided it this time.

Jim found me and told me his time and I was excited for him. He could easily have won his age division with that time. But the weather turned bitter cold and we were both freezing. We tried to hang around but they only posted the 10K times and didn’t seem to be rushing to post the 5K times. We even checked at the official booth and the girls who were working on it were clearly behind and overwhelmed. So we headed back to the car, briskly, since we were now really quite cold. As it turned out once the times were finally posted online Jim had won his division and now he was “undefeated” for the season. It was great news.

I had maintained a 9:00 min/mile pace for the course and reframed that pace as progress toward my attempts to increase my pace after my bout with pneumonia. I was on the comeback trail. And I was thrilled to celebrate Jim’s success.

I Must Run

2007-09-27T21:22:00.000-07:00

I must run. I have no choice. It began on a Thursday afternoon in early February of 1999. My vision had been blurred for two weeks; my other symptoms were extreme hunger and thirst, and other odd goings on with my body, which finally compelled me to make an appointment to see a doctor. On the same day as my doctor’s appointment my sister called to tell me that my dad had died earlier that morning. I needed to make plane reservations and get there (Portland, Oregon) as soon as I could the next morning. As thoughts of my father and his death were running through my mind I faintly heard my doctor inform me that I had Type II diabetes and that everything in my life had to change. He said, “This is a serious disease and you must make lifestyle changes immediately as well as begin a rigorous regime of medication.” So my diet, my exercise habits, my stress management, everything, according to him, seemed to be affected by this disease. Now I needed to monitor my blood sugar levels and prevent the consequences that would inevitably result if I didn’t take care of myself. As you can imagine, having blurred vision for a book editor is one scary symptom. I often read two or more books a week and many emails, manuscripts, and proposals. I wasn’t in shock by the juxtaposition of these two traumatic events, but I was close to it. So now I had to begin running every day to monitor my diabetes and maintain my physical and mental health.

Races became the way I motivated myself to run regularly and the way I began to build a community of runners that could also push me along. The joy of racing and doing that activity with friends increases every year.