MRTC RRS 1st 5K (July 2019)

Master's 2nd Place
15th of 1206 Overall
1st of 79 Age Group 50-54

Apprehensive over coming back to the MRTC RRS since 2017, not dread but the feeling of being good enough again. Estimated goal time Sub20.

With cloud cover, sprinkles and a minimized heat signature, the worry faded the moment my magnetic chip triggered. Everything my coach (Kevin/Can't Stop Endurance) instilled (over 4 yrs worth) activated by steading my tempo to match lead runners.

Weary not to blast the first mile, the focus was to maintain good breathing and sense runners next to me. Closing in on each runner, my thoughts calculated what cards their labored breathing held. I read their tempo and patterns. The moment a runner missed a beat, it opened a moment to capitalize. No domination, just acceleration and ensure the next target was in view. The race became a Mario Go-Kart video game, the fun came back, this was JOY my body remembered.

In the final mile, my senses felt my tank held more reserves. This body can go for something more than the pre-race goal. In front of me, 200 meters and four runners. Hunt down just one. Tally-ho! With a swift pass by one of the four, my trajectory punched it to the line.

At race end, Coach Kevin handed me a “Recovery Popsicle”. Recapping my last push, I told Kevin, “Man, all I could think was Fast Feet, things we talk about over the years”. He replied, “You know the program more than most.” Likely its ingrained now.

Excited for the up coming series events and what this old body can do. @ Memphis Botanic Garden

THE SEATTLE ROCK & ROLL HALF MARATHON 2019: The Cruise

PROLOGUE

The excitement built as we prepared for our first cruise.  As a Naval Officer in the late 90s, driving a warship along the Alaskan coast did not compare to the relaxation of a 7-day pleasure excursion.

Notoriously known for the gluttony of eating and sloth of lounging,  cruise ships furnish daily activities uncommon to me.  Determined to arrive on board in great shape, what better way to prepare than to enter a Half Marathon race the day of departure?

Yes, you heard that right.  Hours before boarding a joyful cruise ship, a crazed Half Marathon needed competing.  “Typical Rome!”

Just a week prior, the Navy Ten Nautical Miler (11.51 miles) garnered a Master’s (+40yr old) win.  Emphasizing running from within and a clear mind, the effort earned an overall place of 4th among 1300 participants in a time of 1h18m10s (6:48 Pace).  The race turned out better than hoped affording time to spare to attend church in Sunday slacks and dress shirt.

Top - Getting my Bib at C-Link; Bottom - Training on Rin's Hill; Right - Finishing the Navy 10 NM (1June2019)

The fitness and aesthetic aspects in a half marathon provided one motivation.  However, another motivation came in the form of my Nanay (Grandmother) Rosing passing just two years ago.  Running the Half honored her as a “Celebration of Life”.  A mere four seconds accomplished the 1h30m a mission that day

Determined to make a better showing, the goal of 1h29min set the stage.  However, this course presented a much harder challenge.  It rolled through the city for two miles, then on Interstate-5 Express way for 3miles and flattened for another 5 miles.  The toughest challenge came at mile 10 where the steep 9% grade of Queen Anne Hill elevated runners 350 feet straight up in one mile.  Just surviving loomed and the race didn’t look like a Personal Record (PR) event, but hope reaching the goal required mental fortitude. 

GETTING INTO SEATTLE

We arrived at SEATAC Airport at 2AM and at my Aunt’s condo by 3AM Saturday morning.  After a needed five hours sleep, the three-mile run to C-Link Stadium to obtain my race bib gave me a fresh start to the day.   Anticipation for a hustle bustle day with family lunch and a mini-high school reunion dinner.

Being fit helps me focus and provides a confidence to speak to everyone as if in the presence of kings or giants.  My mind and body pay respect to those present with full attention.  In previous meetings with high-school classmates, my unhealthy lifestyle cause me to wither or turn to a drink.  However, with mental attentiveness, the night’s laughter and conversation brought joyful camaraderie, reflection, and united good will within us. 

John F. Kennedy High School Class of 87 Mini-Reunion.
Right to left: Fred Baisch, Me, Do and Van Nguyen, Tara and Ed Esteron
Spaghetti Factory, South Center

The amazing night lent itself to a warm comfortable exhaustion appropriate for a great slumber.

MORNING HAS BROKEN LIKE THE FIRST MORNING

A mile separated my Aunt’s home and the start line.  Getting to the venue, factoring a Port-a-Potty break (also considering the long lines) and getting to Coral #1 linked itself into place.  Unfortunately, to reach my coral required me transit through a sea of 12,000 runners, almost two city blocks. Making it just in time, my ritual of saying the “Lords Prayer” for a safe race started my event.

Previous starts in Coral #1 caused anxiety by lining up with running elites.  However, the apprehension didn’t dawn on me today.  In fact, calm determination and concentration ruled the morning.  A special meeting and pleasure cruise awaited me upon completion of the race.

Coral #1 lead the way as the gun sounded.  With quick glances at my watch, my strategy implemented itself immediately like a lightning bolt.  Fast acceleration during first mile after which locking into a pace on the edge of contentment and insanity all the while keeping a harmonious break-neck rhythm.

Starting next to the Seattle Space Needle, the Monorail line shadowed the first mile leading to Westlake Center (the heart of the city) then down to the Columbia Tower.  These same streets just 35 summers past, saw a cigarette in hand and days of wandering youth.  Today, this greying man scorched down the same streets to a left-turn into the I-5 Expressway tunnel.

The dark and quite tunnel eerily sounded like New York City Marathon’s Queensborough Bridge with its patter of runner’s footsteps.  The location that shred hopes of a PR.  However, on this morning, my pace remained steady alongside charging runners as we rolled over the Ship Canal Bridge heading off the Freeway towards the University of Washington.

Negotiating a hard sloping right turn onto Northlake Way and the 5-mile marker, in another mile my dear friends, Rob and Vicky patiently waited to root for me.  The previous day, a message was sent to Vicky to expect me at the Freemont/10K mark around 7:15AM (45 minutes from race start).  Luckily, they arrived five minutes early because my velocity approached them with a 42-minute 10K.  As they cheered me, I yelled back “I LOVE YOU GUYS”.  Seeing them raised my spirits and emboldened my pace.  

Seeing Rob and Vicki on Northlake Way (Photo taken by Vicki Stewart)

With half the race completed, Mile 7 approached quickly.  Running to conserve energy gave me a better chance to survive the looming Queen Anne Hill.  However, my mind said, “Stay with the pack, keep up, and don’t let UP!”  Flashing by the Burke-Gillman Trail and over the Ballard locks, Mile 9 provided the last relatively flat surface.

Queen Anne rapidly approached.

QUEEN ANNE HILL

My path turned right at Mile 10, the beginning of going one mile straight up Queen Anne Hill.  In my 30s, occasionally training this hill instilled a tempered mental toughness.  At 50yrs old, this reacquaintance invoked visions of relentless pain.  My beloved Rin’s Hill near my home rose merely 75 feet elevation change over a quarter mile; Queen Anne towered four times longer and higher.  No hills in West Tennessee compared.    

Approaching the hill, my mind cleared then filled with positive thoughts.  “He we go, this is your MOMENT!”  My cadence steadied but more power resonated in each step.  “Bound and Dance this Hill”, my mind willed my body to pass struggling runners. My system in full throttle and resolute on the task at hand staving off any discomfort for as long as possible.

At the middle of the hill (half-mile up), the hurt started to chip at my pain shield.  By the ¾ mark to the top, the lungs gasped for breath, sunrays penetrated my skull, and wrenching strain found its way into every leg fiber.  “LIFT!” was the constant reminder, “Don’t You Dare Give IN!, Don’t worry about time, just keep form.”  My respect for Queen Anne started many years prior.  A beautiful backdrop to the city, she was an epic challenge to the course.  I felt a strange honor in running her slopes giving my best while never slowing to a walk. 

Any negative clamor met a smile and a singing intonation, “No one can take this from me for I made the MOMENT happen.  Enjoy everything about it, even the discomfort.”

The apex finally arrived.  The one-mile ascent somehow took less than 8 minutes.  The Rock and Roll organizers promised a gorgeous Emerald view at the top.  They did not disappoint with the appearance of Elliot Bay, West Seattle, the Waterfront, Space Needle and, of course, Mount Rainer.  “The Treasures of Seattle” adored since my childhood continued my love Pacific Northwest.  The rest of the race finished downhill. Unfortunately, the most dangerous part of the course.

Thankfully the typical rain of Seattle did not encroach this day.  Wet road might play serious havoc with a slippery decline.  The steep decent crushed quads and missteps could cause severe tumbles to serious injury.  A female runner flew by me with reckless abandon as she flailed her arms.  My tactic utilized controlled caution by shortening the length of my stride and speeding up my leg revolutions as gravity provided the boosted.  The base of the Space Needle closed in, the same location where the race started.

FINISHLINE: “The End of the Race but Not of the Day”

The final kick came with the last turn to the finish line.  Reminding myself, “Be Light, and get “Fast Feet”, my closing dash drew me to the line where the clock read 1h29m and a goal accomplished.  However, hardly any runners populated the finishing area.  
Looking back, just three runners rounded the last turn.  The finishers venue harkened of a ghost town.  Working my way to the results computer, the unofficial results read 1:29:12 and 71st overall (later finding out 9,925 participants completed the half marathon) good enough for the top 1%.  The bulk of runners would approach 20 minutes later.

Rushing back to my Aunt’s home ordered the new mission with little time to celebrate.  My wife and son already packed our bags.  My parents soon arrived with surprise that the race already happened.  With a quick shower, change of clothes, and packing of the car, we made our way across the city to West Seattle for our special meeting.

My Grandmother died the morning of June 9, 2017.  Today was June 9th.  Though the purpose of coming to Seattle mainly involved boarding a ship for a week of fun, no way would we miss the chance to see her on this day.

Our Special Meeting for the Day.

With a kiss on her gravestone, a prayer and showing off my medal to her, we departed uplifted by her spirit.  My watch read 10AM.  The day started with a half marathon, a drive across the city, and visit to my Grandmother all within 4-hours.  A chuckle formed in my chest. I made the most of my time.

Time for Vacation.

The St Jude Pacer 2018

The St Jude Pacer

“A pacer tries to keep a pace to help others reach their goal.  They must be CONSISTENT.”

I have been blessed with great pacers in both full and half marathons.   They have helped me achieve times beyond my personal capabilities.   Just a year ago, I ran the 2017 St Jude Marathon with pacers.  The day before the race, I introduced myself to two pacers (Anthony Cendana and Paxton Bennett) who’d guide me through the course.  What made it daunting was the speed in which I was going to keep up with these runners.  However, with proper training, I knew I physically prepared, but mentally didn’t believe.  Once the race started, I shut-off all thought.  I had my music playing in the background and went into a zone I never went before.  I let my pacers do all the work.  All I had to do was follow them.  They blocked the wind, kept time, reminded everyone to drink or take fuel.  At the end, I found myself with the two pacers at the finish with a PR within the Pace Goal time.  I gained so much respect for them after that experience.

In the Spring, I joined the Germantown Thoroughbreds for long training runs.  I found out that one of the leaders (Mr. Charles Hurst) managed the St. Jude Pace Team with fellow coordinator David Tuttle.  I told Charles about my St Jude experience.  I asked if there was an opportunity for me to pace.  With my marathon time, I was good enough to run with the 4:00 group.  Typicaly they like placing Pacers in groups 20-30 better than the assigned group.  I was also racing the New York City Marathon (NYCM) in November, I’d already have good training to go the pace required. 

Coming of a decent NYCM, I recharged and took to the Memphis streets.  My good friend (Scott) and I prepared from Downtown, to the Riverside, and Overton Park.  On my own, I’d run my lunches to get that feel of 9:09 (the required pace) on both the track and roads near work. 

Being part of the pace group there were time requirements.  The daunting one was getting within 90 second window of the finish.  In my case 4-hours, which meant I must finish between 3h59m00s and 4h00m30s.  In support of the runners, we couldn’t go too fast for the runners nor to slow that they didn’t achieve their goals.  I took it very seriously and it would be put to the test.

RACE DAY “Nothing goes as Planned”

Storms, Lightning and Thunder awaited me at the AutoZone Park pacers suite.  The rain was coming down very hard with flashes and booms awakening the stadium.  St Jude organizers used caution and delayed the run.  Instead of an 8:00AM start, the Half and Full Marathon would start at 9:00AM.  As necessary as the delay was, it would also take some runners out of rhythm.

I got to meet my fellow 4:00hr pacing partner (Paul) the morning of the race.  A veteran of over 20 pacing activities, he drove in from Oklahoma City to participate.  In fact, other pacers from various locations participated some as far as Kentucky, Iowa, and California helped to support St Jude runners.  All of them with distinguished running experiences. 

Paul and I took to the start line with the other pacers 30 minutes prior to the run.  The rain had subsided but something felt strange.  Heat and humidity started sneaking its way through the clouds.  We were located in Coral F with many hopeful runners stirring near us. 

I had customized the rod for my pacer flag with paint, a roped handle, an inscription (Psalms 26:2), and a list of the exact times for each mile and 5K increment we’d need to hit.  The goal was to stay within 5-10 seconds of each mark.  Example would be hitting the first mile at 9m09sec or the first 5K in 28m24sec.  Anything within 5-10sec of that time would be good, otherwise we’d need to speed up or slow down to meet the next mile on time.  A pacer tries to be like a Japanese subway system to be always on time, but the reality is it’s more like a Greyhound Bus in traffic.  There will be some obstacles slowing you down. 

The first part of the marathon was energetic.  Runners wanting to go fast.  I just wanted to get into rhythm.  However, some misplaced runners were already gotten tired and started walking or stopped in the first miles causing pile-ups on the road.  Paul and I were having to navigate and slow up or rush through.  The energy and excitement reached its pinnacle at the St Jude Campus seeing all the children and the real reason we were running.  We were far ahead of mile times that we need to slow down by quite a bit on the way back on Riverside Drive.  We would eventually get back on pace as the half-marathoners split off on Washington Ave. 

There were six full-marathoners left in my pace group.  Even with the humidity warming up, everyone still seemed quite strong.   At the 13.1 mark, my watch read 2h00m17s, only 1-sec off mile pace.  I felt pretty good about their chances.  My optimism would crack in heat.

WEATHERING DOWN

The heat took its toll on two members of my group who were stonewalled at Stonewall Street.  Then another two dropped off at Overton Park.  I was left with two hopeful runners.  But something very strange had happened.  After mile 17, my time had read that I was only 30 seconds ahead of pace.  However, at mile 18, I somehow found that we were now behind of the mile mark by 70 seconds.  I didn’t feel my rhythm change but somehow we were now behind.  In a panic to keep time, I bumped the pace.  As mile 19 passed, we were now 50 seconds ahead of the mile mark.  I had to slow us down. 

My fellow pacer Paul was in trouble; the humidity was getting to him.  Just two weeks prior to this race he paced another marathon.  The toll of that marathon and the heat caused him to slow and lose the pace.  I would have to go it alone with these two runners.

With only 7 miles left, I had Danielle from Raleigh, NC and Jared from Cordova.  With the faux pas on mile 18 (which turned out to be miss located), I had to get their spirits up with pep-talks and mental games.  I told them to think of “clickers”.  Each time a mile came, “Click It” off as complete as one step closer to the finish.  I was trying anything to keep them positive and on my tail. 

Unfortunately, at the 20-mile water-stop, Jared was lost.  I turned around and he was nowhere to be found.  Danielle was the only one left.  We traveled on to North Parkway.  She picked up her pace, so I let her run ahead.  It was a good feeling knowing she felt strong.  But, that positive feeling wore away when I noticed her running left to right on the road.  As I kept my own pace, I caught up to her and gave her more words of advice.  “Stay on the dashed road lines, stay straight and don’t let this marathon get any longer by swaying.”  She took my advice, but, she finally succumb to the humidity by mile 22.

HOMESTRETCH

I was on time, on pace, and alone.  A pacer with no one to pace. 

The turn onto Danny Thomas Street confirmed my fears that it was a bad day for everyone.  Like a scene from the “Walking Dead”, runners were now turned into walkers fighting fatigue, humidity and an oncoming wind hitting their faces.  Yet, I was still running past them, trying desperately to give hope or words of encouragement.   One hopeful walker tried to follow me, “C’mon Man!  Stay on my hip and I’ll bring you home.”  I’d try to block the wind for him as he tried keeping behind me, but he couldn’t keep my pace. 

My wife, was above the Monroe St overpass, all I could do was shrug.  I reached mile 26 to cheers of “Good Job Pacer”.  But in my mind, I didn’t feel that way.  I crossed the finish line at 3h59m04s, less than a minute of my required time.  My body, system, and legs were all in good working order.  I felt spry and lively.  However, inside I was dejected.  I finished alone.  I felt like I had not helped anyone.  

I got back to the pacer’s suite and found fellow pacer Paxton.  He had helped me reach my goal the previous year.  He offered up sound words of advice.  “Pacing for others is not about you carrying them.  The runner has to do their own work in training, preparation and execution.  You are there as a guide, support and example.  In the end, their success is not your success.”

GIVING BACK

This race means so much to runners in this city and region.  More importantly, it means the world to the children on at that St Jude Campus.  Pacers and runners have to endure only a morning of running.  The children and medical staff at St Jude endure much more for a longer time period.

I plan to comeback to St Jude as a pacer hopefully in fair running weather.  I know as I run/train downtown and see those St Jude buildings, I’ll put into context their struggle compared to mine.   Hopefully I can fight and endure as gracefully as them. 

2018 Navy 10 Nautical Miler

A few months ago I ran the Germantown Half Marathon. I was a bit overweight and hadn't committed to training as the previous year. I thought I could "Phone it in" and receive the same result. However, the result was a very rude awakening. I was 5minutes slower than the previous year and took only 3rd in my age group where I was the 3^rd in the Masters (+40yrs older) in 2017.

I rededicated myself to improving fitness and overall wellbeing. Functionally use my yoga and improve the quality of my mileage with more taxing efforts.

I found a new group called the Germantown Thoroughbreds. An eclectic group of older runners. My good buddy Anik showed up the week prior to the race. We ran side by side for 13miles at a very brisk pace. Anik has outstanding 5-10K speed. So keeping up with him gave me confidence.

Anik is 38yrs old and has the capability of being a good longer distance runner. However, 10 miles and over he's not attuned to pacing as I've been trained to do. But he offered to pace me for the 10Nautical Miler (NM). I knew he could hold sub-7 pacing for 6miles but 8miles in the heat might be a bit taxing.   He was more than willing to learn and if need be go hard to Mile 8 just for the experience. The only problem was the first part of my strategy.

My goal was to be below 1h20minutes for the race (10Nautical miles = 11.51miles). That means I have to be below 6:57 pace. Although I haven't been running that fast since November, I felt I had the fitness to accomplish it.   My strategy was to start at a 6:30 pace for the first mile. Then cruise around 6:50 until 8mile when I could utilize a good kick.

Anik didn't feel comfortable with going 6:30 on the first mile. For most people going 30sec fast on their first mile is suicide. But for me I like to get my heart going and mentally know I'm in a race. There is urgency in going fast.   

So we devised a tactic that would help him while helping me. I told Anik to start on the line and go off the gun. Thirty seconds later I'd start my run. Since time was calculated on Chip time, it was irrelevant what time I'd take off.    Race day, I did my usual warm up and saw Anik at the line. He was up front. I settled my mind by saying to myself "Clear the Mechanism". Meaning focus. (Kevin Costner “For the Love of the Game” - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aXrpmN6hHqc , see the link which give you a good idea how I try to focus).   

The field becomes clear. You are aware of everything but the distractions become minimal. You are in tune with what you have to do. You enjoy your task because that's all you have to do. You enjoy that moment and you are at peace because you are ready to roll.

The gun went off, I waited at the side looking at the clock and said a 30second prayer Thanking God for the moment and to give my best to somehow reach my arbritary goal.

I reached Anik at the first three-quarter mile (3-Quarter Mile), then settled to his sub7pace.

The course was different from the previous year and Anik had not seen the new course. As my pacer he'd be in front so I had to call out the turns and best line for shorter tangents.  His mission was to not only keep the pace but block the wind. Which in itself is a lot of work.

As much as I knew he could hold the pace. I also knew if I didn't lead a few times, he might not make it himself. He would tell me when he needed a break from leading and I'd pick up the pace. I'd have him stay on my hip.

By the half way mark we caught almost everyone and could tell there wasn't much left to hunt. Everytime we'd catch someone we surged and hammered to get passed them hoping they wouldn’t respond with a surge of their own. Of course we'd say good job to those we passed in sportsmanship. But in my mind I was thinking, "We're coming and passing you. Catch us if you can!"

By the time we reached the 8NM mark there were only 4 guys left in my view. FOUR! This is where mental fortitude takes over. This is the point where you start watching for cracks in the runners ahead.  I know I have 30seconds over them though they don't know that. So I'm relaxed.

Anik was coaxing me to run and leave him. To be fair, I would have like to but it's not that simple. If you light a match too early it will burn out before it gets the end. So you still pace but much quicker cadence and forthright resolve.

With a mile left, the four were well within striking distance.  With every step, I was gaining on them. Runners #4 and #3 were side by side.  I surged and picked them off easily. I didn't look back but could tell Anik was no longer able to hold the pace because I couldn’t sense him.

The last 200yards is a slight upward grade. I've practiced finishing it often. Runner #1 was just too far. But I was still within striking distance of #2. At 134lbs, my frame was much lighter than everyone else. I was dancing on that last upward grade. I was closing #2 but I was losing real-estate.   

The last song on my play list was "I want it All" by Queen.  On the last charge on the final up slope I was singing to myself. "I'm a man with a one track mind So much to do in one lifetime So I'm living it all, yes I'm living it all And I'm giving it all, and I'm giving it ALL! I WANT IT ALL!"

Rounding left to the finish. He had 15-20yards that I just couldn't overcome. But I was still smiles because I knew that my cushion was more than his ground lead.  A few yards from the line raised my arms knowing that I just ran a well-planned strategic and tactical race.

I took a deep breath to recover. Congratulated those right after me.  I stayed at the line just a bit longer to wait for  Anik to finish. He finished just over 1h20min.  By gunning for the last 4runners, I somehow put a minute between me and him in the last 2 miles.

His effort was rewarded with a 10th place over all while I came in 5th overall.  We would both earn awards.  He earned the 35-39 Age Group Winner award, while I won the Masters award.

When I received my award, the base Captain presented me the Master’s winners coin.  He noticed my Cobra Kai shirt (from Karate Kid) and said "No Mercy!" I responded "Cobra Kai Never Die!"  I thought that was pretty cool.  

It wasn’t a Personal Record (PR) but I was very happy.  I didn't really surprised myself but I had the feeling that I set out what I wanted to do and I did it. What's even better is that the friend who went with me recieved high accolades as well.  I don't know if Anik really believed he could do that time. In fact his best time from 2yrs ago was 1:30. Today he ran just over 1:20.  He sacrificed for me and he accomplished more than he set out to do.  That's the best feeling when you can not only lift yourself, but lift others to do amazing things.
I will always appreciate that moment with him.  

ROAD RACE SERIES 2017 – IT’S A FAMILY AFFAIR

ROAD RACE SERIES 2017 – IT’S A FAMILY AFFAIR

The Sales Pitch

I’ve been a runner since I could walk.  From sprinting to distance running, I always wanted to be fast.  I’ve been somewhat successful in this passion which has also afforded me a healthy body, mental fortitude and sense of well-being.

My son, Christian, on the other hand, is from the video game generation.  He’s got great skills on a game console or computer keyboard.  But running?  Getting him on the road was going to be a daunting. 

I asked him if he wanted to join me and his mother (Grace) for the series.  Expectedly, he balked.  It wasn’t a “no”.  He made a face as if to say, “Uggh”, but I made a sales pitch to him. 

At 22 years old, he is still on my insurance.  Participating in an active healthy lifestyle would reduce my insurance payments for him.  Eventually when he gets his own insurance, healthy lifestyles will reduce his own payments. 

I also told him that many healthy ladies were at the events. That explanation got him moving towards signing up, but what really pushed him over the edge was “Parental Guilt”.  Basically, I told him how much suffering his mother would endure and asked if he could help by running with her.  He finally relented.

Training

I typically train 70-100 miles per week and never miss a day of running.  In contrast, Christian stopped running after high school.  His yearly running mileage is in the single digits.  Getting him in shape was going to be a challenge.

Grace sat with me and explained that he needed his own pace, and needed to train at her level -- not mine. She reminded me that by Christian agreeing to run, we had already achieved the most important step.

With a hands-off approach, our son set off at a slower pace with his mother and our Shitzu.  He was moving, sweating, and getting exercise.  He wasn’t going my speed, but he was going.

The Road Races: A Clash of Styles

My goal for the series was to defend my 2016 First Place for 45-49 age group.  That meant training much harder as competitors were upping their own games. 

I did very well in the first 5K.  However, in my cool-down back down the course to find Grace, I noticed Christian walking and jogging.  He was suffering in the 5K, but I wasn’t helping by being negative.  I’d give sighs and tell him to “not wimp out”. 

I ran the second 5K, not doing so well, and ran back on to the course only to see him again suffering at a walking pace. Still I wasn’t providing positive feedback.  I found myself being disappointed in his running ability.  

In the first 5 miler, I ran very well.  Going back down the course, once more I found Christian walking.  I met up with Grace farther back down the course and shared my displeasure.  My wise wife explained that if I made this more of a torture, he would never run again.  Then she suggested, “Why don’t you run with him rather than with me?”

Changing Tactics

I made it a point to devote each second race to him.  When the second 5 miler came, I went to the race in a different pair of shoes that didn’t have my running chip so I wouldn’t be tempted to race.  Every first race was going to be my time for competition. 

I lined up to the 5 miler with him.  I felt I could coach him through it, maybe make him run faster.  Estimating his ability through his age, I thought we could go 9-10min/mile.  We rolled through the first mile in a blistering 9:30.  However, he started huffing and we were going downhill. “Uh oh,” I thought, “he doesn’t have the lungs or stride for this.  I need to motivate him more.”  Every uphill as he was suffering, I’d give him a cringe, the same kind of cringe my father would give me when I didn’t know the difference between long-nose pliers and a plier wrench.  By the fourth mile, I was being more negative again by telling him to “suck it up”.  However, he didn’t complain. I could see he was really trying, but was frustrated. 

As the first 10K rolled around in September, I ran a fair race while he walked his race.  I wasn’t going to able to attend the second 10K because Grace and I planned to be in Nashville.  That opened the door for our son to quit and not run the second race.  However, as we were about to leave for Nashville the day prior to the 10k, Christian said that he was going to run it.  I was apprehensive that he’d actually wake up early and do it.  But, as I did my morning run around the Nashville city, I took a quick break to see the RRS results and check on rivals.  To my surprise, Christian’s name was listed as a finisher (towards the end), but that he actually did it on his own.  I was beaming with pride.

Taking initiative

When we got home, I told him how proud I was for him taking the initiative.  He started asking me a few questions on how to run and that he made a new goal to get the Road Warrior statue by completing all 10races.  I was heart-warmed.  But not knowing how to run properly took me aback.  I had an answer for that.  We went to my coach’s forms class.  It didn’t make Christian run faster, but it did help him run smoother.

As the October 10 miler came around, I was in a heavy battle for my age group title with a friend.  We were gutting it out to the finish, when I saw Christian strolling along at a jog.  He waved to me in his polite, “Hey Dad” smile as my face was in full grit and angst chasing down my rival.  In that moment, I started to laugh going sub-6 to the line.  Here I was taking this race so seriously while Christian (my Eagle Scout, nature loving son) was on the course enjoying the beauty of the park. 

The second 10 miler was as humid as the first.  I was still 10 seconds down from my rival, but I kept to my promise and ran with Christian.  If this took him an hour or three, I was going to shut up and enjoy the run with my son.  We took off together.  I ran, jogged and walked his pace.  I’d give him pieces of advice on his stride when he needed it.  We rolled to Maroon 5 on my smart phone, a common band we enjoy.  We talked about school and his graphics and art work -- how much he loved it and how well it was going. 

I have an accounting degree and an MBA, so my life is about calculation and numbers -- the end result.  I knew we had differences, but didn’t realize we shared the same determination when it came to our passions.  The “Beast” (nickname for RRS 10 miler), was reminding me of the beauty of my son.  After mile 4, we saw James Maglasang bolting by at 5min/pace.  I got a bit antsy. We took every hill and decline comfortably.  However, I had to take the mile 6 hill on my own to get personal jitters out.  I slowed and we took on the switchbacks together.  I asked if he had enough to finish hard for the final half-mile.  He brought us in at a full sprint.  I was so proud.

Finishing strong

My final competitive race for the RRS year came with the 1^st Half Marathon.  I had practiced the 13.1 course three times during the week leading up to the race.  I knew every bit of the course, which included every little lift and decline.  I devised a strategy to beat my rival who was only 4 seconds ahead.  Being light (130lbs), I had an advantage.  From the gun, I wanted my competitor to see me run past him, and I knew he’d chase.  Every little climb, I’d push the pace.  I didn’t really care if I burned out, I was going for it. 

By the 6.5 mile turnaround, I was fresh.  I set a new goal of catching a 4-pack.  Singleton Parkway can have terrible headwinds because there is no cover in many spots.  However, I had four moving trees ahead of me.  I sat on their heels to the mile 10 bridge.  I had energy reserves by not battling the wind thanks to the 4-pack.  When the incline of the bridge came, I surged my light frame over the bridge.  I kept hearing their footsteps but never looked back.  The last mile was going to be the toughest.  I patted Hotdog Man’s “Hit it Here Booster” sign and hammered Chapel Hill (I call it that because of the chapel across the street).  I was at maximum, ready to die and quit.  I kept thinking, “One More Step!” and get over the crest.  I went over and screamed to the finish, still hearing the footsteps.  But as I turned around, I was in shock there was no one there.  They were phantom steps made up in my mind to go faster.  No one would cross the line again until two minutes after my finish.  I had also put five minutes on my rival.  I finished 5^th overall in the race.  More importantly, I would take the #1 rank for my age group and would garner the 3^rd Place Master’s trophy, a step above the age group winner’s plate. 

My series wasn’t complete.  I headed back on to the course to find Christian.  Grace had already finished her six races to be a Series Finisher, and Christian needed the final two half marathons to earn the Road Warrior statue.  I found him two miles back, going his pace.  I didn’t push him; I just held a conversation with him.

 

Christian’s second half marathon was the same sort of leisurely run.  We’d go his pace and I’d cheer him as well as everyone else in the +15min pace group.  I’d also yelling support to friends running hard across the highway heading towards the finish. When Chapel Hill came, we hit the Hotdog Man’s sign, jogged up the hill and crossed the line together.  Christian would be a Road Warrior, a distinction even I didn’t earn. 

Learning from each other - We are all Winners

I wanted to teach Christian the joy of running and how it’s impacted me -- why it’s so important to have the drive to win.  However, because of our differences, he has reminded me of the joy of living.  The finish line doesn’t move.  It will be there waiting for you.  It just depends on when you want to get there.  I hope that as father and son, we never stop learning from one another.