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 | Waterfall Park in Seattle's Pioneer Square. Seattle, WA July 3, 2005 |
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June 22, 2008Escaping From Alcatraz, Days 4 & 5 - SightseeingA few more trip notes:
Damn, it's good to be home. Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated June 22, 2008 10:43 AM. June 21, 2008Escaping From Alcatraz, Day 3 - Race!At precisely 4:20 AM on Sunday, my iPhone's alarm went off (the first 20 seconds of "Clocks", if you're curious), and, despite being unable to get much sleep the night before, I sat bolt-upright in bed, 80% awake and climbing. Race day. Glancing across the room, Jeff is already up and climbing out of his bed. I stand up, grab a DoubleShot from the mini fridge, and manage to fire down a banana and a CLIF bar before my stomach nerves decide to get the better of me. (Better not push it.) Jeff and I need to be at Marina Green by 5 AM, so we start pulling on clothes, zipping up our duffel bags, and basically getting ready to move out. Elaine, bless her heart, rouses herself to slather me in waterproof sunscreen; I pull on my swimsuit, warmup pants, t-shirt, reflective jacket, and bike helmet, meet Jeff at the door, and pose for photographs, We're gone by a quarter to 5, heading down Van Ness on our bikes, duffel bags strapped to our backs and race numbers on our helmets. Turns out that a quickie, two-mile ride at five in the morning is the perfect thing to do before a race. In my case, it gets my blood flowing, some cool wind in my face, and helps me feel comfortable and psyched for the race. We also aren't alone - we see a bunch of other cyclists on streets across the city, all converging on the race site. (Too cool.) Marina Green is black black black, the only illumination being stretlights and the flashlights of hundreds of volunteers, all barking orders at racers and keeping us corralled and moving. Our mission is simple: find our designated slots in the transition area, park our bikes there, lay out our transition clothes and supplies, drop our post-swim bag at the truck, and then head for the bus that takes us to the boat. I find the "682" slot on the bike rack, get my bike on the rack, and then proceed to flatten out my duffel on the wet grass underneath. I laid out everything I'd want before the ride segment - bike jersey, helmet, roadside repair stuff, water bottle, food. After gettting it arranged just so, we drop our post-swim bags at the loading truck, and board the shuttle bus to the boat. Once safely on the bus, Jeff and I turn, look at each other, and spontaneously start grinning. (Dude, I can't believe we're doing this!) The bus fills with triathletes and eventualy we're under way, heading north into the city and out to the piers just east of Coit Tower. Dawn is breaking, so there's daylight, and as the bus drops us off we're met by more volunteers, each of whom directs us to head toward the moored San Francisco Belle. The pier is full of racers, with more are arriving as the morning progresses and additional buses arrive. Jeff and I wait in line to get bodymarked - our numbers written in black Sharpie on our biceps/thighs/hands, our ages written on our left calves - and then head over and grab seats on empty stretches of concrete pier. It's all waiting at this point - waiting to board the boat, waiting for the boat to get under way, waiting to travel out to Alcatraz, waiting to jump in the water. We're both a bit jittery. Jeff tells corny jokes (the "Smell Mop" knock-knock makes an appearance); I practice my terrible Sean Connery impression ("Losers always whine about their best..."). I begin singing snippets of catchy, annoying songs - precisely the type that will stick in your head during an atheletic event - and Jeff threatens me with bodily harm if I continue. Around 6:30, we board the Belle, and secure seats on the floor. The boat fills quickly, and the temperature begins rising with all the body heat. At 7:05 AM, the boat engines roar to life, and everyone on board gives a cheer. Finally under way, we head out to the Bay. The weather is astounding. The sun is out (but not warm), the fog is burning off, the water in the bay is gloriously calm. The city is bathed in this unbelievable warm orange light, and I am reminded of something that one of the race directors said during orientation the day before: "No matter what God you believe in, the experience you're going to have tomorrow is life-changing. Chances are good that you're not one of the elites, so as long as you've already kissed the possibility of finishing first goodbye, I encourage you to pause a moment during your swim, turn over, float on your back, and just drink in the majesty of this beautiful city and this beautiful place, and really just give thanks for being fortunate enough to be alive." I think about this - think about it a lot, actually - and my nerves leave me. Completely. At 7:40, we're getting close to Alcatraz and are just 20 minutes from start. Jeff and I strip down to our swimsuits, strap our timing chips on to our left ankles, and wriggle in to our wetsuits. We keep our wetsuit hoods, official (lime-green!) Alcatraz swim caps, and goggles; all our other stuff (shoes, socks, t-shirt, etc.) goes in to a race bag with our respective numbers on them. (We'll leave them on the boat and get them after the race is all over.) 7:55. The Belle is in position, just off the Alcatraz shore. There are helicopters flying around, guys on jetskis, kayaks, police boats. Media is interviewing the top athletes, who are perched on the railings alongside the boat. It's controlled chaos, and the vibe among the hoi palloi on the Belle is approaching fever-pitch excitement. We're ready. At 8:00 the gun goes off, and the elites are in the water, hauling ass for shore. The rest of us wait about two minutes and suddenly start moving for the thrown-open side doors of the Belle. The swim starts as simply as possibe - you jump in, and try not to land on the guy in front of you. At 8:05, I cross over the timing sensor, take two steps forward, and JERONIMO! into San Francisco Bay. (Oh, so that's that 55-degree water feels like! Holy crap!) The water is choppy with all the swimmers jumping in and thrashing around, and, for a brief while, we're all on top of each other like those poor crabs stacked three-high in the fishtank at the Chinese place down the street. People are bumping in to me, I'm bumping in to them; it's insane. Eventually, I find my stride (and a clear bit of water), and focus on getting to shore without killing myself. I settle in to a three-stroke-breathe pattern, and start to enjoy myself. Swimming isn't a sport that's known for its great views, so if you want to simulate the experience of swimming in San Francisco Bay at home, here's what you do. First, get a bucket and fill it to the brim with chilled brownish saltwater. Second, get a desk lamp with a good 200-watt bulb in it. Set up the desk lamp to one side of the bucket. Now, put your face head-down in the bucket and blow bubbles for at least 15 seconds, and turn your head to the side when you need to breathe. Notice that every time you turn toward the desk lamp, your eyeballs are practically burned out of your skull (that's "the sun" in the real swim); notice, too, that the experience of putting your head in a bucket of cold, brownish saltwater is pretty monotonous after about, oh, 45 seconds. (And if you want a really good simulation, have a friend or family member come bump you - hard - at random intervals, to simulate encounters with other swimmers. Trust me - you'll love it.) Swimming in open water is a bit strange - your ability to gauge distance is all goofed up, because there are no landmarks that get recognizably closer. I pause after ten minutes or so, float on my back, drink in the view, give thanks, and suddenly wonder - am I actually going anywhere?. I mean, it looks like I am exactly where I was when I leaped off the boat, relative to the shore. I turn around, look at the Belle (yep, it's back there a fair bit), mentally shrug my shoulders, and get back to the swim. The swim does have a compass, however, and it's called Sutro Tower. This tall, red radio tower is a stationary landmark that you can see from anywhere in the bay. If you're swimming from Alcatraz, keep Sutro at 12 o'clock and the strong bay currents will do the rest, sweeping you west as you swim north. My routine, then, is swim-swim-swim-swim-peek-adjust-swim-swim-swim-swim. Suddenly, I'm at shore. And just as suddenly, I'm fighting with the surf to stand upright, unzipping my wetsuit, and trying to get to the swim transition area. I locate my bag, finish striping out of the wetsuit, towel off, pull on shoes and socks, stuff the suit back in the bag, and start jogging back to my bike in the transition area (roughly a mile away). I feel great - the swim was invigorating, I've got lots of energy, and the overwhelming feeling of doing this thing is carrying me forward. (I don't learn this until later, but I finished the swim in 34 minutes - a fantastic time. I clearly caught some current, but, regardless I'm really proud of that number.) It's about a quarter to nine at this point, and as I'm jogging back to my bike I'm shocked at how many people are lined up to cheer for us all. There are friends and families of athletes, of course, but there's a lot of local San Franciscans out with fair-trade, shade-grown morning coffee in hand, giving it up for the folks in the event. I will confess, freely, that it made me happy, and not just a little bit proud. So I get to the transition area, run down the chute, find my bike, and am immediately trying to get geared up for my ride. I pull on my bike jersey (a Canadian-flag number that Elaine bought for me), strap on my helmet, switch in to the bike shoes, pop a handful of ClifShot into my mouth, and am gone, run/walking my bike toward the bike start line. I cross the line, throw a leg over, and am suddenly moving at 15 mph in the clear morning light, riding back against the stream of runners coming from the swim. I pass (and cheer to) Jeff, who has emerged from his swim and is heading for transition. We exchange white-guy high-fives. The ride feels great. There's no wind, so I'm left to make my own as I pedal, getting in to the rhythm of the ride, letting my body get used to the idea of a new sport, a different kind of exertion. Here's the thing with the Alcatraz ride segment: it giveth, and then it taketh away. The entire 18 miles is an up-and-down, out-and-back monstrosity; you go from Marina Green to the Presidio, then up to the Legion of Honor, then out to the Cliff House, down the hill on the 101 to ride along the ocean, and, finally, up and in to Golden Gate Park, at which point you turn around and go back. At that point, every hill you fought your way up to get to the park is now a downhill, and the downhills that gave you relief/exhiliration on the way to the park (Cliff House Hill, I'm looking at you) are now laying in wait for you, like some loanshark that loaned you $10k when you needed it most and now wants the cash back, with interest. The ride is incredible. The hills are hard, but manageable; my body feels great; the views of the Golden Gate, the ocean, and some of San Francisco's best real estate are beyond amazing. I have two small mechanical bike issues (a brake thingy, a chain lockup), but neither is a problem. As the ride goes on, I find my groove and quickly start seeing the same riders over and over again; we share camaraderie as we trade positions and pass one another. Jeff, for his part, passes me (with another white-guy high-five) in the first quarter of the ride. But an hour and 20 later, I'm flying back in to transition, putting my bike on the rack, switching out into my running shoes, and heading back out for the final, 8-mile run. As I hit transition, I hear Elaine cheering for me; I steal a (wonderful) kiss, and head out. At this point it's 10:30, and the sun is starting to make its presence known. I give mental thanks to Elaine for the sunscreen, and focus on finding my rhythm. The course is reasonably flat for the first two miles of the run; we're heading from Marina Green toward the Golden Gate Bridge, past Crissey Field and out (ultimately) to Baker Beach. As I hit the two-mile mark, I round the corner next to some restrooms and suddenly see that the run course goes straight up some very, very steep steps. And it is at this point that my body - which has done so well all morning with keeping me moving and feeling great - tells me to take it easy. It's not muscle fatigue, or my quads throwing in the towel, or my legs converting to Jell-O; rather, this is about my heart and lungs hitting their limits, pushing as much blood and O2 as they can, and my body recognizing, at some primal level, that those limits do not include Olympic-speed performance while gaining 800 feet of elevation on some packed-earth stairs. So I walk. And then I run, and then I walk, and then I run, which turns in to the pattern for the whole segment. I run down hills, jog on flats, and make the valiant attempt on the elevation to build and keep momentum. My results are mezzo-mezzo, but I keep at it, always moving. I marvel at the terrain - concrete, asphalt, bricks, wet sand, dry sand, dirt, pebbles, vegatation, wood chips. Just about everything except snow and ice. Unbelievable. The views are, as with the ride, jaw-dropping. Baker Beach is a cruel and nasty turnaound point - it's dry sand, uneven and pock-marked from the thousand atheletes that have come before me. Even walking, it's all I can do to keep focused on not twisting an ankle. I hit the turnaround, and start heading back; I'm perhaps a quarter mile in before the sand ladder, which I take as carefully as I can. 5,223 steps later (or whatever), I'm at the top of the ladder next to the CLIF guys, who have a DJ and are playing some serious dance music. I move on. The final two miles are the hardest. It's flat again, which, mentally, means "I have no excuse not to run", but my system is pretty tapped out. I breathe, remember the 'float on your back and enjoy it' line, and push on. As I get closer to Marina Green, the crowd re-materializes, and everyone seems to be cheering and giving an encouraging word. It helps. Once the finish line is within sight, it's like the starting gun going off all over again. Whatever's left in the tank is put front and center, and I'm moving, heading down the street, into the chute, and across the finish line and the readout says 3:55:14 and I'm done, like done done done in a big way, gasping for breath and smiling and hoping, for all my life, that the professional race photos of me running down the chute don't look too dorky. 'Cause I'm really proud of that last bit, and I want 'em. (Later, I learn that they are, indeed, dorky. But there's one of my on my bike that I love.) And that's it. My final race time was 3:53 and change, which is about 10 minutes slower than my time back in 2000. I'm OK with that - losing 10 minutes after 8 years is just fine - and then I found out that Jeff, stud triathlete that he is, did it in 3:05. Which makes my head explode, just a little. (The dude amazes me.) Elaine and Barb help us back to our hotel, where we shower, change, and then head out for some more In-N-Out Burger. During the meal, we talk about doing it again next year, if we can get in. And then we go back to the hotel. Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated June 21, 2008 7:46 PM. June 15, 2008Escaping From Alcatraz, Day 2 - Orientation
2:30 AM. I'm staring at the ceiling. Still awake. Can't sleep. Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated June 15, 2008 11:40 AM. June 11, 2008Escaping From Alcatraz, Day 1 - ROAD TRIP!After months of training and prep, the Escape From Alcatraz triathlon finally happened on Sunday, June 8. My good friend Jeff and I both participated, and I'm proud to say that I am not a) dead, b) crippled, or c) in the belly of a shark somewhere in the San Francisco Bay. In fact, the thing was a hell of a lot of fun. As per usual, here are some trip notes - in this case, from Friday, the 6th (aka, "Day 1")
"We're here." Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated June 11, 2008 8:38 PM. June 2, 2008Slate On The Wii FitSlate's own Seth Stevenson (he who famously - and hysterically - took the piss out of Jaguar a few years ago) has a review/write-up ("Can Wii Fit Get Your Sorry, Lazy Ass In Shape?") of Nintendo's new Wii Fit: Now comes the release of Nintendo's Wii Fit, the latest and perhaps most ambitious effort yet in a category I'll term "didactic gaming." Wii Fit is less a video game than a solicitous personal trainer. It offers yoga, strength training, aerobics, and balance drills. It tracks your weight and body mass index, and records the frequency and duration of your exercise sessions. (It does not charge by the hour, show up late for appointments, or gossip with other personal trainers when it should be paying attention to you.) By sheer coincidence, I pitched Lane on the Wii Fit this weekend; she gave me the 'boys and their toys' look, and said, "Don't you think we should just, you know, get into a yoga class?" (Girls. Sheesh.) Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated June 2, 2008 7:36 AM. May 16, 2008It's Bike To Work DayI rode - did you? Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated May 16, 2008 9:27 AM. May 15, 2008Awesome Burke-Gilman/Google Maps MashupI found a terrific, interactive map of the Burke-Gilman trail today - it uses Google Maps to a) call out important landmarks, and b) compute the distance from any given start point to any given end point. If you're a cyclist/runner/rollerblader who's interested in computing mileage, it's a must-check-out. Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated May 15, 2008 7:48 AM. December 19, 2007Escaping From Alcatraz: June 8, 2008You know that moment when you found out you won something unexpected? Like, you entered some random sweepstakes, and then later you're told that you won the grand prize? I'm having that moment right now. Two years ago, my friend Jeff and I tried to enter the "Escape From Alcatraz" triathlon. The event is always popular, so the sponsors have implemented a lottery system to limit the number of participants. Neither of us got in for 2005. Well, we thought we'd try it again for 2008, and - we made the list. At or around 8 AM on Sunday, June 8, 2008, I'll be impersonating shark-bait in San Francisco Bay. (Yes!) If you're not familiar, The Escape from Alcatraz triathlon is pretty much exactly what it sounds like. The race starts from the side of a boat just off from Alcatraz island; you swim to shore (1.5 miles), strip off your wetsuit and run a mile to your bike, then ride 18 miles in an out-and-back loop to Golden Gate Park and finally end with an 8-mile run. (Course information and map here.) I've done Alcatraz once - in 2000 - and my goals at the time were simple: 1) finish the race without killing myself, and 2) finish in under four hours if possible. I finished with a time of 3:44:27, which made me very happy. This time, it's all about faster. I'm trying to shave a half-hour off my time, and finish under 3:15. It's going to be a challenge, no question, but I'm a much better runner than I was in 2000, and I'm planning to train on the cycle more consistently (as well as doing lots and lots of hills). I figure the time breakdown looks like this:
The trick is going to be some serious, at-distance training sessions. After spending two or three months getting up to speed in each event, Jeff and I will be spending our weekends in simulated triathlons, getting the endurance up. Hoo boy, do I have a lot of work to do - I've got to get back in the water, get back out running Greenlake, and buy a bicycle. I am sooooooo looking forward to this! Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated December 19, 2007 5:20 PM. February 19, 200696 Seconds To GoAfter I did Portland last year, I blogged about wanting to "go faster" - namely, wanting to increase my running speed so I can get around Greenlake three times in less than an hour (aka "8.4 mph"). My first step is to get around the lake once, sub-20:00. In many ways, going faster is a lot harder than doing distance running. With distance, you can settle in to a nice rhythm and just ... extend. With speed, you have to push yourself, prevent your bod from getting in to that rhythm, and consciously keep your focus. So today, I hit the lake with Elaine and Richard, and managed to turn in my best-ever (recent) time for once around: 21:35. That means I've got to shave 96 seconds in order to get 19:59. The last few weeks have seen steady speed increases - 30 seconds here, 40 there - but I know that this is going to get a lot, lot harder as I approach the limits of my natural running speed. It's going to be a game of inches. My stamina will get better, and that'll help me sustain. Music helps, too. So I'm optimistic. I can do this! Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated February 19, 2006 8:55 PM. February 4, 2006Blown AwayWe're seeing some record-high winds here in Seattle today - gusts up to 60 mph. It's crazy. The 520 floating bridge has been closed, trees are falling over, and people are worried that they're going to lose electricity before the Superbowl tomorrow. So, naturally, I decided to go running. (What can I say? It's not like I've had a lot of time to run this week, and at least it wasn't raining.) Richard, Elaine and I hit Greenlake around 3:30 to get do a lap. The strength of the wind was unbelievable - running into the stuff felt like I was moving through water. And if I had the misfortune to be perpendicular to the wind, my leg would be blown around whenever I'd take it off the ground (to, you know, move forward). The lake looked like it was boiling - choppy and wild, with large, angry waves crashing over the concrete retaining walls and sending spray everywhere. That said, the run wasn't too bad. The lake wasn't deserted, exactly, but it was pretty sparse. And for my part, I didn't even make it around once - it was just too challenging to keep moving against the wind. (1 time around = 2.8 miles. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.) Weather permitting, we're trying it again tomorrow. UPDATE, March 12, 2006: One or more of the original hyperlinks on this page expired, and has been dereferenced. The hyperlinked text is now underlined. Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated February 4, 2006 6:14 PM. December 30, 2005Another Marathon ... Only FasterI'm going to run another marathon. After some back-and-forth, Richard and I have decided to train together for the Royal Victoria Marathon in Victoria, BC, Canada, on October 8, 2006. I'm all registered and ready to rock. My Portland experience was pretty exceptional, and I'm finding myself wanting to do it again ... but faster. Seriously, 4:21:35 was a fine time, but I know I can get under four hours by changing up some of my training. Now that I know a little more about what I'm doing, I can improve my stamina at distance, and I can do some smarter nutritional things to prevent the Mile 18 Bonk. So I'm going, and I'm going sub-four. The serious training kicks off in June. Anyone out there wanna do this with us? (They've got half marathons, too.) Could be a fun weekend in Canada ... Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated December 30, 2005 9:18 AM. November 27, 2005A Walk To Remember
Knowing that traffic would be insane down at Memorial Stadium (and it was), we elected to walk from my place on Cap Hill, leaving around 6:30. Even with the Starbucks stop on 15th, we were at the start line around 7:15. The Half Marathon started at 7:30; the Half Marathon Walk began 15 minutes later. Surprisingly, I ran in to a handful of friends while milling around (shouts out to Tara and Tarun). We watched our running brethren launch into the cold morning, and then we were off, too. Th weather was perfect - moist, not rainy, with sunshine developing as the morning wore on. Given that we were walking, there was no particular hurry, so we enjoyed the view and the novelties (e.g., walking along the express lanes of I-90, or marveling at the traffic-free streets, given the road closures), stopping to cheer others along the way. Big props to my friend Jeff Lechtanski, who rocked the house today with his first-ever full marathon (that's Jeff and his wife Barb in the picture). Jeff beat my time from Portland by a good five minutes (you rule!). Walking a half is a much, much different experience from doing the full run. For starters, attire is much easier: I was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and fleece, as opposed to technical clothing. Plus, I was packing a backpack for 'eventualities' (e.g., CLIF bars, umbrella, baseball cap, shorts, Kleenex, digital camera, cell phone, you name it). This made things far more relaxed, casual, and fun. If you're so inclined to do one of these things, I heartily recommend it. (And if you're interested, you can check my Flickrstream here.) Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated November 27, 2005 5:29 PM. Out For A StrollOK, I'm off to do the Seattle Half Marathon Walk! It should take a little more than three hours to do the course, and I've even got company: Elaine's decided to come along. More details (and, hopefully, great pictures) later. Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated November 27, 2005 6:29 AM. November 20, 2005Running Out Of TimeI've decided not to run the Seattle Half Marathon next weekend. This makes me sad, but in the end, it was just too much running with too little time to train. I picked up the rather nasty cold that's been going 'round, which took me out of exercising last week (and out of work on Thursday and Friday). That, coupled with the shin-splint recovery, means I'm lucky to run 6 miles at a crack right now, let alone 13.1. I'll still be out on Sunday (wave if you see me), walking the course and cheering for my friends. My pal Jeff Lechtanski's doing the full marathon (his first - go, Jeff!) and Jeff Smith's on deck to do the half (also his first - go, Jeff!). So. The balance of this month (and all of next) will be spent in intensive training to get my body back in shape. Lechtanski and I both put our names in the drawing for the Escape From Alcatraz Triathlon next June. If we get in (the first drawing's on 12/15), that's going to be the Next Big Goal for me. I did Alcatraz in 2000, and would love to blow my old time out of the water. UPDATE, December 2, 2007: One or more of the original hyperlinks on this page expired, and has been dereferenced. The hyperlinked text is now underlined. Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated November 20, 2005 12:07 PM. November 13, 2005Starting OverHoo, boy, am I out of shape. I'm finally back running again. And I'm pleased to report that, while my shin's fine (it feels great, actually), taking a month off from running has caused my overall conditioning to atrophy dramatically. I started with a treadmill run on Tuesday (2.8 miles - a Greenlake lap), and that felt energizing and encouraging. But I got out for a 5-mile lap around my neighborhood yesterday afternoon, and it, well, didn't "kick my ass", exactly, but it certainly took it out of me. Part of that's explained by the hills, but a bigger portion simply comes back to my cardio system, which has plainly gotten used to kickin' it on the couch with a big bag of Doritos. This morning, Jeff and I did Greenlake proper, and that was OK. Not great, but OK. I've got 14 days until the Seattle Half. While I'm still planning to run, I'm seeing that it may be more of a run/walk thing to finish. Ack. (Didn't I just do a full marathon? This is embarrassing.) Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated November 13, 2005 10:07 AM. October 21, 2005It's A Hyperextended Shin SplintI just got home from seeing the doctor at Group Health about my leg. First, the good news: it's not a stress fracture. Now the bad: it's a hyperextended shin splint. Basically, running Portland freaked out my right shin splint (I can just imagine the poor little thing, going "AUUUUGHGHHHGGGHHH!! What the HELL is going on?? MAKE THE BAD MAN STOP!!!" as I was hitting mile 24), and now it's getting revenge. It's inflamed, it's painful, it's pissed, it's going after my family when it's done with me. (In other words, it is just like Giant Squid.) The course of treatment is straightforward: lots of ibuprofen, regular ice (the doc actually recommended Ace-bandaging some ice cubes to my shin, wrapped in paper towel), and taking it easy. Certainly no running, but walking is OK (and thank God for that, because this lack-of-exercise thing is driving me scatty). Could've been worse, and for that I'm grateful. But still - this might well kick me out of the Seattle Half Marathon. We'll have to wait and see. Drat. Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated October 21, 2005 4:37 PM. October 17, 2005Takin' It EasyDespite the ice, elevation and care I administered last night, my leg-pain shin-splint thingy is continuing to bug me. Phooey. So I phoned up the consulting nurse at my intrepid HMO, and gave her a rundown of my symptoms, the chronology of events, and so on. She came back with the usual advice ("rest it, elevate it, put some heat on it, and for God's sake stop with the exercise"), and now I'm out of action for a few days. If things don't get better by Friday, they're gonna want to take a look at it. The good news is that it doesn't sound like a stress fracture; instead, evidence points to muscle tears. Here's hoping. Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated October 17, 2005 6:56 PM. October 16, 2005Medic!I thought I'd escaped from Portland without any injuries. Turns out I was wrong. I mean, yes, I was a little sore on Monday, and I've yes, got a nicely-healing scab along the small of my back (where my food pack was resting for the duration of the run). But overall, I felt fine. A small amount of pain in my right shin, but fine. Until yesterday, when I walked a bunch of errands all over the city, and inflamed my shin-thingy. So two ibuprofen, water, swallow, repeat. No big deal. Right? Well, it's kind of a big deal. Richard, Jeff and I hit Greenlake this morning, going out for my first run since the 26.2. I got out, found myself favoring the foot, and almost made it to the first mile before I had to stop. Dammit! I'll give this a couple more days of stretching and tenderness, and then I'm going to get it checked out. I suspect it's some kind of pulled muscle, and will take care of itself. In the meantime - big props to Jeff, who's officially started his training for the Seattle Half next month. Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated October 16, 2005 12:15 PM. October 10, 2005Portland Marathon: The Recap
After the shower, I didn't much feel like doing anything. That "not feeling like doing anything" turned in to "bone-dead tired" by the time I made the drive back to Seattle. By the time I reached my door I was sore, beat, and ready for a) a beer and b) bed like you cannot imagine. So. The marathon. The starting gun was at 7 AM, which, working backward, meant that I needed to be up around 5:45. Fellow marathoner Keith Pranghofer (UW MBA, Class of '06) split the hotel room with me, and we both Did The Right Thing by crashing around 9:30. Despite our early bedtime, I couldn't sleep. I never sleep well before these things, and I tossed and turned until at least 2 AM (mental note to self: pack a bottle of wine before the next marathon; consume if necessary). Which meant I was feeling pretty disoriented by the time the alarm went off, and the circles under my eyes led a few people in the hotel lobby to believe that they were being invaded by large raccoons. Keith and I hooked up with Char and Jason at their hotel, headed to the start line, and split up (Keith's like The Flash, or something, so he migrated forward to start with the faster runners). About 8,600 people do the run, so downtown Portland was packed - throngs of people everywhere, meeting and greeting ... as well as bouncing up and down to stay warm. And then the gun went "BANG!", and we were off. (Course map available; opens in a new window.) The first few miles of any run are warm-up; in this case, we simply couldn't go too fast because there were far, far too many other people packed 'round us. So the three of us stuck together, watched out for one another, and eventually started to break up (I'm a bit faster - those long legs) around mile three. And then I was on my own. The first 18 miles of the run were outstanding. Heck, I blew by the half-marathon marker like I was on fire or something, just feeling light and fast and happy. There's a hill up to Mile 17 - we go across St. John's Bridge, from the west side of the river to the east - and even that was pretty simple. I ran across St. John's, over and down, hung a right at the end, zoomed past the 18-mile mark, and hit trouble smack in the face. I don't know what it was, exactly - my left quad started to get crunchy, so certain strides felt like it wouldn't support my weight. And my stomach started hurting in a big, big way - the very thought of food was enough to make me profoundly queasy. I now recognize that I simply got too hungry - I should have eaten more, and earlier - and as a result my system was freaking out on me. But at the time, I was just trying to manage the weirdness, which meant I was consigned to run/walk the balance of the race. This was a trick. Sometimes I could sustain running for a good mile; other times, I'd walk three times in a mile. But as I scarfed gummy bears and Red Bull from the volunteers (gummy bears, being pure sugar, were about the only thing I could get in to my bod), my energy came back, and I found myself able to sustain some momentum. I just tried to listen to my body, keep my focus. It helped. As we came across Steel bridge - from the east side of the river, and back to downtown, I passed the Mile 25 sign and was suddenly taken with a huge surge of emotion - not pride, exactly, but almost ... relief? A sense of accomplishment, certainly, a sense that it was almost over. I actually teared up a bit, wiped my eyes, and kept on it. And then I was off the bridge, looping around to the right, and running along Front Avenue, down toward Salmon, and eventually I see the "26" marker. It's at the turn on to Salmon, which means I'm processing, "Holy crap, I'm almost there" right at the moment I'm making a 90-degree turn, and then I'm seeing the huge, balloon arch that signifies the finish line. And then I'm tearing up again, my emotions bubbling out of my fatigue, but I focus, put it in to my legs, and pick up as much speed as I can. I'm running my ass off down Salmon, and then I see that the balloon arch I thought was the finish is, in fact, some kind of cruel mirage, so I make a left with the course and see another balloon arch, close - but this time, with "FINISHER" emblazoned across it. So I dig deep, push on, and cross the finish line at 4:21:35. I was, to say the least, spent. Just ... done. My body had been pushed to its outer, outer boundary of performance, and that, as they say, was that. I staggered forward, had my timing chip clipped off my shoe by a nice volunteer, got a blanket around my shoulders, received my medal, and tried to find bananas. If you ever feel tempted to do one of these things, one thing I'd like to call out is the importance of music. My iPod Shuffle has a wicked sense of humor - it's forever serving up the right song, at the right time, even if it seems - on paper - that the song would be potentially disastrous. As I was running between Miles 25 and 26, it brought me ... butt rock. No, really. Like, Kiss' classic hit "Heaven's On Fire". And then, as if it were out to prove that Big Hair was the solution to all running problems, it served up Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar On Me" as I was coming in for the finish. I should like to point out, too, that the Leppard cut was synchronized perfectly so my final footfall in the race was in beat with the last sound of the song. (I know it sounds totally hokey, but it helped.) One thing - a big, big thanks to everyone who wished me well, encouraged my training, and generally put out the good karma. It helped. Really, it did. And thanks, too, to Ravi, who cheered for me at Mile 2 and Mile 26 ... and that Mile 26 cheer was exactly what I needed. (He also took the photo associated with this post - it was in front of my hotel, after I'd had a bit to eat and had left the marathon finish area.) The question I've been asked most often is, "So ... gonna do another one?" and I suspect I will. I'm not planning it anytime soon (like, before Wednesday), but I now know I can go sub-four hours if I want to. I'll have to train differently (more training at distance, for example), but it's posssible. And attractive to me, in a way I can't even express. Tonight, though, I'm still exhausted. The bod's OK, but I need to sleep. Thankfully, there's more beer in the fridge. I can't believe it's over. UPDATE, November 10, 2006: One or more of the original hyperlinks on this page expired, and has been dereferenced. The hyperlinked text is now underlined. Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated October 10, 2005 7:28 PM. October 9, 20054:22:53DONE! Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated October 9, 2005 11:52 AM. We're Off!It's time! Keith and I are out the door for the marathon. (Can I just tell you how jittery I am right now?) Details will be forthcoming ... assuming I don't kill myself on the course. Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated October 9, 2005 6:13 AM. October 8, 2005Arrival
Char, Jason, Ravi and I are going to dinner in about two hours with some of their friends and family. In the meantime, I'm catching up on my e-mail (it's amazing what kind of pileup you get when you're outta town for a few days, huh?). I'm excited. Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated October 8, 2005 4:08 PM. Off To The RacesI'm back in Seattle, a night's sleep under my belt (in my own bed!), and I'm prepping to head down to Portland for the mararthon. The starting gun goes off tomorrow at 7 AM. I feel ... great. On the flight home last night, I wound up sitting next to a couple of guys - one's an environmental consultant, the other's a recently-retired pilot for Alaska Airlines - who had done the distance-running thing. As we sat there, chatting about the feeling of accomplishment you get from doing one of these things, this stupid smile spread across my face, and I found myself really looking forward to tomorrow morning. For the record: I don't give a damn about my time. I'm likely to be "around" four hours, but whether that's 4:01:00 or 4:30:00 doesn't matter. I'm out for fun and for the thrill. I just want to finish: style comes later. The Shuffle's been filled with great music; the Clif Bars, Bodyglide, and band-aids are packed; I've cut about six hours' of podcasts and music to CD (the rental car, sadly, lacks an iPod interface). OK, I'm off. The hotel has broadband, so I'll blog when I can. Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated October 8, 2005 9:31 AM. October 2, 2005T-Minus One Week To LaunchWelcome to October! The marathon's just a week from today (in fact, a week from right now I ought to be just getting back to Seattle in the rental car). Richard, Jeff, and I were supposed to get out and do three around Greenlake this morning, but the weather was nasty, blustery, and tending toward monsoon-ish (plus, it turns out Jeff was up until nearly four in the morning dealing with his kids' flu, poor guy). Hence, Richard and I wound up doing our first run of the new month - (a fast) six miles - on the treadmills in his building's gym. Now, I hate treadmills. Hate 'em, hate 'em, hate 'em. They're like hamster wheels for bipeds. They're boring. I mean, you're basically bouncing in place for an hour or so, stewing in your own sweat and trying to fool yourself into believing that you're running to somewhere when, in fact, you're patently - obviously - not. (I actually find myself mapping well-known routes in my mind as the mileage on a treadmill clicks up - "OK, I'm coming around the bend down there by 24th and Interlaken, and getting ready to run up the hill..." - it's lame. Laaaayyyy-hhhhhh-em.) Sadly, this last week of training is going to be all-treadmill, all-the-time for me. I've got two days' worth of MLR training on Monday and Tuesday, and then Tuesday night I'm off to SeaTac to catch a flight down to San Francisco for Web 2.0 on Wednesday morning. With the travel and all, that means I'm gonna be finishing out my training on the hotel's treadmill. There's a karmic ... something ... in here, I just know it. Total, final September mileage was 108.2, by the way - shorter than expected, mostly due to having to miss a run or two here and there. No worries or regrets. I'm ready for this thing. OK, off for some hot tubbin'. Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated October 2, 2005 7:10 PM. September 24, 2005FasterRichard and I did three around Greenlake tonight, for a total of 8.4 miles. (And it was totally no big deal. Which blows my mind.) So now that my marathon training is tapering down, my thoughts have been shifting to "what's next" in terms of my training. I'm very goal-oriented, so it helps me to have some external, objective, benchmarkable thing to work towards. In 2005, I set out to run the St. Patrick's Day Dash, the Capital City Half Marathon, and the Seattle Marathon. Although I changed out Seattle for Portland, I've been on target. And it's helped, you know? It's not always easy to get out and run on some idle Tuesday afternoon. Having the specific goal is an excellent impetus to get my ass off the couch on days like that. So, while I still have some distance left in me this year - I'm putting together a group in Planning to do the Seattle Half, and will also train with (and go cheer for) Richard when he takes on the DisneyWorld Marathon in January - most of my long distances are behind me. So my thinking is ... go faster. I've never been a fast athlete. I swam as a kid (and in high school), but was always the guy doing 250-yard events and above. If you needed a guy to do the 1650 Free, well, you called me. Part of this was my (ahem) bouyant shape (ahem) at the time - sprinters tended to be lean-n'-mean, and I was more, uh, not. Running is different. I'm 6' 2", and almost half of me is leg. Lately, Richard's been getting annoyed with me because we'll start out on a run together, and I'll gradually pull away. It's stride, mostly, but Char noticed it, too, on our 22-mile run last weekend. And tonight, the Shuffle served up Bonnie Tyler's "Holding Out For A Hero" and I found myself really working to not start streaking around the lake. Music helps, yes? So. My times have been going up. I was running about 6 miles an hour (10 minute miles) when I first got out around Greenlake; tonight, I did three times around in 1 hour, 15 minutes - that's a little better than a 9-minute mile. My suspicion is that, with some training (and lacking the need to keep my reserves for longer distances), I can shave my times down pretty quickly. My new goal, then, is to be able to do Greenlake three times in less than an hour. (And I think I can do this before the end of the year.) For those not so handy with the calculator, that's 8.4 miles per hour, or a touch slower than a 7-minute mile. Look, I know I'm not going to be beating any Kenyans any time soon, but I gotta know if I can do it. Posted by Gavin Shearer. Last updated September 24, 2005 9:23 PM. September 17, 200522As of today, my marathon training has peaked. Char, Jason and I ran 22 miles on the Sammamish River trail, starting at Marymoor and heading North to (and past) Bothell Landing. At 11 miles, we turned around and came home. Big, big props to Richard, who provided support on his bike. He carried the Gatorade, CLIF bars and first-aid kit, kept our mileage on track with his GPS, and, most importantly, made sure nobody got hurt. We could not have done a run of this length without him. (I'm indebted, man.) So ... the run. It felt awesome. Going out was light and fast, with the three of us chatting nonstop. We did the usual water-n'-bathroom breaks along the way (the Eastside half of the trail has much better restroom support), and buoyed each other. Coming back was harder, especially as we got into the clinch. I'd only planned to do 20 as my high-water mark (it's all Hal calls for), but Char's program said 22, so 22 we did. Toward the end, I found myself cursing those extra miles ... but I now know, with absolute certainty, that I'm going to be able to finish Portland. Post run, we hit the Red Hook in Woodinville. And there we were, sitting outside, salty and stinky, the sun on our backs, swilling IPA, munching nachos, and making obligatory "OOF!" noises as we moved (or, God forbid, tried to stretch) our sore parts. It felt ... wonderful. We'd earned it. It's all downhill from here, baby!</ |
Wallking all 13.1 miles of the Seattle Half Marathon took Elaine and me 3 hours, 30 minutes, and 28 seconds. And it was a total blast.
Right off, I'd like to apologize for not posting any of the marathon nitty-gritty until now. My 
I've arrived safely in Portland. The Hilton (aka "Packet Pick-Up Central") is a madhouse, but I got my race number (#965), timing chip, obligatory goodie bag, and am now back at the hotel (pictured), chewin' on the free in-room DSL goodness.