Thursday, September 24, 2015

Hiatus Curatus

We're coming back from an unintended hiatus. This particular post is the first of a series on which we've been working diligently over the past four months. In a way we are just honoring the great Mitchell Hedberg who said it most eloquently, "I like to hold the microphone cord like this, I pinch it together, then I let it go, then you hear a whole bunch of jokes at once." 


Part One 

Race Deets:
Race:
Nathan ran the North Face Marathon on May 2, 2015 in Bear Mountain, NY
Results:
Nathan 3:40:35
Of Note:
First race representing Queens, NY

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I rarely go to a race solo. One way or another I’m able to rustle up some company. Either that, or someone else gets me to join them for a race. Looking back on my short running career thus far, the only other time I’ve ventured to a race by myself was the World Peace Half Marathon in Kigali, Rwanda back in 2011. That was not one of my better races, seeing that my days had not the slightest hint of training. My daily life for the month leading up to that race in 2011 was consumed by sitting on busses crossing through Kenya, Tanzania, Malawi, and Rwanda and walking around each city I landed in. Eating, walking, and bussing were definitely my priorities at that time. Training didn't even make the list.

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Sunny skies in Kowak, Tanzania near Lake Victoria
I set off from Nairobi, Kenya after I completed my research paper on drug abuse in Malindi, Kenya, opting for the cheapest busses the entire way. From Nairobi, I headed first to Mombasa, then bussed on to Dar es Salaam, stopping for chapati and tea as a necessary training supplement (...replacement). I spent a few days there before the day-long train ride to Mbeya, Tanzania and on to Lilongwe, Malawi. With each new city I visited, I forced myself to memorize a street map before going out on the first day so that I wouldn’t have to check it and risk looking too lost. I’d spend hours each day walking through a city until I felt like I could find my way if I was dropped in a random spot. This was most difficult in Freddie Mercury's birthplace, Zanzibar, with it’s maze-like Stone Town, and easiest in Mbeya, with it’s tiny city center. That’s one thing I continued doing whenever I moved to a new city or stayed in one for a long time: I’ve spent countless hours exploring every street in Columbus and New York, and will do the same in any future city. I consider that ceaseless walking and chapati and chai diet my training for the Kigali half marathon.


From Lilongwe, I underwent the longest single leg of my trip, 1000 miles, to Mwanza, Tanzania. While on a side trip to Kowak, Tanzania, I completed one of my only training runs leading up to the half marathon. I ran down a road, then followed a stream until it ended in a valley of farms and grazing cows. Heading back, again following the stream, I found myself running alongside some cows, which was weird. This opportunity allowed me to run an anti-fartlek, in that i stopped running to let the cows go. This is also a training tactic that Steve and I have perfected States-side as we built up for various races over the past four years.

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May I do my hill training here? Let me be clear, though, I definitely did more hill-watching than hill training near Kowak, Tanzania.

Heading out to Bear Mountain about a few months ago on May 2 was my first solo effort in four years, but that’s where the similarities end. I’m more connected with and have a stronger support network these days, even though I’m a few states away. It’s the forced solo races that make me incredibly grateful for the times they are close by. Whether they are at the race, or I’m able to see them soon after finishing, that immediate connection is so important for returning from the cerebral space of a long distance jaunt through the woods. Steve reminded me of something Yiannis said, “Like a tree that grows stronger with more branches and roots, you need to find more and more ways to be inspired.” As the distance gets longer, the source of inspiration must grow deeper. I have never fully wrapped my head around running from something or allowing anger or frustration to power my running. I tried that once and I just got tired and bored after a handful of miles. It’s hard to stay frustrated while running, so it only fuels me for the first half hour or so.

“I think positive emotion trumps negative emotion every time. We all yearn for reconciliation, for catharsis.” --Cobb, Inception


Up at Bear Mountain, physical proximity to The Network was a moot point, though proximity of support was in the highest order. I am so thankful for my support network--always a call away. The weather was absolutely perfect--mid to high fifties at the start and a cloudless sky. The marathon kicked off at 9:00am and a pretty large group of 15 or so of us stayed phalanxed together for the first couple miles. Sometimes I found myself running at the front which surprised me because my plan was to run this marathon with the knowledge I gained from Manitou’s Revenge. Walk the hills early and often, you’ll need the energy later. By no means was Bear Mountain close to the insanity of the Catskills, but it did have quite a bit of elevation change in the first fifteen or so miles, so I wanted to be careful. Over the last year I’ve been thirsting for a race. A full-on race. In the last year I’ve run a lot of unknowns--my first mountain run, my first 100, my first 10K (though not physically at the same difficulty of the previous two, the strategery required for a 10K was very new for me)--and I haven’t put everything into a marathon in a long time. I had three goals going into the North Face Bear Mountain Marathon: 1) run smart and kick my butt off the last ten or so miles, 2) run something close to the previous year’s winning time of 3:38, and finally, 3) if i found myself in spitting distance of the front runner at this point, kick even harder to stay with them.


Around mile two, we met the first of many inclines. Some spritely pups started kicking up these hills while I decided to sacrifice a couple spots for energy reserves. Another runner saw me hiking and said, “You must be a mountain runner.” This may be the biggest running compliment I’ve received, but I had to tell him that I wasn’t yet, I just learned my lesson from Manitou’s. We talked for a couple miles about mountain running, and I found out he was a recent transplant from out west--a true mountain runner. We griped about the dearth of hills in New York City and good-naturedly chided the front runners--who were at that point about 2-3 minutes ahead of us--for taking off too fast. Carnage will come. We didn’t know how it would look, but we knew their paces were not sustainable. Still, that early in the race I was only focusing on reserving some energy and having an enjoyable day.


Around mile five or six, when we were about twelve places from the front, we hit some flats. I felt good and took advantage of the momentarily easy terrain to slowly move up a few positions, and by mile eight, I sighted the top three runners galloping through a post-apocalyptic bed of broken rocks and twisting trail. They were pushing, and it felt like a good pace. We came up to the mile nine aid station; I got some oranges and other fuel, then took off to join the speedsters again. I chatted with the frontrunner, Allan, who was rocking a pair of Merrell Trail Gloves a size too small. My VivoBarefoot Trail Freaks were hanging in there, although I was punishing them with that rocky terrain. I felt a blister or two forming, but I fully expected that, especially since that was the Vivo’s maiden voyage. Allan was beasting the race, and it was his first marathon! We chatted about our footwear and he mentioned some problems with the small shoes. I reassured him that it was still a smarter choice than mine at Manitou’s when I chose to wear FiveFingers for the first 30 miles. He said something like, “Wait, you were at Manitou’s? I worked at the Platte Clove aid station!” Sure enough, Allan already knew about my sartorial misadventures of yesteryear. I wished him luck and pushed off, allowing my hungry toes to eat up more of the momentarily friendly trail.

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In Malindi, I’d often go to the end of this 400m long pier at night because the breeze, waves, and stars made for a surreal experience. I also went here after running the Nairobi Marathon, taking the night bus back to Malindi, then stumbling through town because my legs had cramped up through the night.
If nothing else, this race was joyous. From mile nine when i took the lead, I was raving excited. The air was cool, the trail difficult, the forest just greening around me. I started coming up on some of the heroes running the 50K, and would give out the occasional joyful battle cry when powering up an outcropping of rocks and gnarling roots. Every now and then I’d hear a responding battle cry, but could never tell if it was one of my marathon compatriots nearby or one of the 50K runners in front of me. Regardless, it was so much fun to let all that excitement out. I tried to use the technical downhills to practice my downhill technique. Remember, stay above your feet. I felt like my downhilling leveled up here--my 8:00ish miles felt like I was positively flying downhill.


During the last four miles, I was running scared. I didn’t want to get to this point, but sure enough I did. I had been leading for the last 12 miles and didn’t want to lose it right at the end. I tried to kick it up a gear and was able to do so on the downhills, but my feet were getting knocked numb on the rocks, and I was still hiking the hills. The relay marathon teams started popping up around me, and I kept fretting that they were in my race. The last two miles were arduous--climb upon climb. They weren’t incredibly long climbs, just repetitious, enough to take the flow from your stride and the steam from your legs. I finally came upon the final rolling downhill and, as much as you can when beat tired by 25+ miles of trail, managed one final sprint into the finish chute.

I waited at the finish line for the next marathoner. Luckily, we all had on the same colored bib so I could tell who it was. He came in a bit more than 20 minutes after me. I didn’t remember seeing him throughout the day; he ran a smart race and didn’t book it to the front of the pack in the first miles. And guess what? It was just his first marathon! Pretty impressive to snag second in your first marathon on a beautifully hilly course like the one we had at Bear Mountain. I couldn’t wait to touch back with my support network and re-energize; they’re always there when I call. Who could ask for more?


Part Two Coming Soon...

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