shoberuns

Indy Mini-Marathon: Trip Report

Today my long-lost running partner Shawn and I ran the Indianapolis Mini-Marathon. We made this commitment shortly after I regained consciousness following the '06 Chicago Marathon; we decided that we should try to meet up at a race somewhat halfway between us (he now lives in Dayton, OH, while I'm still up here just northwest of Chicago). About a month ago we both concluded our preparations were vain and foolish efforts at best, and that the cleaning crew would most likely scoop up our corpses along with the other course-side trash, Gatorade cups, and bric-a-brac.

"B" Start Corral

Turns out our angst and so forth was mostly misplaced. Cool, overcast conditions prevailed on Saturday in Indianapolis, and I'm guessing the start time temperature was about 60. A touch muggy, but quite good for this time of year. We got to the start corrals, lettered A through Z to subdivide everyone from elites to the almost-walking-the-entire-ways, and saddled up in the "B" and "C" zones respectively. Indy seems to have plenty of friendly volunteers on hand, a compact starting area for a field of 35,000 down a broad east-west avenue lined on both sides by hotels, and a course that provides an interesting twist on the usual out-and-back: 2.5 miles of it circle the actual Brickyard — the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. As someone born in Indy (but having lived just about everywhere else) and lucky enough to have viewed one 500 and several practice and time trial sessions, this was a special treat.

After a strange rendition of Back Home Again In Indiana (where "strange" is anything other than Jim Nabors at the ’500 itself) and the National Anthem, the starter up front waved the green flag (literally) and got the wheelchair racers started. Three minutes later, the rest of us got going in the usual ebb-and-flow manner of a field that massive. However, the field quickly spread out past the pinch-point of the start line and we were able to set our 7:30-ish pace almost immediately; a welcome change from the crush I'm used to with Chicago's larger races, even though this field size rivals any in the world. Being near the front helped immensely.

The race course was eye-opening. The first five miles wind along the White River and then head west into Speedway, which is a decidedly hard-luck part of Indy. Low ramshackle bungalows with peeling whitewash, uneven stoops and liquor stores on their shoulders lined most of the avenues we ran down. This is either refreshing honesty or civic boosterism of the most ill-considered variety by the event organizers. The truth is that, from downtown, there really is no other way to get to the Motor Speedway at this distance except to wind through the tough part of town. The spectators in and around these homes were all out in force, though, and were pretty supportive and enthusiastic.

About to enter the tunnel

The Tunnel

Infield Museum

When we made the big right-hand turn on to W 16th Street in order to get into the track, it was a sudden rush. I knew the tunnel underneath the grandstands was coming up and that we'd emerge on the other side in the infield and have the high-banked oval of this famous speedway to ourselves. I tried to take as many photos as I reasonably could during this stage of the race because I wanted to make sure I captured the experience. My W810i cameraphone is about as compact a device as I could have carried with me, and I think it did a pretty fair job considering that I took my shots in full stride. We emerged on the other side of the tunnel in the infield area, not yet on the track itself. After about a quarter mile of infield, we crossed through a gateway and onto to some of the smoothest pavement on the planet.

That oval looks a LOT smaller on television. Then again, the usual contestants cover that 2.5 mile circuit in about 40 seconds. I've heard that a some runners actually get down on hands/knees and kiss the bricks at the start/finish line itself (quite literally the "brick yard"), but I saw no such genuflection as I came down the straightaway. Running the track itself is something this race offers that of course none other can, and it's got to be among the most unique experiences available to runners.

The trip back into town resembled the outbound leg since it was mostly a reversal of the course back on itself. Some other observations:

• At least 15 or 20 bands lined the course, some within hundreds of feet of each other. Everything from Buffet to brawlin' rock to rap. More than a few were rockin' for Jesus.
• One water stop was staffed by Mormons on mission, or so I'm guessing by the shirts, ties, and black name badges. I generally feared sloshing up their crisp white shirts with a poor Gatorade hand-off, but they seemed to be good sports.
• A couple dozen cheerleading squads from area high schools provided energy along the route, even inside the Speedway. One fellow dropped "down low to the Apron" from the main part of the track to slap high-fives with one squad, who went positively bananas as a result. Someone near me jokingly called out "dirty old man!" but no matter what I think he got a pretty good morale boost out of the deal.
• At nearly every intersection in Speedway (the downtrodden neighborhood, not the track), there was an Indiana National Guardsman (or woman) who didn't appear to be armed. I just thought that was strange. Where were the regular police? Is this neighborhood really that dodgy? I didn't stop to investigate.
  

Finished. But how far did I actually go?

I lost pace in the middle third, falling almost into a 8-minute mile, but strangely I didn't feel that fatigued despite some growing humidity and my own lack of belief in my preparation. I gave myself the spurs for the last three miles and I'm pleased that my last full mile, without out-and-out sprinting to the line, was a 7:09. The final mile is a straight shot down New York street with a slight downhill off the bridge. It's a confidence-inspiring boulevard where the largest crowds congregate.

Finally, the finish line itself: I am going on record with my belief they mis-measured the course. This course, under ideal GPS conditions, should've measured 13.11 miles. My Garmin 205, Shawn's 305, my coworker Joe's 305, and one other fellow I "randomly sampled" all read at least 13.23 miles, if not more. What's more, from the first official mile marker through the end, my AutoLap feature that clicks off a mile according to the GPS track was ~50 feet ahead of the marker. That differential continued to climb with each marker. A few hundredths here-and-there for the inevitable weaving through traffic are easy to explain. but a full tenth of a mile (plus?) shouldn't appear out of nowhere, should it? Maybe the DoD scrambled the open signal on Saturday just enough to account for this, or somehow cloud cover or other phenomena explains it. But my Garmin 205 has been ridiculously accurate for almost a year; it went off within a few yards of my crossing the finish line at Chicago, with a full 26.2 under my belt. My regular neighborhood runs never vary by more than that same 15-20 feet. Anyone else have an explanation for what we all recorded? My official time was 1:40:47, but I think it's possible I hit 1:39-something for the actual 13.11 distance. Whatever — no extra cheeseburger for me, even if I'm right.

Distance "controversy" aside, Indy is highly recommended. Easy downtown accommodations are available if you plan ahead; the course is fast, flat, and unique; Midwestern hospitality rules the day.

UPDATE: GMaps Pedometer, a site based on Google Maps' technology and which I've trusted in the past to do distance measurement, says the course was 13.33 miles. You have to trust my own point-and-click accuracy (always a stretch) and my best interpretation of the official map. Thanks to havybeaks for the suggestion I get some online corroboration!

Karno, on The Marathon

Once again, our man Dean Karnazes shares what he knows best, which is the power of mind over matter (though his power is considerably greater than, well, any other runner I'd dare to imagine). His thoughts on The Marathon — not any specific race, but the complete and formidable challenge of the event itself — ring so true from my experience that I can't help but share them: The Marathon.

In particular, this quote strongly recalled for me a key moment around mile 11 this past fall, just before making the swing west out of the city center and into the dark heart of the back half of Chicago:

You remain steadfast, knowing that you did not skimp, that you did not take shortcuts along the way, that every footstep was earned through months of diligent preparation. Still, with each wearing thrust forward, that little nagging inclination of self-doubt progressively advances toward the surface of your awareness.

At that point in the race, not even close to spent, I labored under a sudden wash of doubt; about qualifying for Boston, about keeping up a 7:28 pace in unyielding, raw headwinds, about even finishing the damn thing at all. I became completely aware of the madness of the moment, in a way no training run or even my first marathon in 2001 had prepared me to face. I think that moment has to come to every marathoner, whether or not they recall it vivdly. A whisper under the cadence of your breath becomes raspier — "long way...to go...long way...to go" — and the rhythm of the doubt itself insinuates itself into your stride.

How do you break it?

Courage comes in many forms, today you will have the courage to keep trying, to not give up, no matter how dire things become. And dire they do become.

It's courage. Something we all have but too often fail to tap into. Courage that muffles the doubting voice and its stinging cadence. It might be someone shouting your name as you grind past the 25th mile marker; it might be stretching a cramped calf that seems ready to flap itself up underneath your kneecap like cheap windowshade, filling you with grim resignation, but it suddenly recovers just enough flex to allow you to get back in the flow of traffic; it might be just the right song at just the right time on your player.

Or, it might be the thought of telling someone "I tried, but I just couldn't."

I recalled what coworker and Boston native Eric Olson told me a couple days before the race: "Why not you?" That's the 2004 Red Sox down 0-3 and winning out from there, that's Lance winning seven Tours, that's Eruzione hurling his gloves in the air and jumping on his teammates as the Soviets skate off the ice in disbelief. All in one.

I'm finishing the damn thing.

2007 Marathon Registration? Closed.

Just got an email note from LaSalle that indicates Chicago is closed for 2007. Fourty-five-freaking thousand slots have been claimed. If they decide to keep expanding the field further in future years, we really are gonna have to win the 2016 Olympics bid just to upgrade our civic infrastructure to keep pace. This is getting silly.

That said, I say "congrats and good luck with your training season!" to everyone who's registered and planning to make the journey. I won't be running Chicago in 2007; in fact, I'm kind of hoping my next marathon might be somewhere else. Time for some variety, time to play the role of visiting runner and explore someone else's town for a change.

29°F, 7:33, 8 miles, and several other frozen digits

This is ridiculous.

It may be an irony of global warming, la niña, el guapo, or something else in the troposphere that has yet to earn a catchy nickname, but it's April-freaking-seventh and my 8 mile run this morning had a start time temperature of 29°F. I'm no Midwestern pushover, so 29 degrees isn't much of hardship especially if you're exercising and building up some heat, but it's demoralizing. I've only got four good weeks to get ready for the Indy Mini Marathon and I really wouldn't mind putting the shorts on again instead of the running tights. Especially after the lousy March I had, I feel like I'm far enough behind without the added barrier to my interest in getting up early and running. It was much easier to tear myself outta bed last summer at 5:30a or so for marathon training runs because the worst thing you might face is a muggy 65° or so. But getting up when it's 28° or lower? Hasn't happened yet. My putz streak continues.

Kvetching aside, I'm sure there are others who've cowboyed up in lake effect snow and worse and gotten on with their spring training. The Chicago area forecast doesn't show anything above 50 until late next week. Ridiculous. There, I said it again.

8 Mile Route — “Union Pacific”

So, the run: it was pretty solid effort. This was the first 8 miler since probably September of last year. I set a conservative 8:00 pace goal on the ForeRunner 205, put the Shuffle on full random load-up, and hit the mean streets of Park Ridge, Edison Park, and Norwood Park. (All I need is a live video feed and I'm geeked-to-the-max. Pathetic.) I held a steady long run pace and the end result was 7:33/mi, which is a huge relief after the relative debacle of the Shamrock Shuffle. It's good to know it really was illness that set-and-forgot my parking brake for that run. I'm not all the way back by a longshot, and I think a 1:30 half marathon is a pipe dream, but at this point I simply don't want to embarrass my team in the Great Midwest Relay in June.

Rough Start to the Running Season

The "B" Start Corral

Today saw me and a field of some 30,000 other malcontents knock off the traditional start to the Chicago running season, the Shamrock Shuffle 8K. I think I've run this every year since 2000 or so, and it's about as a natural as breathing to register for it at the beginning of the year. Thanks to my performance in the Chicago Marathon last fall (I think), I got a "B" corral start position for the race, which put me in the company of a bunch of other speed merchants I had no business rubbing shoulders with at the start line. Still, what could I possibly have to complain about?

Something annoying, actually: I'm sick of being sick. Since the first weekend in March I've been fending off flu symptoms that just refuse to completely subside. It's been an alternating parade of fever, cough, and general body aches that have diminished but never completely remitted. After a fitful night not sleeping well, I woke up this morning to another blasted fever and a general, Han Solo post-carbonite malaise. (The money quote? "I feel terrible.") Still, I dragged myself downtown, got into the "B" corral, and hoped for the best.

The Start Line

My chip time was 37:38, a 7:34 minute mile pace average. A long way off my best 8K time (something like 36 flat), but I'll take it. Running when you don't feel well produces two experiences: extraordinary discomfort during the run and one of the best post-race highs when you finally turn off the jets. I've never been happier to be done with an 8K than I was today. I felt dehydrated almost from the start, and even though I walked through the mile 2 water stop, I got no real sense of relief out of the deal. It was a remarkably warm March day here, something like 65F at the start with 87% humidity if the announcer was to be trusted.

Now, how do I feel with a half marathon in Indy in May, and the Great Midwest Relay in June, on the calendar? Ridiculously behind schedule. I really gotta get it together. Today I'm putting my feet up and watching NCAA hoops, but tomorrow or Tuesday I gotta get back on the bus and start logging a bunch more miles. Here's hoping your 2007 season is off to a strong start.

Something I think runners might pay good money for.

I was out for a quick 5-miler today (I'm averaging 10 miles per week lately, so this is definitely the dark heart of the off-season, but of course the drumbeat to prepare for the spring races is starting to build) and I had my Shuffle loaded up with the usual assortment of running tunes. On came "Kickstart My Heart" (don't deny for a minute that you, too, have The Crüe lying about the place somewhere, fella); I smirked quietly to myself and then picked up the pace.

As I pushed it a bit harder, I thought, wouldn't it be cool if I could share a playlist in real time with a running partner? I imagine there are plenty of groups of 2-6 people who regularly run together, but unless they're on treadmills they don't have any practical way of sharing training music. (Heck, this applies to any group cardio, like spinning, cycling, treadmilling, etc.) Sharing a conversation while running is always a great way to pass the miles and reduce the mental fatigue of a too-familiar route or routine, but I think sharing music you've mixed together for a high-energy (or high-Zen) workout is something a lot of people could get into.

Here's how I'd do it:

• Offer a 1GB flash memory player with integrated Bluetooth and a slightly larger Li-Ion battery than, say, a Shuffle's, in order to power the player and the transmitter. It could be Nano-sized and not infuriate anyone.
  
• Allow it to have two modes: Solo and Share. Solo disables all Bluetooth and it acts like a conventional player. Share enables the player to transmit or receive another player's playlist; who ever starts broadcasting in a small group first "has the conch" and controls the playlist; all other players receive (but the wearer controls volume, naturally).
  
• The key to this approach is simplicity: the hardware remains inobtrusive yet durable enough for athletic use; the share software is simply on or off, and when on, the controlling owner is clear-cut.

Who should market this device? If Microsoft's Zune is really about their tagline's promise, "Welcome to the Social," then it's the natural choice despite its lackluster launch. Maybe this particular feature is just the right mix of socializing via digital media without even a hint of noxious DRM that consumers really want. I don't think the current Zune is compact enough to fit the bill, but perhaps this new "ZuneBeem" would be just the thing.

Price? $99, especially if I'm Microsoft.

Can Bluetooth handle this wireless bandwith requirement? I have no idea. I'm sure there's some reason this won't work technically, although there's some hideously inelegant hardware out there already that's proofing the concept.

But I'm curious, social VOX runner-types, if a device like this seems like a useful concept, or good technology chasing a dubious need. But really, do I have to keep Vince, Mick, Nikki, and Tommy to myself, when I could just as easily inflict them on willing vicitims within a 15 foot radius?

Chicago Marathon 2007: T-minus 45,000 and counting

I got an email today from the Chicago Marathon folks at LaSalle that indicated registration for 2007 is now open.

Ambulances

Aside from an almost immediate, "will I? won't I?" debate with my id about entering the race itself, and taking another crack at Boston, my main reaction was amazement that they've expanded the open entry field to forty-five thousand frickin' people. That's bigger than the entire population of the town in Michigan I mostly grew up in (Midland) and it just has to be a logistical stretch. Grant Park, the staging area for the start and finish, can fit an awful lot of people, but even this year's field of ~40,000 felt like it was pushing the boundaries.

If there's an organizing committee that can pull it off, it's Carey Pinkowski's at LaSalle. Runners from here, there, and everywhere whom I've talked to agree that Chicago is very well-organized, thoroughly staffed with dedicated volunteers and has a buzz and raceday vibe that only a few other endurance events of any stripe can hope to match. But is any bigger really any better? Should potential entrants take a little responsibility into their own hands and register early if you know the damned thing's hugely popular and will fill up months in advance?

HB, that Grand Rapids Marathon is sounding like a real back-to-basics treat right about now.

“Karno” Finally Hangs Up His Shoes…For Now.

In the end, it looks like Dean Karnazes' family proved a more irresistable goal than the open road ahead of him:

"Last month, in New York City, I made a fairly insane and irrational decision, to run across the country. Today, I made a very sane and rational decision, to go to the beach…Plenty was learned during the past month of running, there were many great lessons along the open road. One is that running has the ability to unite or divide. I met so many wonderful individuals and families that were brought together by a shared love of running and the outdoors. Yet running can also be a very isolating pursuit which can separate people and split families. I have always made the commitment that my family comes first, that running would never come between us. Today, I am honoring that commitment. My run across the country has ended at the place where it all began, Family Arena at the start of the Lewis & Clark Marathon."

He has nothing to prove to anyone at this stage. Nothing. I'm still fairly gobsmacked at the sheer scale of his accomplishment this fall with the 50/50; I'm into late December and I am just now declaring myself able to run without hearing a single echo of the fatigue and stress of the 26.2 we both ran here in Chicago. Meanwhile, he's piled on almost two thousand additional running miles. I'm not even sure my body has traveled two thousand miles, including air travel, since then. And yet, he's calling it quits because he missed home and the logistics of the run weren't working out to his liking — mostly that he couldn't connect with kids, schools, and other runners on his impromptu route, GPS technology and blog be damned.

If I get a chance, I definitely want to share a few miles with Karno someday; this time I'd actually like to meet the guy, rather than just vainly chase his contrail during the Death Zone miles at the end of a marathon. It sounds like he's already scheming something for 2007. I can't wait.

Hello again, VOXblog.

I've been gone almost a month. I've got no good excuse for not stopping by to say "hullo." Here's what's happened:

• I got my butt kicked at the Turkey Trot 8K in Chicago on Thanksgiving morning. The first mile was great — a 6:48 pace — but somewhere in mile 2, both calves locked up much like they did almost a month earlier at the Marathon. I mean, come on. Electrolyte cramping at mile two, for crissake? Something was horribly wrong with the machinery, and I finished in pain, posting a 36:05 / (7:16 pace). Sure, that sounds decent overall, but I pretty much couldn't walk afterwards, as soon as things stiffened up nicely. It took until the Monday after T-Giving to descend a flight of stairs without a full handrail kung fu grip. I'm a kinesiology research project waiting to happen. What kind of post-marathon blues are these?
  
• Still no HDTV at the Shobe household. I think it will be highly correlated with a basement remodeling project. Wefloat, I'm heeding your advice about not renovating 100% of the house at once.
  
• Registration is closed for the Indianapolis Mini-Marathon (half marathon). I'm a sucker for massive entry fields. 35K+ are signed up for this May 2007 event. I'll be running this one with a good friend from early running days in Chicago who's since moved to Ohio; Indy's a good halfway point for both of us to meet up.
• I ran 5 miles today in balmy December conditions here in ye olde Park Ridge, IL. Excellent conditions. None of the symptoms from the Turkey Trot plagued me, and even though I've only run 6 other miles total since Thanksgiving, I managed to find my "home" pace of 7:28, the ghost of Boston qualification past (and present). I'm positively thrilled.
• steveobd heckled into spending more quality time with my XBox 360. You know what? It's a pretty kick ass system, and their execution of the online gameplay experience via XBox Live is the gold standard. The headset smacktalk system is genius hardware/software integration, and the ability to find friends and challenge them to a quick game of Whatever is exactly as simple as it should be. (I can only hope Major Nelson is a little bit proud of me, as a 36 year old getting back in touch with his 18 year old gamer self.) Good luck, Sony. You're gonna need it, at least where online is concerned.

How have you been doing?

Dean’s run back to San Francisco

In case you're wondering, Dean Karnazes, of 50 marathons in 50 days in 50 states fame, is GPS-blogging and blogging-blogging his more uneven, more adventurous trek back across the country in a bid to run from New York to San Francisco. His blog is here:

Dean's Run Home

I, for one, am going to keep track of him and if he does end up near Chicago, I think I'll try to catch him at last after my failed bid to do so during the marathon. His blogging style remains introspective, a touch melodramatic, and relentlessly authentic.