Saturday, November 25, 2006
Atlanta Thanksgiving Half-Marathon
You wake up on a chilly Thanksgiving morning, put on a skimpy running outfit, and make your way in the dark to the start of the race. You look back over your shoulder just before the race starts at seven and see the dawn breaking directly behind the 7,600 runners who fill the bridge. It’s a magical sight. Finally after what seems eons of waiting, the race starts. The runners in front start moving, as you stand hemmed in by the crowd it seems like forever before the wave of movement reaches you and you are off. The crowd surges ahead, then pauses, then surges ahead again. You start trying to find space in the crowd so you can get into your rhythm, but you find yourself constantly checking up, moving left and right trying to find a clear path. Everyone else is doing the same thing. Some are patient, some impatient. Some folks clearly started too close to the front for their abilities and some faster folks started too far back. It seems to take forever for the pack to sort itself out and you can finally start searching for your pace in earnest. However, really, it is only about a mile.
The Half-Marathon runs south down Peachtree (this being Atlanta, when I say south down Peachtree that means south on Peachtree Industrial Blvd which almost immediately becomes Peachtree Road which in turn becomes Peachtree Street) through the Buckhead and Midtown. For the first have of the race, it’s either flat or downhill. However, once you cross over Peachtree Creek near the halfway mark, it is time for the hills. The first and most significant hill is Cardiac Hill, which takes you past Piedmont Hospital. Once you are past that hill things ease up a bit, but more often than not you will find yourself gaining elevation for the rest of the race. You will run through one of the most beautiful sections of the city, past the High Museum of Art, past the house where Margaret Mitchell wrote Gone with the Wind, and past the Fabulous Fox Theater. The race then turns left onto Mitchell and goes past the State Capitol. This incidently is where you will find your last significant hill, known as Capitol Punishment. Once past this, it is a short half mile to the finish, but not before you pass under the Olympic Rings and pass the tower, where the flame burned during the 1996 Olympics.
I had a great race this year. I was walking to the starting line from my apartment this year, but some folks stopped and gave me a ride. The weather was in the low forties, but not particularly cold. There was not much of a wind, the sky was clear and the starts were bright. I started near the front in the appropriate time group and because of the crowd did not start at too fast a pace. The first few miles were ridiculously pleasant. Forced to run just a little slow I was able to take in and appreciate the beautiful morning. By mile two, I was running at my race pace reflecting for me how races bring out an effort that no amount of solo running can.
It was around mile five that I started to doubt myself. I felt like was going to run out of energy, that I had already come five miles and there was no way possible that I was going to be able to sustain my pace for another eight miles. A little voice in my head that urged me to drop off the pace so I would be sure to finish. I had to remind myself that I have been training solidly. I have the necessary runs in the bank. That I am fit enough to do this. I have done the work. I have prepared properly. I can do this.
I kept going, keeping my pace. It became even more of a challenge around mile ten, the hills had their chance to work on me and my energy was starting to lag. My legs were beginning to feel a bit rubbery. I began thinking that plans to run distances longer than a half-marathon might be a bit grandiose, that running a half-marathon might have been a bit grandiose, and where did all these hills come from anyway. I was positive I had not seen any hills when I glanced at the course elevation in the days before the race. I ran this race last year and did not remember all these hills. Despite all the internal angst, I kept going and crossed the finish line with a time of 1:42:53 and an average pace of 7:51. I was 68th out of 448 in my shiny new age group of 40-44. That put me in the top 15% of that age grouping.
The Atlanta Track Club knows how to run a race. They keep this one simple; you will not find any post race food, celebration, awards, or amenities. It is all about going for a long run on Thanksgiving morning, which for me is part of the appeal. Everything is well organized and well thought out. The thing that really makes the race work however is the hundreds of volunteers that come out to make the race a great experience. Small crowds of people come out to line the course. The roads are not completely closed to traffic, but the lanes for runners are coned off and there is someone staffing every intersection. I cannot think of a better way to spend Thanksgiving morning.
The Half-Marathon runs south down Peachtree (this being Atlanta, when I say south down Peachtree that means south on Peachtree Industrial Blvd which almost immediately becomes Peachtree Road which in turn becomes Peachtree Street) through the Buckhead and Midtown. For the first have of the race, it’s either flat or downhill. However, once you cross over Peachtree Creek near the halfway mark, it is time for the hills. The first and most significant hill is Cardiac Hill, which takes you past Piedmont Hospital. Once you are past that hill things ease up a bit, but more often than not you will find yourself gaining elevation for the rest of the race. You will run through one of the most beautiful sections of the city, past the High Museum of Art, past the house where Margaret Mitchell wrote Gone with the Wind, and past the Fabulous Fox Theater. The race then turns left onto Mitchell and goes past the State Capitol. This incidently is where you will find your last significant hill, known as Capitol Punishment. Once past this, it is a short half mile to the finish, but not before you pass under the Olympic Rings and pass the tower, where the flame burned during the 1996 Olympics.
I had a great race this year. I was walking to the starting line from my apartment this year, but some folks stopped and gave me a ride. The weather was in the low forties, but not particularly cold. There was not much of a wind, the sky was clear and the starts were bright. I started near the front in the appropriate time group and because of the crowd did not start at too fast a pace. The first few miles were ridiculously pleasant. Forced to run just a little slow I was able to take in and appreciate the beautiful morning. By mile two, I was running at my race pace reflecting for me how races bring out an effort that no amount of solo running can.
It was around mile five that I started to doubt myself. I felt like was going to run out of energy, that I had already come five miles and there was no way possible that I was going to be able to sustain my pace for another eight miles. A little voice in my head that urged me to drop off the pace so I would be sure to finish. I had to remind myself that I have been training solidly. I have the necessary runs in the bank. That I am fit enough to do this. I have done the work. I have prepared properly. I can do this.
I kept going, keeping my pace. It became even more of a challenge around mile ten, the hills had their chance to work on me and my energy was starting to lag. My legs were beginning to feel a bit rubbery. I began thinking that plans to run distances longer than a half-marathon might be a bit grandiose, that running a half-marathon might have been a bit grandiose, and where did all these hills come from anyway. I was positive I had not seen any hills when I glanced at the course elevation in the days before the race. I ran this race last year and did not remember all these hills. Despite all the internal angst, I kept going and crossed the finish line with a time of 1:42:53 and an average pace of 7:51. I was 68th out of 448 in my shiny new age group of 40-44. That put me in the top 15% of that age grouping.
The Atlanta Track Club knows how to run a race. They keep this one simple; you will not find any post race food, celebration, awards, or amenities. It is all about going for a long run on Thanksgiving morning, which for me is part of the appeal. Everything is well organized and well thought out. The thing that really makes the race work however is the hundreds of volunteers that come out to make the race a great experience. Small crowds of people come out to line the course. The roads are not completely closed to traffic, but the lanes for runners are coned off and there is someone staffing every intersection. I cannot think of a better way to spend Thanksgiving morning.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Chickamauga Marathon and 10 Mile Run
Chickamauga, GA
I am not up for a marathon just yet, but I was hungry for a longer race this weekend so I decided to check out the Chickamauga 10 Mile Run. It’s a two-hour from Atlanta, so I was up and on the road by 4:00 am for the easy drive up I-75. I was there before they even opened registration. Watching all the marathoner’s show up, I felt a little like I had shown up to run the kid’s fun run. Everyone seemed to be wearing the shirt from his or her last marathon, ultra marathon, or adventure race. I suspect that once I join the club next March, I will not feel so self-conscious around that crowd.
Registration and packet pickup was inside one of the out buildings of the Oakwood Baptist Church, warm and dry. And there was coffee! An overcast sky seemed to promise rain, but held off until long after the 10-mile race was over. At race time, the temperature was 55 degrees, which was a little warm for this time of year.
Three hundred twenty-five marathoner’s got started a half-hour before the ten-milers, just after 7:30. The race was ready to go at 7:30, but the race director politely waiting for the port-a-potty line to clear before starting. The ten-milers, a smaller crowd of about two hundred and fifty, left promptly at 8:00.
The ten-miler was an out and back covering the first five miles of the marathoner’s route. They do not close the course to traffic, but race personal or law enforcement staffed all intersections and for the most part drivers were both polite and considerate. (I cannot speak for the full marathon course, as I was driving home; I saw marathoner’s dealing with a lot more traffic than the 10-milers.) The course itself winds through the woods and vast fields of the Chickamauga and Chattanooga National Military Park. It’s a beautiful place for a race. The many and sometimes spectacular monuments to the men who fought and died on those fields lends a both elegance and a somber note to the course. (Over 34,000 men perished during the battle of Chickamauga.)
It was a hard race for me. I was in good condition, but not in peak condition (where I would always like it to be!) I kept a good pace through the first half of the race. The course was just slightly rolling with no real hills to speak of. Still, it was a major relief and psychological boost to get to the turn around point and I was able to pick up my pace a bit. Of course, I was not the only one reaching the midpoint had that effect on. Other runners picked up the pace as well. One runner in particular dogged me for the next five miles. Either she would pass me and it would take me a mile to catch me, or I would pass her and a mile later would find her returning the favor. We traded words of encouragement while inside I wondered how in the world I was going to keep going and wondered with each stride where the next would come from. I crossed the finish line at 1:17:53. I felt I should have done better, but I did feel good that I had given, or had coaxed out of me, a 100% effort.
It was a nice race, well run, and well organized, with a solid crew of volunteers. The post race spread was wonderful. (Fresh coffee!) It was a small race that did not feel small at all. I suspect I will be back next year.
I am not up for a marathon just yet, but I was hungry for a longer race this weekend so I decided to check out the Chickamauga 10 Mile Run. It’s a two-hour from Atlanta, so I was up and on the road by 4:00 am for the easy drive up I-75. I was there before they even opened registration. Watching all the marathoner’s show up, I felt a little like I had shown up to run the kid’s fun run. Everyone seemed to be wearing the shirt from his or her last marathon, ultra marathon, or adventure race. I suspect that once I join the club next March, I will not feel so self-conscious around that crowd.
Registration and packet pickup was inside one of the out buildings of the Oakwood Baptist Church, warm and dry. And there was coffee! An overcast sky seemed to promise rain, but held off until long after the 10-mile race was over. At race time, the temperature was 55 degrees, which was a little warm for this time of year.
Three hundred twenty-five marathoner’s got started a half-hour before the ten-milers, just after 7:30. The race was ready to go at 7:30, but the race director politely waiting for the port-a-potty line to clear before starting. The ten-milers, a smaller crowd of about two hundred and fifty, left promptly at 8:00.
The ten-miler was an out and back covering the first five miles of the marathoner’s route. They do not close the course to traffic, but race personal or law enforcement staffed all intersections and for the most part drivers were both polite and considerate. (I cannot speak for the full marathon course, as I was driving home; I saw marathoner’s dealing with a lot more traffic than the 10-milers.) The course itself winds through the woods and vast fields of the Chickamauga and Chattanooga National Military Park. It’s a beautiful place for a race. The many and sometimes spectacular monuments to the men who fought and died on those fields lends a both elegance and a somber note to the course. (Over 34,000 men perished during the battle of Chickamauga.)
It was a hard race for me. I was in good condition, but not in peak condition (where I would always like it to be!) I kept a good pace through the first half of the race. The course was just slightly rolling with no real hills to speak of. Still, it was a major relief and psychological boost to get to the turn around point and I was able to pick up my pace a bit. Of course, I was not the only one reaching the midpoint had that effect on. Other runners picked up the pace as well. One runner in particular dogged me for the next five miles. Either she would pass me and it would take me a mile to catch me, or I would pass her and a mile later would find her returning the favor. We traded words of encouragement while inside I wondered how in the world I was going to keep going and wondered with each stride where the next would come from. I crossed the finish line at 1:17:53. I felt I should have done better, but I did feel good that I had given, or had coaxed out of me, a 100% effort.
It was a nice race, well run, and well organized, with a solid crew of volunteers. The post race spread was wonderful. (Fresh coffee!) It was a small race that did not feel small at all. I suspect I will be back next year.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Stone Mountain
I ran 15 miles! Correction raced 15 miles today and finished in 2:05:58! A slow 8:24 pace, but we are talking 15 miles. In addition, I took home my first bit of hardware. I was 2nd place in my age category. (Okay, so with the temperature at 35 degree and the other options being a 5 miles or 10 miles, the 15 mile was not exactly the most popular distance.)
It was a beautiful, if cold, morning. The sky was clear, the sun sharp and bright, and the autumn leaves full of color. It was a great morning for a run. The route around Stone Mountain is rolling with some moderate hills. For a welcome change, today I was able to pace myself almost perfectly from the very start of the race. At the start, I managed to ignore the other runners, most of who where doing shorter distances, and find my own pace which I felt I would be able to maintain through the race. That is exactly what I did. The first mile I ran in 8:30. My pace for the entire race averaged out to 8:24/mi.
I was strong and steady for the first 10 miles, but by mile 11 I was starting to feel some weakness in my legs and it was difficult to keep the pace going. However, some strong runners around me pushed me to keep going. There is nothing as motivating to me as hearing the rhythmic sound of running shoes slapping the pavement just behind me. At one point, I was ready to turn and say just pass me already, put me out of my misery, trying to stay ahead of you is killing me. Nevertheless, I kept slogging ahead and after awhile I realized I was not hearing those sneakers behind me anymore.
I was very surprised when I finished the race and was filling out my time card to see that there was only one card ahead of mine in the basket. Only one, but that would mean I had placed second in my age group. Yes me, 35-39 year old male, second place. And just for the record, there was a third place.
It was a beautiful, if cold, morning. The sky was clear, the sun sharp and bright, and the autumn leaves full of color. It was a great morning for a run. The route around Stone Mountain is rolling with some moderate hills. For a welcome change, today I was able to pace myself almost perfectly from the very start of the race. At the start, I managed to ignore the other runners, most of who where doing shorter distances, and find my own pace which I felt I would be able to maintain through the race. That is exactly what I did. The first mile I ran in 8:30. My pace for the entire race averaged out to 8:24/mi.
I was strong and steady for the first 10 miles, but by mile 11 I was starting to feel some weakness in my legs and it was difficult to keep the pace going. However, some strong runners around me pushed me to keep going. There is nothing as motivating to me as hearing the rhythmic sound of running shoes slapping the pavement just behind me. At one point, I was ready to turn and say just pass me already, put me out of my misery, trying to stay ahead of you is killing me. Nevertheless, I kept slogging ahead and after awhile I realized I was not hearing those sneakers behind me anymore.
I was very surprised when I finished the race and was filling out my time card to see that there was only one card ahead of mine in the basket. Only one, but that would mean I had placed second in my age group. Yes me, 35-39 year old male, second place. And just for the record, there was a third place.
