Lucky Sevens

There's something special about Milwaukee.  Maybe it's the fact that I've set several race PR's there (including two marathon PR's in 2011).  Maybe it's the fact that it's just a great city with great running.  Maybe it's the fact that they have really awesome beer.  I suspect it's a combination of all these things (but mostly the beer) that keeps me going back there to race.

When I found out that my favorite indoor race director, Chris Ponteri, was going to start a new mid-summer indoor event called Heatbreaker as a spin-off of the wildly popular Icebreaker wintertime events, I jumped at the chance to be part of the inaugural race.  What better way to ensure optimal race conditions than by racing somewhere where it's always 55º, even when the temperatures outside soar over 100°!  And unless you've been living in a cave for the last two months, you know that temperatures in these parts have indeed been soaring over 100º.

The Heatbreaker  (not HEARTbreaker) event consists of four half marathons spread out over the course of a single day.  Participants can run the half marathon of their choice (until capacity is reached), or they can opt to run two, three or all four half marathons if they dare, by registering for the Two Alarm, Three Alarm, or Inferno Challenges respectively.

Take a moment to do the math with me, won't you?  The Inferno Challenge is four half marathons.  That's 13.1 miles x 4.  52.4 miles.  In one day.  On an indoor track. That's, like, a lot of freakin' laps.

Only two brave souls opted to run the Inferno Challenge.

*dramatic pause*

I was not one of them. (Sorry!)

My running buddy, Kristi and I were originally signed up for the Two Alarm Challenge, but life got in the way and our training just never quite got to where it should be in order to pull off a double half marathon.  We both decided to switch to a single half marathon, in order to prevent injury and/or death.  We were just going to run for fun, and enjoy a day or two in Milwaukee...

...but as the event drew closer, my goal slowly shifted.

You see, I haven't set a single new PR, in any distance, in 2012. It has been discouraging.  I know I should cut myself some slack with all I've been through in the last 6 months.  But I thrive on setting and meeting goals and realizing improvement, and I had not seen any improvement since last fall.  My training had been going pretty well in the several weeks leading up to Heatbreaker, so I decided I was going to "go for it".  I was going to race Heatbreaker and see what I was capable of.

You may be laughing to yourself, thinking "Well, how hard could it be to PR on a perfectly flat, climate-controlled, indoor course?"

Ha! If you are thinking that, then you clearly have not run an race like this.  I would actually be so bold as to call the Pettit Center a "tough course".  Flatness is not necessarily a virtue, in my opinion, and flatness on hard concrete is even worse.  Yes, there's a thin layer of rubber over the concrete, but still, this track really beats up your body if you're not used to it.  When there are hills in a race, the muscles used to run are constantly changing, because different muscles are engaged for running uphill versus downhill.  On a perfectly flat course, the muscles never get a break.  The muscular monotony is incredibly demanding.  And let's not forget about the mental monotony of running around in circles (well, ovals, to be more accurate).

So perhaps I was a little crazy to even consider going for a PR in this event.  But then I picked up my race packet and saw my bib number.

JACKPOT!

Now, I'm no expert on luck, but that seems like an awfully lucky number to me. I actually felt lucky just wearing it. I was ready to run this race.  Although, in hindsight, maybe I should've used my luck to play the lottery instead. 

I started feeling nervous while we were sitting around waiting for the first half marathon wave to finish.  I really didn't know if I could pull off a PR because it had been so long since I had PR'd in anything!  But then we walked down to the track to stash our gear and I saw a most glorious sight - the American flag (er, I mean, "flayg") flying over a port-o-potty - and I was instilled with a sense of confidence.

In Wisconsin, this is a FLAYG. It looks suspiciously like a flag to me.

And then Kristi and I spotted the Team USA Olympic flayg hanging on the wall, and we both beamed with pride for our country and for the fact that our outfits coordinated so beautifully with the the Olympic rings.

If awesomeness were an Olympic sport, we'd totally win gold.

So when it was finally race time, I was all fired up. Between my lucky sevens and my Olympic pride and the 48 possible bathroom stops along the course should I need them, I couldn't lose!  Chris fired the starting gun, and after we all jumped 20 feet in the air because that gun was loud, we were off.  I knew I would have to pace myself very carefully, since I would only be receiving feedback on my pace once every 0.275191 miles (a total of 47 times, plus a fraction of a lap at the start).  I was aiming for lap splits of 2:22, which corresponded to a pace of about 8:35.  I didn't know if I could sustain this pace for 13.1 miles, but I was sure gonna try!

The first few miles were great.  I felt light and swift.  I ditched my arm-warmers by mile 2, and even started to sweat.  The Pettit Center felt a bit warmer this time around than it has on the previous occasions I've run there, but I was very comfortable in my capri-length tights and lightweight short-sleeved shirt.

I was hitting my lap splits with expert precision.  Sometimes I would have a 2:23, or a 2:20, but most of them were spot-on 2:22. The only time my lap splits significantly deviated was during my two planned water/fuel breaks, where I had to walk in order to fuel/hydrate without choking. 

Feelin' lucky...

The middle miles made me delirious.  My mind started to fatigue, and then my legs started to fatigue, and with every  time I passed the finish line I lamented the fact that I was not finished. Knowing that I still had 25, 21, 16, 13 laps to go made it seem like it would never end.  But then I got to the single digit lap countdown and my outlook suddenly improved. The end was always literally in sight, as I kept running past it over and over, but the end of my race was finally figuratively in sight.  

The announcer called out "Emily 777, you are on your LAST LAP!" and I shifted into a new gear, holding on until I crossed that finish line for the 48th and final time. 

1:52:56

I set a new PR by almost 2 minutes.  Chris-the-race-director placed the medal around my neck himself.  Now that's a real personal touch! Nevermind that it was only because he was short on volunteers to hand out medals. I like to think he wanted to be there to personally congratulate me on my world-class race performance. 

Me and my favorite race director, who admitted that  it was just a happy coincidence that I got such a lucky race number. Darn, and I thought it was because I was his favorite race participant!

Kristi finished running shortly after I did, and then we both knew what we had to do.  It was time to refuel.

We started with an appetizer of homemade sugar cookies and chocolate milk. 

 Then we rehydrated with water and good Wisconsin beer.  In this case, Spotted Cow. Yum.

And for the main course, this tasty grilled vegetable pizza.

After sufficiently stuffing our faces with tasty eats, Kristi and waddled out to my car and made the long drive back home. It wasn't until later that evening when I saw the official results from all four races posted that I found out I placed 3rd in my age group (across all four events).  Sweet!

I don't know what the award is, only that it will be mailed to me within the next couple of weeks.  I am hoping for a new car, or perhaps an all-expenses-paid trip to Fiji.  But I guess those are probably the awards for 1st and 2nd place.  3rd place probably just gets a diamond tennis bracelet or something lame like that.

As always, Chris-the-race-director and his team did a fantastic job of putting on a top-notch running event. There's a reason we keep going back to these events, and it's because they are well-organized, tons of fun, and just plain unique.  So thanks, Chris, for another fun time in Milwaukee.  I look forward to receiving my diamond tennis bracelet age group award soon!

Peace. Love. Train.

You can't choose your competition

I have said many times over and over that I have a love-hate relationship with short (5k-ish) races.  Actually, that's not entirely accurate.  It's pretty much just a hate relationship.  Short races hurt.  A lot.  However, I do love when they're over, which is relatively quickly compared to just about any other run I do.  And the end of the suffering brings with it a sense of accomplishment that you just can't get from an easy 10-miler. Not only that, but the best way to be good at running fast is to practice running fast.  Short races are great for that!

And so I concede that even though I don't like short races, I need short races.

In the last month, I have actually run two 5k-ish races.  The first one, the Washington Cherry Festival 5k at the end of May, ended up being one of my best 5ks ever (only 10 seconds over my 5k PR, which I really wasn't expecting considering my lack of training), but competition was fierce and I ended up 4th place in my age group.  What made it most disappointing was the fact that I was only 4 seconds away from nabbing 3rd place.  Four measly seconds!

But the fact of the matter is, you don't know who your competition will be in any given race, and for most of us runners who aren't at the elite level, the only competition we really need to care about is ourselves.  So, running so close to my PR (on a fairly difficult course) was encouraging to me.  Even if I didn't win a shiny medal. *pout*

Yes, I'm a sucker for trophies and medals.  Maybe it's because as a youngster, I was more the academic than athletic type (*cough cough* geek *cough*) and had never won a trophy in my life until I started running competitively a couple years ago. Maybe it's because I'm still amazed that I, someone who was a self-avowed hater of running until recently, can now run well enough to win awards.  Or maybe it's just because I love shiny, sparkly things.

Whatever the reason(s), if there's any chance for me to win some hardware, I become highly motivated to win it.

The past two years in a row, I have run the Lincoln-Douglas 3 Miler and the past two years, I have taken home trophies.  Last Friday, the night before the race, I decided I would go for a three-peat.  Yes, in typical Evily fashion, I decided to run this event at the very last minute.


The weather on race morning was actually pretty nice.  I was hopeful.  Maybe a little too hopeful.  My race went something like this:

Mile 1: Stupidly fast, "Wheeeee! I'm flying!"
Mile 2: Moderately fast, "Okay, this isn't fun anymore."
Mile 3: Sloooooow , "Don't puke. Don't puke. Don't puke."

(I didn't puke, in case you're wondering.)

The finish line on the historic brick-paved Metamora town square.
The giant slide is not part of the race...  but it should be!

Yeah, I started out way too fast and paid for it later in the race.  Consequently, my finish time was, well, not so great.  It wasn't my worst, but it sure wasn't as close to a PR as my Cherry Festival run had been.  Last year, I ran significantly faster and got 2nd in my age group.  I wondered if my time this year would be good enough even for 3rd place.  I waited impatiently for the official results to be posted at the finish line.

Finally, there they were.  I scanned the list for my name and was tickled pink to see I had won my age group!  I had achieved the three-peat, and would be taking home a shiny trophy!

Three-peat!

But remember what I said about never knowing who your competition is in any given race?  Turns out I didn't have much competition this time around.  There were only 5 people in my age group, and I was over 7 minutes faster than the 2nd place woman.  There were over 180 people total in the race, and 92 women (of which I was 8th overall), so it's not like there was nobody there.  They just weren't my age.

I'm not complaining, mind you. I got a shiny trophy out of it!  It's just...  well... I could've jogged at an easy pace and still won that trophy.  And that would've been so much less painful!  But, knowing my luck, if I had decided to run it easy, there would've been 20 other people in my age group, all of them Olympic hopefuls using the race as a warm-up before heading to the Olympic trials in Oregon.  And then I would've been dead last in my age group.  By far more than 7 minutes.

So, again, it comes back down to never knowing who the competition is, and going into every race prepared to simply run one's best effort for that day.  Because ultimately, any race I run is a just battle between me and myself.  And if I happen to get a trophy out of it, all the better.

But if the US Olympic team decides to run Lincoln-Douglas next year to try and ruin my chances for a 4th trophy, I will trip them all.  That trophy is mine!

Peace. Love. Train.

What doesn't kill you...

...sometimes makes you wish it would.  Oh, and it also makes you stronger and all that jazz, blah blah blah, I guess.


This year marked my 7th consecutive year of running the world-famous Steamboat Classic races.  I have a love-hate relationship with the Steamboat events.  I love having this yearly tradition (this is the only event I have run every single year since I took up running), and because it's always the same, it's a good gauge of fitness.


But, it's always so frickin' hot! (Feel free to replace the word "frickin'" with another suitable adverb of your choice. I can think of at least one better one.)

For my first five years as a Steamboater, I ran the "World's Fastest 4-Mile", and the last two years, I stepped up my game, opting for "Illinois' Toughest 15k".  When I ran the 15k last year, I was in tip-top running shape, I had run the course several times prior to race day, and I breezed through the race in under 1:25.

Oh, the difference a year can make!

A first for Steamboat: gender-specific tech shirts.  Very nice.

I hadn't trained for this at all. In fact, I hadn't so much as looked at the Hill of Death since last year's Steamboat race.  I knew I could finish the race (it's "only" 9.3 miles), but I knew I wouldn't be able to beat last year's time with ease.  I wasn't even sure I could run under 1:30 with ease. But that was my goal - to finish in under 1:30.  My friend Mike was running the 15k for the first time, and had a similar time goal, so we lined up at the start together. I gave him all sorts of sage advice about the course, because, you know, I ran it last year.  *looks smug*  But I knew he didn't need it.  He would do just fine without my help.

I can't speak for these people, but I was sweating just standing here.

The Trifecta of Running Misery - heat, humidity, and hills - was in full force this day.  Steamboat is always too warm (it wouldn't be steamboat without the steam!), but I think this year may have been one of the warmest I've experienced.  The first two miles weren't bad, but once the hill-climbing started at Mile 2, I struggled for the duration of the race.  

Before the hills...  I actually look like I'm having fun!
(photo courtesy of meandeene)

My legs just felt like lead.  Or something heavier (read: denser, for science geeks who care about the difference) than lead.  Uranium!  My legs definitely felt like uranium (minus the whole radioactivity thing). 

I took comfort in seeing other friends along the course - Louisa, Yvonne, Bill, Jose.  We were all suffering together (although it seemed like I was suffering a lot more than any of them - they must've actually trained for this!).  Mike and I leapfrogged each other for the first 6 or 7 miles, and at one point, after we had completed a couple of the tough hills, he looked at me and asked, completely deadpan, "When do the hills start?".  I responded with my evil death glare and briefly considered tripping him. He was definitely handling the race better than I was, and after 7 or so miles, I just couldn't keep up anymore. I watched him cruise ahead and out of sight in the last 2 miles. I attribute his race success to all the sage advice I had given him earlier. I'm sure he would agree. Yep.

Meanwhile, I just kept putting one foot in front of the other, and tried to ignore the increasingly heavy feeling in my legs and the rising temperature.  I was starting to see spots, and images of giant ice cream sundaes danced around in front of me. I rounded the corner to head toward the Riverfront, and there were Becky and Nikki cheering for me.  I shamefully admit to not enthusiastically acknowledging their encouragement because, well, I was half-dead and just trying to remain upright.  Under better circumstances, I would've smiled, waved, given a few high fives, done a few cartwheels, that sort of thing.  But I just didn't have energy to spare.

Becky and Nikki (far right) watching me have a near-death experience.
(photo courtesy of meandeene)

"What? You're not even gonna give me the finger???" Nikki yelled.  Well, that I could handle.  So I flipped her the bird as I trudged past, which earned me an even louder cheer.  


Then I was running the gloriously downhill final 800 meters.  I didn't have much left to give - my finishing kick was pathetic - but the end was literally in sight and I could almost taste that most noble of post-race refreshments.  

Crappy beer!  Yay!

As I rounded the final turn, the announcer called out my name and I dashed to the finish line, relieved to see the race clock was under 1:30.  I didn't do as well as last year, despite suffering a whole lot more, but at least I met my goal.  Whew!

I collected my medal and headed to the post-race party to meet my friends and listen to a favorite local band, The Corn Wolves.  The race medal, by the way, is really quite unique.  It has a slot to slide the timing chip, so the chip becomes part of the medal.  

Since this was only the second time I'd ever run a 15k race, and it wasn't a PR, I suppose that makes it a PW (personal worst).  And you know what? I'm okay with that, because I intend for this year's Steamboat 15k to remain my personal worst.  Next year will be better.  I will see to it. 

And now for a few thoughts for the race organizers, should they happen to stumble across this blog.  First of all, thank you for finally ditching the cotton unisex t-shirts in favor of useful and flattering gender-specific tech shirts.  Much better! Secondly, thank you for making sure there was enough food and beer at post-race to satisfy the 4-milers and the 15k-ers.  Thirdly, as of Thursday post-race, the only times posted on the results website are gun times.  Those of us who did not start with the elites (which would be 98% of us) would like chip times.  And lastly and most importantly, who the heck came up with this port-o-potty arrangement? 

Why?  Just...  why???

So to sum up: for next year, keep up the good work with the nice shirts and plentiful refreshments.  But please, give us chip times, and for the love of Pete, put the port-o-potties in a straight line!

Peace. Love. Train.