The race itself was pretty good.  It was below 30 degrees when we got there.  But less than a half mile in, I was already over-dressed.  It was slightly rolling, but a good course.   With about a quarter mile to go, I actually got passed by a joggler.  I have never seen another joggler in C’ville, and immediatly regretted not joggling this race.  (The joggler actually dropped right next to me.  I could feel his pain).  In the end, I crossed the finish line at 24:33.  (My wife was right behind me).

On a semi-related note, my wife got me The Spirit of the Marathon for my birthday.  I quite enjoyed it.  This year I’d really like to get more “into” running, and I think this movie will help.  (I am also going to start downloading the Endurance Planet Podcasts again.)   I think my favorite part of the movie was when one of the guys demonstrated how his treadmill didn’t even go as fast as the elite runners.  Too funny.

Well, this is a question that has been bugging me for years. So, a couple months ago while listening to The Explainer Podcast, I decided to ask them. I sent in an email with this question, but got no reply. My question was never answered. I guess they were too busy answering “important” questions about the news.

So it’s the end of the year, and Slate Magazine is doing their annual round-up of their favorite questions that they never answered. And whattaya know, my question is on the list. They get over 8500 questions a year, and mine is nominated for their “Question of the Year”. I am flattered.

Unfortunately, as of right now, I have no chance of winning. The winning question (“Why don’t humans have a mating season?”) has 2252 votes, to my question’s 152 votes. So, even getting all my friends and family to vote won’t help.

But this morning as I checked into work, I got one more fun surprise. I happened to be on MSN.com, one of the busiest websites in the world, and there was my question: Front and center, with a picture of a baseball player with a pie in his face. They are still not answering it, but using it to advertise their Question of the Year nominations.

Ah yes, I am changing the world.

I mapped out a special 4.8-mile route today that would put my yearly mileage (so far) at exactly 1000 miles.  It was only fitting that the 1000th-mile run was particularly hard today. It rained last night, making the air very heavy. Before I could get going, a train blocked my path, so I had to run my loop in reverse direction. A strong wind made the long downhill at mile 3 the hardest part of the run. But when I crossed the finish line, it felt pretty good.

So after the OBX Marathon, my running motivation dropped off.  Now that I have crossed 1000 miles, I expect another drop.  I’m not sure what the rest of the year brings.  I have to admit, though.  My running log looks really cool right now at 1000.0 miles.

6:40AM: I’m in line for the porta-potty. The DJ is playing songs like “Bad Sneakers” and “Harder to Breathe”. Very Funny.

7:00AM: I am waiting in corral #3. I get nervous because it’s not cold enough. A guy in cargo pants lines up in front of me. I wonder how he will do.

7:26AM: My corral leaves the start line. Cargo pants takes off at a sprint. I never see him again, but I wonder what happened to him.

Mile 1: I know I am going way too fast. My first mile is under 9 minutes. Slow it down!

Mile 3: The sun is directly in my eyes, and it’s starting to get downright hot outside. Luckily we are running through a nice wooded neighborhood that provides some shade.

Mile 4: Onto the bike path. Beautiful views of the sound. I see a bridge in the distance. Is that the 22 mile mark?

Mile 4.5: A hill. Woooo!

Mile 5: Lots of crowd support. I am offered candy and beer by spectators. I am also offered a bloody mary. I am also offered some cigarettes. Thanks, but no thanks.

Mile 6: I am running in a small pack of runners. Out of nowhere, a black cat takes off across the road in front of us. “Well, that can’t be good,” someone says.

Mile 7.5: We are running a lap around the Wright Brothers Memorial. Very cool.

Mile 9: Yeah, it’s getting hot out. Angry motorists wait while marathoners cross the road. And for the last 9 miles, the stupid FreeCreditReport.com commercial is stuck in my head. (Thanks to the Capitol Steps for that one).

Mile 10: We hit a dirt road in the woods. Not so much dirt as wet clay. It takes a few minutes to get used to it.

Mile 11: Easiest mile on the marathon. I have decided that I love this dirt road. I feel so comfortable, like it’s one of my training runs.

Mile 12: I wonder how my wife did in the half marathon. I picture her crossing the finish line, then hanging out at a cafe drinking coffee and eating pastries.

Mile 12.5: We turn off the dirt road, and onto a mulch path. The path is pretty much a trail up and over about 5 sand dunes. It is steep and tough.

Mile 13: We come off the mulch path, and directly over a timing mat. Halfway! My split time is 2:04. I am rocking, and I feel great!

Mile 14: I am out on the open road now. Spectators are sparse, and cars are passing in the lane next to me. I miss the neighborhoods.

Mile 15: Okay, I am ready for some shade. I notice I am already doing my pain cringe (see finish line pictures). This isn’t a good sign.

Mile 16: I am excited to see mile marker #16. “Single digits left to go!” I tell a fellow runner. However, my excitement is short lived as I see mile marker #3 for the half-marathoners. “You mean if I were running a half marathon, I’d only be at mile #3? Oh no!”

Mile 16.5: I feel a twinge in my right calf. Uh oh. From my previous marathon I knew this meant I had 5 miles left before my legs would lock up.

Mile 18: Hot hot hot! I am taking 3 cups of liquid and a GU at each water stop. The cramp twinges are a time bomb in my legs. I am running gingerly.

Mile 19: I am aboviously showing pain. I am stopping every few minutes to ease my leg cramps. A runner with blue sleeves befriends me, as we keep passing each other. “I hate this,” he says. “I couldn’t have trained any harder for this marathon. But what can you do?”

Mile 21.5: Halfway up the bridge, my right leg locks up. I am so mad. I haven’t cramped up all summer. Why did I pick this stupid, hot marathon? I hobble over to the side of the bridge and hold on to the railing. “Don’t jump,” blue sleeves jokes as he passes me. “It’s not worth it!” It would have been funnier if I wasn’t so mad.

Still Mile 21.5: I start moving again, stepping like Kevin Spacey in The Usual Suspects. I am walking club-footed, as my leg simply will not straighten out. But by moving, I feel like I am at least making forward progress.

Mile 22: I am at a slight jog again, at the top of the bridge. I had been looking forward to the view up here, but now I barely notice it. I reluctantly check my watch, and see that I am amazingly still on pace for 4:20. But I know I can’t keep it up.

Mile 23.5: My right leg locks up again, and my left leg is on the verge. I start walking again, club-footed. “Don’t worry about it,” a runner I had just passed says, seeing my frustrating. “It’s brutal out here today. Just brutal!”

Mile 24: At least half the runners are walking. A girl behind me starts yelling at her running partner. Her partner starts crying that she just can’t go on. All around me, other people are limping as well. I am not the only one with problems.

Mile 25: My watch says 4:20. I missed my goal, with still a mile to go. A loooong mile to go.

Mile 25.5: I see a familiar face running toward me, cheering me on. I am excited to see my wife, but just as I do, a major pain strikes my legs. She cheers me on, “You’re almost there!” I am yelling out in pain.

Mile 26: My wife is running with me, doing all she can to propel me over the finish line. I am hobbling, but I know the finish line is just around the next corner. I check my watch: 4:31.

Mile 26.2: With 5 steps left to go, my right leg locks up on me again. I hop those last 5 steps until I hit the blue timing mat, then slow down. My first thought: I need shade.

12:53PM: I get my marathon finishers’ medal. I get a bottle of water. I get a wet face cloth and drape it over my head. They offer me a silver blanket, but I decline. Blue sleeves finds me and congratulates me. We thank each other for the comeraderie that kept us going.

12:55PM: I am sitting on the curb with a face cloth over my head. I know my wife is walking around and looking for me. I don’t have the energy to get up and look for her. She’ll find me.

3:00PM: We’re sitting at the Outer Banks Brewing Station. I ordered a big, fat cheeseburger. But as hungry as I am, after about 5 bites, I am already full. My body is still in shock. The restaurant is full of people wearing their marathon medals. Everyone is limping. A runner at the table behind me announces that somebody better take him back to the hotel because he’s gonna be sick.

8:30PM: I am laying in bed of the Holiday Inn Express. My final race time was 4:33. That’s about 20 minutes slower than my goal. I’m not sure what to think. After months of training, I came up short. Was it a waste to train all summer for a disappointing time? Should I just be glad I finished?

But my wife is looking at the results, and notices something interesting. “Everyone around you has the same split time,” she tells me. She shows me. At the halfway point, everyone is running low 9-minute-miles (my split time was 9:30). For the next 7 miles, the split times were all in the high 9-minute-miles (mine was 9:48). And for the last 10K, the split times were all in the 12-minute-miles (mine was 12:35). And as I looked at the results, it was weird how everyone followed this pattern. So with that, I feel much better. Either everyone seriously mismanaged their energy, or those last miles were brutally hard.

So, marathon #2 is in the books (that is state #2 if I ever do the 50 state marathon club). My wife reminds me that I made it 3.5 miles further before I cramped up this time, and took a whopping 45 minutes off my last marathon time. I’d still like to do a marthon to my full potential, maybe one in colder weather and with some shade. But what the heck, I still have 48 more states to run a marathon in. Maybe some day I can do one without cramping up.

A much-needed water stop

My wife yelling for me to hurry up

Cringing as my leg gives out at the finish line

Buck Mountain Half Marathon (10/12)
This is an annual Half Marathon put on by the local track club. It is pretty low-key. There are no timing chips, no tee-shirts, no medals. The water stops are just water coolers and dixie cups sitting in the grass. But it’s free (although they accept donations for local charity). Our running coach calls it “just a glorified group run”.

Greasy Gooney 10K (10/25)
My wife found this one. It’s a pretty 10K in rural Northern Virginia. The course goes halfway up a hill, then back down the other side. It’s another low-key race with no bib numbers, and no one stopping traffic. But the price is right ($11, or $16 if you get the shirt). And the race name is really fun to say.

Blue Ridge Burn (11/8)
I am heart-broken that I cannot run this race. Mostly because every year they have the coolest race shirts ever! The race itself is incredibly hard (at least on par with the Pineland Farms Challenge, but only 10K). I always do really bad, but suck it up for the tee-shirt. But alas, no tee-shirt for me this year.

OBX Marathon (11/9)
This is the big one, and I’m getting excited. It’s a flat course with a tailwind (from what I hear). If nothing else, it’s a nice long weekend on the Outer Banks. Less than a month go to!

Briargate Turkey Trot (11/27)
An annual tradition through the suburbs of Colorado Springs. I run with my nephew, and my wife runs with my niece. I won’t be setting any PRs, but it’s a fun family event. The best part is smelling all the Thanksgiving dinners cooking throughout the neighborhood.

Run at the Rock (12/6)
My sister-in-law found this one. It’s a 7 or 14 mile trail race through a park in North Carolina. I am not all that big on trail races, but this one looks manageable. They say there are rolling hills, but I don’t think it compares to the tough trail races I am used to. I am leaning toward the 14 mile option.

My first day off, I was okay with it.  After my 19-mile run, I would normally take a day off anyway.  I was hobbling all around that day, not because of sore muscles, but because of this nasty blister on my heel.

My second day off, I was getting antsy.  It’s funny, before I hit the AT, I didn’t do any exercise regularly.  I was fine with that.  Now if I go too long without my run, I feel really lazy and lethargic.  I think it might be a bit of an addiction.

By the third day, I had mixed emotions.  I wanted to run and get back into my regular running schedule, but it was REALLY hard.  It was a strange mixture of laziness and anxiety.  Plus I was nervous about running with my big blister still looming large.

It turned out that my run went surprisingly well.  I had a lot of excess energy to burn off.  I almost didn’t go because my blister still hurt when I walked.  But for some reason, I barely felt it when I ran.  Kind of like Yoda in Attack of the Clones, I went from hobbling around, to spectacular run, back to hobbling around.

So besides being quite ugly, the big bad blister has become a non-factor.  That’s encouraging.  Countdown to OBX Marathon:  30 days!

With that in mind, I went out for a 19 mile run on Dick Woods Road today.  I hit the road at about 7:40 this morning.  I was really not looking forward to this run.  There were 3 things that would make this extra hard:

• Dick Woods Road is hilly.  19 miles on this hilly road is tough.
• I would be carrying my water.  My track club wouldn’t be there setting up water coolers.
• I would be running solo.  No other runners to talk to or be distracted by.

It was a pretty exhausting run, but I was happy just to finish at this distance.   I had only a few odd pains and injuries:

• I was carrying a new water belt (the kind with one bottle on the lower back).  But by the 9-mile mark, it hurt my lower back so much I had to pretty much carry it.  I could probably get used to it, but it was too long of a run to try something new.
• I got a blister on the back of my foot on mile 6.  I have been wearing these shoes for about a month now.  How can I get a blister on mile 6?

Of course I saw a few interesting things happen on my run:

• At 1.5 miles, there was a horse that was scratching his butt against the wire fence.  It was pretty funny.
• At 13 miles, I passed the stalker dog.  He sits low in his yard until you pass him.  Then he takes off after you.  Luckily I remember him, and I was ready for him.  I really wish people would contain their dogs.
• At 17 miles, a couple cows were out in the road.  I gave them plenty of room.  We just watched each other as I ran by.  Then they went back to munching on the grass on the side of the road.  

I was pretty happy with my run.  I think it’s the longest I have ever run without cramping up or having one of my mental breakdowns.  I think this is because of my new ritual of drinking a bottle of GatorAde before bed.  My marathon training is going much better than it did last year.  Let’s just hope the marathon goes better as well.

We (reluctantly) headed out in a lull in the rain. Everything was wet. After a few miles, we were atop a knoll, getting pelted by rain, listening to the powerlines buzz above us. Not exactly the soothing weekend hike I was hoping for. But lucky for us, that would be the worst of it.

We had lunch under a graffiti-covered rock. It turned out to be a historic moment, as this is where The Big Pastrami got his trail name. (You should have seen his sandwich!) It was an uphill day. If we weren’t wet from the rain, it was the sweat.

We hiked almost 10 miles on the day, and got to our shelter at about 3:30. I immediately sprawled out, enjoying the “comfort” of a thermarest and a roof. But the shelter filled up quickly, leaving some poor thru-hikers to tent in the rain. Knowing I could dry off at home the next night, I decided to tent out and give them my space. But the thru-hikers had a bit of the “thru-hiker entitlement” attitude. Without even a thank you for giving up our shelter space, they just seemed annoyed that it took us so long to move our stuff. It turns out they had spent 2 nights in Daleville, and were headed into Catawba. They had showered more recently than I had! If I had known all that, I probably would have kept my space in the shelter.

Before we could leave the shelter area on Sunday morning, we could see patches of blue sky overhead. It was less than a mile up to Tinker Cliffs, one of the coolest places on the Appalachian Trail. We enjoyed the view for about a half hour. I explored a little while the coffee-drinkers drank their coffee.

The hike between Tinker Cliffs and McAfee Knob was kind of fun, as I don’t remember much about this section. We got to the shelter just before McAfee Knob, and stopped for lunch. We found a strange Alaskan fellow who had started at Dragon’s Tooth, and was headed to Mt. Rogers. We informed him that he had been hiking in the wrong direction. He just replied matter-of-factly, “Hmm. Then maybe I’ll hike into town and buy some maps.”

McAfee Knob was pretty, but a bit more crowded. It was fun to look back at the 12 mile, zig-zagging ridgeline we had been following. I was surprised that the famous picture was so overgrown with trees, and that you couldn’t even tell that the rocks jutted out. There were a lot of tourists and kids there, taking us out of “backpacker” mode, and into “seagull” mode. And 4 easy, crowded miles brought us back down to the parking lot, and back into reality.

This morning one of my fellow carpoolers asked me, “So, you mean you literally hiked and camped in the rain?” The tiniest bit of adrenaline shot through my body. It’s been a while since I’ve been asked that question.

See pictures of our hike here

All my friends are either marathon runners, long-distance hikers, world-class triathletes, or some combination of these crazy “hobbies”.  It’s pretty incredible, the company I keep.  They certainly keep me humble.

First of all, a big congratulations to my friend Eric, who just finished his first half marathon.  He blazed through the Boulder Backroads Half Marathon in just under 1:40. 

(Note to self:  I need to make some slower friends.  Seriously.)

And secondly, a big congratulations to Snowman & Sparkplug who finished their last miles of the Appalachian Trail this week.  They found the spare time to finish the AT while training for the MDI Marathon.

Have I mentioned that my friends are all crazy?

The first 3 miles were real tough for me.  I was the only person who elected to start with the out-and-back.  So I was all by myself.  It was still kind of dark out, and I kept getting chased by dogs.  My stomach was also unsettled.  As an experiement, last night before bed I drank a bottle of GatorAde.  It just sat in my stomach like a lead balloon.   I was full of electolytes (it’s what plants crave), but it did not digest well.  I was really questioning this whole running thing.

Things changed for me around mile #4, at the start of the first loop.  It was here that I got off the pavement, and onto the dirt road.  My stomach was finally starting to settle.  And it was around here that I had a very good thought:  I just passed 700 miles on the year.  This was my running goal for the year, and I was passing it in September.  Cool!

It wasn’t until the end of the first loop (around mile #10) that I started seeing people.  Because of the weird mileage options in Keene, everyone is doing something different.  So, I started passing people running in all directions.  Something about running around other people makes it a lot easier.

I had a hard time starting that final loop.  My body knew my car was right there, and did not want to turn around and run the other direction.  But I did, and quickly fell into pace with a few other runners. 

As always, the highlight of my Keene run was seeing the Barktriloquist Dog.  There is a dog that stands in his driveway and barks at all the runners.  But he doesn’t move his mouth.  It’s the weirdest thing.  So I was excited to see the Barktriloquist at about mile #12.

I was really jazzed for my last 3 miles.  I was feeling so good, I actually ran negative splits (I guess there is a first time for anything).  My last 3 miles were among my fastest of the day.  Everything in my body seemed to be hurting in just the right places:  there were no real pains, but everything was just a little stressed.

It turned out to be one of my best long runs… ever.  Last year it was always hot, and I didn’t quite put the effort in that I should have.  I don’t ever remember finishing a long run and feeling this good.  I was kind of waiting for this run to decide if I was really on pace for a fall marathon.  I think the answer is yes.

Odds of running the OBX Marathon: 80%