Tokyo Marathon 10k

I woke up on Sunday morning before the Tokyo 10k focused on one thing - fighting my way through the crowd of runners at the starting line to get a good position.  I was assigned the "B" block. When teammates Keren and Frank and I arrived in the B corral 35 minutes before the starting gun we could barely make out the starting white block off in the distance, with the thousands of runners packed in front of us (see picture).  We tried to be as polite as possible as we wound through the crowd, and maneuvered our way to a spot within only 10 meters of the starting line.  We had done it!  Frank and I congratulated each other on our accomplishment - "otsukare sama".

When the starting gun did go off it struck me that I still needed to actually run the damn race.  Being so close to the front meant I went out like a bat out of hell.  I felt tired almost immediately, and struggled in the wind. 

I spotted a pack of runners with one guy wearing "pace runner" on his back and tucked in behind them.  I discovered the pack was surrounding Harumi Hiroyama, the second seeded Japanese female marathoner.  It turns out she was running 3:29 per kilometer pace and I dutifully (and stupidly) followed.  I knew almost immediately I would be in trouble and could not maintain the pace.  But much of the first 6k was downhill so I just hung on as long as I could.  My 5k split was 17:22, 6k was 20:51.

The last 3k into the wind was an ordeal. Once the 10k and marathon groups split there was suddenly no other runners near me.  I staggered home in 36:22.

36:22 is an acceptable time for me - it is about what I ran in my last three 10ks, but it was hardly spectacular.  However the effort was good for 7th place out of 5,000 runners.  The crowd and volunteers cheered me at the end like I was a famous star.  It was all rather glorious, and I felt that the effort to get to the front at the starting line did pay off.

Masters Swim at Pebble Creek

I joined the masters swim sessions at the Pebble Creek community pool during my recent stay in Arizona. Pebble Creek is an "active senior community" - and so, as you might expect, the community swim squad is an intense and competitive group. On one side of me is Jim, a retired schoolteacher, who started entering sprint triathlons and he sprints out way ahead of me on the 300 meter warmup and first set of 75s. Meanwhile on my other side is Katherine a 70+ Senior Olympics swimmer. I manage to stay well ahead of her on the warmup, but then she puts on a pair of long fins and on the 75 meter intervals we swim neck and neck. The group does the usual variety of swim drills and our coach, Bill, is excellent - goading us on and reminding me to keep my gaze farther ahead, keep my hands flatter as they enter the water and not to let my arm stroke cross over the centerline of my body.

We finish the workout with 8x200s - each length of 200 at progressively faster pace. With each 200 I work hard to swim faster, while my fellow swimmers seem to be tiring. On the final intervals I push myself with all my remaining strength and simply destroy Jim and the 70-year old woman - finishing at least half a length ahead.

Gasping and wheezing at the edge of the pool I lock eyes with a grotesquely overweight woman plopped in a lounge chair amidst the crowds of poolside sunbathers. I detect a look of outright disgust. Perhaps the sunbathers are annoyed by our splashing and noise? or feeling guilty at lolling all day long in the Arizona sun? Meanwhile however I feel a sense of camaraderie now with the rest of the swim squad, and they seem impressed that my interval times are faster at the end of the workout than at the start. "You have remarkable stamina" Coach Bill tells me. I am feeling a bit sheepish about all my competitiveness with 70 year old women, and don't want to babble on about ironman.. I simply say that yeah I have done a bit of long cycling and running and it seems to help make up for my poor technique.

Running in Arizona Desert

It is 85 degrees (3l degrees Celsius) as I head off into the desert for my long Sunday run.  Fortunately the temperature drops rapidly as the sun sinks to the horizon and so I start my run around 4pm in an effort to finish just past sunset..  Once I get beyond the inner 2-mile loop, crest a hill and look out and see no one else for miles.  Just hundreds of enormous saguaro cactus.   I run at what seems like a solid speed, but the trail drops in and out of washes (dry river beds) and by the time I hit the 14k mark I realize I need to pickup the pace.   Unfortunately I am tiring a bit by this time.   I see birds circling round and round above me and I assume they are vultures who are betting that I will not make it back to the trailhead and that they will be able to feed on my carcass.  I push on more quickly and the sun casts amazing shadows against the mountains.  I am really tired at 16k and alternate between walking the rocky, hillier sections and sprinting sections of flat, hard-packed trail.  Of course it is dangerous and imprudent to start the run so late.  (And I should know better having once scrambled through the dark across lava in Volcano National Park in Hawaii - guided by the sight of car headlights on a distant highway).   But after the sunset the red sky in the desert and the lights of the sprawling city of Phoenix are magnificent.  (and I refuse to run in the afternoon heat)