Phnom Penh 50k Ultramarathon

Is this the coolest race number ever?  

 I don't wish to run the entire Phnom Penh 50k Ultra-marathon.  So the organizers provide a rider who gives me his bicycle at the 30k mark and then he proceeds to run the final 20k while I ride this bike to the finish line.

It is a spectacular run at dawn - across rice fields, past magnificent Khmer temples, and through villages. 

 Children keep running out to yell 'hello' at us.  

I run at 6 minute per kilometer pace with Denise from Canada who had mastered the Khmer language enough to banter with all our supporters lining the course… 

Phnom Penh New Year's 15k

Another triumphant podium finish (admittedly with a rather small field).  I win the Phom Penh New Year's 15k.

Racing through the fields and villages of Cambodia is magical. We start in the late afternoon on a broad, quiet boulevard on outskirts of Phnom Penh. I am escorted by a fleet of Cambodians on bikes and motorcycles until the course leaves the road and heads on to a hard pack trail through wide open fields.

I am seeking to maintain 4 minute per kilometer pace (like at Chiang Mai and Watarase Half), but and am faster than planned at 10k in about 39:40.  I feel pretty good and perhaps I could maintain this pace, but the scenic trails get more uneven and as we wind through a small villages and flocks of chickens I lose a bit of intensity and focus.  I finish in just over an hour.  


- and where does one go after the New Year's Day 15k race for an authentic Cambodian culinary experience?   Of course, where else? - Mike's Burgers.  My food snob foreigner

teammates refuse to join us, but I take "the when in Rome do as the Roman
do" approach and join the local Cambodians.  When we arrive Mike is happy to
learn that I have been to California's In'N'Out Burgers and tell me about
his business story over bacon burgers and Khmer Curry.

Chiang Mai Half Marathon 2013

I am relaxed about the Chiang Mai Half Marathon.

So relaxed I almost sleep through the 5am start. My $8 per night guest-house does not offer wake-up calls, or alarms, or even an illuminated clock. Given the paper thin walls of a $8 guest-house I am wearing ear plugs, and I sleep through the feeble chirp of my watch alarm and Arnaud's quiet knock on my door.  Somehow I emerge from a deep, deep sleep and decide to check the time on my iPad at precisely 4:34. It takes a few seconds to register that I am supposed to be racing in only 26 minutes. Fortunately the guest-house is very close to the starting line and I am able to throw on my shoes, pin on my number, eat my Espresso Love Power Gel, use the restroom, sprint to Thapae Gate, and push my way through the 700 other runners to the front of the starting line.  

When I do get to the starting line the adrenaline of rushing to make it has totally kicked in – normally I would be too groggy to run hardly at all only 20 minutes after waking up, let alone race. But I feel completely wired when the gun goes off, and tuck in behind Arnaud and Brooke to keep from going out too fast.

For the first 4 kilometers rather than go out too fast, we cruise along in total comfort. I glance at my Garmin which indicates we are running at 4:10 pace, not the sub-4 minute pace I hoped for.  So when I do pass Brooke at around 5k I surge dramatically and for the next 10k average about 3:40 per kilometer moving from 10^th place into 3^rd. 

I hang on for 3^rd place overall (the top two guys are light years ahead of me), and I finish in a time of 1:30 for the 23+ kilometer course (I figure it was about 1:22 half marathon equivalent – which I am pleased with given my uneven pacing. 

Run for the Cure 2013

I find myself back at Run for the Cure.  Back for the prizes.  

However I feel completely drained at the start.  The night before had been pretty intense and the lack of sleep along with the week's heavy running had taken a toll.  At the starting line I have largely concluded I will run this as 10k tempo run - I really don't want to experience any physical discomfort.  

So then I felt a bit distressed after 500 meters when I found myself in 4th place and in contention for those coveted prizes awarded to the top 3 overall finishers. I feel distressed because I know I will be upset with myself later if I simply wimp out and slow down and not make at least some sort-of effort.  And I feel distressed because I have a vague desire to throw up. 

My teammate George who I train next to during weekly interval workouts is not too far ahead of me in 3rd place.  And I summon the effort to tuck in beside him.  This allows me to benefit from George opening up a path for us on the crowded sidewalk around the Imperial Palace.  

Basically this becomes my strategy for the race -  do the minimum necessary for the maximum payoff.  OK, this is pretty much always my strategy, all of the time, but on this particular day I am unusually keen on executing on the strategy.

A group of the top 5 runners jockey for position over the two loops and I just try to stay right behind someone and hope I can find some kick toward the end of the race.  Fortunately there is a 500-meter downhill section toward the end of the race where I can lower my hands, lean forward and gather some strength, and then sprint into 3rd place.

I am happy to hold on and cross the finish line in 3rd place in 36:35ish.  The little competitive dynamic, the nice weather, the post-run autumn festivities in the Park make for a great event. 

 

Training Summary - November 30, 2013

I do manage to pickup my run training in November. 

The increase is largely thanks to doing hill runs and long runs with my teammates every weekend.  Nothing like socializing and camaraderie to boost the amount of running one does. 

I have continued to do easy swims most days of the week, but my cycling has dropped to zero.  Since August most of the quality and quantity of my triathlon practice has been in running; as you can see in the monthly mileage chart below from Running Ahead -->

Picnic 9.1k

You'd think I would have run enough 10-kilometer running races to have better figured out the pacing. But last weekend I blow up again during a 9k race – in a pattern nearly identical to my cross country race meltdown of 3 weeks ago (below). 

In the Picnic 9k, I tried to keep up with the two other guys and avoid running alone. I did not experience the oxygen-deprived traumatic pain of the cross country race – finding myself in last place after a frenzied sprint across slick and windy hills – but I was quite shattered after only about 3k as you can see in this picture (only one-third of the way through the run – hey, I am supposed to smile at this point)

So again - like in the cross country race - I managed to right the ship..  in the case of the picnic 9k I am blown along by a wonderful tailwind and I am figuring I clocked a roughly 36:45 wind-aided 10k time.  Not great, but not terrible. 

College Cross Country 10k

I compete in a the Western Washington University Classic Cross Country meet this weekend.

Needless to say, I am in way over my head.  

The college guys explode out off the starting line - I run under 3:30 for the first kilometer over the soft, slippery winding grass, and I find myself gasping for air, my heart racing, and I am near the very back of the field.  

But I expected this.  

I flounder through the 2nd kilometer, but manage to calm down and catch up with a small pack around 2k and am able to gut out a 38 minute effort which seems to be OK given the course.  

I feel slightly more worthy for having made the competitive effort to challenge myself against real runners (versus cherry picking un-competitive charity road races where I might win some prize...).  And it is a beautiful autumn day for running at Lake Padden.  

Watarase Half Marathon

I run a half-marathon race this morning in 1:24:14.

While it was not really a heroic effort, it was certainly not bad.

 Within the first kilometer or so I tucked into the middle of a big pack of guys running 4 minutes per kilometer.  It felt like such a comfortable pace that I simply maintained this position for almost the entire 21.1 kilometers.  When the pack did split up at around 19k I did make a feeble effort to pickup speed, but after running the same pace for so long I could not seem to find the gear to speed up.  

It was encouraging to feel so comfortable 19 kilometers into a half-marathon given my level of training and how I felt prior to the event.

I even receive an Adidas running belt for my 4th place age-group place.. 

Numazu Triathlon

I return to triathlon competition at the Numazu triathlon ekiden (relay) last weekend.   It is a unique triathlon relay in that all 3 team members complete the full sprint triathlon -- a 750/500 meter swim, a 20k bike ride, and a 5k run. Our club enters 4 teams and I am on the lowest seeded D team. 

I lead off for my team - and with only 50 meters between the rocky beach and the first turn, the swim start is even more frenzied than usual.  But I steer a course far to the outside - perhaps you can see me in the picture above - a lone pink cap veering wildly to the right, far, far behind the early leaders. 

Even though the 750-meter swim distance is significantly shorter, my time of 15:09 is no faster than my recent races of 1500 meters, 2-miles, and 3800-meter distances. No matter the distance and effort I end up swimming at a pace of 2-minutes per 100 meters.

But I am pleased by the effort when I emerge from the water and hear that teammate Stan (B Team)  is only steps in front of me (Stan being a strong swimmer and good benchmark for me from recent triathlons).  

We enter the transition and as you can see us pictured to the left. I had decided before the race to just plop down to take off my wetsuit. Meanwhile you can see Stan putting on his jersey backwards.  Despite this wardrobe mishap, Stan is faster out of T1.  And I never do manage to catch Stan on the bike.  But given my complete absence of outdoor cycling, I am pleased with my bike leg - I pass more than a dozen riders, covering the narrow, out-and-back course in 38:24.  

I am competitive on the 5k run segment which mercifully (given the hot day) is primarily on shaded trail. My recent trail running seemed to help me --after the usual adjustment issues over the first 500 meters, I begin to overtake the other participants, and at around 3k I manage to even overtake Stan.  At this point I realize I have a shot of catching the A team's lead triathlete - the legendary Chad who I see on the turnaround, his face contorted with pain.

So I am inspired to accelerate over much of the last 2k, particularly the trail leading to beach where I manage to sprint past Chad (pictured)  in a brief, competitive burst (though I after this effort I am spent and content to follow Chad through a final confusing and exhausting chute that takes us through the agonizingly heavy sand to the handoff).

I am surprised to have done as well as I did (it is difficult to compare triathlon times across different courses, but I placed ahead of teammates who have been faster than me in previous triathlons).  I was convinced that the shorter sprint distance would put me at a disadvantage, especially given that I only seem to swim at one speed as I note above, my cycling background is on long slow cross-country treks rather than short fast time trials, and my transitions tend to be rather languid, which would weigh more heavily on a short course.  But in fact on this day I perform much better than all my weak Olympic distance efforts in 2012, let alone my humiliating debacle at last year's Taiwan Half-Ironman (which I had thought was "my distance").

It is all great fun.  And my D team manages to finish 103rd overall.

Lord Hill 10k Trail Race

After struggling against that challenging Seattle area competition in the Silver Lake 2-Mile Swim and Meet of the Miles Picnic (see below), I decide to find a small, local running race to assuage my ego.  I spot a Half-Marathon and 10k trail race at the nearby Lord Hill Regional Park.  After a bit of pondering I choose the 10k, figuring a half-marathon is a bit far in my new trail shoes and on my 50-kilometers per week of training (and the half-marathon costs $10 more).  

Both distances start together and for the first 4k I find myself in a pack of four guys with a college kid out ahead of us..  The new trail shoes feel great - I run the steep rocky downhill sections much more aggressively - lifting my elbows and leaning forward.  Still I find myself laboring on the up-hills, and stressing at the thought that to be competitive I really need to get around the 4 guys when the trail widens and go after the college kid.  

  

Then, to my amazement, at the 4k mark every other runner around me splits off to do the half-marathon.  I am totally and completely alone in first place.  If I was in a more competitive mood I would have been disappointed (or perhaps even ignored my event registration decision and gone after the other 5 runners).  But at this moment I was just delighted.  I felt burst of energy and surged along a mostly smooth flat stretch of trail to an aid station turn-around at 6k.  On this short out-and-back I could see I had a good 2-minute lead over second place.  When I begin to tire on some brutal roller coaster terrain over the last third of the course I repeatedly twist my head to see if there is anyone closing in on me.  I don't see any one and think "Oh good, I can slow down - who cares about my time as long as I win".

I win the race by 3 minutes.  I cover the hilly trail course in 45:20.  I even win some nice Rudy Project sunglasses.

The top half-marathon guys come in around 1:45.  I try to talk to them and ask them how their races played out.  But they see me with all my prizes and glory and adoring fans and they walk away, their faces contorted with scorn, contempt, and jealousy.   It is somewhat understandable that they look down on us pedestrian runners who only completed 10 kilometers.  As for me, I find myself extrapolating my 10k pace and wondering how I would have finished if I had run the half-marathon.  

Meet of the Miles Picnic

Seattle's Club Northwest summer picnic is combined with the "Meet of the Miles" a Sunday afternoon set of mile races on the West Seattle track.  I intend to go to the picnic, so  naturally I am game to jump in a mile race.  Who cares that I have not done much mile specific training?  I figure the 12 x 400 meter intervals I did a month ago might help.  And at the Club Northwest track workout on the previous  Wednesday we ran 4 x1600 on a 3-minute rest cycle.  I managed to run the last 1600 in a 5:20, providing me with a modicum of confidence going into the picnic run.  I figure a picnic event should be pretty casual anyway - three-legged races, tug-of-war, water balloon tosses...   But Club Northwest is all business.  Even the "Milk Mile" (drink 12-ounces of milk then race 400 meters x 4) is a remarkably determined affair - especially in contrast to the revelrous beer mile I participated in (see below). 

The small group of grimly determined runners in my masters (40 years old+) mile heat burst out at 70-second per lap (4:40) pace, and it is all I can do to not follow them.  I knew I had to go out easy…  Still I hit 400 meters in 76 seconds and after that I find myself slogging out the remaining 3 laps at 80 second pace with no one even close to me (the pack finishes 30 seconds ahead, and another group maybe 30 seconds behind me.  

The 5:16 effort seems like an awful lot of pain - just to shave 4 seconds off the interval I clocked 4 days earlier.  I wonder if I could run much faster at this distance - how much short-distance specific training would help.  If drafting and having more people around me would help. Or would warming up more like in the workout help?  Or perhaps it is just an age thing.   It used to be easier for me to run a 5 minute mile, and any halfway decent junior high kid runs a 5:16.  But still I tend to reject the general mindset that there should be some tight correlation between one's age and the run distance one must race at.  

Silver Lake 2-mile Swim

I thought I might finish near last place as I drove to last weekend's Silver Lake Swim.  At that point finishing last did not really concern me - it was a sunny morning, and this swim event served as a good workout and a fine opportunity to work on open water swim technique.    But upon arriving at the lake my expectations start to change. 

I don't mean to sound arrogant or disrespectful, but the athletes that surrounded me at the starting line of the Swim did not look particularly, well, athletic.  I have grown accustomed to events like the Frankfurt Ironman and staring up at strapping, muscular German young men with their focused game faces as they determinedly rack their $10,000 bikes, drink their complex energy drinks and talk intensely about their 20+ hour per week training regimes. 

I arrive at Silver Lake and find myself chatting with a neighborly, silver haired woman in front of me in the event registration line who talks to me at length about her grandchildren's summer camp.   I look around and at least two-thirds of the field I would characterize as being above an optimal weight.  I start to think that I should be pretty competitive. 

Yet when the gun went off almost all of these other athletes burst out ahead of me, and even as I tell myself to surge toward the first buoy I find the rest of the crowd pulling further and further ahead. 

My first mile was a disappointing 33+ minutes.  The second mile loop did not seem much faster as I zig-zagged around the buoys, the swimmer ahead of me far in the distance.  But somehow, (as is always the case in my swims), I seemed to settle into a rhythm and speed up -- I was just over 30 minutes for the second mile.  My goal for the day had been to break an hour, so at least I was on pace during the second half.  I just somehow need to improve my starting speed and my sighting. 

Oh and I didn't finish last.  A couple other swimmers straggled in behind me.  But I didn't see the grandmother at the finish - she must have been well ahead of me. 

Training Summary - June 30, 2013

I had grand ambitions.  At the outset of 2013 I planned to increase my running mileage beyond the feeble 40-kilometer (25 mile) per week average - the level I had been mired in for the past few years. 

But for various and sundry reasons I have not been able to sustain higher workout load without my legs protesting, as you can see in this 12-month mileage chart --

Meanwhile my "cross-training"  (I can hardly say "triathlon training" since I never actually compete in any triathlons) has averaged around 8 hours per week.  8 hours is also pretty feeble by triathlete standards, but then most triathletes derive many of their weekly training hours on the long, time-consuming cycling workouts.  Since I have yet to do a cycling workout outside this year except for during a week in May in Seattle (see below) all of my hours are swims, runs and turbo-training sessions so it is a reasonably quality effort I think.  Here is 6 month chart extracted from Triathlog

5k on track

I looked forward to the energy of the annual Spring 5,000 on the track -- 100 or so runners together in the 17:00 minute to 18:30 anticipated-time heat.  Last year I felt like I was carried along by the pack to a comfortable 17:52 (even after running an 18:45, ten minutes earlier in the previous heat).

This year I run too fast in the first 400 meters and struggle - much of it by myself -- as you can see here --->

Result is a disappointing 17:57.

Pivot to Rock Climbing

My bicycle has sat inside a bike bag on my front porch since last October, unused other than during November's Laguna Phuket Triathlon.

I decided I wanted to try new things.  

And so I pivot to rock climbing