The Sabermetrician in Me

Yes, it is a baseball term, and I don't know if there is an equivalent for running, but I discovered my time is better than third place in the female age 12-14 division. That's right, I only got beat by two 12-year-old girls! Something to be proud of, I think.

Half Marathon PR - It's Official

My finisher certificate from the San Jose Rock 'n' Roll Half Marathon came in the mail. My offical time was 1:45:29. I placed 189th (out of 766) in my division, 938th (out of 4222) among men, and 1174th (out of 9625) overall. I'm very happy with that result.

My "age grade" is 57.2, less than 3 points below "local class," the lowest grade. Presumably if I don't run fast enough to be in a grade, does that I'm just casual runner? Judging by the results, there's a lot of us.

I like half marathons, and I'm thinking if I can run an 8:03 pace, I can shave a few seconds off and run in the high-7s.

A Long Long Way to Run

I remember the best parts first. The anticipation waiting at the starting line under a waning gibbous moon, then rounding the many street corners ol' San Antone at sunrise, down familiar country roads and back again to cheering crowds. I'm convinced they added that last .2 miles to marathons because the excitement and exhilaration of the last .2 miles completely erases the pain of the previous 26. Afterwords, there is laughter and jokes, crawling in and out of cars, baby giraffe walks, merriment and beer.

Niamh (that's prounced Neeve, for the non-Irish speakers) had a great day and qualified for Boston on her second marathon, a fact I had to point out to as many people as possible as we walked back to the car. Me, I had a slightly worse time. The good news is I'm not so sore because I didn't run as fast as I expected. The bad news is I didn't run as fast as I expected. I probably started out a little too fast, and it soon became clear I would have to I take my time and enjoyed the scenery on that country road home (hey John Denver!). It was run walk run walk run cramp walk run walk walk walk run whew!

Pre-Pre-Race Dream

Dreamed I was late. Not for the race, but for the day before the race. The reason? It involved a girl and class I had in college, along with an unlikely cast of celebrities. Other than that, the dream didn't make a whole lot of sense.

The plan today is a pancake breakfast, then to Run-Tex to buy clothes for unexpectedly cold weather. I probably shouldn't dress for temps between 50 70 when it's going to be 30 to 50.

Dream What May

In a funny way, I actually enjoy the anxiety dreams that come the night before a big race. It's part of the process, part of the excitement, and it's fascinating the stuff my brain comes up with under stress. So I thought I'd list a few of the dreams I've had the night before past races.

San Jose, 2007, my first half marathon, I dreamed I couldn't find my shoes and socks. I looked everywhere, found one under the bed, one in the closet under a pile of junk, found my socks in weird places. Then I finally had them all gathered, I put them on. Ready to go, I looked down and discovered I was barefoot. My shoes and socks had disappeared. I frantically looked everywhere. I found one in the kitchen, the other behind the TV. I put them on and next thing I know they're gone again. This went on, each time I put my shoes on they disappeared, and I found them scattered around the house in progressively more unusual places after much frantic searching. Oh, and there was a girl in this dream. Or rather, would have been if I could ever find my shoes and get to the starting line.

Several times I've had a dream where my clothes shrink and grow to impossible dimensions while I'm trying to put them on, or is it me, like Alice in Wonderland eating magic cakes.

The night before Nike in San Francisco, I dreamed had to run a quick errand before the race. Next thing I know I'm in Palo Alto - 30 miles away - on my bicycle, asking for directions to the starting line.

In Hawaii, I dreamed that half way through the marathon I stopped for lunch. By the time I finished and stepped back outside, night had fallen. I wondered, do I finish running the course in the dark?

Also the night before Nike, I dreamed I overslept and woke up an hour after the race started. I wondered, should I run the race anyway? And what do I tell everyone afterwords? In my dream I considered hiding out another hour and then just pretending I ran.

I often have dreams about oversleeping, yet I don't think I've ever overslept. I seem to be able to wake up at the right time, even under normal circumstances. Often I wake up less than five minutes before my alarm goes off. It's like I have an internal alarm clock with remarkable precision. As long as I know what time I want to wake up I seem to just wake up. My clock radio is just there for reassurance, it seems. When I was a kid I practiced lucid dreaming.

I'm sure there's more, I remember having more, but dreams are fleeting. Most are gone as soon as they arrive. Even jarring dreams are lost within hours of waking. A precious few stay long enough to tell a friend. One, perhaps, might linger for years, haunting, reminding, but it is not the dream that stays, it is we who hold on to it, refusing to let it go, afraid of losing something we never had. Dreams want to be forgotten. Dreams, dark vacuum cleaner of the mind, throwing out the day's clutter and making room for another.

Dreams. They come and go like trains, and my sleeping mind but a whistle-stop on their way.

And Away I Go

Bags are packed, ready to go. How ready? Did I prepare? Were the workouts enough? The 20 mile run? Did I rest enough? Too much? Race day it's come as you are. I'll step out on that starting line and I won't stop until I'm across the finish. Whatever comes in between, I can take it. Ready or not here I come.

To Endure

In 2000 I took part in something called the Everest Environmental Expedition. No, I didn't see Nepal, I only helped with the web site and attended all the fund-raisers. How about that, I worked for free AND donated money. Lately I've been thinking about the time I heard someone say that climbing Everest isn't about athletic ability, it's about how much pain you can endure. I guess you start walking up that mountain and just keep going. I ran 20.2 miles last weekend, through the wall, past the landmarks of tired, sore, to the point where all I want to do is stop. Asking myself one question. How do I get to a state of mind where I can keep going?

I'm still not sure.