Reston Perfect 10-Miler Race Report

My fastest 10-Mile race time came last year, at the Army 10-Miler.  It was crowded, but I managed to get a 1:23:xx time.  Normally, my "speed" 10-milers are done at the Cherry Blossom 10-MIler.  My record there, out of all my years running the course, is (roughly) 85 minutes and change.  Cherry Blossom is FLAT.  It is FAST.  It is also crowded, but, if you've raced enough, you can start to get better at taking tangents.

This race has a much tougher course profile.  It is hilly. It narrows in places. But, it's not crowded, as 10 miler finishers accounted for only about 550 people.

Reston Perfect 10 Miler course elevation

I arrived fairly ridiculously early, got a parking spot at South Lakes High School, and walked over in the cold to get my bib and shirt.  After relaxing in my car and doing the of-course-necessary last second port-a-potty visit, I made my way over to the start line, which looked more like a bunch of people milling about.  I --kind of-- saw where the start line was, and I --kind of-- saw a sign saying "8-9 minute pace," but I just kind of . . . stood.  There we 10K runners who were going to start with us, and then peel off just prior to the 10K mark as we did the course.

Oh, the course.  It's a strange form of concentric circles, first moving outwards, and then back.  I wish I'd paid more attention to the finish, however.  Because there should have been a sign at mile 9.7 saying "HAHA MIND FUK LOL OWNED" (but I'll get to that).

There was no real sound at the start.  Everyone was standing around, and then people just started running.  I really hoped someone had turned on the timer.

Bang!  Off we . . . went?

GO . . . ?

Note:  I'm only doing half splits for this race, because my two halves were fairly steady.

Miles 0-5:

43 minutes.  The hills forced me into wild pace swings, which I tried my best to keep steady.  Meanwhile, if I was struggling to stay steady, a lot of folks were NOT.  They would hit the downhills and run like they were . . . well . . .

RUN RUN RUN THERE'S AN UPHILL BEHIND YOU!!!!

I had at LEAST couple of people, I'd say at least 3-4, who I'd watch fly past me on the downhills, and then, sure enough, as we hit each uphill, they were almost trudging/walking or at least significantly slowed (depending on where we were in the race).  I saw them enough times that I'd say to myself, "Yup, it's him/her again," and would at least assure myself that as long as we kept seeing each other, it wasn't like I was in anybody's dust.

Miles 5-10:

Just under 42 minutes and a half minutes, so once again I'd managed some negative splits.  As we got closer to the finish, I picked up speed.  I actually started to, you know, run DOWN the hills, instead of holding myself back.

Probably what I looked like at the time.

I didn't see any of the usual passers again . . . until after I was done, and I watched them finish.  I was finishing up this race in a damn good mood.  I didn't smell a PR, but I could tell things were going well.

I once ran a race THIS BIG!

But then things turned slightly annoying.  Not a lot.  But enough.

Look, while I'm proud of the negative split, it would have been a bigger difference in times had I not been utterly crestfallen towards the end.  This is because, just as you approach the finish, you turn AWAY from the track (you finish actually on the High School's track).

Um, wait.  No -- hello?  The finish line is RIGHT THE HELL OVER THERE.  RIGHT THERE.

Nope.  Not time yet.

Instead, we're going to run down, ALMOST to the school property's exit point, and then turn AROUND and run back to the finish.  So yeah, a little out/back in your last point 3 tenths of a mile.

Basically said this for the entire last quarter mile or so.

All my speed from the last mile (which was about 8 flat-ish) was gone.  I'd moved into trudge mode myself.  But, I'd finished. My Garmin time looked familiar to me.  VERY familiar.  It turns out I'd run this race in a little under 85 and a half minutes.  In fact, I'd run it ONE SECOND faster than my best Cherry Blossom time.  This course was now my second fastest 10-mile time ever.  My PR was minutes faster, but . . . wow.  On a hilly course, with a suspect groin and zero motivation, I'd cranked out a time that made me almost feel happy about waking up at 5am.  Did I mention the course was difficult?  Oh.

Race by the numbers:
Overall:  Top 26%
Men:  Top 41%
AG:  Top 44%

This was about what I'm used to seeing, results-wise.  I'm usually in the top quarter of a lot of races, and in the top third or so for everything else.  It skewed slower for this race, but it's also skewed higher in others, so within the margin I'm familiar.  No biggie.  I was trying to test out myself, and to see if I could hold something for more than a short distance.  It was a nice race, and I was glad I got out there.  I have to give Potomac River Running lots of credit -- they run a tight, well-oiled ship when it comes to races, compared to one organization/race I won't mention.  Hmm, actually, I will.  

A Francis Marion Memorial Statute

Warning.  This is a rant.  No dick jokes today.

Update:  See below for what happened at the commission meeting.

Here's the thing about dogma, and spotting people ruled by it:  it's easy to detect, it's fun to tweak, and you are NEVER wrong for calling it out.

Sometimes, I get greater pleasure calling out liberals on their own dogma, compared to conservatives, because liberals (typically) get WAY more angry over it (as if it were nonsense that they could EVER commit the same mistakes conservatives make every day).  The South Park guys have often said that liberals always get madder when they're the butt of jokes compared to conservatives, but I think it's not a guarantee.  Because, you know, nuance.

Anyway, along South Carolina Avenue on Capitol Hill DC is a little National Park called "Marion Park."  It's named after Francis Marion, a revolutionary war hero who confounded the British using hit-and-run, guerrilla tactics.  The US Army credits him as one of the reasons the Army Rangers exist today.  His nickname was "The Swamp Fox."  He's particularly venerated in South Carolina, but also in the South, as a revolutionary war hero, and is credited as much by the Smithsonian.  Early in his life, he fought a brutal war against the Cherokee, and learned a lot from their use of terrain, and natural cover.  He took those lessons with him later against the British.

I'm actually happy that people in South Carolina celebrate this guy, because (1) it's not Civil War related, and therefore we can all agree that the US winning over the British was a good thing, (2) it's not NASCAR-related, and (3) it's not some idiot opposing the teaching of evolution as some sort of Obama-plot.  American heroes came from all corners during the revolution.  They did so at great personal risk.

So, some guy in South Carolina visited the park in DC, and saw there was no statue to him, just a sign noting that it was "Marion Park."  He worked up funds to create a "Swamp Fox Memorial," in the park.  It was undertaken, and got various approvals, including a signed Executive Order from the President, as well as other administrative steps.

But wait!  Didn't ANYONE think to ask the residents of Capitol Hill?  I mean, it's a NATIONAL park, but we really ought to go check with some local folks to make sure it's ok with them first.  Sorry, what I mean is:  Barf.

Anyway, they're pissed.  Marion, a person born nearly 300 years ago, did not live his life as we enlightened folks here in the 21st Century would like for him to have lived it.  He owned slaves.  His war against the Cherokee was brutal.  And, he was, by all accounts, good at war.

That's enough for some Capitol Hill residents to ABSOLUTELY LOSE THEIR SHIT.

http://capitolhillcorner.org/2014/09/18/neighbors-up-in-arms-over-proposed-swamp-fox-statue-in-marion-turtle-park/

The opposition to this is insipid, and tries to apply 21st century morals to someone who was born in the 1700s. This is the worst kind of hyper-hysterical political correctness. George Washington owned slaves. Thomas Jefferson not only owned them, he did far . . . more with them. The Marines on Iwo Jima were no angels as they retook that island. Shall we investigate the service records of the men represented on the Marine Corps War Memorial? They were, after all, white men born in the 1920s, and I doubt they spent their spare time working at soup kitchens, snuggling puppies, or marching for equal rights for minorities. All of these individuals undoubtedly held some beliefs, and engaged in some actions that people would describe as “brutal,” and 21st century people would find abhorrent. Yet we justifiably honor them all.

That a NATIONAL park is named after Francis Marion, someone whose bona fides in helping the United States gain its independence cannot seriously be questioned. And yet now, in modern times, people have decided that it is disgraceful to even remember him, or that you're only permitted to remember him negatively.  Absurd.

This is the nanny-state thought that many "intellectuals" engage in.  If we build a statue to someone, then EVERYONE will think that person must be perfect, except for "us," the enlightened few who know better.  Barf.  My favorite memorial is to Thomas Jefferson, and yet people of COURSE discuss his slaveownership, Sally Hemmings, and that he held some racist views (he believed blacks were inferior to whites).  That's just ONE of the founders whom we celebrate.  So shove your "but if we build a statue to someone then nobody will think of him in context" crap.  Believe it or not, some people without a Master's Degree in Political Science can actually think for themselves.

First, to the people carping over the "incursion" onto Capitol Hill — Marion Park is a NATIONAL park, and therefore any resident of this country should be able to have a say over what should or shouldn’t be in the park. Being located on Capitol Hill doesn’t give local residents any special veto. It’s on South Carolina Ave, in a NATIONAL park, and therefore the person pushing for the statute is entirely justified in seeking to place it there. Many aspects of this city carry a NATIONAL identity, and a National Park is surely one of them.  Your supposed "greater" status by living on Capitol Hill doesn't impress anyone outside of the beltway, and only impresses people INSIDE the beltway when it comes to commuting time.  YOU DON'T GET SUPERIOR INPUT OVER A NATIONAL PARK BY VIRTUE OF YOUR PROXIMITY TO IT.

Next, there is a person who smugly suggested that because Hollywood softened the (awful) Mel Gibson biopic, "The Patriot," it must have given more consideration than Congress, the President, or the NPS, realizing how horrible Marion was.  To those types of folks, I say:  It must be SO cool to live in your simple world.  It might surprise you to learn that Hollywood is not about promoting morals so much as it is about promoting MONEY. They’re not all stupid. Obviously, putting out a movie in the 21st century depicting some of Marion’s actions in an 18th century WAR would have been a turn-off to enough folks, and caused enough controversy, that it would NOT MAKE MONEY. Don’t try and glom onto Hollywood as some sort of moral arbiter. They care about the bottom line.

Another person pointed out that freedmen built a nearby church, and that putting a statue of Francis Marion there would be insulting.  Again, hypocrisy and selective outrage. 
Did it occur to anyone that in DC, you have black men and women who guard, work in, and otherwise tend to memorials of people who held slaves?

Of course, many of the MOTH-posting, Eastern Market browsing crowd, will sniff and decide that I must be a Tea Partier because I’m not toeing the politically correct line. I’m sure I’ll get called racist, because that’s the best means for someone to shut down argument, if they lack a counter. But that is because they are directed by dogma, not a devotion to facts. I think I’m in good company: the U.S. District Court Judge who prevented anti-evolution “intelligent design,” advocates from pushing their anti-science was called an “activist liberal judge.” However, he was a Dubya appointee, and was plenty conservative. He just recognized dogma, irrational thought, and misplaced outrage, so he called it out, angering many people with whom he agreed on likely many other topics. So be it here.

The Smithsonian itself has declared Marion a “hero of the revolution.”
http://www.smithsonianmag.com/biography/the-swamp-fox-157330429/?no-ist

(it notes that Marion was “no saint” by modern standards and yet still credits him as a hero — go cancel your Smithsonian membership, all you Outrage Junkies!).

The US Army even credits Francis Marion as leading to the development of the US Army Rangers. But because some local residents want to complain about a NATIONAL park, the NPS should stop all efforts. I’m surprised the name/sign hasn’t been defaced yet.

Here's the thing:  It’s WORTH teaching children that the founders of this country, the people who helped bring it into being, were not perfect. But we honor those who helped found this country, despite their flaws, because this country allows those who are flawed to still flourish. We learn, we grow, and we continue. We don’t try to pretend the past didn’t happen, or that people whose actions wouldn’t pass muster NOW never did anything positive when they were alive.

Some residents of Capitol Hill want to apply modern morals to a man born almost 300 years ago. If the statue is placed, I’d be proud to explain to generations that we honor a man who helped found this country, but was no angel. Nuance is important, no matter the issue.  If you can't see that, it's because your dogma is in the way.

Update:  I went to the commission meeting.  Not a single commissioner objected to the statue, and only one, a representative of the Mayor (gently) pointed out to the statue's advocates that it might seem weird if someone tried to put a statue of Frederick Douglass in Charleston, SC (which, by the way, isn't a fair analogy, unless there was a PARK in Charleston called "Frederick Douglass Park."  Otherwise, not a single person who rose up against the park raised the modern moral canard; they just stuck to a lack of "notice."  One commissioner actually mentioned that there was an aspect of NIMBYism to their objections.

2014 Annapolis 10-Miler Race Report

Disclaimer:  There will be, at times in this report, references to "my throbbing groin."




Go on, get it over with.  

But -- seriously, my groin has been tight, and I can't seem to find the answer.  Rest, stretching, foam rolling, "The Stick"(tm) all aren't really helping as much, or as quickly as I would like.  

But but -- I took a week off, which helped some.  But I can't afford to take a month or something off.  So it isn't really stopping me from running, but it IS stopping me from running fast. 

Follow me? 

Fine, screw you people, doing this race report for ME at this point (which wouldn't surprise me if that's how many readers this blog even has).

Seven years ago, when I would often "Race to Train," instead of "Training to Race," I did this course.  It's VERY hilly, and, because it's in late August, it's often quite hot.  I struggled, and finished with just about my worst 10-mile time of about 1:40, call it 100 minutes.

Out of the blue, I just kind of noticed that this race was there, and was the same day as the Quantico Sprint Tri.  I chose the A-10, for reasons I can't really explain.  Maybe this year is just about getting rid of demons.  But I signed up for it.

This race has a lot of good going for it:

1.  It's cheap for a 10-mile race, $65 if you register early on.

2.  They give GREAT premiums, like a race jacket.  One year I think they gave out watches.

3.  Parking is spacious and easy to reach.

4.  This course is in Annapolis MD, starting out at the Navy-Marine Corps stadium, and winding through Annapolis' bars/restaurant area, as well as some really lovely residential sections, all with residents sitting out to cheer you on, or even spray you with a garden hose (in a kind way, not a "get dafuq outta here" way).

The "bad," isn't much, but again, it's AUGUST in Annapolis, and this is the hill profile:

Those are some SERIOUS climbs.  You go up and over the Naval Academy Bridge TWICE, and also engage in some serious ups and down as you run this thing.  They warn you on the registration page that this is NOT the course where you're going to PR.

I learned the hard way seven years ago.  No need to convince me today!  The hills, along with the sun, aren't to be taken lightly.

Plus, with my training for Fall races, I'd already run 10 miles the day before the race.  So I was determined just to get this thing over with.  The problem was, as with so many things, my groin was tight and I couldn't seem to stretch it out and/or loosen it.

Asking for maturity here . . . .

It's been tight on one side for about a month, and the stuff I mentioned before isn't fixing it as quickly as I'd like.  Still, I'd been forced to miss the MD HEAT race for work, and now this race was looking dicey.  So I made myself a promise -- just finishing this thing would be cause for celebration, and if ANYTHING hurt, I would walk.  I just didn't want to pull out of this race.

SERIOUSLY STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT

Anyway, I woke up at FOUR EFFING O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING to go to this race, so I was damn well going to be careful about how I did it.

I grabbed my stuff, drove to Annapolis, snapped this shot of the sunrise at the stadium, and waited for the start.





HOONK!  The air horn sounded, and off we went.


Miles 0-3:
Herman Cain would love this stretch.  

Each one of these miles took 9 minutes flat:  So:  9, 9, 9.


Ordinarily, I'd expect to go faster for a 10 mile run, but I was seriously-not-kidding doing my best to run without taxing myself very much.  I was actually kinda pleased that my groin wasn't throbbing, so much as just needing a good stretc-SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.

Mile 3-4:  (9:50)
This was slow, but I walked through a water stop, took a Gu, swallowed a salt tablet, and then (for part of this), we began to approach The Bridge.

This is the Naval Academy Bridge, and, from all appearances if you're a runner, it goes STRAIGHT UP TO THE SKY SERIOUSLY WHERE IS THE TOP OF THIS THING?

Ugh.

This was not fun.  The good news was that I made a little time as I . . . went down.

Mile 4-5:  (9:25)
Not as much time gained as I had lost, but I was still happy -- I hadn't hit 10 minutes per mile yet.  Unfortunately, you never make up the full amount of time that you lost going up.  No biggie.  We headed into some really nice, pretty residential areas of Annapolis.  Many residents stood on their lawns, cheering us on, some even had set up sprinklers for the runners to go through.

Yes, wearing a Washington Nationals shirt in the heart of Maryland.  Sorry, O's fans.

 Miles 5-7: (9:46, 9:47)
These miles were slow, but we were really doing some roller coaster hills, and I wasn't going to worry too much about it.  There was a funny stretch where, starting at mile "late 5" until ALMOST mile 7, we wound our way down a loooooooong gentle downhill, while the whole time faster people climbed up the other way.  

It was the worst preview of things that were going to suck I'd seen since the new Ninja Turtles trailer.  I halfway hoped those people over there were running a different race than us ("Oh hi, A-10 runners!  We're not doing your race, ours is called the half-mile-uphill-suicide-scramble!  Have fun going downhill more!").

Finally, after an excruciatingly long amble down the gentle hill, we turned Up, where I felt every one of my increasing-years.

Uphills give me gas.  Well, so do downhills.  And popcorn.

 It was Not Cool.  My groin was at its Most Annoyed part of the day.

What, my blog?  No argument there.  But the hill did too.

Miles 7-9: (9:35, 9:30)
I looked down at my Garmin as I began mile 7, and realized that if I held a sub-10 minute pace, child's play on any non-throbbing-groin run, I could get a course PR.  Here I was, SEVEN years older, and potentially able to run this thing faster.  My groin was tight, but not painful.  I knew that if I started to open up any amount of speed, I'd (re?)injure myself.  So I just focused on keeping a steady, not fast pace.  Miles 7-8 and 8-9 came in seconds apart.

Note:  This section covered that Naval Academy bridge again, and I had a blast this time.  I kept my stride short, my lean forward, and my mind on beating 10 minutes.

Mile 9-10:  (9:00)

Just like that, my last mile was the same speed as the first three miles.  

The Red Shoes of Doom(tm) still carrying me along!

 I'd done it!  I'd PR'd this monstrosity of a course by less than 5 minutes (which isn't anything to sneeze at for a 10-mile race), and I was walking (mostly) normally.  One of the members of the Annapolis Striders handed me a cold wet towel, and I happily went and got race jacket finishers premium.

I hate you all.  So much.

Sometimes you have a race plan, and the plan is this:

Don't race, just run.  Have fun.  And sometimes, that's enough.  It was today.

Race by the numbers:

Blah.  At last check I was in the top 51% of my AG (ouch, as in, bottom half).  I need to wait for more official numbers when it comes to OA (edit:  looks like I was only in the top 41% of all finishers).  I have to say -- this is a freaking FAST field of runners.  I saw very few people who liked like, well, me.  Damn.  So many thin, fast people.  Meh.  More post-race bagels for me. 

I had about a 70-second positive split (boo!), but considering the hills loaded onto the second half of this course, it really shouldn't be that surprising.

Things I learned:
 1.   I need to massage my groin more often and otherwise take better care of it if I'm going to feel better.  BLOG OVER I'M NOT EVEN LISTENING NOW GO FOR IT.

I'm so not even going to dignify this with a caption.  Besides this one.

Ashburn Twilight 4-miler Race Report

This one is going to be a short entry, because (1) I'm behind, and (2) this race was done to memorialize Jamie Rowley, a mom of two killed by an SUV as she was out running, so I don't want to make too many fart or poop jokes.

Years ago, I'd done this race, and I'd done it poorly.  What was worse was that my ex-wife and daughter had come out to watch me, and I'd basically shat the bed.  I was tired, fatter, and generally not feeling it on a hot June afternoon.  I ran it, but it wasn't anything special.

Because I'd purchased a Potomac River Running Race Pass, I really needed to start USING my codes for races, and this seemed like a good choice.  I went and did mile repeats at a track earlier in the day, and then took my daughter out to Ashburn, to drop her off with her mom.  The course was right there in the evening.  Here we go.

The most pressing things I had to decide were these:

1.  Do I wear the sweaty shirt from the track earlier in the day?
2.  Do I wear the race t-shirt I'd just gotten from packet pickup?

Luckily, the answer was 3(!) -- I found an old "Team Justice" shirt from my 2013 Lawyers Have Heart race and just threw that on.  It's fairly bling-y.  It's got my Division and Section on the sleeve, along with a "Boston Strong" decal on the back, and the DOJ Eagle on the front/back.  Pretty noticeable.  I certainly noticed people noticing IT, which weirded me out a little.

I also had to do a couple of things:

1.  Come up with a race plan, and 
2.  SQUIRREL!  

Sorry, I mean, SCRABBLE!

I'm a word game/scrabble FREAK.  I love them.  So instead of doing some VERY simple math about what kind of pace I needed, or even what I had in MIND to do, I just played Scrabble, answered some tweets, and then left my phone in the car to go run.  If only I'd noticed that I could hit sub-31 minutes with a 7:45 pace . . . .

Bah.

No delay for this entry.  Packet Pickup was smooth.  People friendly.  All good.  Blew away the clusterfuck of the LHH race from a week ago.

BANG!  And we're off.

Mile 0-1:  7:38

I was definitely cooking here, but not breathing super hard.  I noticed a couple of people pass me.  One was a woman who had some sort of diagonal bottle along the small of her back, and the other was a guy wearing a distinctive t-shirt I recognized.  They'd pass me, then seem to slow down, then pass me again.  Ah well.  My Garmin showed me relatively steady.

Note:  If I'd bothered to race plan, I'd have realized I had a few seconds of cushion from my 7:45 goal pace.  Idiot.
 

Mile 1-2:   8:05

Hit the halfway point here, not knowing that I was less that 15 seconds off my overall pace at the halfway.  Looking back, this was the mile that did me in.  I just was racked with blahs, and we hit two minor climbs that made me even LESS interested in running.



Mile 2-3:   7:59
Somewhere during this mile, I started to say, "Enough is enough.  Screw this pity party and TOUGHEN THE HELL UP.  I started to do some math, and realized that, just maybe, I might come through with a sub-8 minute pace if I could just dig deep.  So I dug.  And I kicked.

Trust your kick.  Trust your kick.  Just KICK THE HELL NOW YOU HAVE ONE MILE TO GO.


Mile 3-4:   7:24
Zoom. 

I passed the guy in the t-shirt I recognized.  I passed the lady with the bottle along her back.  I passed two more people I recognized from the start line, some of whom had eyed my shirt with curiosity.  I pushed.  I pressed.  I realized I had WAY more in the tank than I thought and OH SHIT THERE'S THE DAMN FINISH.

I watched 31:00 tick by on my watch, JUST as it struck me that, "Hey, I bet 7:45 per mile over 4 miles would equal 31 minutes.  Ooops.  Dork."

I'd missed 31 minutes by under 10 seconds.

I'll say this -- I wasn't even upset.  I'd run mile repeats earlier that day.  I'd had three people approach me (none of the ones I'd mentioned) to tell me that they saw me pass them towards the end, and couldn't stay with me.  So yay for negative splits!  

Also, I wasn't upset because, as I'd learned earlier this year at the GW Parkway classic, post-race beers are AMAZING.  I'd even found a way to ensure the precariously-hanging beer voucher would stay attached:  

Loading

My beer and food tags are hanging precariously from my race bib no more. #ProblemSolver #BeerHero

View on Instagram

I drank a beer, ate food, cheered runners coming in to the finish.  Finally, I chatted with some of the folks from the Run For Jamie support group, and of course thanked them for their efforts.  With that, it was time to go.

I stunk.


Race by the numbers:

Top 16% overall

Top 30% Men

Top 28% AG


Course elevation, FWIW:

Ashburn Twilight 4-Miler Course Elevation

Lawyers Have Heart 10K Race Report

I know I went on (and on) about how much I wanted to run a sub-4 hour marathon, and how much it meant to me when I finally did.  Another, less publicized goal for me has been to run a sub-50 minute 10K.  I'd come close in 2013, and kind of felt myself just . . . fail towards the end.  

ACTUAL FINISH LINE FOOTAGE

So here I was again.

I pretty much run only a single 10K distance per year, and it's the Lawyers Have Heart 10K in DC.

I'm running the "Lawyers Have Heart" 10K this morning, which is kinda like naming a race "Surgeons Have Shaky Hands."
— Tai Fung (@tai_fung) June 8, 2013

I've run this race a lot, and I'm actually quite a fan of the course, which can be a little tough (some hills here and there, as well as exposure to the sun for good stretches, not often fun during June in DC).  As is my custom, here's an elevation map of the Lawyers Have Heart Course:

Lawyers Have Heart 10K course elevation

 The team of attorneys in my day job have run this for a few years now, and we sign up as a running team.  But our main goal is to just run, have fun, and then meet post-race for brunch and LOTS of mimosas.

What I'm not a fan of, however, is poor race logistics, and this race was LOADED with fail on that front.  I know they're trying to raise money, I get that.  But at some point, you owe it to the racers to actually be, you know, competent and not overwhelmed.

For the race this year, I wasn't sure if I would run it, and signed up late.  But, I was indeed registered.  I know this because the organizers charged my card, and spammed me plenty, asking me to raise money to stamp out heart disease, and otherwise enter various contests (read: spend more money).  I chalked it up to fundraising, and let the spam just . . . be.

The race starts/ends in Georgetown, and getting there is a snap from Capitol Hill. You just have to take a REALLY early morning bus, which winds its way across DC to Georgetown.  I caught one, and arrived at what I thought was a good early time for packet pickup.  I figured I'd get my packet, t-shirt, goodie bag, go check it with bag drop, and head off to PR.

Instead I found two of the most epic lines I've EVER seen.  They were BARELY lines.  They were more piles of angry lawyers wondering WHAT THE FUCK:

LOL at the "Packet Pick-Up" sign over there on the left.

I got in one line/pile, which turned out to be wrong, as it was for the 5K.

I got in the longer one, which was for the 10K.  They wanted you to have your bib number.  Fine, so I went to their printouts to get whatever number I was assigned.

Uh oh.  I wasn't listed.

Meanwhile, the lines weren't just moving SLOW, they were basically immobile.  I've been to long packet pickups before, how could this be taking so long?

It turns out that they were accepting NEW registrations at the same time, intermixed with the packet pickups.

Oh, and then they RAN OUT OF FUCKING SAFETY PINS.  Not kidding.  This picture is of people using clear packing tape to affix their bibs to their shirts.  It worked about as well as you'd expect, based on the number of bibs I saw lying in the street as I ran.

Bad idea level:  MAX.

Finally, I got up to the table, and gave my name.  They checked multiple printouts -- nothing.  According to their records, I wasn't registered.

 
 Luckily, I had my phone with me.  I showed them the confirmation e-mail.

A woman then thrust a waiver form at me, handed me a bib, and had me fill it out as a new, "comped" registration (again, not really since they already had my money).  I guess I'm glad it took as long as it did -- during the delay, somebody showed up with a box of safety pins, and I got some.

After this shit show, I grabbed the "goodie" bag (I didn't have time to go to the t-shirt table, but I'll live), and just RAN to bag check.

The 5K had already started.  Suffice it to say I was losing my MIND at this point.  Pissing off a bunch of Type-A lawyers is NOT putting your best organizational foot forward:

At this point, all I needed to do, during the delay between the 5K and 10K . . . was pee.  The lines for the port-a-johns were (surprise!) quite epic.  Now what?

Well, I WAS at the Georgetown waterfront.  So I just sauntered over towards the woods along the river and . . . wait!  There's a solitary portajohn!  Right there!  Hmm, it's got a velvet rope around it.  And a woman with a clipboard.  There were MINUTES until the start, and nobody in line for this potty.  It was far away from the start line.  Yet, I watched a guy approach her, and get rejected like he was selling dildos at a celibacy convention.

So much for THAT.  So off to the riverbank I went.  I brushed through some vines, which clung to my ankles and shins (they actually kind clung around my leg, which was good, because I almost slid into the Potomac).  Finding a (discrete) spot, I did my thing.

[NOTE:  DON'T FORGET TO READ UNTIL THE END OF THIS ENTRY RE: THIS PART]

I scrambled over to the start line, climbed over a pallet of water, and managed to get into the 10K corral before the start.  I was shaking, and plenty angry.  Flustered doesn't describe it.

I took just a moment to put my hands on my hips, look down at the ground, and remember my race plan.  Yes, I really had a race plan, if I could just get past being so angry to think about it.

In fact, I had a plan from this race from the beginning.  A sub-50 minute 10K requires roughly an 8:03 pace per mile.  I figured that, if possible, I could hold myself close to that pace for the first 3 miles, pick up speed, "rest" myself from mile 4-5, letting back just a bit, and then pour on everything from 5 until the 6.2 mark.  With luck, my kick would drive me just over the line before the clock moved from 49:59 to 50:00.

I had just enough time to ensure my Garmin was active and tracking me when

BANG - off we went.

And I went off.

Mile 0-1:  8:05

Normally, my first mile might be a little on the slower side as I navigate traffic.  But I had far too much adrenaline, and was still plenty angry over the clusterfuck at the start that I just kind of zoomed (for me) my way through the course, charging up the opening hill, turning up and running up the ramp, and proceeding on.  I hit the mile marker, and thought I should let up, just a bit, because the plan was to try and really aim for negative splits in this race.

Mile 1-2:  8:16

Ok, maybe I let up a little TOO much here.  I think I did.  I tried to calm myself from the opening salvo, and focused on sticking to The Plan.  I needed to make up a LITTLE bit of time, because I wanted to come in just a couple of seconds past 8 minutes per mile.

Mile 2-3:  7:58

Now we're talking.  I smiled slightly at the mile split, and then looked ahead to the turnaround at the 5K mat.  There was still traffic to navigate, but, strangely, I was quite comfortable on the LEFT side of the road, as I was passing folks here and there, and didn't want to get boxed in on the right.  Mile 2-3 had gone almost exactly as I'd hoped.  Just under 8 minutes, and I wasn't super taxed, effort-wise.

5K mark:  very close to 25 minutes exactly

You'd think, if I had half a brain in my head that I would have realized that if I just DOUBLED what I had just run, I'd hit almost 50 minutes exactly for a 10K, and that would make for a magic "49:xx" on my watch if I could manage an expected fast finish.

My internal dialogue, however, forgot ALL math, and instead just focused on The Plan.

8 minutes per mile.  This is key.  Stay close to it, and then trust your kick.  Trust your kick.

Mile 3-4:  7:54

I pressed on for this mile, aided by some tailwind.  I'd noted a slight headwind during the first 5K, and made a mental note to take advantage of it when we turned.  I wanted to put some distance between me and a few folks who'd been sling-shooting me.

Mile 4-5:  8:03

This was the pre-planned "stepback" mile, where I had promised myself just a bit of rest, and I didn't panic when the time came back over 8 minutes.  I dunked a little water over my head/back during this part, and just tried to prepare myself.  Because when I slapped down the "lap" button at the mile 5 marker, it was game freaking ON.

Miles 5-finish (6.2):  Just over 9 minutes (7:35/mile pace)

I slapped down the lap button at the mile 5 marker, and immediately increased leg turnover.  It seemed that there was far more room to maneuver, and a person who'd been passing/getting passed by me quickly fell back.  I wasn't even angry at this point.  Nor was I overly excited.  If anything, I was worried.  I really REALLY wanted this sub-50 finish.  I fretted over mile 2, and wondered if I'd banked enough time.  I pushed.  I looked for good tangent lines as the road flowed, and just kept pressing.

The Lawyers Have Heart finish involves a hairpin turn, and then a flying downhill (the one you run up at the start).  It's just that it's waaaaaaay down there.  As I ran, I could see the clock across the finish line.  I looked down at my Garmin.  I had some time, but not much.

Press.  Trust your kick.

I pressed.  I trusted my kick.

I violated all finish line rules by immediately looking at my watch as I finished, slapping down on the stop button.  I'd finished faster than 49 and a half minutes.  Sub-freaking 50.

 

Another running bucket list item, checked off.

I ran to get my bag, and discovered there was ONE -- ONE volunteer, who was just waving people past her to go find their bags.  When my boss later arrived, the bag check area was EMPTY of volunteers, and it was just "collect your bags" on the honor system.  Hello?  Honor system?  With LAWYERS?

Fail.  I got my bag (which had my phone in it!) and was thankful that I could go hunt for delicious brunch and even-more-delicious booze.


Race by the numbers:
Top 26% of all finishers
Top 37% of all men
Top 37% of men in my AG

This is what I'm about used to.  I figure I'm often in the top quarter of all race finishers, but damn, old guys really are freaking competitive, and knock me into the top third, plus/minus a few percentage points depending on the race.  But numbers like these didn't bother me.  I'd made it.  I pulled out my phone and re-told that same joke from a year ago:

(Yes, I do repeat some jokes on Twitter. But repeating this one was worth it, because, unlike the 2013 joke at the START of this post, this Tweet had a happier ending):

I’m in Georgetown for the “Lawyers Have Heart” 10K, which is kinda like naming a race, “Surgeons have Shaky Hands.” #PR #FirstSub50
— Tai Fung (@tai_fung) June 14, 2014

Anyway, my team met up, and I guzzled many of these:

SO TASTY AND FULL OF BOOZE.

Fast forward to the next day.  I went out and did 14 miles on the C&O Canal Towpath (gotta string back-to-back workouts because of JFK 50 this Fall).  As I was working my miles, I noticed my shin was . . . burning.  I mean, it was HOT.  I thought perhaps I had been stung by something.

Hrm.  Nothing.  Back to running.

Damn.  Burning again.  Weird.

I mean, what a weird spot.  Right there on my . . . shin . . .

I HAD BEEN STANDING IN POISON FUCKING IVY.

So really, great race.  Kind of a shitstorm before and after, which I think was motivated to raise money for their cause no matter the "cost." But, if you told me I was going to get a bunch of gray hair and poison ivy in order to break a previously-thought impossible barrier, I'd take it (but I'd also buy some kind of cream as well, because . . . ouch).

Cherry Blossom 10-miler t-shirt

Go on -- tell me this wouldn't win the 

Cherry Blossom 10-miler T-shirt design contest!


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Instagram filter:  awesomeness.

How I got hit by a bike. On purpose.

Mini-blog!  With (terrible) pics!

I had a weird incident Monday afternoon on the Mount Vernon Trail, not too far from National Airport.  I mentioned it on The Tweeter, but really couldn't do it justice in 140 characters.  Not even 280:

Weird Mount Vernon trail run today. Stopped a bike rider from going across into the n’bound GW Pkwy. We both went down. Another blog tale!
— Tai Fung (@tai_fung) May 26, 2014

I’m unhurt btw, although a pinky went into his front wheel momentarily. I ensured he was ok, he thanked me; I didn’t even stop my Garmin. 😉
— Tai Fung (@tai_fung) May 26, 2014

So I thought I'd try and draw out what happened using my Mac. I found a great Paint-esque (free) program called Paintbrush for Mac, which (1) will make it easier to describe what happened, and (2) will demonstrate why I went into law, not art.

The section of the Mount Vernon Trail where I was running runs right NEXT to the George Washington Parkway, a 4-lane fast moving highway that is picturesque, but also quite zippy.  But the trail and the highway are really REALLY close to each other in this stretch.  

How close?

Using Garmin Data, my watch detected a slight lowering of my pace right . . . about . . . 

Here.

So.  Using Google Maps with Garmin, here's the spot of the crash, which will show you where the highway is relative to the trail:

Eek.  Despite Garmin's insistence, while we ended up ABOUT that close to the highway, we weren't actually IN the road (the green "play" symbol is where Garmin thinks I was when I came to a complete stop).  But I'm jumping ahead (although if you're reading this, you know I wasn't (1) flattened by an out-of-control bike, and (2) we weren't ground into pink/red stains on the GW Parkway by traffic, so that's nice.

Anyway.

So, here's a (very) rough outline of the trail:

From left to right:  MV Trail, grassy patch, GW Parkway.

THEN, let's add me, wearing my trusty red Washington Nationals shirt with the Curly W in the upper center (although truth be told, I was wearing blue for Memorial Day):

Those are little blue sweat beads coming off me, because it was a HOT HOT afternoon run, while the bicyclist is shitting himself because he lost a shoe/cleat (poop not pictured because this is a fucking tasteful blog, assholes).

I saw the cyclist coming towards me, but then he took a sharp (like 45 degree left turn AT me and raised some sort of alarm (like, "WHOOOAAAAAAA").  It was clear he'd lost control ("Really Tai? A cyclist was suddenly was aiming at you and yelling in distress was out of control?  You weave quite a riveting tale.  I mean, you're an idiot.")

As it turned out, he'd lost his right shoe, and what looked like the cleat as well, but was going FAST and couldn't stop. Perhaps he didn't want to, what do I know?  He made a pronounced turn in a direction that can only be described as DIRECTLY THE EFF AT ME.

I also could see the traffic, which was, of course, at 4pm on a Holiday Monday, doing Mach Bazillion.

I had a few choices:

1.  Stop and let him zip by me. 
--Not a great idea, because I could end up like the Seinfeld finale and prosecuted for bystanding or something

2.  Get directly in front of him to stop him.
--I'm not super adept at physics, but that seemed like it would hurt.

3.  Sidestep him, then try to grab at him to slow him down.
--Oh, sure, why not?

The force of my run carried me a little past him, so I stopped, he went past me slightly to my right as I turned, and I grabbed at his handlebars to slow him down.  His left foot was still locked into his cleat, and he was pulling up with it to no avail.

(No, he wasn't hitting his breaks from what I could tell, or if he was, it was gentle because he didn't want to fall.  He was panicking, and I know that position/paralysis well, because I fight it off EVERY TIME I GET ON A BIKE.)

So I sidestepped and grabbed at him, which did slow him, but we grazed each other and I went down to one knee. I felt my right pinky get rattled by the spokes of his front wheel as I flailed at him, but I'd slowed him enough that I stood up, pursued a step or two, and grabbed at his bike seat from behind.  Maybe he WAS breaking -- I definitely fell, and was still able to get up and go after him within a couple of steps, and I definitely reached his bike seat too.  It was all a blur of wham, pain, fall, finger, ouch, up, grab, fall.

We went down together -- me, him, and his bike -- in a heap, his front wheel less than a foot from the highway.  Or, as my Garmin data appeared to think, in the right northbound lane of traffic.

The "S" is where the impact started after I sidestepped him, the dotted yellow line is his path, and the "F" is where we ended up after all the falling and flailing.

Not quite in traffic.  Whew.

Anyway, he was still laying down (I think his left foot was STILL attached to the pedal), with his right foot underneath the bike.  I then realized he had a wife and his daughter with him.  I hadn't seen them initially because he was ahead of them and fast-moving.  They were talking familiarly with him, and it was clear they were "together."  His daughter got his shoe and thing off the right side of the trail, and his wife was seeing how he was.  She (not him) said "thank you" about 50 times, and I just smiled, trying not to say, "Um, wtf just happened?" because, let's face it, I'd probably be afraid to just lay the bike down if I were out of control too. 

So I stood up, checked if my finger was broken from the spokes (it wasn't, it just smarted a whole damn lot), and I noticed that my Garmin was still running.  The guy already appeared to be extricating himself from under his bike, and didn't raise any need for medical attention, so I just waved as he did thank me, and took off, finishing my 10 miles.  Seriously, if he hadn't said anything, I would have thought he was more hurt, but I suspect his pride took the biggest hit.

As I ran, I thought to myself, "Aragorn would have made that look WAY cooler."

Seriously.  When Aragorn was defending the Hobbits on Weathertop, fighting Ringwraiths with a TORCH, did he fall over, flail, and say something like, "WHOOOAAAAA?"  Liv Tyler would NEVER be into him if he did that!

Instead, me and this guy fell into A PILE ON THE SIDE OF A HIGHWAY.

There's a South Park episode where hundreds of men have sex with each other to prevent illegal immigration (don't ask), and I'm pretty sure the incident resulted in us looking WAY more like them than Aragorn protecting Hobbits:

I wonder if any of the cars photographed us in OUR pile???

So anyway, that was my Memorial Day long run, and how I, on purpose, made sure that I got hit by a bike.  I don't know how I get myself into these things.