Winter Distance Series: Rudolph's Revenge 5K Results

Just a quick race update. The race was Saturday, and it went surprisingly well for someone who has barely run in the last few months. The weather was, as expected, a nice balmy 25 degrees (what doesn't kill you...). My toes weren't present for any of the run, having decided to take a quick jaunt to somewhere lacking any and all sensation. But it turns out, I didn't really need them. I didn't anticipate the competitive streak that erupted at the sounding gun (LIES!) and did my first mile in about 7:20.The one thing that you'll see in a 5K that you won't see in longer races is drunken frat-boy types who started imbibing early in the a.m. so as to be plenty fueled for the run. There were three on this particular day. They shouted and skipped around like mentally challenged, er, frat boys, for awhile, making asses of themselves and probably irritating the hell out of many of the other runners.I settled in behind them at the beginning of mile two in order to take advantage of the free entertainment but then passed by when they started to flag. A blue-shirted woman went by me at about a mile and a half, which set off teeth-gritting frustration. So after going around the frat boys, I held onto her footsteps for the last mile. She and I hit the last hill at the same time and I kicked into high gear, completely leaving her behind. Yes, I enjoyed it.I finished 77th overall out of 661 runners; 21st of 396 in my gender; and 7th out of 76 in my division. My compadres, the Torpedo and the Cruiser, seemed equally happy with their times. We drove the hour back home and were treated to biscuits, gravy, scrambled eggs, and bacon by Mr. Universally Talented who slaved all morning, thus ensuring that we had to run at least another ten miles if we planned on equaling out the calories in-to-out ratio. Instead, we opted for a long and promising day of perfecting our between-race slacking techniques.The next race is actually only five miles, not the 10K I thought it was, on January 21st. Perhaps I'll attempt another straight-from-the-couch run, and see if I can PR with that strategy. Or maybe I'll be smart, perhaps even run and interval or two before then.

Snapshot of the other races I've kept track of. This is Athlinks, a pretty decent online tracking tool.

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All content copyright unless otherwise specified © 2008-2013 by Tammy Salyer, writer. All rights reserved. Permission is granted to use short quotes provided proper attribution is given.

Run, Slacker, Run

I didn’t come to enjoy running naturally. It was forced on me in my teens by angry store clerks trying to chase down my punk shoplifting thug-butt (eventually, I learned the hard way that this “pursuit” was something I should probably discontinue).Let me back up. I did run a fair bit as a little girl, with that same joyous abandon most kids experience. Until one day, my dad, who was a world class track athlete and coach, challenged me to a race. Naturally, he didn’t let me win, preferring to teach me to get tough through experiencing bitter disappointment (still trying to puzzle out that lesson). But he did pass on some, er, dubious, advice: during a race, run as hard as you can and keep running, even if it hurts. As seven-year-olds are some of the wisest people on the planet, me being no exception, I thought to myself, “Are you smoking crack, dear father of mine? Why would I intentionally do something that hurts?” Okay, granted, I didn’t really know what crack was, but you get the idea. Hence, my dearth of running until my teens when not paying for cigarettes and Doritos was more appealing than, well, paying for them, and I undertook my short-lived grocery store sprinting career.After giving up the shoplifting and the smoking, I kept running when I had to, but I never really got that sense of pleasure from it that hardcore runners tell you about. Still, I had some of the greatest running mixed tape compilations for my Walkman ever made (for anyone reading this who was born after 1990, a Walkman was a small, portable tape player that preceded iPods and Zunes. What’s that? What’s a tape? Uh, nevermind...).So why do I run now? A person with my woefully short attention span can't be limited to just one physical activity, and I need something to supplement roadbiking. I choose running because it is much less dangerous than mountainbiking, a sport that requires both balance and the ability to think while moving at speeds that exceed 30mph, all the while dodging killer rocks and roots, stumps and fence posts, cacti and branches, and...you get the idea. I’m enough of a hazard (see photo) to myself on two legs; add speed and an elevated center of gravity, combined with all of the “gifts” of Mother Nature, and I’m pretty much a rolling corpse on a mountain bike.The other reason, however, is more sublime. I’ve never been fast, but somewhere along the line, I learned to enjoy the consistent rhythm of running. Apparently my endorphin glands finally hit a growth spurt when I quit sky diving and my adrenalin glands withered. Human-powered sports, including roadbiking, backpacking, and rockclimbing, have always felt right to me, and running fosters such an epic sense of freedom and resiliency. Getting somewhere under your own steam and having the time and opportunity to enjoy the sights and sounds as you go is truly one of the best feelings you can't buy in stores. It’s not unlike writing a book or a short story; there is a lot of suffering and self-doubt as you move along the continuum towards the end, but when you get there, you feel like shouting for joy and hugging a complete stranger, even if they smell kinda bad. Endorphins, baby, blame the endorphins.Which all leads to the reason for this post. I hadn’t planned on blogging again until next year, but suddenly this winter, I found myself questioning my toughness (damn you, dear father). You see, it’s frickin’ cold here. COLD, and I’d all but quit running. As an illustration, I ran the Continental Divide Trail Run in Steamboat Springs in August—sixteen miles of suffering through some of themost gorgeous scenery to ever behold—and have run a grand total of twenty or so miles since. Yep. In my defense, I have the most wicked new bike trainer ever, which has been getting some extreme use, so it’s not as if I’ve been a total slacker.But I couldn’t do it; I couldn’t live with being confined to the indoors due to the potential for a little tiny bit of frostbite. I mean c’mon, if Beck Weathers could lose most of both arms and feet, and his nose to the cold, what’s losing feeling in my hands for a few hours? So I convinced a couple of friends—I’ll call them the Cruiser and the Torpedo—to come suffer in the frigid temps with me during the Littleton Winter Distance Series. I’ll post summaries ofthese races as they occur.Plus, I needed some more t-shirts. First race is December 17^th, so I better go run.

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All content copyright unless otherwise specified © 2008-2013 by Tammy Salyer, writer. All rights reserved. Permission is granted to use short quotes provided proper attribution is given.

File Under Masochism

Do you know what's even more awesome than one giant ass cramp? That's right! TWO giant ass cramps, a matching set to be precise. Gluteus Maximi sans blood or oxygen equals Gluteus Graniti. Imagine, if you will, the feeling of a tiny sadist hanging onto your thighs and hammering a red hot icepick directly into your lateral ass cheeks with every step. Sounds fun, right?This is the experience I often have when running on roads, especially if it's more than five miles. Naturally, because I know it's going to happen, I never hesitate to sign up for a "fun" run when time permits. This weekend I happened to be staying at the swankest resort in Colorado Spring, Casa de la Parents, and heard there was a 10 mile race happening in Garden of the Gods. "Self," I said to myself, because that's what I call me. "You haven't run more than a few miles a week in a month or so. This is the perfect opportunity to take in some stellar scenery and give yourself the chance to recall exactly what it feels like to have your legs feel like they're about to be ripped from their sockets. Sweet!"So up I rose at 5:30am to the rolling feeling of nausea that happens when one is out of bed before their body has given them permission, downed a GU (which added an interesting twist to the nausea, but I'll spare you those details), and off my race supporters and I went. It was a perfect day. Perfect. High-40s, sun up, light breeze. Maybe 1500 runners were gathered at Memorial Park in Manitou Springs creating what satellite imagery might first mistake for an explosion at a rainbow-colored spandex factory. One thing that can be said about runners, we are a stylish bunch, and we love our synth fabs (doesn't that sound like a Rotersand song?).Manitou Springs is another one of Colorado's hidden gems. It's like a Deadwood, South Dakota but with happy people (sorry Deadwood, the series HBO made of you has forever tainted my impression). It also seems to be the place people with tattoos gather when the homogeneity of straight-laced Colorado Springs has become too oppressive. Needless to say, I'm right at home there. The race itself turned out to be somewhat of an art run due to this inked population, and instead of chasing jerseys, I spent the morning chasing blobs of blue and black to try and discern whether a particular image was a tiger, a Dead Kennedys album cover, or a rose. This type of event gives the term "chasing the dragon" a whole new meaning.The race was actually going quite wonderfully until a long downhill on mile 8. Pushing down the hill at a 6:20 pace was apparently more than my less-than-enthusiastic glutes were going to tolerate. First the right one seized, and like any good runner, instead of slowing I began the mantra "relax, don't do it, when you wanna clench to it" in my head, hoping it would give up and realize that it's complaints were no match for my indomitable willpower to catch that guy who passed me on the uphill. I was indeed winning this battle, until cheek number two went on red alert. In many ways, this balanced misery is better. You can more easily attain systematic lurching when both your ass cheeks have turned into flesh bombs of agony.

Hill of Doom

Still, there's only so far you can stagger before your legs threaten to spill you senselessly to the ground in protest. I veered over for a 30-second stretching session that alleviated the worst of the booty inferno and allowed me to almostsprint into the finish. At one hour and thirty-one minutes, my time wasn't quite what I was hoping, but the whole escapade served to reinforce what I believe has become my most firmly held belief: Roads suck. Trails rule.

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Runnin' Down A Dream

At the start line

This weekend marked both my and Jer's first official half marathon. Although I've run 13+ miles before, I never "got the t-shirt," and when a friend from here in Colorado told me about the Gemini Desert Rats Trailrunning Festival in Fruita, Colorado, I figured it was time.Have I mentioned that Colorado has spoiled me? There is absolutely no shortage of natural features here in which to totally destroy yourself in the pursuit of an endorphin rush. And yeah, we here at the Salyer-Sullenger casa equate suffering with fun. That being said, there still was no suffering in this weekend's race; it was pure fun from mile one. Even the 2000 foot climb on rocks the consistency of jagged dragon's scales brought an element of enjoyment (especially when passing other people). The best part is the half marathon was actually a half marathon plus two miles. And every minute was sweet.If you haven't seen the trails in western Colorado, you're missing out. They are pure bliss. Every mountain biker I know has already discovered this nirvana, but I had yet to experience it. Trail running makes road running seem like self-flagellation--they just don't compare. Both Jer and I are already laying in plans for next year (perhaps a 25 miler instead of the half...).But the real hero of the weekend was our friend who pushed himself through 50 miles of running in twelve hours. We're talking over 8000 feet of elevation change. And 50 miles of running. Witnessing the kind of mental and physical endurance some people have really helps one put into perspective how anything is truly possible if you are determined enough. It's truly inspiring. Did I mention that it was 50 miles of running?Along those same lines, I watched the movie 127 Hours this weekend, another illustration of how indomitable a person's will can be if they want something bad enough. Danny Boyle pulled off yet another intriguing film (and a whole lot better than Slumdog Millionaire, though he still hasn't topped 28 Days Later, in my opinion).  In reality, running 50 miles and cutting off your own arm are really about the same thing--wanting to live a full life.So here's to a full life! What are the things that bring you joy and make you feel like you're living up to the potential you were meant for?

At the finish line

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Imogene Training Plan

Here is what the next several weeks look like for Jer and I in terms of training up to the Imogene Pass run. Looks kinda scary and kinda exciting when I visualize it in this way. We'll probably swap out a few of the 10+ runs for slightly shorter trail runs, but overall, this is what the plan is.

Here's an image of the route I created in Google Earth. It may not be 100% accurate, but it's pretty close.

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All content copyright unless otherwise specified © 2008-2013 by Tammy Salyer, writer. All rights reserved. Permission is granted to use short quotes provided proper attribution is given.

BolderBoulder 10K Results

The BolderBoulder was hands down the best 10K I've been part of, in terms of the overall mood of the crowd, the events taking place all around, and the course. This year, this race may be the biggest foot race in the US in terms of entrants, and I've heard, the 5th largest in the world. Once they have all the finishers, they'll know for sure. How cool is that? Over 50,000 people were out there running! Waves left the start about every 4 minutes for approximately two hours. It ended at a big stadium (Folsom Stadium), and the majority of the participants stayed after their race for the Memorial Day celebration events. The pros ran last, and what a sight to see. The women's winner may have set a course record at 29 minutes and change. The Kenyans and Ethiopians have truly amazing running teams. After the pros, they had a set of skydivers jumping with flags for all four military branches and the US flag, then a 21 gun salute, honoring a couple of WWII vets who were present (two gents who survived the Battle of the Bulge, and one of the is the man who started Leanin' Tree cards), the usual patriotic songs, and a F-14 flyover from the Colorado (I think) National Guard. Pretty dang cool.I've run maybe 1/2 a dozen "official" 10Ks and a handful of 5ks, mostly in Eugene and North Carolina, so it was a new experience to do it at altitude. Given that we've lived here for a little over a month now, I have to say I really didn't notice it. The weather was perfect, about 65 degrees, and the course was windy with a bit of rolling hills. Because of the hills, mostly, this wasn't my personal record at 51:29, but not too bad either. Here're my overall stats.

overall place: 5974

division: F35

division place:56 out of 631

gender place:1367 out of 26011

mile 1:0:08:31.77

mile 2:0:08:21.92

mile 3:0:08:36.57

mile 4: 0:08:10.65

mile 5: 0:07:59.00

mile 6: 0:08:04.40

net time: 0:51:29.57

pace: 8:18 (based on net tim

 

5,974, out of 53,000 plus runners? I'll take it. 56th out of 631 in my division? Sure! 1,367th out of 26,011 females? Pretty cool. Looks like the Imogene Pass training is paying off. I'm thinking it's a good thing I didn't grab one of those Miller High Lifes some of the spectators were handing out at mile 4 or I would have been yacking up the last hill. I didn't push as hard as I wanted to thanks to the fact that I've been drinking water with Nuun tablets and they are really not agreeing with me. Going to have to find some other electrolyte replacement method.

Now for a nap.Then some serious vegging on some Memorial Day movies. Something with explosions seems appropriate.

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All content copyright unless otherwise specified © 2008-2013 by Tammy Salyer, writer. All rights reserved. Permission is granted to use short quotes provided proper attribution is given.

Lyons Kayak Park and the Locals

Enjoyed my first paddle here in sunny, summery Colorado (actually, I've been down the Gunnison that runs into Grand Junction once years ago on a raft, but that doesn't really count). I forgot to take my camera, as usual. About 20 miles north of Boulder is the small, yet surprisingly thriving on this Memorial Day weekend, community of Lyons, Colorado. It's a cute little town that reminds me of a lower elevation Deadwood without the distinction of being the final resting place of Wild Bill Hickock. Rolling through town is the lovely meandering S. St. Vrain river, what, in Oregon terms, would be known as a creek. It's high water right now, and with the creeking season here in Colorado being about four weeks long, it was the time to get up there. The section called a "kayak park" is really just a 1/4 mile section near a town park that has about four features on it that are mildly interesting. There was one excellent glassy wave that you could literally front surf on until the water drains from the creek, but it wasn't much for cartwheeling or doing anything that requires pop. Still, a terrific spot for just getting in the water and relaxing. The other features were all pourovers in the vein of the small stuff on Oregon's N. Umpqua, below Pinball rapid, or the Lower North Fork of the Middle Fork Willamette. There's a nicer pourover with enough of an off-width to create a wave about a 1/2 below the end of the kayak park, which appears to be where the locals really go.We were passed by a posse of C-1ers while we played at the upper glassy wave, and caught up with them down at the good wave at the end. They were all a bunch of happy-go-lucky man-child types who consider class 5 in an open boat a fun day on the river. Super nice people. They even let me shuttle with them AND gave me the passenger seat when they headed back to the put in (about four miles upstream of the kayak park) so I wouldn't have to stuff myself in the back with six other smelly, wet gents, dropping me at my truck. Something tells me they rarely see a girl on the river, probably their insistence on getting my number so they could invite me on some future trips. All good, all good.The exciting part of the day was the fact that some picnickers found a dead man on the banks of the river at the take out a few hours earlier. The C-1ers were there when the paramedics and cops came. Fortunately, they removed the corpse before we came down. I'm not sure that's the kind of scenery I look for when I'm on the river. Besides the dead man, I was somewhat disheartened by the general presence of human rubbish (the trash kind, not the body kind) that filled some of the bigger eddies. Kinda sad to see, and doesn't do a lot for making me feel comfortable when I get that unexpected mouthful during a particularly rough window shade. Ce sera, I guess.On another note, I submitted another short story, in the horror genre, for publication to Pseudopod today. Tomorrow is the BolderBoulder 10K run. Wish me luck on both.

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All content copyright unless otherwise specified © 2008-2013 by Tammy Salyer, writer. All rights reserved. Permission is granted to use short quotes provided proper attribution is given.