A Sixth of Firsts: The 2015 Holiday Half Marathon

As I'm sure you've just read, Melissa has been nursing an injury to her leg for a few weeks. The morning of the Holiday Half she decided she would not try to compete. Instead, she offered to run with me to help stay on my goal pace. In six years of running this race, we've never done it together.

I also lost my iPod (temporarily), so Melissa let me borrow hers. Since she wasn't racing, she said, she would be able to just enjoy the holiday music, carolers, and cheering fans. Sadly, the headphones I brought didn't want to produce any sound. In six years of running this race, this would the be first time I'd done it with no music.

Rupp behind Mo Farah in the 2012 Olympic 10,000m Final. (AP Photo/Anja Niedringhaus)

This was also the first time we were able to see an elite, professional runner compete in this race. Olympic silver-medalist Galen Rupp was running this one, possibly to qualify for the Olympic Marathon. Since the race is out-and-back, we got to watch him run by. He looked amazing, focused, but barely working hard. At least, that's how he appeared in the second or two we could see him. He was at least 10 minutes ahead of the second-place finisher.

Finally, this was the first race I've run that was canceled part-way through. Fortunately for us, it was after we finished, but hundreds of runners were not able to finish at all. When we were about six-and-a-half miles in--not long after the St. John's Bridge--I heard what I thought were some train cars banging around. The course is not far from the Willamette River, and much of it overlooks the freight terminals of the Port of Portland. The sound was similar to one I'd hear when running on a certain stretch of the Wildwood Trail (on the opposite side of the river), and I'd always imagined they were coupling freight cars. That, or something huge was being loaded or unloaded down there.

A few minutes later, as we turned on to St. John's Avenue, I looked to my right and saw a huge, black plume of smoke. "Oh shit, look at that!" Seconds later, we heard the sirens. It occurred to me then that I'd heard an explosion, not some coupling cars. For the next three miles or so, the skyline was dominated by the towering pillar. Something was obviously on fire, but I didn't know enough about that part of town to know what it could be. Heading back toward the bridge, I got a better idea. Eventually we had to run through it, though the wind had shifted and it wasn't all that bad for us. I glanced over just after passing under the bridge, and I could see the flames. A spectator nearby said it was "oil cars" that blew up. OK, well, he didn't sound too concerned. We'd later learn that a driver was killed when he lost control of his truck and slammed into train cars carrying asphalt. We also learned that the race directors opted to cancel the race after the smoke became too thick.

I shifted my focus back to the race, because the smoke was behind us. At that point, I realized I hadn't asked Melissa how she was feeling. "I'm OK," she said. "If you need to go, then go." "No," I said, "I don't." We were climbing up the hill toward Mile Marker Nine, and I really didn't feel like doing anything but stopping. I walked a few steps at the water station then powered up the rest of the hill.

For the first six miles, we had been right on my goal pace. But we slowed down to get some water at one point, and also as we started the long, slow climb back from the turnaround. By the time we hit the Bridge again, we had been off the pace for a few miles. I really didn't want to lose anymore time, and I tried to just keep up the same effort level and not back off. I could still try beat my old time, even if I couldn't meet my stretch goal of breaking an hour and 43 minutes.

Having passed the race's tail-end, everyone around us was running about the same pace in the same direction. (Except Galen Rupp, that is. He won the race handily, then decided to go back out on the course for his cool-down. He breezed by in the opposite direction when I was around mile 9.) For a little while, I thought Melissa was right behind me--I even thought I recognized her breath. Afterward, she would tell me that I left her behind at that water station. She couldn't hold onto the pace, and didn't want to hurt herself even more.

Usually by this point in a race, I'm feeling pretty crappy. Melissa and I have chalked this up to my nutrition, which I could discuss at length. Suffice it to say that I've had success with eating more before and during races and long runs, and that was my plan today. I passed the 10-mile marker feeling very full and began rethinking. The daunting logistics of opening a packet of gel, sucking it out, then trying to gulp down some water would do little to help my focus. I opted to leave the gel in my belt and see what happened. Maybe it was foolish, but I actually felt strong with only 5K remaining. Plus, I didn't want to feel sick.

By now I knew I was running alone. Melissa was somewhere back there, probably a few yards, but not going to catch up. I hoped she really was OK.

As I turned onto the bluff on Willamette Boulevard, a wave of fatigue washed over me. Damn. I still had the gel packet, but still didn't want to attempt it. There were only 2.1 miles to run. I had to hold onto this, which meant pushing just a little harder. Seconds later, a runner passed me on the left and I immediately tried to make him my focal point. I couldn't catch him, so I started picking out other people to pass instead. I've heard this is a tried-and-true strategy, but I've never felt competitive enough to try it. It was tough, but the 12th mile was my fastest of the race--by about 20 seconds!

Finally, I turned onto Greeley Avenue to see the finish line. I didn't have much left, but I laid it all down. Since my first time running the Holiday Half, my main fear at that point has always been tripping right before the finish. It's downhill and there are timing mats on the ground to negotiate. I know, I know, but it's scarier when you're sprinting in front of scores of spectators while listening for the announcer to mispronounce your name.

As I closed in, I saw that the race clock read, “1:42:45”. Wow, I had actually done it! Just then, a guy right in front of me tripped and tumbled to the ground. "Oh, shit!" I yelled, then slowed down to ask if he was OK. He looked up, bleary-eyed, and grunted that he was. In that split second, I decided to finish the race then come back to help. As soon as I crossed the final mat, I turned around to see him getting to his feet. As he crossed the line, I checked with him one more time.

I crossed at 1:42:56, but my official time was one hour, 42 minutes and 44 seconds. That is around 40 seconds faster than my previous best time. I really could not be happier with this finish. Like Melissa, who finished just a few minutes later, I spent much of this training cycle (and most of the year) with a nagging injury: tendinitis in my knee. It's certainly not as bad as hers, but I never felt like I recovered the speed I had last year. My workouts were always sluggish, and only a few of the long runs actually felt good. I figured it would be a push to even reach my old PR.

Usually, going into a race I have a decent idea of my potential. OK, so I didn't win first place, but this may have been the first time in six years that I have so drastically underestimated myself.

This is Not the Injury I Was Looking For (No STAR WARS spoilers)

You know that you are an injured runner when you're envious watching the STAR WARS Episode 7: The Force Awakens. I won't spoil anything for those who haven't seen the movie by telling you that some of the characters run a bit. As they were dashing around the screen, I stared at them with great longing.

Seriously, who does that?? A runner who can't run. Right now, I can't jog across the theater parking lot without my right leg whimpering. A few weeks ago, my right leg started hurting right where my hamstring inserts into my ischial tuberosity. FAN-FREAKING-TASTIC. Proximal Hamstring Tendonitis. As if that wasn't bad enough, I was about 10 days out from a race, the Holiday Half Marathon.

If you're not familiar with proximal hamstring tendonitis, it makes your butt hurt. Every single time my right foot makes contact with the ground, my butt hurts. And, like the STAR WARS craze right now, it is simply impossible to ignore. It got so bad during an easy run that I was relegated to walking, and then trying butt exercises and stretches to relieve the pain. That helped zero, but I'm sure I looked really cool rubbing my butt with my fist on the side of the road. Sadly, I ended up hobbling home the best I could. I took a 4 days off, then tried 3 miles. It felt better but it wasn't fixed. Against my better judgment, I ran the race anyway. It was awful, big surprise. It felt like someone was stabbing my butt with a hot poker every time I took a step.



That's no moon. It's a race medal!

When I hung up my gigantic medal after the race, I thought of Clark's boss, Mr. Shirley, in Christmas Vacation saying, “Put it over there with the others, Greazeball.” There was no satisfaction in finishing a race that I'd limped my way through on the verge of tears.





Look at my running shoes. Patient. Cute. Reflective.

The pain has forced me to keep my running shoes neatly on their rack. I'm not running, but I'm not someone who can just lay on the couch holding my butt and crying. And, my leg doesn't hurt when I'm not running on it. So, that leaves lots of other exercise besides running. Weight training, yoga, stair climbing, plyometrics, cycling.





 

 

 

 



Enter my new exercise buddy. This is Jesse. My trusty steed has been around for a while, but we've now become like besties. Isn't he handsome? I can ride my bike anytime, except that I have to give myself some breaks because the seat isn't all that comfortable day after day. Hamstring tendon feels fine. I'm smiling because I just started riding.

After spending an hour at the gym this morning working out indoors, I know that running outside without pain will be worth waiting for.  Not unlike Episode 7, right?  Maybe when I can run again, I can tell you more about how STAR WARS relates to running, but for now, we'll just have to wait.