Heart of Oakland

I am in in agony, lying face down on a massage table following the Oakland Running Festival half marathon. My masseuse April had everything under control until she bent my legs at the knee after loosening my hamstrings. When she did this, my right calf calcified into a fist of pain. April has done what the course could not: put me in a state of complete submission.

This is a much different condition that I was in a few minutes earlier.

Here's Larry Witte from Alameda. He's 45! Believe me, running keeps you young," said the public address announcer as I crossed the finish line. It was a strong race for me. I finished 13th overall in 1:22:08, my best time in 11 months and my highest age-graded performance since the Long Beach half marathon in October 2008.

The result was not expected since I had a digestive illness early in the week that limited my eating and caused me to drop four pounds in three days. The ailment prevented me from following up the previous Sunday's run at the Emerald 12K Across the Bay until Wednesday, and then rain on Thursday eliminated a training session. I ran less than 25 miles the week leading into today's run.

The course was flat and fast, which worked in my favor. It was also one of the most anticipated races I've ever run. Oakland hadn't hosted a major race in more than two decades. As one who returned to running in Oakland after a 16-year layoff, I wanted to run a race in the East Bay's biggest city. Oakland has a mix of natural beauty and urban grittiness, along with great weather and challenging hills. It's a great place to run, but the running community has always had to travel to Pleasanton, Danville, San Ramon, and other cities including Alameda for races in the East Bay.

The absence of races probably let the San Francisco Chronicle to devote significant coverage to the marathon, even more than it gives to its city's own marathon. Nice features before the race included a mention of Len Goldman, president of the Lake Merritt Joggers and Striders (LMJS).

Back in the massage tent April gets assistance on my calf, which has tightened into a ball the hardness of an orange. After several minutes of therapy, my leg loosens up and I relax my death grip on the cushioned table. I've been lying down there way more than my allotted nine minutes. Having recovered, I proceed to the post-race activities.

To my surprise, Debra Cramer (F52), my carpooling companion for the second race in a row, calls my name as she approaches me. I thought I'd be waiting for her, but Debra ran a very strong 1:40:26, another PR. Debra is the only friend in my age range who is getting faster, and she's knocking off significant time over the months. It's quite amazing. Debra has been running for many years, but only now is she reaching her potential. She's getting close to a score of 80% on the age-graded scale, which is a national-class standard. No one knows how fast Debra can run, and it's fun to watch her progress.

Results haven't been posted and Debra and I decide to use our drink tickets and get a beer.

The race itself was fast, but lacking in scenery. The half marathon course missed the recognizable parts of Oakland. We ran past the Fruitvale neighborhood, but not on its main drag, International Boulevard. The course went no further east than uptown, so we didn't hit Piedmont Avenue. We avoided the heart of Chinatown and ran several blocks away from Jack London Square. The course avoided the busy parts of town to limit disruption of commerce and recreation. The result was a race that did not showcase much of Oakland's charm and provided a visitor with little opportunity to appreciate its unique characteristics.

Nevertheless, there were highlights. An arch with flames broke up the monotony at mile six. This work was a creation of the Crucible, a collaborative community arts and industrial center that features heat-related art like glass making and metalworking. Even though the arch was on fire, it was the coolest mile marker I'd ever seen.

There was no question which singlet I would wear. It was my new LMJS jersey, which has the club's logo on the front and back. The double exposure may be a mistake. It makes me look like a running sandwich board.

The race ended with a loop around Lake Merritt and a final leg back to downtown. Lake Merritt is my Yankee Stadium, Augusta, Wimbledon and Hayward Field. This is where I soaked up the natural setting a brief stretch from the cottage Mandy and I rented in the late 1990s. Lake Merritt inspired me to run many afternoons before I began to race. Here I ram a few LMJS 10Ks and 15Ks, and four Couples Relays. But this is the first time running around the lake in a big race. Anticipating the lap around the lake, I almost lose control of my emotions. This is a big deal for me, but I take couple of deeper breaths--if that is possible on the tenth mile of a half marathon--and return to the present.
There were a few more spectators around the lake than at other sections of the race, many cheering for me based on my LMJS top. I needed every bit of encouragement. At mile 11 I saw Tony Fong (M50), who rant the marathon in a blistering three hours on a hilly course. I could never have run that fast. Tony is definitely in good enough shape for out Tahoe Relay team, and a few days after the race he says he'll run the relay with us in June.

Debra and I continue to wait for our results, passing more time than we spent running the race. We are enjoying the beer and the sun, but the beer is Miller Genuine Draft and we want to return to our real lives. A 20-foot sign spelling RESULTS in vertical letters overshadows a four-sided display that is completely blank at 12:30 p.m., three and a half hours after the race started. This is inexcusable. The race is chip-timed, and generating results requires nothing more than pushing a button on a computer to print the outcome. Apparently no one can do this.

With the information booth being no help at all, Debra and I leave, not knowing whether we won an age-group award. We're a little frustrated and a little miffed that we waited two hours after the race and don't know how we fared.

After getting home, I find out from the race web site that Debra and I both won our age groups, Debra by more than a minute and me by more than three. We're satisfied with the results. Even better, the next day the San Francisco Chronicle published the above photo of Debra and several runners at the start. Debra's famous! Seems like the paper has an eye for talent.

Does This Hill Make Me Look Fat?

"What's in the cooler?"

"Heart and lungs."

The above exchange between a friend of ours and Mandy is taking place at East Ocean Seafood restaurant in Alameda, where we are meeting this Sunday morning for dim sum. Debra Cramer dropped me off at the restaurant after we raced the Emerald Across the Bay 12K in San Francisco.

The cooler contains bagels and cream cheese for after the race, but Debra made some gourmet muffins with chocolate chips and coconut before we left from her home at 6 AM. The bagels never saw daylight.

I wouldn't mind if the cooler did have replacement parts for my cardiovascular system. It was a difficult but rewarding race. An elite 800-meter runner described the sensation after a race as having every cell in your body on fire. I don't feel that bad, but I am exhausted.

Conditions for the race were perfect. There was no wind, no sun, and no rain—just a soft blanket of cloudy sky. Last year we endured a deluge that dampened my spirits and drained my energy. Today those of us who ran last year were a lot more eager to run from Marin County to San Francisco.

The race features a sharp climb from sea level to the Golden Gate Bridge. Last year the hill turned my legs into jelly. I mentioned this to Suzette Smith in an email a few days before the race. She replied that hills are your friend. I would agree that hills are excellent to train on, but not to race on when you only run in pancake-flat Alameda. I used to love hills when I ran on them in Oakland, but now I consider them a weakness.

I got another email from Tony Fong, urging all West Valley Track Club (WVTC) masters runners to show up at the race. We haven't fielded a masters team since I joined the club in 2007. If we can't get five guys to race at one of the most popular PAUSATF races of the year, it will probably never happen.

I assured Tony that I would run even though I hadn't run on a hill since June of last year, but I could probably run a 6:30 per mile pace. Tony said we'll have 10 masters runners, enough for two teams.

I then asked if he would be able to run on our Tahoe Relay team. He responded that he would join us in June if he could run a 10K in a six-minute per mile pace by the end of April. That's very ambitious and well beyond the ability that we need. I called Tony. He said he was fat.

The potential loss of one of my Tahoe runners made today's race a recruiting trip. I got Karen Andrews to join our team at the Couples Relay, but this morning I didn't see anyone that would fit our lineup. I even saw a lot of WVTC runners, but they all appeared to be under 40 years old.

After warming up, Debra and I squished in amongst several hundred runners. The course features a right turn and steep descent. Running fast on a winding road in a close pack makes for perfect conditions for a pileup, but the stampede of runners managed to navigate the start without an accident. I was dreading the hill, but the climb up it wasn't nearly as bad as I remembered it. I kept waiting for pain to set in, but as we hit the bridge, my legs felt fresh. In 12 minutes I had run two miles.

While crossing the bridge Carlos Castelo (M40) of WVTC, pictured above, passed me. Once past the bridge we hit Crissy Field and the Marina. About five miles into the race Jeff Teeters (M50) said hi as he caught up with me along my left side.

"Heyyyyy Jeff, how's it going?" I asked. Jeff said something inaudible. Trying to think of something positive to say I said, "Just a few more miles, and there's no wind." I was glad Jeff wasn't in the mood for talking, because I sure couldn't keep up a conversation. Jeff has a chicken wing style of running, so I faded to the right to avoid his elbows. I have never finished ahead of Jeff in a race, and today would be no different. After running together for a quarter mile or so Jeff continued past me.

A few more people passed me on the trail to Fort Mason. Among them was Peter Hsia (M49), who hadn't finished ahead of me in a race since 2005. But Peter is having a renaissance. In late 2009 he posted a great time in the Run Wild for a Child 10K, placing in his age group in a very competitive field. I also heard a number of people cheering for Lisbet Sunshine (F46), a popular Impala whose name describes her personality. I managed to hold her off as we climbed and descended the last hill.

As I turned to the right a woman in the crowd yelled, "Go, Larry!" I had no idea who it was, but I would find out the following Sunday that it was Carol Turner, who was skipping the race while recovering from a detached retina. I finished in 46:19, 24 seconds behind Jeff, four seconds behind Peter, and five seconds ahead of Lisbet. I was 12th in my age group and 112th overall.

My pace was much better than I hoped for, 6:13 per mile. The performance was unexpected and my best since the Long Beach Half Marathon in 2008. I beat my predicted time by more than two minutes. It was my second-fastest time on that course in five races.

At the finish I met Chris Knorzer (M41), a West Valley runner on the right who paced all masters runners with a time of 40:22, a 5:25 pace. I was the oldest and slowest of the 14 West Valley runners. That didn't bother me given how I exceeded my expectations. On the other hand, I am disappointed that West Valley only had three masters runners. Chris, Carlos and I would have placed well as a team if we had two more runners. My time was good enough to contribute to the third-place masters team, but West Valley wasn't able to get a quorum. The long non-streak continues into its fourth year.