Under Pressure

Today's Marin Memorial Day 10K is another Pacific Association race. As such, I have pretty modest goals. This is a lightning-fast course with runners to match, so I'd like to finish in the top 100 and run under 37:30. My greatest hope is that my club, West Valley Track Club, will field a master's team. I've never run as part of a team even though I've been a member of West Valley since 2006. We never have five runners 40 years of age or older, so my times don't get counted as part of a team score.

A few weeks ago Todd Rose indicated that we would have enough for a master's team. I called Tony Fong (M49) last week, who said he was running as well.

Excited about the team element of today's race, I should be calm and relaxed. I know I won't place in my age group, and the flat course should help my time. As I park my car, however, I feel nervous and intimidated. Everyone seems to wear team colors of some type, either race clothes or warmups, and everyone is so fit. Runners are warming up and taking sports drinks. This shouldn't be a surprise. This is a very competitive race, but I shouldn't let that affect my mind set.

I leave my car and find Tony. He's with Aaron Pierson (M46) from our team. Tony says we'll have six or seven master's runners, including Aaron. I make my way to the registration, noting that today's conditions are perfect: temperature in the mid-50s, no sun or wind, with a monotone cloud cover ensuring cool temperatures throughout the race.

As the race starts I settle down. A huge crowd in front of me fools me into believing that I'm running slow, but my first mile split is 5:40, which is normal. Around the fourth mile Maggie Visser (F40) passes me, cheered on by many of her Impala supporters. She widens the gap, and I figure she'll finish well ahead of me as she did at the Devil Mountain 10K (see "When It Rains, It Pours") three weeks ago.

Eventually I establish equilibrium with her and then start gaining. During the sixth mile I am just a few feet behind. As the end nears some Impalas yell to Maggie, "Track 100 meters ahead!", referring to the track that ends the race. I pass her, looking for the finish. Unfortunately, the track is much further than the distance given by the Impalas, and I've gone in to my kick way too early. I manage to keep my pace and even accelerate a little at the end, finishing in 37:17 (officially 37:22) with Maggie one second behind, as shown in the photo on the right.

It amazes me how close Maggie and I have been over the last three years. Here is a list of races that we have run simultaneously since August 2007:

• Alameda Run for the Parks 10K, August 2007: Me (36:34), Maggie (36:40)
• Across the Bay 12K, March 2009: Me (46:36), Maggie (46:39)
• Devil Mountain 10K, May 2009: Maggie (36:40), Me (37:42)
• Marin Memorial Day 10K, May 2009: Me (37:22), Maggie (37:23)
  

I don't have much history to refer to, as I didn't run track in school where I could have routinely matched up with another runner. I am closing in on 80 races, though, and there's no one whose performances resemble mine more than Maggie's.

Maggie is a much superior runner to me. Her performance places her second among women 40-44, while mine ranks 11th for men of the same age category. Maggie wins $55 and her performance is age-graded at 84%, which ranks as a national-class runner. My age-graded performance is 78%, which ranks as a regional-class runner. Eighty-eight runners finished under 37 minutes.

I'm happy with my race. I finished with my third-best 10K and fastest since 2007. I placed just outside of the top 100 at 101. My satisfaction is lessened by the fact that West Valley did not field a masters team. My time was third-best among masters West Valley, but we only had four runners. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. Even with my sporadic attendance at Pacific Association races, I'm one of the stalwarts of the team in my age group.

Later I find that my time was ninth-best among West Valley runners and as a result I'm part of our "B" team. West Valley's second team finished eighth among 12 teams. At least I'm on a team, even though it isn't the one I was expecting to join.

Can't Beat the Heat

"Maybe we should take up golf," I joke to John Pettinichio.

John is keeping me company while I am getting treated for heat exhaustion after the Tilden Tough Ten. Maybe this year's race should be called the Tilden Torch Ten. We're sitting in the shade, staying as cool as possible after climbing Tilden's hills for 70-plus minutes on this 90-ish degree morning.

I must have looked pretty bad when I finished. Lake Merritt Joggers and Striders (LMJS) president Len Goldman immediately had two volunteers escort me to the chair where I now sit. A woman named Candice applied a bag of ice on my shoulders, gave me a couple of bottles of water and told me that I had stopped sweating.

It was a tough race, the hottest since my first at this event in 2000. I have salt patches on my shorts and skin where my perspiration has dried. Since this event runs simultaneously with the more famous Bay to Breakers in San Francisco, news media were full of warnings about taking precautions against the heat. Experts said to hydrate on Saturday and Sunday, but I don't think the nine glasses of water I drank yesterday or the two this morning did much besides make me pee a lot.

I didn't feel the symptoms of heat exhaustion like light-headedness and disorientation. I deliberately took water at every stop, which I rarely do in a race shorter than a marathon. Halfway through the race I think I saw 32 minutes on my watch, which seems fast, but my memory may not be clear. My final time was 71:13, so I ran the second half in 39 minutes.

Heat like this can be dangerous. Around mile eight I came upon one of the lead runners lying on the side of the road. He was much younger than I, somewhere in his 20s. I asked if he needed help, but another runner monitoring him told me that someone else had sent word for assistance.

My time was more than four minutes slower than last year, a common story for many of us. Here are the gaps in times in 2009 compared to 2008 for some notable runners:

• Roy Rivers (M52): 4:13 slower in 2009
• Jeff Teeters (M49): 3:47 slower
• Me (M44): 4:21 slower
• Jenny Wong (F33): 4:34 slower
• John Pettinichio (M53): 4:34 slower

The sentiment after the race is less euphoric and more grateful that we are able to withstand these conditions, and also a bit of a reminder that we aren't professional athletes--in many cases we aren't very young either--and sometimes we have to take it easy.

As I recuperate a full contingent of public safety vehicles pulls into the parking lot. Fire vehicles and a police car provide assistance and escorts. Someone tells me a helicopter airlifted someone. I completely missed that. Maybe I'm not so lucid.

My fortunes begin to change. A volunteer hands me three raffle prizes. This is quite a bonanza since I'd never won a raffle prize in the six previous times running this race. I have prizes numbers 22, 28 an 29, and I'm trying to figure out how I won three prizes. My bib number is 298, so maybe they mixed up the digits and gave me all the combinations. I tell Karen Andrews about this, and she checks into it. My hunch is correct. Karen returns with one of the three prizes, which includes a $20 gift certificate.

One person with a better thermostat is Ivan Medina (M22), who wins the race with the first sub-60 time since 2005, 59:29. Ivan has been training around the hills surrounding Lake Chabot, where the Lake Chabot Trail Challenge will take place in three weeks. He'll be the favorite there.

Jenny Wong wins the women's race, which she has dominated more than anyone over the last 10 years. Jenny has run the race eight times this decade, finishing first or second four times each. As refreshed as she looks in this photo, even she says her legs hurt days after the race.

I never left the shade so I didn't get a chance to see the results. I find out that even though my time was my slowest since 2004 I placed third in my age group (M40-49), 13th overall. I'm fortunate because I would have placed fourth in the M50-59 caegory. This is only the second time I've won a medal out of seven races. It has been a good season so far, as I've won six medals in seven races and it isn't even summer.

I have a week to recover before the Marin Memorial Day 10K. It's a flat course and the weather should be much cooler, but I think I'll have to take a few days off and run easy.

When It Rains, It Pours

"Danville, CA: 8 AM. Chance of precipitation: 15%."

I sit in my car at 7:45 AM, sheltered from the steady rain just before the Devil Mountain 10K in Danville. The above prediction from Weather.com from 6 AM didn't hold true, making this the fourth rainy race out of six this year. Prior to this year I had run 72 races since 2004, only one with significant rainfall.

Most sane people are in bed, and maybe the happier people are in church this Sunday morning, but hundreds of runners will subject themselves to a good soaking while wearing as little clothing as possible and running three to six miles.

The race is a copy of last year, with the exception of the weather, which at least kept the idiot pacer from last year (see "Guy on a Bike," May 2008) off the course. I finish in 37:40, two seconds slower than in 2008. This time I am first in my age group and ninth overall. Two women finish ahead of me in excellent performances, especially Maggie Visser (F40) of the Impalas, who won the women's race in a masterful 36:40. Usually Maggie trails me by a few seconds, includinga three-second deficit at the Emerald Across the Bay 12K in early March. In fact she thanked me for pacing her at the 2007 Alameda Run for the Parks, which I ran in a PR of 36:34. Today she ran faster than I have ever seen her, and I couldn't keep up.

I was fortunate to have a lot of good encounters at the race:

• Len Goldman: The president of the Lake Merritt Joggers and Striders (LMJS) informed me at the start of the race that I just barely made it into the Tilden Tough 10 in two weeks. This is a relief as Len's blast email earlier in the week said that the race was sold out, and my check hadn't cleared. I'm as giddy as a high school senior finding a fat envelope from a college in the mail.



• Karen Andrews: The coordinator of the LMJS team for the San Francisco Marathon, Karen introduced herself after recognizing me from my blog. I complimented Karen on her organization and enthusiasm in last year's race. I'd love to run it again, but my vacation plans may conflict this summer.



• John Pettinichio: As promised, John delivered my brick from the Brickyard 8 Mile race a few weeks earlier. I expected him to leave it in his truck and have me retrieve it, but John carried it around the finish area in a gift bag. John could probably throw the brick about 50 yards, so I wasn't worried about him, but it was more effort than I expected.



• Brian Collett: Brian finished third overall and in his age group (M18-24) in the 5K in 17:11. He's running and racing all the time, and doing very well. Brian said his job kept him from getting any sleep Saturday night, but he was still getting an adrenaline kick to keep him awake and warm while we spoke. Then he had to get to a warm place as the rush wore off.



• Carol Turner and Chris Sullivan: Carol took first in her age group (F60-64) and Chris volunteered at the t-shirt booth. Chris ran a very fast 3:24:24 at the Boston Marathon in mid-April. He reports that Kelly Tarkowski (see "Buddy System" June 2008) was somewhat of a celebrity. She ran the 2008 Boston Marathon and Adidas used her photo in large posters to promote the 2009 race. Adidas compensated Kelly with a variety of running gear, including short butt-hugging shorts. We all want to see her wear them, but she assures us we never will.



• Kelly Clarkson: I didn't meet her at the race, but on my way back home I found her new song "I Do Not Hook Up" on the radio. Her music is a vacuum of meaning and subtext. Green Day she isn't. "Blah, blah, something something, I do not hook up." But as I listen to her, I realize I like it.



• Jeb Bush, Mitt Romney and Eric Cantor: I'm so pleased to know the GOP had a meeting and all 70 members of the party were able to fit in a pizza parlor in Virginia. The parking lot had several cars with Obama bumper stickers. Maybe next year the survivors can meet for coffee at the Palin house.

A Good Traveling Story

"The world is now a poorer place. Vic Witte has left us--the people who loved him--bereft."

These are the first words from a letter that a friend of my father's wrote, and that I am to read today at my father's funeral mass. My dad died in his home in St. Louis on April 15. I planned to visit him and my mom and run the half marathon at the Go! St. Louis Marathon on April 19. My father's death changed the purpose of my trip and led me to question whether I should run. The race started at 7 AM, which meant that I'd be done with the race by 8:30 AM and back at the hotel by 10 AM. I needed to be at the funeral home by 2 PM and had no other duties before then, so I had no practical reason not to run. Having received no objections from anyone, I decided to go forward with the original intent of my trip to St. Louis.

I arrived at the race in downtown before 6 AM. The weather was rainy and I didn't have anything water repellent to wear, so I remained in the car to stay dry and rehearse reading the letter from Ted Chaskelson. I tried to disassociate myself from the meaning and emotions of the words and focus on the black print on white paper. I got through it a few times, carefully noting any unusual sentence structure. I also wanted to add a story about one of our family vacations. The story should be funny without embarrassing anyone, but I couldn't think of anything. After failing to come up with anything appropriate, I noticed that the race started in 30 minutes, so I made my way to the starting line.

The rain fell steadily and I dreaded running in the rain again. Five races this year, three of them in the rain, and this was the longest of the wet ones. As I reached the starting line, the world's best race announcer says, "Okay everybody, let's get ready for the Goooooooooooooooooooo! St Louis Marathon!"

The enthusiasm in his voice lifted a bit, and I told myself to ignore the sadness and the rain. The course headed first toward the Gateway Arch, which was shrouded in low clouds this morning. As I faced the Arch and listened to the music over the public address system, I remembered the Elton John concert I saw in 100-degree heat on July 5, 1982. I was one of 400,000 seeking a dry spot on the lawn around the Arch. Recent rains had turned the field into quagmire of ankle deep mud, and organizers selected subsequent July 4th headline acts that were less popular in order to preserve the Arch grounds.

Elton began the show 27 years ago with his stirring anthem "Funeral for a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding." The song remains one of my favorite Elton John hits. Even though the lyrics have nothing to do with a funeral, there is one line that goes, "Love lies bleeding in my hands!" The song is intended to be Elton's version of what he would like to hear at a funeral. It is fast, bold and triumphant.

As I listened to the hard keyboard notes that blend with and give way to the soaring guitar riffs in the instrumental section of the song, I couldn't contain my emotions. I shielded my eyes with my right hands and began to cry.

Then the PA played Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive." During the words "Did you think I'd lay down and die?" I fought harder to keep my composure. Before any race the combination of a heavy dose of caffeine, sugar and anticipation usually amplify my emotions. I try to downplay the excitement, but now I was hoping to cope with the thoughts of my father who had left this life. I was on the verge of breaking down when I bent over at the waist and tried to block the sense of loss. I tried to shrink from the crowd so that no one would pay attention to me. A few seconds later I was able to pull myself together. I was sad, but I would make it through this race.

I shed my long sleeved shirt as the race began and within a few minutes I was drenched. I broke out with the lead runners and would see the thousands behind me at numerous points along the course, which goes out and back at several junctures. Among the beautiful things about running are its portability (I can do it anywhere.), its minimal environmental impact (No one needs to build a stadium or golf course.), and its community. Today I felt the strength of that community as runners behind me cheered me and others near the lead as we retraced our steps. I didn't reciprocate as I was preserving as much strength as I could, but I did appreciate their support.

About nine and a half miles through the race I passed a runner who grunted as he exhaled on every stride with his right foot. He was a popular local runner and spectators cheered him by name. He was working harder than me, but I couldn't shake him. I heard his breathing for the rest of the race. I finished in 1:21:36, 19th overall out of about 8,500 runners, six seconds ahead of my trailing companion.

I changed clothes in my car and went back to post-race festivities to see whether I had won anything. This is a big race, but it doesn't draw a lot of strong runners, so my chances of winning are pretty good. I made my way to the awards tent with a mylar blanket pulled tightly over my head to shield me from the rain. Results hadn't been posted, so I left the muddy grass and stood nearby on a sidewalk within sight of the tent.

A few minutes later a woman smiled after speaking to the volunteers at the tent, so I figured she received some pleasant news. I returned to the tent and saw that I placed second among masters runners, winning a great plaque and $250. I showed the volunteers my bib number and they gave me my prizes. This is a very well run event, and race director Nancy Lieberman and her crew are second to none. I vigorously shook one person's hand and thanked the everyone for working all those hours in the rain.

Results posted the next day showed that I won my age group (M40-44) of about 400 runners. The heavy breather I passed in mile nine was Bobby Williams, a 56-year-old freak of nature. I cannot imagine running a half marathon at that speed at that age. My six-second margin over him was worth $125.

*************************************************

Today I opened the funeral service with the letter from Ted Chaskelson that continues from the line that begins this post:

"Vic nourished us all, with his many gifts. His sparkling intelligence; his marvelous wit and sense of humor; his vast, enormous knowledge of music, history and literature. But most of all his gift for friendship. I have had the wonderful good fortune of knowing Vic since 1966--when I first met him in St. Louis--and of having him remain my friend all these years. Although I later moved to the Baltimore area, my wife Joan and I never lost touch with him and Toni; we corresponded regularly, and met often. Vic's friendship always meant not only delightful company, but something more. Connecting with Vic meant connecting with a spiritual gift. Vic had something very deep, and very good, inside him. And those who knew him were the beneficiaries of that goodness--that spirit--which we have now lost. He called me one of his Jewish brothers. So I now say: May the Lord bless you and keep you; May the Lord lift up His countenance upon you, and be gracious to you; May the lord turn his countenance unto you, and grant you peace."

I had recollected a good traveling story for the service, but reading the letter caused too many emotions to overwhelm me. I thought of saying the story, took a deep breath, paused, and left the podium. I couldn't do it.

After the burial we made our way to a reception. My dad had been long retired from the National Labor Relations Board, but his former coworkers insisted on putting on the reception within moments of hearing of his passing. The food and space were wonderful, and my uncle Jay and aunt Lynn suggested that I make a toast to the people who had taken on all the time and expense of hosting this great event. I would have another chance to tell my story.

When the time came I thanked everyone for coming and the hosts for their efforts. Then I began to speak:

"As you all know, my parents took us on some great vacations." I contorted my face and looked down at the floor to avoid crying. My voice trembled. "We drove everywhere, from Colorado to Quebec City." Maylee took my hand and smiled. I paused and continued, angry at myself for starting something I was pretty sure I could not finish. Suddenly the words came easily.

"You all know that my dad was a stickler for seat belts. Before automatic seat belts, air bags and child seats, Dad insisted that everyone wear a seat belt. Even in the back seat. He was way ahead of his time in terms of car safety. But there were no rules for the back of the station wagon, so on our long trips we'd always pile in the back and bounce around. As the family got bigger Dad had to come up with some innovative luggage carrying techniques. One trip he tied a big suitcase to the roof rack with a rope. The first day we had gone out a pretty long distance when we heard a few bumps from the roof and soon saw the luggage dangling outside the rear window. We kids in back were a little frightened with the suitcase clinging to the back windshield. We pulled over and had to stuff the suitcase in the car with the rest of us. On later trips Dad would rent a compartment designed to hold things on the roof. To my dad, a great lover of travel and whiskey sours."

We hoisted our whiskey sours and drank them to my dad's honor.

Those few minutes were more difficult than any race I've ever done. It was hard, but I made it.

New Legs

The Martinez Brickyard 8-miler is a hilly race that I ran once four years ago. I had avoided running it since because it's 35 miles away, on the edge of what I considered a reasonable distance to travel, and because my age group is very competitive. In 2005 I finished seventh overall, but fifth in my age group (M40-49). I had beaten all the 30-year-old men, but my age kept me from competing against them. This year I think I have a better chance, especially since 51-year-old runner extraordinaire Kevin Searls has graduated from my age class. Kevin owns this race as well as a few track records from his college, but he doesn't race frequently so I rarely encounter him.

At the race I reconnect with John Pettinichio (M52) and Holly Starr (F54), who will be part of my team for the Tahoe Relay in June. John and Holly are going to be great in Tahoe, and I look forward to spending the weekend with them and the rest of the team.

Back to Martinez, the race began in a municipal park and then plunged into a screaming downhill before hitting back with several steadily climbing hills. I managed to break out with the lead pack at the start, avoiding collisions or tripping while running downhill. Once the race reached the trail it wound along a hillside with beautiful views of the Carquinez Straight off to the right. The weather was absolutely perfect, a nice change from my first three races this year.

I was running with a handful of high school runners, and two adult men including Kevin Searls. The hills were challenging, but I didn't feel overwhelmed. The climb up to the Golden Gate Bridge in the Across the Bay 12K a few weeks earl er motivated me to try something different to strengthen my legs, which were exhausted for the rest of that race and days after. The next day I tried to do a wall sit, where I assumed a sitting position with my back pressed against the wall without using a chair. That day I could hold the position for about a minute, half my usual time. I decided to do a two-minute session every day for three weeks, and it seems to have paid off.

At no time did I feel like my legs couldn't take the hills, or that I would develop side splits. My pace held up pretty well. Not everyone felt the same. While returning I saw a young woman lying on the road. She seemed calm and had assistance, so I continued past her. A few minutes later a fire truck approached me and passed me on the way to provide medical support. I learned that the runner was all right and that the fire truck rescue was a frequent event at this race.

I finish my run and feel pretty good about my chances of winning. The awards for this race are unique. Winners receive a brick with a small engraved plate. I'm hoping to get a brick, although I have no place to put any of the smaller medals I have, so this one will present another storage issue. Pink Floyd's "Another Brick in the Wall" and "Brick House" by the Commodores.

Results are a long time in coming. This is the first year that the Alhambra High School track team is organizing the race, taking it from the Diablo Road Runners who found it to be too much of a burden. I have strong appreciation for the Alhambra team's efforts in saving this race, but I also have a few quibbles with the race results and confusing turnarounds for the four-mile and eight-mile races. I lost 10 seconds looking back to see if anyone was following me after passing a randomly placed pylon almost four miles from the start. After waiting around for what seems to be an hour, Holly offers to get my brick if I'm fortunate enough to get one and give it to me later. I take advantage of her very nice offer, also saying that I could do the same for her. She's less optimistic than I am about winning something, but she insists that even if she doesn't get a brick, she has a shorter drive home than I do so I should be the one that leaves.

I check the results that day and see that I finished up in a time of 50:50, 6:21 per mile, seventh overall but first in my age group. Holly also finished first in her age group (W50-59), but John placed fourth, victimized by Kevin Searls and an aging pack of fast runners. Searls finished fourth overall in a time of 49:24.

Chasing Ceci

This morning the internet says San Francisco will be dry and in the low 50s. I prepare myself for perfect conditions and put on my shorts and singlet with a jacket. As I drive over the Bay Bridge, a steady mist coats the windshield. After parking, I wait in line for the buses going over the Golden Gate Bridge in a slight drizzle. As you can see from the photo at left, the computer was wrong. The day is gloomy, quite imperfect for racing today's Emerald Nuts 12K Across the Bay.

I get off the bus after we cross the bridge. The weather is damp and so is everyone's mood. Every other time I've done this race the atmosphere has been full of energy. Today everyone wants to get the race over with.

The ground is too wet to stretch, so I warm up by running down the hill at the start and then back up. Race time in five minutes. We're packed together pretty tight, and then the race director tells us all to scoot back three feet. Now we're really jammed. Rain falls harder, drenching us and the course. About a minute before the race is supposed to start a muffled horn blows and we're racing.

The conditions are the worst I've run in since the Napa Valley Marathon in 2006. Wide puddles are on the course, and with about 900 runners speeding downhill they're too dangerous to dodge. In less than a minute everyone is soaked from the shoes up and head down.

The course flattens near the foot of the Golden Gate Bridge, and then winds up a long steep hill. I do this hill once or twice a year, but I am not prepared this time. I'm using every fiber of muscle in my legs, doing very well in keeping my position among the others, but it seems like the hill won't end. I've never struggled up it like this.

When we hit the bridge I feel like the race is over. I left a lot on the hill and have more than six miles to run. Waves of runners pass me, including several women. Twelve women will finish ahead of me. One of them and I will run most of the course separated by no more than a few seconds.

When I read the results that night I discovered she was Ceci St. Geme, pictured above and below in drier weather. I hardly expected this because Ceci is from Newport Beach in Southern California, and she's significantly faster than me, at least in the 5K. Ceci is an A-list personality in the California running circuit. She's an incredible runner, national high school champion in the early 1980s and NCAA champion in the 5,000 meters at Stanford. She's maintained her fitness at age 45 as the mother of six! She is also one of the most photogenic runners, and has appeared on the cover of Runners World six times.

Along the course race volunteers are encouraging her by name. I have no idea who I'm running with. She has the number 5, which indicates some sort of elite status, perhaps getting a free entry. This is a tough 7.5 miles, but at least the rain has let up. The photo to the left shows Ceci with me in the background. I'm staying behind Ceci as I don't want to get into a duel and push myself. I can't wait for this race to end.

We run along Marina heading toward Fort Mason. This is a steep but short hill approaching the finish line. Ceci is slowing down, and I follow her pace. She's laboring more than I am. At the top of the hill a promotional arch for the sponsor, Emerald Nuts, spans the path. Maybe I could pass her, but she's been pacing me for a long distance and it doesn't seem fair. Plus, had I passed her she may have outkicked me and I would have felt silly.

Ceci asks, "Is this the end?" I don't respond, but I figure she'll see for herself in a few seconds that the finish line is further away. As we reach the crest on the right Ceci glances back at me and says something I can't understand. I respond, "You're doing great!" Imagine that. I'm encouraging Ceci St. Geme.

She speeds down the hill and toward the finish line. I'm so happy this is done. Ceci wins her age group (W45-49) in 46:34 and I finish eighth in mine (M40-44) two seconds behind her. We finish 112th and 113th.

"Nice job," I tell her in the finish chute. She turns and says, "That was about a 6:15 pace, right?" Fit, fast and fast-thinking. She had the pace down to the second. "That last mile was hard," she says. To which I reply, "So was the first."

A funny incident took place before the race. Todd Rose, one of West Valley's fastest runners, spotted me and said he forgot his singlet. I offered mine, knowing that I wouldn't score for the team. He declined and couldn't fit into my size anyway, but he found a runner from Aggie RC who offered Todd a jersey from their team. Todd turned the singlet inside out to hide the Aggies logo and the Aggies runner told Todd not to sweat too much in the shirt and that the jersey would make him run faster. Here's Todd wearing the blue jersey. He finished an impressive 24th overall in 40:03, first in his age group (M35-39).

The Show

I usually run races where I have a chance to win a medal, but the Emerald Nuts Across the Bay 12K is an exception. I have no shot at placing in this event, but I enjoy the race because it goes over the Golden Gate Bridge.

This very popular race is part of the Pacific Association of US Track and Field (PA/USTAF) circuit, and thus has a very fast field. The Pacific Association is the big leagues of local running. Former collegiate runners of all ages looking to satisfy their competitive urges, semi-professional runners, Olympic trials qualifiers and the odd Olympian compete. I can place in the top three in my age group in most races, but that may never happen in a PA race. I'm just hoping to place in the top ten in my group.

I haven't run a PA event since 2007, which was my fastest year. I run for the West Valley Track Club, which is one of the better teams in the Pacific Association, but hasn't fielded a masters (40+) team at an event for the three years that I've been a member. As a result, my performances are too slow to score in the open division, and my respectable masters times don't count for a team.

Even though I get no material benefit from PA races, they always provide enough competition to push me. There's usually a pack of six men and women about as fast as me, so there's no lull in the action, and I remain focused the entire way.

When I ran this race as a novice, I didn't notice all the runners wearing the same color singlets with their team affiliations. That is, I didn't notice any of them at first.

I was going through my prerace stretching routine before the race, sitting in an open space along the road. In the middle of my limbering up, a group of women surrounded me, all wearing tops with the word Impala. They weren't drawn to me, rather they were completely disregarding me. I was doing some hurldlers stretches and butterflys, and the women went on with their conversations and walked around me as if I were an ant or leaf.

I finished 351st that day, and found out the the Impalas are an elite women's team. Seventeen Impalas, probably including the entire group that nearly trudged on me before the race, finished ahead of me in 2004.

I've run this race twice since then, finishing 74th in my best year, 2007.