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.

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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.

Blonde Ambition

"We're on for tomorrow - right? I need to get there early to warm up a bit. I'm having a little issue (interior lower calf that is irritated). I am going to try to find a way to tape it. Do you know anything about these things? Don't worry - I'll be good to go - I'm a trooper.”

That email was from Jane Watson, my partner for the Couples Relay, a 10K split into two 5K legs run by coed teams. I’m looking forward to this race a little more than others, and Jane seems pretty excited too. It may be that we haven’t run together and barely know each other, or maybe it’s just that this is a rare opportunity to run a relay. I will find out that Jane is just as competitive as I am, and I think the normal psychological lift of running gets a boost when two or more people are working together toward a common goal.

I call Jane about her injury and to make race plans. Jane’s says she’ll wear a waterproof jacket made for running. I don’t even own such a garment. I’m a wimp when it comes to weather. If it’s not dry outside I run in the gym. The forecast calls for rain, which leads me to think of all the wardrobe and motivational possibilities for the race. Do I bundle up, wear training shoes and take it easy, or should I risk ruining my race shoes in the rain and go with normal race attire? Should I push myself, or accept that I’ll probably run slowly in the bad weather and just cruise around the course?

Saturday’s dry weather turns to a steady rain Sunday morning. I decide to go with the race shoes, but I’m still undecided about what to wear. I’ve got a pair of shorts under my tights, and I can choose between a singlet and short-sleeved shirt. I meet Jane and her boyfriend Paul outside the boat house at Lake Merritt. Jane says her leg is fine and she’ll be fine for the race. I tell her not to worry if she needs to hold back, but she’s pretty sure she’ll be able to go all out.



After the women start I go to my car to get ready. Some runners are wearing minimal clothing. I usually need to see just one person in shorts and a sleeveless top to ignore any chill, so when I notice some runners dressed that way I go with the shorts and singlet. The ground is too wet for stretching, so I do a quick warmup, trying to run straight through the puddles instead of adjusting my steps to avoid them. I’m not too successful. I have an instinctive reaction to try to keep my feet dry. I can’t ignore the puddles and my feet seem to have a force field that repels them from the water. Other than that, the running is comfortable. I actually find the rain pleasant, or at least different.

Paul agrees to hold my t-shirt until I’m done. Now there’s nothing to do but wait. Jane says she’ll do her leg in about 20 minutes. A few minutes ahead of her some high school girls reach the touch-off point. I then notice Steven Chavez (M50) from San Ramon getting ready for his wife to arrive at the exchange point, telling his kids to stay with Mommy when he’s running. Steven is a phenomenal runner, and unless I have a lead of a minute or two I know he and his wife will finish ahead of us.

Carrie Chavez finishes her leg and touches Steve. He’s off. Not long after Jane slaps my hand. I quickly acknowledge her effort.

“Good job!”
“You can do it, Larry!”

I take off and suddenly remember I hadn’t set my watch to track my time. Too much time sitting around, or too many distractions, I don’t know why I forgot to change it. Now I’m shuffling as fast as I can while pushing buttons on my watch. In five years of racing I have never done this, but I manage to get the watch on the stopwatch setting about 10 or 20 seconds into the race.

Jane finished in the low teens among the women, so I’ve got a few people ahead of me. I quickly pass two, and before we hit the next mile I pass another. It’s kind of fun, catching others from behind. I run the first mile in about 5:35, which is pretty good given the weather. Lake Merritt is a flat course, but contains a number of turns. The sidewalk that we run on is modestly wide, but the lake is a favorite place for pedestrians of all speeds, and numerous streetlights and trash cans narrow the sidewalk in many places. These obstacles force me to step onto the street and jump back onto the sidewalk fairly often.

About two miles in I pass Ralph Gowen and then approaching the third mile I pass a high school runner. The last phase of the course goes over a hill, which causes my heart to feel like it’s lodged in my throat. I pass the finish as the clock reads 40:14 for Jane and me.

I feel rejuvenated after the run, nothing like the post-marathon fatigue and pain I had a few weeks earlier. Several minutes later Jane, Paul and I stroll over to the awards announcements. I won this race in 2006 with Diane Dove as my partner. The next year Diane and I finished first in our age group and third overall. We didn’t receive anything for our results, and I’m not expecting anything this time.

To my surprise and delight the Lake Merritt Joggers and Striders are giving gift certificates to each age group winner! First place in our age group (combined ages 60-99) is a gift certificate to a restaurant I’ve wanted to visit, Flora. Jane and I place second, about a minute and a half behind Carrie and Steve Chavez, and 11th overall. I’m very happy with the result, but Jane is not so satisfied.

“I could run faster,” she says.

I assure Jane that we couldn’t have beaten the Chavezes, but she’s not convinced. She has a year to work at it. It’s an ambitious goal, but if she wants to try to win next year, I’d be glad to be her teammate.

Third Time Around

The morning is foggier than I expected. When I last ran this marathon two years ago the weather was sunny and beach music provided its up-tempo and relaxing melodies, the perfect combination for running. Today all I see is gray with oil derricks on the east side of the Pacific Coast Highway on my right.

I run the first mile in 6:10, a little faster than my desired 6:30 pace. The course is better than before. In 2007 we hit the only hills about two-thirds through the race. We also merged with the half-marathoners about halfway through the course. This kept me from getting any water since the slower runners clogged the water stations. This year the hills are before 10 miles and we run on opposite sides of the road from the half-marathoners.

Past the hills I'm running ahead of a 6:30 pace. The field is about 1,900 runners, about twice as large as in 2007. I'm running alone, which doesn't help me maintain a pace. Through 13 miles I'm still ahead of schedule, which surprises me in one sense. When I train I can barely hold my target pace for a few miles, but when I race its effortless, at least for a while.

One element that is not going well is my race fueling. I've taken a couple of the Cliff Shot Blocks and am feeling a bit nauseous. I keep making excuses to not eat any more. "Just one more mile." "After the next water stop." "When I get out of this pack of runners," which is ridiculous since there's no one around me.

The 16th mile takes us north on the beach. We pass RVs and surfers, but I have to focus because we're hitting a slight headwind. At this point my running mechanics are faltering and the added resistance is making each step more difficult. I keep pushing, knowing that the wind will be at my back in a few miles, but I don't see the lead runners so the turnaround must be a long way ahead.

When I reach the end and turn around, I welcome the assistance of the wind, but every part of my body below the waist hurts. It's now 20 miles and I'm still on a 6:30 pace. My feet hurt, so I try to soften my steps. But I can't do it because that would require absorbing more of the impact with my thighs, which are tight and sore. I can't take lighter steps, landing more on my forefoot, because my ankles hurt.

I'm running out of gas, so I take whatever electrolyte drink they're giving along the course. Fortunately my stomach doesn't react poorly to the solution. I'm just not strong enough to keep up the pace. I slow considerably, even with the tailwind. Every change in elevation, no matter how small, is painful. The last stage of the race returns us from the beach to the Pacific Coast Highway. I can't wait for the race to end. Two guys pass me down the homestretch. My last sprint to the finish line gets me to the end in 2:53:34. My pace over the last 6.2 miles was 7:30, a full minute slower than over the first 20.

I finish 13th out of 1,977, fourth in my age group (M40-44). It's the third time in a row that I've run a marathon in 2:53. This seems to be one distance that I'm destined to not improve upon.

The race features a unique surboard finishers medal. On top of that I received a large medal and nice jacket for finishing the third leg of the California Deraming Race series. Of the three races Long Beach International was my favorite, not taking expenses into consideration. Northern California runners would do best to wake up for the 5:30 AM start for San Francisco and avoid the travel costs for the SoCal races. Between the two Southern California races, the weather is better in Long Beach, but the competition is more difficult.

San Francisco is on my calendar for 2009, and if I ever run Long Beach again, I'll try to do Surf City for the California Dreaming gifts.

If I make any adjustment it will be to run my annual marathon later in the year. Training in the dark is too bleak, and I'd enjoy the speedwork more if I'm running races instead of huffing around Alameda on my own.

PR in '09?

Tomorrow is Super Bowl Sunday and my annual marathon. I race every Super Bowl Sunday to remind me to stay active on this holiday of inactivity. Winter marathons keep me motivated to train in the dark and damp months. I force myself to run most mornings wearing a headlamp and gloves. This year's race is the Surf City Marathon in Huntington Beach. Formerly known as the Pacific Shoreline Marathon a couple of years ago, the marathon's host city has branded itself Surf City, much to the displeasure of Santa Cruz, which has its own surfing heritage. To prove a point, Huntington Beach labels every possible activity Surf City something.

I'm cautiously optimistic about this race, because I emerged relatively healthy from the training. I hope to break 2:50, which would be a PR by three minutes. I use a 12-week program from Runner's World, maxxing out at 55 miles in any week. I averaged about 46 miles a week, and missed only a couple of days because of illness. Last year I reached a maximum of 60 miles a week, and stretched the program out over 14 weeks. I also missed two weeks of training with the flu and averaged two miles less per week than this year.

I was pleasantly surprised how well I performed the race pace workouts that began in early January. The pace was 6:30 per mile, and I was able to do a 4 x 2.5 mile, and 3 x 3 mile. Later I was unable to complete a 2 x 4 mile and a 2 x 3 mile. I rebounded last Saturday with a strong eight mile run at marathon pace, and felt really good about the race tomorrow.

I'll enter the race with two unknowns, which is never a good thing for a marathon. After considering several options, I decided to wear a new pair of my Boston Classic training shoes instead of buying race shoes. I figured that buying shoes for a distance that I only run once a year wasn't worth it, and I didn't feel comfortable wearing my usual race shoes for 26.2 miles. I reduced the weight a bit by cutting the instep portion from the sock liner and using only the forefoot cushion. This leaves me with my orthotics to support the rear of the foot. The other experiment is going with Cliff Shot Blocks, which I haven't used in about year for race fuel. My favorite snacks are Luna Moons because they give me the smallest aftertaste of any race nutritional supplement. Unfortunately the Alameda Bicycle shop where I buy them was out of stock early in the week and I couldn't get back before we left town.

Race prep is generally very good. We're staying at the super nice and expensive Hyatt Regency Resort and Spa, which is just across the street from the race. Maylee went to the expo with me and then played in the beach for a while. The hotel upgraded us to the Governor's Suite, which is so big that we invite Mandy's cousin Yvonne and her family over for dinner. They brought a variety of entrees from the Cheesecake Factory and some cheesecake. Maylee had fun playing with Yvonne and Richard's children, especially Miranda. After the Perez family left, Maylee lost herself in bubbles in the whirlpool bath.

Everyone is fed, clean and relaxed, and we're off to bed.