Sunday, April 27, 2008

Wife Breaks Course Record at Sullivan Triathlon


Shev had a great day on Sunday. She set the course record in cloud covered and windy conditions. The prize was $100 gift certificate. But, the money hasn't changed her a bit. She went to work on monday as if her financial picture were the same as before the win. She also assures me she'll stay with me (I got her as a mail order bride. Hey, when you factor in the bike shipping she cost me a FORTUNE!). I asked her about the pool swim and she told me she prefers open water to pool swims but the race was well organized.





Shev's swim time (including transition) was 7:03, Bike time as 37:14, and a 21:21 bike. Overall, her time as 1:07. She finished 17th in a field of 300. WAY TO GO SWEETIE, YOU ROCK! Despite the long drive, several other IVS folks including Chris Alexander, Nancy Margitas (3rd overall) and Regina Hartley (didn't you just run BOSTON?!? WOW!) also made it down to compete. Way to represent P-Town folks!



Saturday, April 26, 2008

Kaila's thoughts about Faster Than Schroff

video

Last Saturday after dinner I decided to record daughter's thoughts for Faster Than Schroff. I am a GOD in her eyes :-)

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Go Out Fast -- Runners World 5k Strategy



To run your best 5-K, new research suggests a more aggressive approach.


Wednesday, April 23, 2008

A Fresh Perspective on Recovery Runs

Last Mile Boston 08! These Chicks Rock!


Dire Tune, #7, pulls away from Alevtina Biktimirovai, #8, as they head for the finish line on Boylston Street in the 112th running of the Boston Marathon

Remember the Recovery Drink!




I finished team steam last night and was standing around talking trash w/ the guys. As you know by now, bs'ing is one of my favorite past times. My wife says I could complete my training in half the time if I didn't spend so much time flapping my gums. Hey, I have to keep my lips in shape too! By the time I got home, it was pretty dark and about 7:45. Nearly 2 hours had elapsed since my workout and I hadn't had anything to eat or drink. I really believe my recent running gains can be largely attributed to better rest and recovery (and running the correct paces). Getting something in you right after a workout is as important for your recovery as a day off! Don't forget to pack a bottle of the good stuff before you head out to the track. And be sure to get it in you right after you work out. Your body will thank you and the seconds on your Saturday races will continue to melt away. It's really all about the recovery! DRINK UP!

P.S. Honestly, Schroff....wouldn't you love to share your bottle with her?!?


Cheers,
Rob


Friday, April 18, 2008

Running in Five Fingers






Why be faster than Schroff?

I have the best friends in the world and live in the greatest running community anywhere. Peoria Illinois. My bud's are consumate Sh!t talkers. Of course...so am I. It keeps us going. We compete against with one another as if we were elite athletes. Some are older, some are younger. Schroff is one fast dude. I've not beaten him in a long, long time....

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

My Boston Marathon Experience

Boston this year will be very special for me because I will be participating in the Armchair Division. I have a great shot at placing in my age group.

Sure, I could have really used the $100,000 grand prize but me and the BWS have these DEEP GLUTE injuries (I don’t ever want to go camping with ANY of you guys again) preventing us from competing. This is what I recall of last years 111th running:

I got to Hopkinton real early to ensure I had a nice piece of muddy ground to lay down on before the rest of the sea of humanity arrived. I then walked about four miles to the Main Street starting line in my muddy soaked sneakers (feeling the start of my first blister) and waded into my designated starting area. The aroma was a pungent blend of Urine, Ben Gay and Aspercreme. The triple-action Gold Bond Powder was beginning to kick in (don’t have to worry about THAT itching anymore). About a mile in front of me was the starting line.
Knowing I had a great distance to travel (before I even reached the start), I began elbowing my way to the front of the corral. Even before the singing of the star spangled banner had ended, I picked my moment…. I trampled easily over a pack of 7 year old Cub Scouts who were not paying attention behind them. The gun went off (finally) and I jockeyed for position with 2 Grateful Dead groupies jogging in front of me. They were raising money for medicinal marijuana research! Anyway, they had great snacks.

A guy in a wheel chair ran over my foot! This was war! He was pretty easy to tip over and really looked much smaller on the ground. Practically helpless I thought to myself, then I realized he didn’t have a bib. (oops)A spectator. I don’t know exactly what I was doing on the sidewalk. I should have helped him back up but I really had to get to the starting line before my gel pack wore off.

I picked up the pace, looked up and saw a couple of Kenya toothpicks streak by me at approximately 35 mph. "Losers!" I yelled in their native tongue. I was pacing off a guy in a cow costume. I knew they’d fade long before we did!
Once I found my stride, I was on fire! I ran like Pre (well, actually more like pre-Pre)! I was able to keep that up for nearly 100 yards!

That's when my right knee flared up as if I'd been whacked by a baseball bat. It was my IT band snapping like a rotten racketball gut. No problem, I thought, I'll just tough it out. By the time I reached the first mile marker I had tripped over my shoelace (should have tied that thing better) and twisted my ankle. I started breathing kind of funny. You know that asthmatic "gasp-wheeze-gasp" sound I sometimes (ok always) make when I go out too hard?
I then settled in. Assuming the slow, steady posture of the long-distance dude! I had somehow made it to the five-mile mark in Ashland. I high-fived the guy in the cow costume, swung my hand out to grab some water but missed and somehow accidentally punched myself in the face. The force of the blow caused my nose to bleed quite profusely. It was all over my face (along with some snot) and my shirt. That’s when I noted the overhead cameras. Marathon Photo was snapping my picture! Frustrated and dizzy, I ran right into a motorcycle cop. I managed to scramble away before he could cite me for resisting cardiac arrest.


By now my carbo-loading (but spicy) pasta and seafood dinner was really paying off but then again my Jose-Cuervo-loading experiment was having the just opposite effect. I became distracted by what I first imaged was a scoop of ice cream deep in my chest but then I thought it was more reminiscent of a sour cream potato chips. What ever it was launched itself from my left lung onto the street. I was thinking how nice a porta-potty would be right about now!


Near the halfway point is just about the time you start to feel like quitting (again). Then you hear a chorus of cheers that crescendos to an almost-deafening roar as you approach Wellesley College. The Wellesley girls are famous for their nonstop cheering and "Kiss Me" and "Marry Me" signs, each of which have been motivating runners for decades. That's a stark contrast to the beer-swilling and less coherent but still somewhat motivating Boston College students near "Heartbreak Hill," between miles 20 and 21.


I started to get excited when a chorus of girls began chanting “Show us your tits!, Show us your tits!” Now, I’ve been married for just about 16 years. I didn’t think I’d let myself go that badly. I Thought, what the hell, I’ll ablige them. I lifted my shirt and showed off my bloody nips, and rotund belly and hardly noticable man boobs. Just then I noticed it was the guy in the cow costume they wanted. He flashed his udder! Click, click, click…..go figure. Another Marathon Photo moment! We were both prominately featured in that one. Arrrghhh!


Halfway up Heartbreak Hill, I was gripped by the sensation that an angry badger was trying to claw his way into my chest cavity. Fortunately, I was only choking on a Power Bar that I found on the road. OK. Time to get serious, I gotta ditch this cow! I switched the Garmin to kilometers for a while to make it seem like I'd covered more ground. Wow! My pace in kilometers is impressive!


This was about the time, I came across Matt Stevenson having a similar afternoon. Things were getting a little fuzzy, and I really couldn't say where I was. Matt didn’t want to even admit he knew me. I was a mess. Some guy ran up to me, noticing my IVS tee (you could still read it with even with all the blood and snot) and started talking about the Morton pumpkin thing. He had a pony tail and looked kinda like a cross between Rosie O’Donnell and Paul Revere. I haven’t ever seen him around town but I’ll never forget the face. Was I there yet? Nope.

I have no recollection whatsoever of Miles 22-25 except my buddy, the Big Willie Style appeared out of nowhere. I thought he had decended from the clouds. He looked like Jesus to me! To this day I still feel funny cussing around him. No shit, honest story.

I must have regained consciousness with about a quarter-mile to go because I distinctly remember the ghost of the legendary Johnny Kelley (#1 now and forever) tapping me on the shoulder and yelling at me to "keep going, kid." OK maybe not.

Hypothermic, with a bloody nipple, no toenail on the right big one, I crossed the finish line! Me and Big Willie decided this was our ABSOLUTE LAST MARATHON EVER! I then tried to hail an ambulance back to my hotel room. No luck. When my wife caught site of me, she tried to hide her head behind the program she was reading but my kids gave her away. I really can’t blame her. Something decidedly un-sweat like was streaming down my leg, blood flowed from my right nipple and snot was encrusted on my face. I would eventually regain a full range of motion in my pelvis.

So that's my story. What really makes the Boston Marathon unique is that not everyone can run in it. Except for a handful of charity entrants, all runners must meet an age-graded, gender-specific qualifying time to earn a spot on the starting line. Somehow I was lucky enough to qualify. And when you train all year - or in some cases for several years - to earn a qualifying time, it makes the race a time-tested badge of honor for those who make it. Congrats Guys! Enjoy your day.