Traditions a-two! a Chapter & a Race Report

I've got two traditions it's only fair I keep up on. I know you don't see me postin so much, but it is what it is.

So, first things first, a Race Report.

I ran my fifth half marathon on Sunday April 7, the inaugural Rock'n'Roll San Francisco Half Marathon. It shared about half of the same course as my last race (the SF Giants Half), except for the added bonus of running up to and across the Golden Gate Bridge. That was the real reason I wanted to run the race; also because it was the very first Rock'n'Roll SF race.

the last race report I made was long and detailed; this one, not so much.

My training was pretty standard, with lots of daily runs combined with a weekly long run the month before the race. As is my tradition (and highly recommended for anyone's training regimen), I was sure to get a 10 and 12 mile run in before the race. I also fit in several long bike rides in the weeks and months before the race, ranging from 20-40 miles. My pace was consistently about the same as my last race, so I figured i'd be right up about there.

The day before the race (saturday april 6), I had to go up to the Expo in San Francisco to pick up my race packet and look over the stuff. The Rock'n'Roll Expos are pretty quality, so i wanted to see what was there and gather the free swag I could. Anyways, I figured I wanted to get a good warm-up workout in on Saturday, get my heart rate up and my blood going. I figured a bike ride would be good, since it was low-impact and worked my legs without using the exact same running muscles. So rather than take BART back to Fremont, I followed it to the other end of the line in Millbrae, and then rode home. It was about 35 miles, no hills, and with the wind at my back.

Yeah, it was too far. I should have maxed my ride out at 20 miles. Of course, once I was out on the ride there was no turning back and i wouldn't realize my mistake until the next day.

So I got to the race in good time, felt good and hydrated. I didn't get as much sleep as I wanted to (i'm not a fan of starting times at 7am, you know), but that's par for my course. I had a rain-panic moment when it sprinkled a tiny bit about 15 minutes before the race, but then it was gone and the weather was nice.

It was humid, though. Not midwest humid, but definitely more humid than California is used to. I don't think that affected me much, but I did notice it.

They released all of the corrals in staggered starting times, each one by themselves. I've never been in a race that did that, and I wasn't expecting it. I always sort of plan for a slower, easier mile 1 while I deal with the crowd of slower runners. Wasn't the case, since most of hte people in my corral were at my same pace.

We crossed the start line, and then promptly climbed up a hill. Should have been my first clue. In four previous races, i've never really ran any hills. I dont' do much hill training for running, although I do climb a lot of steep hills/mountains in my bicycle rides.

There were hills on this course. I used some of the same techniques I'd developed for hill climbing on my bike, leaning back and "settling in," controlling my breathing and heart rate. Seemed to work alright, and then we went downhill.

I don't like running downhill. Maybe it's the minimalist shoes, maybe it's the lack of training and understanding on how to do it well, but I would rather run uphill than down. And it was then, going downhill, that my quads remembered the bicycle ride. I felt them twitch and complain every time I was pointed downhill. There were four major hills on the course, and the last one was at the last half of the last mile.

I felt really good at mile 6, 7, and 8, but by mile 10 I felt muscle fatigue rolling in. I knew then that I'd overdone the bike ride the day before. All I could do was hang on and keep going. A random twist of fate had muted my phone, and for the first time in a race, I had no idea what my pace was. I knew nothing of my time, whether it was fast or slow or on-time. Usually my phone chirps out my pace at each mile. I was running time-blind. I was curious to see how I would do without it. Long story short, in the future I want to know my times.

On that final hill, in that final mile, my thighs had enough. Going down that hill, they revolted. I could feel them tightening up, twitching, threatening to cramp. I had to walk, and stop to stretch them out. I felt the race slip away from me, and I got disappointed. I was resigned to the fact that my time was slipping away and my legs would not let me fight that. After a minute or two of walking and stretching, they calmed down and I was able to run the last quarter of a mile or so across the finish line.

I pressed stop on the MapMyRun app on my phone, and looked down to see hwo bad my time was. My phone read a total distance of 13.6 miles with a total time of 2:00:00. Two hours flat, unofficial time. I had expected much worse. my official chip time came in at 1:59:57. that is not a personal best, but is not but a minute slower.

If I ran that race again the next weekend (without a 36 mile bike ride the day before), I'm sure I would have knocked at least two minutes off of my time.

So, all and all, I was satisfied with the result. I still came in under 2 hours. I beat a course with unexpected hills. I learned a lesson about overdoing it the day before. We'll call it a success.

Maybe that was longer than I intended. So  sue me.

What's next? Well, I'm looking at a couple of options:

• Levi's GranFondo by pro cyclist Levi Leipheimer
• The Coastal Challenge Panama 2014
• Climbing for Kids Mt Whitney, fundraising for Bay Area Wilderness Training
• and of course, maybe the SF Giants Half or the Rock'n'Roll San Jose Half

Tradition two, then, a Chapter Excerpt

I finally scrapped together and finished my latest chapter in my novel. This is sort of misleading; I haven't actively been working on it, but I've scrapped together just enough to finish it up now. I did come to two conclusions while on training runs, thinking about the novel. I realized I was missing a very important character, the femme fatal, from the Detective's Story. I immediately wrote her into the chapter, and reworked the outline to include her. I also came to the conclusion that I needed to change the Singer's Tale to more of a narrative flow. Thankfully I won't have to make any changes to previous chapters already written for her, but future chapters will be affected. And a previously minor character (a player on the Kansas City Monarchs baseball team) will play a bigger role than previously thought.

Another bonus, this chapter featured the first direct crossovers from the three stories, as characters from the Singer's Tale make (brief) appearances in the Detectives Tale.

But anyways, here it is, an excerpt in two parts from Chapter 7, from the Detective's Story:

I collected my car, and looked at the address I'd jotted down in my notebook from Mabel. It was just off of Ward Parkway; if the Study Club was class, this was world class. Unlike the Study Club, I'd made my visits down there. Wealthy wives suspecting their husbands infidelity, and the other way around. They paid more of my bills than I cared to admit sometimes, but a job was a job.

I turned the car south, and was grateful for the wind through the window. The buildings spread out, the boulevards grew wider, the trees seemed greener, and I couldn't help but think of white-washed tombs. If there was one thing I'd learned in all my jobs, we might think we were all modern and improved, but people haven't really changed in two thousand years. We just look cleaner on the outside.

and...

I tipped my hat to the clerk at the desk, and turned up the stairs right by the door. The Phillips had a small balcony overlooking the lobby I could spy for my tail from when he followed me through the door. The bar area by the balcony was mostly empty, but a broad was leaning against the railing, the sort of broad you read about in the detective pulps. She had a tall glass in one hand, a cigarette in the other, and she was perched right where I wanted to be. I saddled up next to her, retrieved a cigarette of my own and asked for a light.

“Ain't that the oldest way in the world to meet a gal,” she said, and still produced a lighter from her handbag. As she lit my cigarette, I could see the ring on her finger, the sort with a rock large enough to impress the other ladies at the country club and a loose enough fitting to disappear when it was convenient. I kept one eye on the door, waiting for my tale to slip in at any moment, but the other was fixed firmly on her.

“I always thought a pretty woman should never have to light her own cigarette,” I told her, “but it looks like you didn't wait for me.”

“You just told the story of my life, mister, never waitin' long enough for the right guy to come along.”

Maybe I see you soon, maybe I don't!