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September 2018 training recap

September 2018 training recap

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It’s probably redundant to begin each monthly recap here on le blog with sentiments conveying holy shit, how is another month behind us already????! …but damn.

How is September already behind us?!

It’s that time of year, and it’s awesome. There’s so much going on, so much to look forward to, and lots of opportunities for fresh beginnings, that on any given day, I just feel like I bop around (for lack of a better phrase) from task to task, doing lots of behind-the-scenes stuff to help keep The Ship moving in the right direction.

 

apple picking at the end of September with Brownie families at the ranch

It’s particularly during times like these that I am especially happy that I run and that I have chosen to train for, and race, marathons. It’s a luxury, and I get that, but damn, am I ever lucky and fortunate to have it.

although admittedly, sometimes I forget about this great luxury and just laugh at myself when I sorta piss myself (reason #197123497 why runners wear black shorts!)

I’m at a proverbial season in life that finds my days very segmented and regimented, leaving very little/virtually no wiggle room for error, so when it comes to my running, it’s important to me that every run has a purpose. Don’t get me wrong: I’m one of those types of runners who loves to run all the time, with or without something on the calendar. However, that said, I find that my enjoyment factor is significantly higher — and to be honest, I use my time much better — when I’ve got a deadline (a race) to work toward.

This is all to say that even though this is one of the busiest times of the year for my family and for me, I absolutely love — and am so incredibly grateful — to have begun training for CIM in earnest in September. I ended September with over 200 miles in the bank, about 213, and ran a few races in the mix, including the 6k GGP Open XC meet in SF, the 5k XC meet at Garin, and Viva Calle SJ’s inaugural 5k for fun (the day after Garin, and as part of a LR, woof. No RR because I’m lazy, but it was fun). I’m working under Lisa’s tutelage again for CIM, just as I did for SF ‘18 and CIM ‘17, and we’re having fun with it. On some runs, I feel like my ass is getting handed to me, but for the most part, my ass has been staying exactly where it should be… or something. At any rate, I’m getting stronger, and I feel really, really good.

 

At the GGP XC open, I felt strong throughout and paced it much better than I did in 2017, leading to a small XC PR for that course.
(PC: WRC)

 

first time racing Garin XC, and man, that was tough! …but also super fun. Runners are twisted. (PC: WRC)

 

lots of fun at VivaCalle SJ with Janet (also one day post-Garin) and Ashley. It was a super flat 5k course that would be very PR-conducive. (PC: Ashley)

Suffice it to say that September was good to me as it pertains to my running. Sure, there are definitely enormous dumpster fires going on in other areas of my life right now that leave me equal parts pissed and scratching my head in utter disdain, but as for running… hooray! Let’s keep it up! 

YAY RUNNING

————

Eliud effing Kipchoge. How amazing was it to watch him shatter the world marathon record in Berlin in the beginning of September? I know it’s old news by now, but man. We’re going to feel that reverberating for years (decades) to come. I think I read just about everything I could find on the subject on the internet and still feel like I didn’t get enough. Something that I find especially attractive about him (in a “you’re a really fantastic human being” type of sense) is his apparent humility and his absolute eloquence. So much of what I’ve read about him lately — as post-Berlin reactions or otherwise — seem to be completely surprised by how this super fast guy, from probably pretty humble beginnings, can be so supremely athletically gifted and incredibly philosophical and cerebral (if not professorial) simultaneously. You (we) don’t have to treat these tenets as being mutually exclusive. After all, runners often make terrific writers (and by extension, communicators), as we all are well aware. There’s so much online on the subject of runners being writers, and writers being runners, that it strikes me as odd that people seem to be so amazed that this guy’s (really, really) good at both.

 

Boston. Fresher news in the running world revolves around Boston ‘19 and Boston ‘20 and namely, that in order to make Boston ‘19, runners had to run a BQ time -nearly 5 minutes. As if that isn’t powerful enough, the BAA tightened standards beginning for ‘20 and tightened everyone’s qualifying times by 5 minutes. For ‘20, that means just to qualify — not to guarantee your entry and secure a slot in the field — the youngest men will need to run no slower than a 3:00:00 and the youngest women, a 3:30:00. In reality, of course, assuming that the field continues to be as competitive as it was for ‘19, men and women in the youngest age groups (18-34) will likely need closer to a 2:54/2:53 or a 3:25/24 to stand a better chance of their qualifying time being fast enough to allow them entrance to the coveted field. Let that sink in for a minute. A 2:53 marathon. A 3:24 marathon. And those folks would be the slowest qualifiers in the fastest age-based field.

Honestly, I’m pretty stunned. Needing to be five minutes faster than your qualifying time is pretty huge. Boston times are already pretty fast, though I think the delta between men’s and women’s qualifying times may be worth examining. But to require BQ minus-5 minutes (or more) to ensure acceptance? I wonder how much longer it’ll take before BQ times are closer to that of NYC qualifiers.

Personally, essentially nothing has changed for me. I’m about to hop age groups, so my ‘20 qualifying time will stay the same (3:35:00). Unfortunately, I don’t have any solutions as to how the BAA can make this any easier on anyone — I think it boils down to supply/demand 101 — but man. My heart hurts for people who are on the cusp.

I’m really glad I ran Boston the two times I did, but at the second time — literally when I was within the first mile of the race (I remember it vividly, I was on the right side of the road) — I decided then and there that I didn’t want to return to Boston for a long, long time. I trained with people who have gone on to become my lifelong friends, we had an amazing training cycle together through a predictably shitty Chicago winter, and C and I had just an absolute blast in Boston together (pre-kiddos). The icing on my Boston cake was that I ran a great Boston, requalified, and just ran with great joy from start to finish. My Boston experience was positive, and while I feel confident that I can run a faster time there now, I don’t know if my cumulative experience can top what I already have. Sharing is caring, right? Why try to have a “better” experience if you’re already pretty damn happy and satisfied with what you already did? My personal opinion is that unless you are completely en fuego for Boston, don’t register for it. “Give” “your” “spot” to someone who wants to do it with all his/her heart and soul and who has been busting ass to get there. That’s just me, however. Do whatever you want. 

Continuing to qualify is still such a huge honor for me. That’s enough. At this point in my life, I’d much rather revel in my training partners’ and friends’ Boston trainings and experiences because I know how special it all is. I’ve been there. I understand. If you’re reading this and so badly want to be Boston-bound, take it from Desi. Keep.showing.up. I will gladly and enthusiastically support you. I get it. It’s a big deal, and if it’s important to you, keep grinding. You’ll get there.

showing up. (PC: Janet)

Reading. I was still in a bit of a lull this month with reading. I haven’t made any more progress on Handmaid’s. I started Dopesick, and while it’s pretty good, it’s just really, really hard to read because my mind goes to my cousin and starts playing all the hypothetical, what if? games. I finally, just recently, got my hands on a copy of Bad Blood (after waiting for it for a few months from the library), and holy shit, it is absolutely ridiculous in just about every way possible. I am so intrigued, enthralled, and disgusted, pretty much all at the same time. I have no words.

Listening. I came upon a new-to-me podcast called Bodies whose pilot I listened to (about birth control), and it was okay. I haven’t listened to another episode simply because I haven’t been in the mood for it. Lauren Fleshman’s and Jesse Thomas’ Work Play Life podcast has had some great episodes in the past month, and Lauren’s guest appearance on Mario’s podcast, the morning shakeout, this month is well worth a listen, too. I also really enjoyed Ben Rosario on Lindsey’s show, I’ll Have Another, and would recommend that to anyone, particularly — and especially — if you’re a fan of Hoka pro athletes. Lots of listening-about-running to be sure, but with it being fall marathon season and all, it’s to be expected.

Writing. Less freelancing this month due to some structural changes for the company/guy for whom I was ghostwriting this past month, but still a little bit, which was fun. I think I may be starting to write under my own actual name (what a novelty!), so maybe I’ll start linking to some of it here on le blog if it actually transpires.

Racing. Racing definitely played a part in my September, including two XC PA races at Garin and in GGP, and for funsies, the inaugural VivaCalle SJ 5k. Come October, I’ll likely do some more XC action as well as a half marathon (gasp!) and some 10ks as part of my build for CIM. In my book, anytime of year is a fantastic time to be a runner, but there’s just something so awesome about running and racing in the autumn.

crispy mornings is part of the autumnal running fun! sorry I blurred your face, Janet!

Family. September was pretty stacked, thanks to the beginning of the school year and the “beginnings” of other life aspects starting up again in earnest, and unfortunately, included in that mix was the eventual folding of my eldest’s swim program. What was a thirty-plus year-old institution is now gone, and the organization that came in to essentially “save” them has also quickly come and gone, leading some to believe that something nefarious may be underfoot, something that starts with E and ends with mbezzlement. Yeah. Not good. Trying to explain business stuff is hard enough as it is, particularly if you’re not equipped with a robust business acumen (ahem), but trying to explain lots of changes to a 7 year-old who’s invested lots of time and energy into being part of one particular team, at one particular location, with particular coaches and teammates — who then had it all taken out from under her — is tough. She’s not alone, obviously, which just makes the magnitude of suckery that much worse. She’s since begun swimming with another organization, so life has gone on, but we could have done without that dumpster fire that consumed the better part of the month.

pre-swim goofing around. IIRC, we just finished doing push-ups just cuz.

In preschooler news, she loves it and gave me a good meltdown the other night when I told her we couldn’t go to school at 7pm because it wasn’t open. When she asked me again at 7am if it was time to go, and I said no, another meltdown ensued. How sweet it is to genuinely love school that much.

besides being completely filthy after school, she also comes home with produce they’ve picked from the garden, which is awesome for all the obvious reasons.

That’s about it for September. I felt like I was surrounded by dumpster fires in many regards, fires that seemed futile to try to put out, but I guess just like anything else in life, control that which you can and let go of that which you cannot. Knowing your limits can be empowering, or it can be frustrating. Like just about anything else in life, it’s your choice, your call to make.

we got a lot of wear out of that Wonder Woman costume in September

Final quarter of 2018.

…!

Garin Park Cross Country (XC) Challenge race recap – Hayward, CA

Garin Park Cross Country (XC) Challenge race recap – Hayward, CA

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Garin. Sounds like Erin, conveniently, with a G in front of it.

In the almost five years that my family and I have lived here, and for about the same length of time that I’ve been running with my Wolfpack team, I think every time I’ve heard someone mention racing cross-country at Garin, it’s been like watching the part in the Lion King (bear with me) when the hyenas are talking about how every time they udder the word “Mufasa,” the antagonist’s archenemy, the mere word sends an intractable chill down their spines. They can’t say Mufasa without shuddering; similarly, people here won’t speak of Garin without following it with some sort of moan or groan. Garin. Gaaaaaaaaarin.

It’s never oh, the course is so pretty! or the hills make you so much stronger later!

It’s always it’s hilly. It’s hard as hell.  It’s hella holey right off the starting line. It’s hot and exposed. God I hate that course.

It sounds super fun, right? Why not go try to race a 5k that has a couple hundred feet of elevation gain on terrain that alternates being flat but completely pocked with gopher holes everywhere (watch those ankles!), to some healthy-but-doable-climbs, to some fierce downhills that you kinda have to hope that the laws of physics and gravity won’t betray you, to more uneven footing, and more climbing, and more harsh downhill?

Add to the terrain mix the idea that, with it being a 5k and all, the idea is to redline as much as (un)comfortably possible.

And couple with those characteristics the backdrop of the rest of the east bay hills, which makes for a beautiful run and some sweeping views, but also the potential for the race to be hot hot hot — free of any tree cover or canopy whatsoever.

Again: it sounds super fun, right? Why not pay money to do something like this?!

I didn’t race Garin last year for some reason — I might have been doing a LR that day at home instead, or that might have been right after C’s surgery — so going into this storied race and course that my team has been doing for-just-about-ever,  I was blissfully unaware of what I was getting myself in to. Sorta.

I was delighted to learn that the women would be racing first, at 9am, since historically, I had heard that this was the only race on the PA XC circuit wherein the women raced last (read: in the hotter mid-morning weather). Plus, even better, come race day, Garin greeted us with a TON of fog, throwing at us some lovely autumnal crispy morning weather.

warming-up over one of the hills we climbed in the race

 

working on my mid-run photog skills. I’d give this a C+

We fielded a full men’s and women’s team this year, which made the morning even more fun than usual, making it as much a social opportunity as a racing one. Janet and I carpooled up to the east bay, and upon getting there, ran about a 2.5 mile warmup with our other lady Wolves who’d be racing that morning. Only a handful of the women that day had raced Garin before, but I think all of us knew going in that this course would be a tough one and that people spoke so trepidatiously about it with good reason. We had just covered most of the race course in our warm-up miles; we knew what was awaiting us.

full Wolfpack squad at Garin (minus Isaac, who (appropriately) was climbing some hill somewhere) PC: WRC

My strategy for the race was pretty straightforward: stay controlled on the first mile, most of which was flat or uphill; open it up on the downhills and continue to stay controlled on the uphills in the second and third-ish miles; and on the last 1200m to home — flat (with maybe a teeny, tiny uphill) — hammer. Oh, and not eat shit. That is always the (laudable) goal in these XC races.

the lady Wolves who raced Garin this year. PC: WRC

Much as I did at the SF GGP open a couple weeks ago, at Garin, I never looked at my watch for the pace. Even when the mile marked beeped, I didn’t bother. I didn’t know it; I didn’t want to know it; I honestly didn’t care. Teammates have told me before that in XC, time matters less than place, and I think I’ve finally taken that to heart and have tried to race fairly strategically (or at least attempt to). The goal is to be the team with the lowest finishing score (akin to golf), so what matters more is finishing placement: try not to get passed. Pass as many women as you can. That sorta thing.   

Right off the line, I found myself fairly far back in the pack, per yoosh with the PA races (and especially XC), but I tried not to worry about it, thinking that I still had 2.1+ miles to make up for it and move ahead. With our team’s new highlighter orange jerseys, it makes it super easy to spot us, and this was especially true during the race. Even though the course was pretty ensconced in fog, I could make out my teammates ahead of me at any given time, which was fun as I willed myself to pull myself closer to them.

right off the starting line and in full-on “don’t eat shit, don’t eat shit” mode (PC: WRC)

Running most of the course during the warm-up was also helpful because I had a good idea of what to anticipate. Certainly, running at XC race pace feels completely different than running casually over the same terrain, but it still helped to think ok, after this big climb, we have a big downhill or the footing is tricky here, so we better stay over to the right or whatever. I absolutely didn’t anticipate how much my eyes would be watering — and how hard it would be to see while careening downhill — but hey, XC is nothing if not full of surprises, right? (I almost always wear sunglasses while I run for this very reason, but I decided not to that morning because it was so foggy out).

Most of the rest of the race is a blur and passed by relatively quickly. It was cool to see my female teammates ahead of me on some of the hills — Claire (our lead woman) was like a beacon in the sea, guiding us all safely to home — and of course, hearing the support from my male teammates (whose race was after ours) mid-course was a fantastic pick-me-up. I tried super hard to stay mentally engaged, to not check out when things got tough, and to not ease up on the downs. Let me tell you: keeping the effort high on the descents was tough! I’m typically not a particularly fast or brave downhill runner, and holy shit, I felt like I had some pretty close calls racing the descents. I thought that whole don’t eat shit goal was hanging precariously in the balance.

I wanted to finish with a really strong kick over the final 1200m, especially if it was going to be the flattest part of the course. I finished feeling like I didn’t have a whole lot left to give and managed to finish as our 4th woman that day, behind Claire, Lani, and Shannon, but I also thought that I probably could have worked harder on the final finishing straight. Runners typically tend to think this way, right? I could have done better, pushed harder. Eh. Next year.

the last little bit before the finish line (PC: WRC)

 

really, really uncomfortable right before the finish line and quelling said discomfort with a big ol’ smile (science!) (PC: WRC)

Shortly after the women’s race, the men toed the line, so my lady Wolves and I got in some CD miles while cheering them on at various parts in the race. Fortunately, the fog was still hanging out, so the open’s men race also had more pleasant-than-usual temps for their Garin experience. I think all of us, save for the master’s men who raced last, after the fog had dissipated and the temps began heating up, got pretty lucky this year with race day weather.

cooling down in a different part of the park (that wasn’t on the XC course)

I can definitely see why or how many runners would view Garin somewhat antagonistically, in some type of twisted love-hate relationship. Without a doubt, it’s a hard course.

That said, honestly, I think that’s part of what makes XC so gratifying though (and, going out on a limb here, such a “pure” type of running): it’s you against the terrain. That’s it. You know it’s going to be hard.

You’re not signing up for these types of races in exchange for sponsor-splashed swag, or copious amounts of on-course entertainment, or an Old Country Buffet-style of food options afterward. It’s you, your race bib pinned on your singlet, the course, and an official time. Oh, and a couple Dixie cups of water afterward, provided you remember to grab some.

There are no roads closed off, no real accommodations to speak of to make for an “easier” racing experience, no nothing. The fastest way out is through.

Chalk up the experience to another deposit to the bank of mental and physical callusing for CIM.