After a surviving the March proposal deluge and a battle with shin splints I’m back. New posts coming soon!

My long Saturday run started like a number of those before it (a little hungover). It started off at a nice, steady pace. About 6:55. A little slower than I would have liked but I was running into a pretty good headwind. I sped up the pace a little, right around 6:45-50.

After the first few miles I was feeling pretty good; not great but good. As I approached Sterling Blvd. my mind began to wander as it often does. On this day I was running 13 miles; one tenth a mile short of what I ran in Sarasota a little less than two weeks ago. So as often the case after a race, I began to play Monday morning quarterback.

What if? What if I hadn’t been sick for the Sarasota Half Marathon? How would I have done? Sub 1:30? Easily. Sub 1:25? Perhaps.

As I approached the Route 28 overpass I knew 6.5 miles was near; almost time to turnaround. By this time I had shaken off the remnants of the night before and was feeling pretty good. 6.5 miles. Finally out of the wind; time to turnaround. 6.5 mile split was just over 44 minutes. As I started the trek back my mind, again, drifted back to Sarasota. Still feeling good I picked up the pace to about 6:30. It was at this time I decided to challenge myself.

I wanted to see if I could maintain that pace or faster the whole way home. I wanted to see if I could beat my Sarasota Half time. By this time I was running with the wind and I was rollin’. I was able to maintain a little under a 6:30 pace the entire way home. My split coming back was just under 42 minutes. I finished the 13 miles in 1:26:06, with quite a bit of gas left in the tank. I demolished my Sarasota time.

So, had I been healthy for Sarasota I definitely think 1:24 could have been attainable. I guess we’ll find out May 17th in Fredericksburg.

To check out my run from Saturday follow this link.

This past week plus has been somewhat of a blur. Just over a week ago I touched down in South Florida, sick as a dog. Sandpaper in my throat; nose draining like a faucet. It wasn’t pretty. All that being said, it would have taken much more than a sore throat and runny nose to keep from the start line Sunday morning.

After a terrible night’s sleep Thursday night, I woke up Friday morning determined to get right (or as close as possible) before Sunday. I called my insurance company asking for the nearest clinic or urgent care facility in Sarasota. The more than helpful customer service rep gave me two places to try. So, we hit the road for the closest clinic (my buddy Jarrett was kind enough to chauffeur me around).

We get to the first clinic; I fill out the boiler plate medical forms and wait to be seen. And wait. And wait. Finally, the doctor comes out to the waiting room and informs me and the four people ahead of me that there is only one doctor and one nurse on duty; four hour wait. See ya. So we roll out and head out to the other clinic. I walk into the next clinic and am out the door in 20 minutes, prescription in hand.

That afternoon I headed out for my final run before race day. This would be the barometer for Sunday. Five miles at just under 7:00/mile, other than the abundance of snot I was feeling all right.

I spent most of Saturday taking it easy. We ran a few errands, nothing to strenuous. Saturday evening my buddy Jarrett gave me a lift over to my hotel (which by the way was only 0.3 miles from the start line). Once I checked in I headed up to my room, took a shower and “tried” to relax (note the word tried). As is usually the case before a big race, I was too jacked up for the next day and couldn’t fall asleep. Finally, after about an hour or so I was able to trick myself into getting some shut eye.

4:26AM. I was up four minutes before all three of my alarms (watch, BlackBerry, wake-up call). I took a quick shower to try and wake up, got dressed and downed two cups of oatmeal. I met my buddy Jarrett and our personal cheering section in the hotel lobby around 5:30AM and headed for the start line.

We walked out of hotel and the humidity smacked me in the face. It was dark, cloudy and humid enough to make a rain forest jealous. Once we got to the start line I went out for a nice easy mile warm up. Still dark. I took off my warm-ups and handed them off to my girlfriend headed to the corral.

I made my way up to the front of the corral and awaited instructions from the race M.C. Then, the final countdown 10, 9, 8…3, 2, BANG! Off we went.

(I must note this is the first race I have participated in where the half marathon and full marathon went off at the same time and to the credit of the race organizers it went off without a hitch.)

The first few miles I was cruising; able to settle into a good pace. 6:15/mile (give or take) for the first few miles. It was a little difficult to navigate through the neighborhoods of Sarasota. It was still dark. No moonlight; the streetlights were few and far between. After about Mile 4, I began to feel the effects of the humidity. The sweat just wasn’t going anywhere.

Mile 5, the John Ringling Causeway finally came into view. As I headed up the bridge (for the first time) I could feel a little burning in my quads as I made my way to the summit. I made series of loops that wound under and around the bridge and headed back across the causeway.

(Memo to the race organizers: Mile Marker 7 came way too early. There is no way in hell I ran a 5:23 split, especially factoring in how much my pace slowed going over the Causeway.)

The bridge was now in my rear view, now I knew it was smooth sailing (relatively) from here on out. Just after Mile 10 I could really start to feel myself running out of gas. It wasn’t that I that my lungs or body hurt (much); I just had no gas left in the tank. A lesson learned for next year; bring CLIF Gel or Hammer Gel.

Mile 12; I looked behind me to check on the competition. The guy behind me was at least 50 yards away. So, I figured if I was able to maintain my pace he wasn’t going to catch me. Mile 13; the path to the finish was a wide, winding concrete sidewalk. There was a woman running next to me and another about 20 yards in front of me. I know this is going to sounds extremely sexist (and it is) but I told myself, “There is no way in hell I am going to let these two chicks beat me.”

And they didn’t. About 100 yards from the finish I dug for every ounce of energy had left and sprinted for the finish. 1:30:13, 31st overall. After everything I went through leading up to this race I’m pretty happy with my time. I’m looking forward to doing the race again next year.

This unseasonably warm weather will provide a seamless transition from the NOVA winter chill to the balmy conditions of Southwestern Florida.

With a week to go and the hard work behind me, I am ready for race day. I threw down an easy ten miles @ 6:44 with ease on Saturday. I’m so jacked for next Sunday. February 15th can’t come soon enough.

Yesterday, I had my last long run before the Sarasota Half. Fifteen cold, windy miles in an hour and 46 minutes (7:05/mile). Even after fighting the wind and hills for a good part of the run I still had quite a bit of gas left in the tank at the end.

With the race less than two weeks away I really feel like 1:20 is within reach.

Coffee. Water. Gatorade. Greasy food. Aspirin. These are some of the more conventional ways to lessen the effects of a hangover.

On the “rare” occurrence I have one too many adult beverages; I make sure to throw down a couple aspirin with a glass of water when I roll out of the rack in the morning. However, my go to hangover cure is a nice, long run.

After a rather late night last night, with a few cocktails and more than a few beers, I woke up looking forward to my afternoon run. There’s nothing quite like getting out, pounding the pavement and shaking off the haze from the night before. Eight miles and 53 minutes later I felt like a new man.

Well, I planned on fourteen this morning; that didn’t happen. I had enough clothing on, just enough actually: tights, pants, short sleeve t-shirt, long sleeve t-shirt, vest, hat and gloves.

As is the case on most long runs, I had my fuel belt on with two, full bottles of water. The first mile or so wasn’t too bad. I started to warm up somewhat.

Shortly after mile two my fingers started to hurt. I kept plugging away. Around mile four I went to take a sip of water; nothing. Frozen solid. By this time my fingers were numb. So, I figured it was about time to throw in the towel for the day. Even though I am as stubborn and competitive as they come, I knew it was time to stop.

I am actually looking forward to the projected high of 34 tomorrow. Snow or not.

I took one last look at the local radar before I headed out for an easy eight Wednesday evening. Lots of green on the Doppler, no real spots of yellow in the area. I can deal with light rain.

I reached the four-mile mark, turned around and began the trek back. No sooner than I started to home did the deluge begin. As I approached the crossing at Hunter Mill I am already pretty soaked.

I stop and wait for a break in the traffic. And wait. And wait. I look down at my Garmin, about two minutes have elapsed. By this time I had made the transition from soaked to completely saturated. I’m taking on water like a sinking ship. I begin to contemplate, “Can they really not see me here in my BRIGHT green vest and red, blinking LED?”

(It’s not like it’s Route 7 or the Beltway. It’s Hunter Mill Road, with a posted speed limit of 25 MPH! I understand it’s rush hour and you want to get home, but so do I.)

I leaned out into the oncoming traffic lane as if I am going to just run into the road; still no luck. I began waving my arms over my head in a final, valiant attempt to get across. As I stood there, arms flailing, at least a dozen or so cars passed. Finally, one Good Samaritan decided to stop. Seeing the kind gesture, a vehicle traveling the opposite direction followed suit.

After I had crossed the road I looked down at my Garmin to check how much time had passed; five minutes. Five freakin’ minutes!

To the kind-hearted individuals who stopped to let me cross, you made my day. To everyone else THANKS FOR NOTHING!

With the New Year upon us, I have begun to see the annual migration of individuals make the pilgrimage from the couch to their local running trail. You know the type; all decked out in way to many layers of the latest fitness apparel. As you pass them you can almost hear each of them saying under their breath, “This is the year. This is the year I get back into shape.”

(Don’t get me wrong I am genuinely happy for those you are able to stay with it and meet there fitness goals.)

With the influx of new/returning runners I figured it would be a great time for a brief refresher on trail etiquette:

1) Announce when passing.

“Left.” “On your left.” “Passing.” Any of these will suffice.

2) Share the trail.

If you are running with a partner or group, that’s great! In fact, I encourage you to walk/run with a partner. A run is a great opportunity to enjoy time with a friend, neighbor or loved one. If you are running with a partner or group please stay out of the oncoming lane.

3) Move off the trail when stopped.

If you need to tie your shoe or take a swig of water please move off of the trial to do so.

Happy Running!

I had a scope done on my right knee in early August to fix a torn meniscus. Since then, I have been battling to get back into the shape I was in when summer started. Well, today for the first time I finally feel like I’m back. I had that “ah-ha” moment I had been waiting for.

Today’s run was a fast, seven miles. About a mile in I was moving along at what I felt like was a pretty good clip; with little effort. I looked down at my GPS expecting the pace to read about 7:15 or so. 6:40. 6:40, really? I was able to keep that pace for the last six miles.

After today’s run, I feel like there is still plenty of room for improvement. My goal time of 1:20 for the Sarasota Half Marathon in February is definitely within reach.