Run for the Cheetah 5k Race Report

This race was my last chance try to run as hard as I can before it gets too hot to run without getting heatstroke race. I hadn't done any road 5k's since last year because I frankly didn't feel like it. 5k's are a lot of effort for me and they are really painful. I did a trail run 5k in January, but running a trail is quite different from running on the road. Your leg muscles are trying to negotiate over uneven terrain and you can't put as much effort into speed and leg turnover.

By the time the race started, it was getting warm already. I like running when it is a little chilly out because I really get hot when I run. It always amazes me when people run in long sweats when it is in the 60's outside and I am in shorts and a sleeveless shirt and sweating profusely. I knew when I was warming up with short speed intervals that I was going to be in pain. My legs felt a little wooden and running faster made my acid reflux worse. The joys of running when you are older.

The run started and almost right away there was a hill to climb. The rest of the run was fairly flat, but when you are trying to get used to the pain of not having enough oxygen, it is hard. I ran the first mile in 8:50. I thought "no PR(personal record) for me today. I wasn't about to give up. The last 5k PR I got, I was chasing an eight year old because I was damned if she was going to beat me. I had no such luck today. I had to motivate myself. I picked up the pace. The run was along the canal, so you could run on pavement or the dirt path and I stuck to the pavement because I knew dirt would slow me down. I only chose dirt when the cement path curved because I knew I had to save every second I could.

The turn around was half way through. I reached it in 13:35, so I had made up a little time. I had the familiar right side chest pain from lack of oxygen and my heart rate was close to 169, so I knew I was running about as fast as I could go. It was pretty warm by now. I was propelling myself mostly on mental effort now. My legs were tired. This race seemed like it was going on forever.

I hit mile 2 about 17:30, so I had made up some time. Not enough to PR, but enough to get a decent time. By this time I really wanted to be done. 5k's are so short time wise, but they are incredibly painful. Pain is the price of speed. Most of my training speed work is at lower intensities, with only occasional forays into this kind of torture.

The last part of the race goes down the hill to the finish line. My last mile was at a 8:39 pace. I finished in 27:02.

I am not sure why I am addicted to doing this to myself. Running hard hurts a lot, but it is satisfying to push through the pain to see how fast you can go. One barrier goes down and you are curious to see if you can go through another one. So much of life is out of your control, but in running, at least you can control yourself mentally and physically. I didn't go through the 5k barrier in this race, but it felt like I came up to it. The fun is in the trying. The result is a bonus.

Loneliness is a State of Mind

After being married for 32 years, I have had a hard time getting used to being alone again. I live with my teenage daughter, but it's not the same as having another adult around. It's been almost two years since I was essentially living without my ex. I have only been divorced since last June, but my ex was gone most of the summer in 2008 before he decided to tell me he didn't want to be married anymore. The shock of being alone is wearing off, but it still feels somewhat sad and strange.

My bed is empty at night, I don't have anyone to travel with, I have to do all the housework, yard work and general chores myself. It is strange not to have anyone but my ex to put down as "emergency contact". I don't really have anyone to call if I am in trouble. I take care of the car myself. I try to take care of the pool myself. There seems to be an endless amount of little chores to do when no one helps you.

I feel like I am on the precipice of a cliff. Anxiety stalks me and I just try to get through the day. I have always had this lurking insecurity, but without anyone to hang onto, it is full-blown. I try to deal with it and be optimistic, but it's a lot of work. Despair tries to creep in. I am in a uncomfortable place, and it seems like I am going to stay there for a while.

I have a career, but it really isn't working for me. I have to figure out what I want to do and what my purpose is and I feel like I am stuck in a quandary. There are almost limitless possibilities, but I don't know what they are yet. I feel lost.

Being alone does have some advantages. I don't have to deal with someone else's emotional issues other than my daughters. I am not kept awake at night by some one's snoring or reading in bed late at night. I would give anything to have someone to cuddle with, but I am not ready to deal with a relationship yet. I don't have someone to put me down, ignore me to be with someone else and to lie to me. Until I am sure I wouldn't let someone treat me badly just to not be alone, I won't date anyone.

Some religions theorize that you are not alone, but part of a spirit that is in everyone. There is not death, no past, no future, just the now and being. Some religions theorize that you are never alone if you believe in their god. I am not sure what I believe. If I am doing some activity that I get lost in, I don't feel lonely. I don't even think about it. I just enjoy being in the present, in just living.

If I am doing something unpleasant and anxiety provoking like paying bills, then I feel more alone. If I am reminded of what I have lost, like when I see apparently happy couples, then I feel more isolated and weird. I forget that apparent happiness isn't always so, that just because you are with someone doesn't mean you are happy or not alone. I thought I would never be unmarried, but everyone leaves your life eventually in some way.

It all comes down to your response to your situation. You can control your response, but not what other people do. I can choose not to feel lonely and to be happy, but it's a lot of work. The pain of a lost relationship lingers a long time and thoughts creep into your head that you don't want. Pain can be a incentive to change for the better, but change is really uncomfortable. Pain is carving new pathways in my brain. I will never be the same, but maybe that's a good thing.

Splash & Dash Race Report

I signed up for this race because for some stupid reason, I wanted to swim in open water and try out my new wetsuit. The race is a 1000 meter swim in Tempe Town Lake and a 3k(1.86 mile) run. Usually I do these races when the water is warmer. Tempe Town Lake is at 62 degrees. Water from the Salt River is still flowing over the dam from the snow melt up north. Consequently there is a current in the "Lake".

I figured that 62 degrees would be no big deal. I swam 2.4 miles in that water temperature last fall. I got hypothermia and I nearly couldn't finish the swim, but what is 1000 meters? A piece of cake.

As it turned out, the swim wasn't that bad, but it wasn't enjoyable. I was recovering from a cold and my ribs still hurt from a fall three weeks ago. The cold water made it hard to breath and I felt like I had a band around my chest. It took me a few minutes to get my head in the water. I started in the back because my swimming is slow, but I still had to navigate around people back-stroking and having panic attacks. I had to stop and catch my breath a lot, but I didn't feel panicky. I was berating myself for starting so slow. One of these days I will feel like I am actually racing in open water, rather than just surviving.

I rounded the first buoy and I turned east. Swimming east, the sun is in your eyes and you can't see the buoys. I followed the other bodies hoping that they were swimming straight, then I relied on sighting a distant building. At this point, I was swimming against the current, although I kept telling myself that I was making forward progress. The middle buoy WAS getting closer. The water was also choppy. Maybe all the swimmers ahead of me stirring up the water. You had to watch it if you stopped to rest. Breathing hard and swallowing water is not a pleasant combination.

My mental state was not the best. I kept telling myself how much I hate swimming, how much I suck at swimming, how much I hate swimming in Tempe Town Lake, how much I hate swimming in cold water. I wondered how the hell I swam 2.4 miles in this cold of water. At least I wasn't at the state of mind where I didn't think I could make it and where was the damn kayak to rescue me anyway. Being in this crappy algae infested water was manageable even though I was kind of tired.

Finally, I hit the last buoy. It seemed much easier swimming downstream when you knew the unpleasantness is almost over. Usually, I perk up when I know I am almost done. (Except for Ironman Arizona where I WAS done before I was done. I got done in 31 minutes. This below average for most swimmers, but about normal for me.

I got on my feet and found out that they were numb. It hurt to run to transition, and I had to fumble to get my wetsuit off and my shoes on. The new wetsuit came off a lot easier than my old wetsuit. The breeze felt chilly on my wet arms.

I started running and my numb feet hurt. My brain was telling my legs to move, but my feet felt kind of out of sync. I wanted to run hard and I was trying to, but my heart rate wasn't going up much. Usually when I do the swim runs, the water is warm enough that when I get to the run, my legs magically go really fast, as if the swimming complements the running. Not so much today.

I hit the turn-around and pushed the pace more. My legs seemed to move faster even though my feet still hurt. I finished in about 16:34, which was about a 8:54 minute per mile pace. It's hardly enough time it even warm up. It certainly didn't warm my feet up much. By this time, almost everyone else had finished. The race is basically a training event anyway, so it didn't really matter. This race gets anyone from beginners to pros. It saves me the hassle of driving 45 minutes to go out to the outlying lakes, paying $6 and wondering how far I am REALLY swimming. The down side is that I get to look at the ugly concrete walls, relive past miserable swims in this lake and wonder how the hell I can be so slow. Twenty five swims in this lake, including four ironman swims and two half irons and counting. Maybe some day I will learn to like it and stop being so negative. Chances are I will keep swimming in it as long as there are races.

Mesquite Canyon Trail Run Race Report

I think I have gotten into trail running because I got tired of grinding endless miles on the pavement for ironman training last year. The scenery is way better than road running. It's also way tougher and harder on your body.

I found that out when I tripped over a tree root, checking out the trail for the Mesquite Canyon Trail run. The run wasn't as bad as the elevation map shows:

However, I found out that (a) you can run as fast and as hard as you can and you will never be as fast as you would on pavement; and (b) you have to work harder for less speed. Not only that, you have to pay attention to where you are putting your feet so that you don't end up sprawled on the ground with a bloody knee or worse.

The first time I checked out this trail, I was blithely unaware of the danger those little rocks on the trail could inflict. I ran a seemingly easy 2 1/2 miles and turned around and tripped on a little pebble in the trail. I got up with a bloody knee. I recovered and ran down a wash that had a lot of soft dirt that had washed down from a rain storm. Sitting in the dirt, waiting to snarl me was an evil root. I caught my foot in it and slammed down hard on my chest. I had the breath knocked out of me and felt rather battered at this point. I finished the run. It turned out that I had bruised my ribs, which meant that everything I did that involved moving including running, coughing, lifting and generally existing really hurt. The pain didn't really abate until the morning of the race.

I decided to run the race hard, but to be relatively cautious, because I really didn't want to fall. Racing this trail seemed a lot harder than training on it. It seemed the faster you go, the harder it was to avoid the rocks. I got a fairly good pace going, but a lot of people were passing me. I got up to my racing heart rate, which usually makes the right side of my chest hurt. My ribs hurt on the left side, so I had bilateral pain. Fun. I stumbled a few times, but I stayed upright. I had to shorten my gait and pick up my knees. It felt like I was dancing on the rocks.

The turn around passed an aid station. Volunteers checked out your number when to came through to keep track of the bodies. I guess they didn't want to leave anybody out in the desert. The trail goes steeply up for a short while, then you come back down.

Coming back, I spotted the evil tree root that I had tripped over the week before. It looked like they had put some dirt over it. By this time my legs were really getting tired and heavy. The last mile and half, there seemed to be only one person in front of me. There weren't any mile markers, so I couldn't tell how much I sucked time-wise, but I was doing the best I could. I stumbled some more, but I stayed upright.

I hit the finish line in 51:56 for the five miles. I wasn't thrilled about the time, but I was about mid-pack and 3/5 in my age group. Trail running isn't about setting personal records anyway. It's about you against yourself and the terrain. It almost seems more like pure running. Instead of spacing out and running as fast as you can, you test yourself as you struggle against the rocks and the dirt and the hills. And when you are getting weak, you can look at the scenery to distract yourself and know that it will hopefully always be there.

Desert Classic Duathlon Race Report

The Sonoran desert is green. There is a reason for that. It occasionally gets rain. Sometimes it gets a LOT of rain.

The Desert Classic Duathlon is a competitive, fairly difficult race. It attracts some really talented pros. The difficulty of the race is increased when you are cold and wet and the trails have turned to mush from the rain.

I incorrectly assumed that the rain would stop and that I would warm up on the runs. I was sadly mistaken. The first run is on a relatively easy trail that goes uphill, then downhill. Last year I managed about nine minutes miles for the 3.5 mile trail. I was in the third wave of runners.

I had a hard time getting up to speed. The first two miles were about 10 minute miles if the sign was correct. The trail had loose wet gravel, but wasn't too muddy. I tried to speed up. The wave of male runners behind me starting passing me. I stayed to the right, but I had to avoid the Cholla cactus, which has nasty needles with hooks that cling to your flesh if you try to pull them out. I managed to pull out an average of 9:31 miles for a total time of 33:18.

I fumbled through transition. Since it was raining, I had put my shoes in a plastic bag, which slowed me down. I was warm from the run, so I assumed I would be warm enough on the bike. This turned out to be a mistake.

Coming out of transition, there is a climb on the bike, before you go downhill. The bike is an out and back for a total of 21 miles. Last year, my legs really hurt starting out on the bike. This year they didn't hurt. Maybe because they were numb from the cold. I didn't feel too bad at this point. After you hit the park entrance, there are rolling hills to the turn around. My speed was about the same as last year, judging from the mile markers. My bike computer wasn't working because of the rain. I hit the turn-around in about 42 minutes. It was raining, but it was a light rain. As I hit some of the downhills, I kept telling myself that I wasn't cold. I really was.

About five miles from the end of the bike route, the rain started coming down. HARD. It was blowing in my face and it hurt. I was totally miserable at this point and I just wanted to be done with the bike. I wanted to get to the second run and warm up. I saw a fair amount of people on the side of the road with flats or who had just given up. I thought about quitting, but standing in the rain freezing waiting for sag to pick me up wasn't an attractive option. About three miles in I noticed that I wasn't focusing very well. I had to remind myself to pay attention and not run off the road. My mind was getting foggy from the cold. At this point, I couldn't feel my feet. I finally got into transition in a time of 1:25:26. This time kind of sucked, but it was only about a minute more than last year when it was sunny and dry.

I fumbled around again. I had a hard time getting my helmet off, because my finger wouldn't do what my brain was telling them to do. My old friend hypothermia had come to visit. I got my wet running shoes on and finally got my chin strap undone. Another slow transition.

I started out the second run with numb feet. It was hard to know what they were doing. It seemed like I was turning over my legs, but it was hard to tell. At about mile two the quagmire started. The trail was three inch deep tracked up mud. Some people had bravely ran right down the middle. I chose to try and avoid the deepest mud, but it was impossible at times. I passed people struggling through it and finally hit the HILL. The HILL is a short steep hill about two miles from the start of the second run. Last year I managed to make it up the entire hill without walking, but last year was last year. I went up the hill in something resembling a run, but I had to walk a little when my legs decided they didn't want to run anymore. I made it to the top and then had to navigate a narrow muddy trail going steeply downhill. From there it was a fairly "easy" short run to the finish. Total time for the 2.7 mile run a disappointing 27:56. I don't know if anyone was lucky enough to run the trail before it turned into a quagmire, but if they did, they had a distinct advantage. Mud does not make for a fast run, at least for me.

Total time for the race was 2:32:20. I actually got first place in my age division because only one other person my age showed up. The faster people elected to stay home and be warm and dry. Wussies!

This race is kind of cool because USUALLY the weather is great, it's challenging, well run and people show up from all over the country and even Canada. It was a qualifier for the World Duathlon Championships in 2009. I will be back next year, hopefully, and maybe even not freeze my body parts off.

Lost Dutchman 10k Race Report

This race is apparently too popular for it's own good. It's a lower cost alternative to some of the more expensive and over-hyped other marathons and half-marathons. I chose the 10k option, having no urge to race any longer. I tend to like low key events myself. It's much less hassle to park where you want, have plenty of time to get ready, and get your race number the same day you race. I started out two hours ahead of the time I was supposed to start racing and I got caught in a long line of cars trying to park. I had hoped I could get a parking spot near the starting line, but I was about half an hour too late. I had barely enough time to stand in line for the porta-potties and to get warmed up. As it was I didn't get much time to warm up. I like to warm up because if I am going to run as fast as I can, I like to ease into it a little.

At least you don't have any "corrals" to line up in. The polite thing to do in a race is to seed yourself according to your speed. You don't want to get run over by the faster runners, nor do you want to be stuck behind the slower ones. Here, it didn't matter because you had no idea what speed people would run.

The first mile was slightly downhill with a tail wind. I did it in 8:30", the fastest mile I would run. It got harder from then out. Most of the run was straight, but the terrain was rolling. I didn't have the crushing pain in my chest(not a heart attack, just lack of oxygen) I get when I run a 5k, but it was pretty uncomfortable. The rest of the miles were about 9:00/mile and I was counting down each one. My heart rate was climbing into the 170's, a place I usually don't like to be, but I ignored the high heart rate because it was tolerable. Usually the fourth mile is the black hole of a 10k, but none of them felt better or worse than the others except the last one. The last one you had to climb a hill. Not a big hill, but a painful one. You pass through a "wall" in honor of the marathoners I guess. It's actually is an archway made of blocks. Once you crest the hill, you turned into a strong headwind. It was annoying.

My final time was 56:09. It wasn't a personal best, but it was decent. Considering that I had been sick most of the week, had gained weight since the Ironman and had generally felt like my fitness had gone downhill, I was happy with it. I can still run very hard and generate some speed. I will probably pay for it later.

I was third in my age group, so I got two metals-one for finishing and one for being third in my age group. It's one of thoses things that you get in a race that you really don't need. More metals, more hats and more over-sized tee shirts that you never wear.

The race food was decent. The usual fruit, doritos and a burrito. I wish they had had pretzels. And cookies. While I was eating, there was a burro in a pen that kept complaining. He probably smelled the food and thought he should get some. He went with the man with a beard dressed as a miner-the "Lost Dutchman" who supposedly found gold that disappeared. The "Lost Dutchman" was supervising people playing darts. I thought this was odd, but kind of cute for a race. He looked more like an"Apache Junction" trailer park denizen than old miner to me. He reminded me of the "Mountain Man" dude who shows up riding a horse for the Mountain Man triathlon. I guess a race has to have it's mascot.

After waiting around for another metal that I didn't need, I drove the 40 miles home to take a nap. No yard work will get done today. All that hard running tires me out.

What I'm Missing

When you have been married for 30 plus years, you get used to having a man around. You get used to having someone to talk to, someone to share the chores, someone to hug, someone warm to spoon against in bed. When you get dumped you lose all of that. Even when the relationship has gone bad, you still miss the dream of having it. You adjust to being alone, but you have lost what used to be your best friend and you long for someone to light up when you appear. I miss the "maleness".



That doesn't mean that I am going to rush out and get involved in a relationship right away. I am not dating and I don't want to date right now. I think I have trust issues and if someone ever wanted to date me, (a)I would question their motives; and (b) think that they have lost their mind because my self-esteem is such that I wouldn't feel like I would be relationship material.

The reality is that having a relationship with a guy is difficult. They may have emotional needs that are sometimes unmet no matter what you do, they sometimes have difficulty expressing their feelings and they hurt you even if they love you. They also may not pick up after themselves, fall down on personal hygiene habits and be overly in love with sports that you have no interest in.

The weird consequence to having no relationship in my life after 30 plus years of marriage that I find myself checking out good looking athletic guys in spandex. Especially good-looking guys that you can see that well--that they are guys. The photo of the cyclists in red shorts was probably photo-shopped for humor, but it is funny as hell. The top photo probably is not "re-touched", but I think it is funny anyway. Those ITU uniforms are tight and sometimes the body parts have no where to go.

I think it's funny because human body is humorous as well as elegant. Muscled legs and arms are beautiful, but there is also the soft, floppy stuff. If you wear skin-tight clothes with no underwear, something is bound to show. And no one who rides a bike wants to wear underwear with their shorts and get chaffed.


Of course not everyone in spandex looks good wearing it. Most of the non-athletic world probably wishes it didn't exist. Spandex is not kind to body imperfections. There is a huge "ICK" factor, especially when you see what you really don't want to see. But like a car accident, it is hard to look away. You don't want to look, but the horrible fascination draws you do so anyway.

So while I am still in my lonely state of mind, I will probably take a gander at the better male bodies in spandex, but not look too hard (unless it's a photo).