Kind of a miscellaneous blog posting today, but I’m in the mood.

So what’s going on in my neck of the woods? This past Saturday I ran my first 5K in well over a year. I won the Top of Utah 5K with a time of 16:17. It was a fast loop course, and supposedly certified (although I could not find it in the USATF database). I was hoping for under 16 minutes, but I’ll take it. It was a weird race though; I never felt like I was straining, and kept pushing the pace, yet I had no speed. All of my mile splits were within 3 seconds of each other, I hit a slight negative split, and I felt like I could have kept going for 10K. So although I was not happy with my leg turnover, I was pleased with how strong I felt. 5K’s usually hurt a lot more. My full race report is here.

Next up is The Other Half, a half marathon in Moab on October 19th. I would like to break 1:12 on this rolling course. My 5K time alone gives me a thumbs-down that I can actually do this, but on the other hand I don’t think my solo 5K effort is representative of what I can do in a half marathon (where my lack of burst won’t be as big of a hindrance). Furthermore, I feel like my training is just hitting stride. After a couple weeks in the mid-60s, my mileage for the next 3-4 weeks will be in the mid- to upper 70s, and perhaps will hit 80. This includes two big workouts per week as singles (14-16 miles), a Saturday long run, and easy doubles the rest of the days. Standard fare, but tried and true. I’ve found that racing success is largely a function of training time. Stringing together many consecutive weeks of consistent mileage and solid workouts will yield fast times when it’s time to put on the flats. It’s not a glamorous concept, but very true.

This weekend I will be captaining an aid station at the Bear 100, our local 100-mile ultra run. The race starts at Logan Dry Canyon and traverses through the Bear River Range all the way to Bear Lake, Idaho. I am in awe of ultra runners. I have no aspirations (or delusions) of joining them, but enjoy serving them at the aid stations. This year, my station is at Richards Hollow (Left Hand Fork of the Blacksmith Fork). It looks like it will be a beautiful day, and my wife and 2-month old son will be coming as well.

I enjoy the aspect of volunteering, simply because it shows the other side of races, and allows us to give back to the race and to other runners. As a competitive runner, I usually do nothing but take, take, take from races. Volunteering helps me counter that consumer-ish attitude (and also helps me appreciate volunteers more from the races I run!). If you’ve never helped direct, administrate, or volunteer for a race, I highly recommend doing so. It will make you look at races completely different, and you may be less likely to complain the next time something at a race irks you.

In honor of the upcoming Top of Utah Marathon this weekend, today’s topic is about the other race in the event: the Top of Utah 5K. This race is especially of interest to me this year, as I am running it. TOU will be my first 5K since July of 2007, so compound that with my rather “interesting” training this year, I’m not quite certain how I will do.

Fortunately, I do know a few things about the race:

1. It is certified, so I can expect it to be the correct distance
2. It is a relatively flat loop course, so I can expect decent times that actually mean something (ie - not downhill).
3. As part of my sponsorship of the Top of Utah Marathon, I’ve created a course map, so it will be one of the few 5K races out there that actually has a decent map that show the exact turns and the elevation profile.

Most of the maps I make are for relays, marathons, and half marathons; very few short races have the budget or real incentive for maps. However, there is one really nice thing about making a 5K map: scale. What is scale? Think of it as “zoom-factor”. Large-scale means “zoomed in”, small-scale means “zoomed out”. Scale can be represented by ratios, such as 1:6000 (large scale) or 1:100,000 (small scale). Since a 5K loop route does not take up much geographic space relative to a marathon or relay, I have the luxury of creating a large-scale map on a small page size (8.5×11″). This means that I get to show tremendous detail, including aerial photos and crisp turn locations. You just don’t get that on most small-scale maps.

From the elevation profile, it’s easy to see that the elevation does not change much during the race. There is a short, abrupt hill around Mile 1.6 (200 S to 100 S), and very subtle uphill on 300 N, and then a short, abrupt downhill near the finish. The last block (0.1 miles) is on an uphill, but who’s counting at that point?

But all this is getting nit-picky; the course can be more concisely described as relatively flat and fast. Although I am still building my base, I hope to at least challenge 16:00 for a finish time. Seeing 15:5x at the end would be great, but I could live with 16:1x as well. It’s hard to find concrete expectations. I do know that the first half should be faster than the second half of the race, due to topography, so I hope to hit 4:5x on the first mile, 5:0x on the second mile, and then see what I have for the end.

Should be fun! (and way easier than the Top of Utah Marathon).

Back in June I thought this year for racing would be a complete wash. In fact, I did not know if I would ever run competitively again, due to the plethora of arthritic ailments brought on by Ankylosing Spondylitis (A.S.).Fortunately, things have turned around for me a bit, to where I’ve been able to run again, and even get into some semblance of shape.  I am not pain-free yet, but am “good enough” to train and do some speed work too. My key challenge was to learn how to manage the A.S., which I have done so far through diet and occasional use of the NSAID meloxicam. Right now I am taking 2-3 meloxicam (brand name: Mobic) per week, and that is enough to make me feel pretty good when I get out of bed in the morning.

Thanks to eliminating all starch in my diet (the “No Starch Diet”, which will be a blog topic of its own soon), the pain in my hip, SI joints, and low back stiffness have basically disappeared. The swelling in my foot and stiffness in my neck (particularly in the mornings) is all that remains, and that is what I take the meloxicam for. If the diet continues to work over time, I hope to eliminate all NSAID use completely.  But for now I’m thankful that I’m taking it a few times per week rather than everyday. I’m sure my stomach will thank me as well.

So despite a horrid first half of the year, I’ve been salvaging a short racing season after all.  I’m not nearly in the form I was last year, but I’m still having a lot of fun, and thankful to God for the opportunity to run again. On August 2nd, I ran a local 10K (for $5!), and placed 3rd with a time of 34:55. I was quite happy with this considering that I had about a month’s worth of training at 30 miles/week at this point (plus the birth of my first child three days prior).

My second race of the year was August 23rd, the Top of Utah Half Marathon. I won this last year, so it was a little humbling to be completely out of contention, but I still enjoyed myself immensely, taking 6th overall with a time of 1:12:12.  Mileage was around 50 mpw at this point, with some speed work.

After a week of recovery from the half marathon, and then missing some time due to sickness the following week, I’ve finally boosted my mileage again, and will be sitting around 65 mpw for awhile. I’ve managed to catch a little bit of the old fire, and have the desire to train again, and to excel in races. This fire had been missing for awhile. I’ll reach 75-80 mpw in the next couple months, which I never thought I’d would even want to do again.

Upcoming races include the Top of Utah 5K on September 20th, The Other Half on October 19th, and another local 5K (The First Dam Run) on November 1st. The Other Half is a half marathon in Moab, and is a fairly big race. It is a challenging, rolling course, with no elevation drop (rare for Utah). The course record is a low 1:12, and I’ve made it my “season goal” to break that record. If I can run 1:12 or faster on that hard course, and if I am reasonably pain-free, then I will consider continuing to up my mileage and running an early December sea-level marathon, most likely St. Jude.

Several people have tried to convince me to run St. George, but I am not for several reasons:

1. I have nothing left to accomplish there, other than to win. I cannot win this year with the training I have done. Therefore I will not traumatize my body for no good reason.
2. The injury risk is too high on that course with the amount of training I’ve done.
3. By deferring a marathon for two months (December vs. October), I will give myself training time to race a much better quality marathon.  True, I could probably break 2:30 in my current condition at St. George, but I gain more by training longer (uninterrupted), and running under 2:25 on an honest course like St. Jude.

Much of this is speculation right now, but that is where my thinking and heart are at. St. George was tempting simply because I really enjoy being at the race with my friends and peers. But to actually race it would be a bad idea. Plus, I’ve always wanted to run The Other Half, which is reportedly a beautiful, challenging course.

I do not know what the future will bring, but I have enjoyed the races I’ve been blessed with doing already, and look forward to running more.

The other day I read an open letter to race directors posted on the Complete Running Network blog. The general premise was that all race directors should have chip timing, good food, lots of porta-pots, good cups, good age group awards, good online maps, and good beer. In other words, cater to the people paying the entry fees. Makes sense.

The article was written in a fun way, was an entertaining read, and certainly made some good points…yet I disagreed with the spirit of it.

Why are races expected to cater to our every whim? Why do we need rock bands along the course, beer at the finish line, a fancy website, fancy t-shirts, and other amenities? I view all these amenities as consumer-driven. Runners demanded them, and race directors obliged. As a result entry fees are raised. Runners raise cain and demand even more “value” for their money (since we’re paying more, we better get more “stuff”). Race directors accommodate this to stay competitive. Prices go up. Runners/consumers get even more demanding and picky. It seems like a perpetual cycle to me. Will there be a “bust” at some point?

And it’s getting absurd. The other day, I paid $75 for the opportunity to run a half marathon (I won’t name names, as this is getting to be a pretty typical price these days). It made me sick to write the check, but in the end I caved simply because I really, really wanted to race the course. Oh, but I get a “free” jacket and “free” beer at the finish, and a bunch of other garbage. What happened to just racing?

Here’s what I want from race directors: Just line us up and fire a gun. And do it on time. And make the race $10.

I don’t need rock bands, I don’t need beer, I don’t even need food at the finish (I can pack my own banana, thank you). I don’t need high-tech t-shirts, jackets, or vests. A cotton t-shirt is fine, although I’d like to opportunity to “opt out” in order to further lower my entry fee. Chip timing is nice, but not needed. We managed to survive quite some time without chips, after all. Rather than putting time and effort into the amenities and pampering, please just make sure the total course distance and the mile markers are accurate.

I realize that I am in the minority in these sentiments, but this is my blog, and I am an expert in my own opinion. Why do I race? I like to be around other runners, the pure community of the event. Moreover, I like to compete: against others and against myself. I get a thrill out of putting myself out there against my peers, and against my own willpower, pain levels, and personal records. Prizes are nice, and I keep them as mementos, but they are not why I race. The same goes for t-shirts and other memorabilia. But I certainly don’t enter the races to drink beer and listen to really bad live bands (I can do that at home for much less than $75, thank you).

I, for one, would like to see a return of “minimalistic races”. Low entry fees, low technology, few amenities, with an emphasis on competition and community. Anyone with me?