Production on Least Visited, North Dakota is in full swing. Check by for a look at the dailies, or regularlys for a look at our progress. First up is our stop to milk the world's largest cow, Salem Sue. You may also see this and other videos on our youtube channel, wailerwoo.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
The Half...
The alarm went off at 4:45AM. As worried as I was about oversleeping, nervous energy and anticipation kept me from any meaningful sleep as I lay in bed waiting for the the alarm to ring. After three months of training I was launching into the final preparations before I set off to Cleveland. Oatmeal... check. Coffee... check. Clothes for running in the cold... check. Fresh clothes for the ride home... check.
By 5:30 it is still remarkably dark. Stepping outside the only light was provided by the waxing crescent sitting high above the treetops. I’m on my way, on time, to Strongsville, Ohio to run in my first ever half marathon. It gets rarer as you notch up the years that you find yourself on the cusp of a truly new experience and that is where I find myself as I drive in the dark heading west. My first goal of the day was to arrive an hour before the race started so I could stretch and warm up. I had promised Hyle, running her second half marathon, that it would be in the upper 30’s. I was wrong. Upon arrival it was 14 degrees. Hyle, built like a runner with precious little in the way of an insulating layer, was not to happy that I had missed on the temperature by a mere 20 some odd degrees.
For an hour we stretched, warmed up, caught up and shivered. It was cold. We were dressed for running not standing around in the cold and wind. I was calm and a little nervous as we waited on the starting line. My longest training run was 7.5 miles. A good distance, more then half of what I was getting ready to run but as I waited to start it seemed nowhere in the neighborhood of 13.1 miles. I was cold, nervous, excited and wondering what had I gotten myself into. Looking around at the other runners I am wondering a little bit if I really belong here. All of my training has been by myself. Most of it has been on a track, the one concession to my knee which still periodically lets me know that it had a pretty serious boo-boo. As these doubts begin to sink in, there are some pretty serious looking runners around me, all I want is to stop making small talk and get this thing started.
All the advice I received from friends was pretty consistent and, unintentionally, ignored. Start slow. Don’t get pulled ahead by the pack. Run your own race. Great advice. Great plan. It is a recipe for success. The race starts and Hyle and I are in the middle front of the pack. We are weaving and dodging through and around slower runners, a familiar situation for a youngest child, just trying to keep up. As we approach the first mile I’m feeling pretty good. I’m still running on adrenaline so it does not feel like I’m working too hard. As we pass the timer I slide in close to be sure I hear the time. 7:50. I have managed in the first mile to not even come close running the race I intended. It’s way too fast and if I do not back it down there will be consequences later. I back it off and let Hyle slowly ease ahead. As much as I try to crank down my pace it is hard to let people pass. Not the really fast runners that seem to fly by but the slower ones that slide by almost imperceptibly. I am constantly wondering if I have that slightly faster pace in me and if I could carry it to the finish. The positive of allowing somebody else to pace you is you do not have to think. I look at the heels of the runner I am pacing off of and it is easy to get caught up in their rhythmic motion. The problem with doing this early in the race is that you can find yourself in trouble before you know it.
The course was an up and back, up and back. Relatively flat although there was about a mile section with a slight rise. Head wind going out, tail wind coming back. There were a few icy sections that required cautious, concentrated motion. The 4 mile mark was just after the first turn approaching a water station. 4 miles in, 33 minutes and change. Closer to my goal, but still pretty fast. I was excited to have hit the mark so fast for me but a little concerned whether I could carry for another 9.1 miles. This was the when I really decided to think about my pace. My goal was to run a 9 minute mile and finish in under 2 hours. At this point I had room to spare and felt pretty good. Coming into the halfway point was pretty cool. People were cheering, giving me high fives and ringing cow bells. The timing could not have been better. As I approached the halfway point I had the competing emotions of excitement that I made it halfway and deflation that I was only halfway. I appreciated the surge of adrenaline provided by the spectators who were probably only clapping to keep warm.
As I passed by mile 8 I realized I was now in uncharted territory. This was farther then I had ever run and it was the first time that a wee bit of doubt seeped into my head. I put my ipod on to provide a bit of rhythm, and a bit of distraction. I passed through mile 9 in about 1:20. 40 minutes for the last 4.1 miles, things were starting to hurt. Nothing major, but soreness was creeping in to my calves, my thighs and my feet. I began to focus on little things like my arm swing and how my feet were hitting the ground. I was getting mad that my body hurt and people who I did not think should be passing me were. I needed to refocus. For the next mile and a half or so I let the rhythm take over and everything else go blank. When I hit mile 11 I felt confident that I would run across the finish line but I had no idea whether I would reach my goal. I was letting runners pass but I was not sure yet if I could ratchet up my pace and hang with a slightly faster group. I decided to dig in and latch onto some heels.
As we drew closer to the finish I felt better and worse at the same time. I kept telling myself to ignore the discomfort and suck it up one step at a time. Stay on the heels and don’t think. At mile 12 the finish was figuratively in sight which gave me a little boost. The last 1/3 of a mile was on a narrow, twisty, icy path. My adrenaline surged. All I wanted to do was finish strong. The crowd on both sides of the path was cheering. I was trying to leg it out but there was a lot of ice and I did not want to fall. I was smiling. I was about to cry. I was going to actually do it. About 200 yard from the finish I hear Hyle, then I see her. She is clapping and cheering giving me the final surge that I need. I passed 4 people on the way to the line and finished in 1:57:43. It was almost exactly a 9 minute mile. I finished. I accomplished my goal of under 2 hours. I was feeling pretty raw. Hyle brought me hot chocolate. She told me how proud she was of me. I was proud of her (she nipped me by about 10 minutes) I was proud of myself. I was cold.
In the end it was a phenomenal experience. At the finish I could not imagine running twice that distance and doing a full marathon. This was hard enough and anyone who can finish either a full or half marathon has accomplished something special. 241st out of 444 finishers sounds pretty good.
Two days later... rested... recovered... warm... That marathon does not sound so bad. Stay tuned.
By 5:30 it is still remarkably dark. Stepping outside the only light was provided by the waxing crescent sitting high above the treetops. I’m on my way, on time, to Strongsville, Ohio to run in my first ever half marathon. It gets rarer as you notch up the years that you find yourself on the cusp of a truly new experience and that is where I find myself as I drive in the dark heading west. My first goal of the day was to arrive an hour before the race started so I could stretch and warm up. I had promised Hyle, running her second half marathon, that it would be in the upper 30’s. I was wrong. Upon arrival it was 14 degrees. Hyle, built like a runner with precious little in the way of an insulating layer, was not to happy that I had missed on the temperature by a mere 20 some odd degrees.
For an hour we stretched, warmed up, caught up and shivered. It was cold. We were dressed for running not standing around in the cold and wind. I was calm and a little nervous as we waited on the starting line. My longest training run was 7.5 miles. A good distance, more then half of what I was getting ready to run but as I waited to start it seemed nowhere in the neighborhood of 13.1 miles. I was cold, nervous, excited and wondering what had I gotten myself into. Looking around at the other runners I am wondering a little bit if I really belong here. All of my training has been by myself. Most of it has been on a track, the one concession to my knee which still periodically lets me know that it had a pretty serious boo-boo. As these doubts begin to sink in, there are some pretty serious looking runners around me, all I want is to stop making small talk and get this thing started.
All the advice I received from friends was pretty consistent and, unintentionally, ignored. Start slow. Don’t get pulled ahead by the pack. Run your own race. Great advice. Great plan. It is a recipe for success. The race starts and Hyle and I are in the middle front of the pack. We are weaving and dodging through and around slower runners, a familiar situation for a youngest child, just trying to keep up. As we approach the first mile I’m feeling pretty good. I’m still running on adrenaline so it does not feel like I’m working too hard. As we pass the timer I slide in close to be sure I hear the time. 7:50. I have managed in the first mile to not even come close running the race I intended. It’s way too fast and if I do not back it down there will be consequences later. I back it off and let Hyle slowly ease ahead. As much as I try to crank down my pace it is hard to let people pass. Not the really fast runners that seem to fly by but the slower ones that slide by almost imperceptibly. I am constantly wondering if I have that slightly faster pace in me and if I could carry it to the finish. The positive of allowing somebody else to pace you is you do not have to think. I look at the heels of the runner I am pacing off of and it is easy to get caught up in their rhythmic motion. The problem with doing this early in the race is that you can find yourself in trouble before you know it.
The course was an up and back, up and back. Relatively flat although there was about a mile section with a slight rise. Head wind going out, tail wind coming back. There were a few icy sections that required cautious, concentrated motion. The 4 mile mark was just after the first turn approaching a water station. 4 miles in, 33 minutes and change. Closer to my goal, but still pretty fast. I was excited to have hit the mark so fast for me but a little concerned whether I could carry for another 9.1 miles. This was the when I really decided to think about my pace. My goal was to run a 9 minute mile and finish in under 2 hours. At this point I had room to spare and felt pretty good. Coming into the halfway point was pretty cool. People were cheering, giving me high fives and ringing cow bells. The timing could not have been better. As I approached the halfway point I had the competing emotions of excitement that I made it halfway and deflation that I was only halfway. I appreciated the surge of adrenaline provided by the spectators who were probably only clapping to keep warm.
As I passed by mile 8 I realized I was now in uncharted territory. This was farther then I had ever run and it was the first time that a wee bit of doubt seeped into my head. I put my ipod on to provide a bit of rhythm, and a bit of distraction. I passed through mile 9 in about 1:20. 40 minutes for the last 4.1 miles, things were starting to hurt. Nothing major, but soreness was creeping in to my calves, my thighs and my feet. I began to focus on little things like my arm swing and how my feet were hitting the ground. I was getting mad that my body hurt and people who I did not think should be passing me were. I needed to refocus. For the next mile and a half or so I let the rhythm take over and everything else go blank. When I hit mile 11 I felt confident that I would run across the finish line but I had no idea whether I would reach my goal. I was letting runners pass but I was not sure yet if I could ratchet up my pace and hang with a slightly faster group. I decided to dig in and latch onto some heels.
As we drew closer to the finish I felt better and worse at the same time. I kept telling myself to ignore the discomfort and suck it up one step at a time. Stay on the heels and don’t think. At mile 12 the finish was figuratively in sight which gave me a little boost. The last 1/3 of a mile was on a narrow, twisty, icy path. My adrenaline surged. All I wanted to do was finish strong. The crowd on both sides of the path was cheering. I was trying to leg it out but there was a lot of ice and I did not want to fall. I was smiling. I was about to cry. I was going to actually do it. About 200 yard from the finish I hear Hyle, then I see her. She is clapping and cheering giving me the final surge that I need. I passed 4 people on the way to the line and finished in 1:57:43. It was almost exactly a 9 minute mile. I finished. I accomplished my goal of under 2 hours. I was feeling pretty raw. Hyle brought me hot chocolate. She told me how proud she was of me. I was proud of her (she nipped me by about 10 minutes) I was proud of myself. I was cold.
In the end it was a phenomenal experience. At the finish I could not imagine running twice that distance and doing a full marathon. This was hard enough and anyone who can finish either a full or half marathon has accomplished something special. 241st out of 444 finishers sounds pretty good.
Two days later... rested... recovered... warm... That marathon does not sound so bad. Stay tuned.
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