5K Finally

Finally.

That's all I can say.

Finally I had a decent 5K experience.

This morning I ran the Rahr Oktoberfest 5K.  It's an interesting race to be sure.  It's put on by a craft brewery that's become a fixture in Fort Worth, and there's a whole sub-culture that has developed around it.  It's an interesting crowd that shows up on race mornings--beer culture meets running culture meets local Fort Worth culture.  It's a lot of culture packed into one pretty small place.

The start line from half pack.

With a 9 am start time (the crack of dawn for the beer people and nearly lunchtime for the running culture) the unpredictable Texas weather had the potential to turn this into an ugly venture.  In fact the morning dawned overcast and muggy.  Temperature was in upper 70s with humidity in the 80-85% range, and a wall of thunderstorms out to the west were steadily on the march towards Fort Worth.

In a word, the weather was sticky. 

But what I was truly worried about was the sun coming out and really steaming things up.  And I forgot my sunglasses at home.  So I was hoping it would stay overcast, and it did.

My own little starting pothole.

Rahr & Sons Brewery is set just south of downtown Fort Worth in an older part of town.  It's a little dilapidated, a little overgrown, and a little rough around the edges.  But there are also scores of thriving small businesses firmly entrenched in old business districts of yesteryear, with older neighborhoods surrounding.  It's an odd juxtaposition of living, breathing community in such run down surroundings--especially here in Texas where society seems to worship the almighty new construction.

After the gun, (and about 1:30 getting up to the line,) the course left out of the brewery, headed south down the block, and turned west onto old Magnolia Blvd.  It was fun to run along the wide, divided boulevard under the old growth pecan trees.  The Fort Worth PD was out en force, with officers and cars at every single intersection--big and small--making sure we were safe.  We ran several city blocks along Magnolia entering into the hospital district.

Pretty cool bib.

Save a few brief uphills, almost the entire time from the moment we left the brewery we were headed downhill.  I concentrated hard on keeping a handle on my pace, trying to balance keeping my cadence up but not going out too fast.  Scores of people blasted past me, lured in by the downhill course--and I got seriously cut off several times to the point where I was worried I was going to get tangled up in them and trip.  But I just smiled to myself thinking, "We'll see y'all again in a little while."  There was the usual dodging of people that never had any intention of running the course, but insisted on starting at the front of the start line.  I'll never understand it, but I'm hoping they just don't know any better.  The worst is when there's 5 or 6 of them spread out abreast of each other, like a slowly moving roadblock.  I'm hoping as the length of my races increase, the number of joy-walkers decreases.

We turned the corner and headed back north on 8th Avenue, and it was time to pay the piper.  The uphill was mercifully shorter, but diabolically steeper.  And that's when I began to catch up to and pass the jackrabbits.  I concentrated on not tripping over the walkers, keeping my cadence up, and also on attacking the hill.  With such a large crowd, and a well protected course, I pumped up the volume on Pandora and let the music drive me up, up and away.  The trip up 8th took us past Cook Children's Medical Center where my wife has been a PICU nurse for more than 11 years.

Thistle Hill

As the hill topped out, we turned the corner and headed east on Pennsylvania Avenue.  This took us past Thistle Hill mansion, (where my wife and I got married), and past more hospitals.  The course was mostly gentle rolling hills at this point, and I began to catch the faster runners that were casualties of the hills and the humidity.  As I went by I tried encouraging those that had dropped to a walk, reminding them we didn't have but a mile left in the course.  I started seeing some of the much speedier runners running back on the course to find friends and family members to help cheer them in--easy to identify since they were holding the commemorative pint glass, ha!

As we turned back south to head to the entrance to the brewery I hopped up on the sidewalk to miss a sudden walker, and nearly ran into the traffic light pole, hidden just around the corner.  At the same moment I realized that the entrance to the brewery was much closer than I had anticipated, and I belatedly picked up the pace for my final push to the line--much later than I could have.  Dang.

One final turn into the back alley of the brewery, and up the short, uneven, pothole-y chute to the finish line.

Into one hand the volunteers thrust a bottle of water, into the other my commemorative pint glass--which I promptly dropped while juggling my phone, my headphones, and a slippery bottle of water.  Miracle of all miracles it didn't break even though it was dropped from waist level onto asphalt.  Weird.

Beer line!!

Storm Cloud IPA.

I strolled around a bit to cool down, and then headed over to get my beer glass filled.  The lines were long, but the beer was good.  I picked the Storm Cloud IPA.  It seemed fitting with the weather, and a good crisp IPA was just the perfect thirst quencher (after my bottle of water that is!).

As far as the race goes, my official chip time was 31:33, for what they're calling a 10:07 pace.  RunKeeper said I ran 3.17 miles in 31:43 for a 10:00 pace on the nose!  If only I'd realized how little of the race was left and started my final kick just a fraction sooner, would I have broken into the 9s?!?  That would have been so epic for me.  But a 10:00 pace in humidity and unknown hills?  I'll take it!!

According to RunKeeper, my splits broke down like this:

Mile 1:  10:12
Mile 2:  10:01
Mile 3:  9:52
Mile 4:  9:22

I'm pretty proud of the fact that my splits got progressively faster, despite the humidity and terrain.  Obviously work yet to be done, but it's certainly gratifying for the moment.

Now that I have a solid race under my belt I feel a little more prepared to start pushing the distances and paces in the future.

After the race I skipped out on the belly-busting German/Czech food and headed home to shower for soccer games and birthday parties.  The race was a great way to start a busy day though!

Interval Boost

I decided to just head home after work last night.  It had been a rough day, I was tired, and I was hoping to get to bed early.  I had planned an interval workout yesterday, then take today as a rest day, an easy run tomorrow, and then the Rahr Oktoberfest 5K on Saturday.  Instead, I counted yesterday as a rest day, then got up and ran my interval workout before work this morning.

Last week when I ran my interval workout I found myself feeling so strong by the end of the 5th fast interval, I just pushed straight through to the end of the workout without taking a rest interval. That kind of clued me in that maybe I better step up my paces.

So this morning I did just that.  I ran 1/4 mile intervals for 3 miles.  I increased my slow interval pace from 10:43 to 10:21, then I ran my first two fast intervals at a 9:05 pace, then the 3rd at 8:57, 4th at 8:49, 5th at 8:42, and last at 8:34.  Overall average pace for the 3 miles was 9:37.

I didn't have the issue of feeling too strong at the end of my 5th interval this time.  In fact I had push to make it through the 6th.  Which is exactly what I was looking for. 

Here's to getting stronger and faster.

What's your favorite interval workout?

Hour to Hour

It's funny the ups and downs we experience just within a few hours.

Yesterday I ran a 5K in under 30 minutes for the first time.  3.13 miles in 30:00, a 9:35 pace.  It was a great feeling.

And hour and a half later I was reading a rejection letter from TCU's Nurse Anesthesia program. 

It's only been the focus of my life since August 2008.  So no, not really a big deal.

I don't know what else to say about that right now.

Back at work today feeling extremely trapped and demoralized.  This job is now a stepping stone to...well I don't know anymore.

Hope you're having a better day than me.

Backwards

So late last night, approaching midnight in fact, I couldn't sleep.  My wife was at work, the kids were in bed.  Not knowing what else to do, I started browsing Netflix, and ran across this movie, Backwards.  Not sure what it was that drew me in, but I clicked, and I watched.

The movie opens with Abi Brooks, played by Sarah Megan Thomas (who also wrote and produced the film!) in the midst of hard core training for the US Olympic Rowing team.  It's not a spoiler to let you know that she doesn't end up on the team.  She limps home with her tail between her legs, (well to home to her mom's house anyway), and spends some time wallowing in self pity.  When her mother (Margaret Colin) gives her an ultimatum to snap her back to reality, Abi ends up with the girl's crew coaching job at her old high school alma mater.  It's serendipitous that this position is open--after all she is a small celebrity at the school given her athletic exploits as a student.  Only the fact that her high school sweetheart Geoff, (played by James Van Der Beek), is now the Athletic Director and her new boss is more coincidental.  I think you can see where this is all going.  Don't let me spoil it for you, but romance, drama, and feel-good life-lessons ensue.

This isn't a fantastic movie.  As you can tell from the short synopsis above, it's awfully contrived.  And it's blatantly predictable.  It's also full of underdeveloped characters, and a myriad of plot lines sprout up, only to be resolved within a scene.  The movie's star (and writer and producer) is a terrible actress.  Research reveals that she does actually have some rowing experience in her background and it shows--to the detriment of the movie.  She revels in banging the viewer over the head with the fact that she knows her subject, and it actually comes off as clunky and trite.  The supporting cast is really the saving grace in the acting department--Van Der Beek and Colin are excellent.  Even more refreshing are the real-life student athletes cast as the high school rowing team members.

However, with all it's contrived predictability, all it's poor writing and acting, I sure did watch the whole dang thing.  And I was rooting for the HS girls rowing team.  And yes, even for Abi and Geoff to end up together.

So, if you're looking for a well written, well acted, thought provoking film...well, keep looking.  But in the end this wasn't a total waste of an hour and half, and I enjoyed it.  Even if I don't know why.

Peaceful

If only every day, every run could be so magnificently refreshing. 

Here in Texas, the summer heat finally broke with a day of rainstorms that beat back the dogs of summer on Friday.  This morning the temperature is 64* at 0440 when I roll out of bed and tug on my running shoes.

When I step out the front door, the cool northern breeze nearly takes my breath away as it tickles its cool tendrils against my skin.  An unexpected prickle of goosebumps flickers across my body.  I greedily suck in a deep breath of the marvelously cool air and set off down the street.

The morning is quiet save for the occasional breeze creaking the summer-dried cedar fences.  I pass and startle a possum who in turn gives me a baleful glare as it scurries away from the edge of the road.  As I turn onto the sidewalk of the more major cross street, a car approaches and has the courtesy to move to the inside lane as it passes.  And then I am alone with my run again.

Glancing back over my shoulder I spy Orion in the southwestern morning sky, and I'm sure he gives me a curt nod of approval.  As my patron constellation of unending endurance and perseverance as he chases his quarry relentlessly across the sky, I often look to the heavens for him.  During the winter months, he flashes by in the late evenings.  But during the summer months I only greet him when I rise before the sun itself to run.

Knee-high heads of grass gone to seed line the sidewalk on both sides, neglected and uncut, as I stride my way up the gradual hill that rises before me.  I skim the edges of the grass tunnel that opens in front of me, letting the tips brush lightly against my outside leg as I slip by, granted safe passage within the path the sentinel grass heads stand watch over.  I smile to myself because I know that I will be passing this way again soon and then it will be a gradual downhill and I'll be pushing the pace through to the end. 

A stray dog pants his hello as he marks time with me for a few strides before he jovially returns to his resting spot beneath a gnarled cedar tree, his pale blue eyes luminescent against his brown fur.  I'll see him again soon too.

Even the two sets of high voltage transmission lines I travel under are eerily silent this morning.  Normally in the heat they buzz and arc, chattering amongst themselves and making the hair on my legs and arms stand on end with their disapproving comments.

As I pass from the residential areas and approach a major city intersection with gas stations and strip malls, the first hints of the impending morning become apparent.  Delivery trucks idle roughly outside the convenience stores, laden with their bottled diabetes, waiting to refuel the mother-ship.  In & Out, Kwik Stop, Run In--they all have such purposeful names.

RunKeeper whispers in my ear, and I abruptly turn heel and head back towards home at the 2 mile mark.  I'm 100 feet short of the intersection, and I wonder why I didn't just travel to the junction before turning back.

I invite Mr. Blue-eyed-Brown Dog to breakfast as I pass by again.  And he smiles his toothy smile agreeably, but returns to wait patiently under his tree to witness what else will pass by his particular part of the universe.  Maybe he's waiting for a better offer.

I concentrate on keeping my cadence up on the downhills instead of falling into ragged lope.  I'm sure my pace is greatly increased with this strategy, but my perceived effort isn't any more than running uphill the other direction.  The downhills cease to be a chance to recover, and instead present as opportunities to bank pace.  Indeed looking at my splits, this is my fastest split by over :40 secs/mile.  I'm slowly learning to use my body to attack the run, rather than merely holding on for dear life, hoping to survive.  More than banking seconds toward my pace, I'm banking experience for my runs and races I've yet to attempt.

As I turn up the steeper hill towards my home, I glance at RunKeeper, and try to determine if I'll have to skirt the cul-de-sac halfway up the street to make sure I'll make 4 miles by my driveway.  The remaining distance before me seems much shorter than the distance left according to RunKeeper. I'm surprised to see that I turn over 4.01 miles as I coast into my driveway.  This disparity only highlights the fear and trepidation that--even now--holds me hostage.  The corner to my driveway is not far by sight.  0.15 miles remaining feels much farther.  But they are the same.  The difference is merely gazing at the goal rather than the work left to get there.

Inside again, I sit on the ottoman at the end of our bed, the fan blowing cool air over me.  I listen to the rhythmic breathing of my 7 year old daughter who came in last night in the fog of a nightmare.  Her insouciant breathing speaks to the safety she feels in our bed.  And I'm glad for that.

In fact, in this moment I'm...grateful.

It's hard for me to be content, sometimes, when I let the world dictate my demeanor.  But for now--this fleeting instant--I am peaceful.

And it all started with a run on a cool Autumn morning.

Here's the song that Pandora chose for me to contemplate to at the end of my run.  One of my (if not my absolute) favorite artists--Gregory Alan Isakov.  Hope you enjoy.

Interview

As alluded to in previous posts, I interviewed for the Nurse Anesthesia program at TCU yesterday.

I'm happy to report I feel like the interview went very well.  I was nervous to be sure, but conversation was light, and words flowed easily.  I felt at ease enough to take the time to consider each of the questions and answer thoughtfully.  Rapport with the interviewers was excellent and they were easy to talk with.

In comparing notes with other interviewees on a post-interview tour of the facilities I discovered I received no questions of a clinical nature.  Each of the other interviewees had at least one clinical question designed to test the breadth of their knowledge from each panel interview.  The questions I  heard weren't terribly difficult, but definitely would require solid clinical experience to answer.  In my mind, the fact that I didn't get any clinical questions could come from two possibilities.  A.)  They didn't think I was worth the effort--which I think I can rule out based on the fact that I am (on paper at least) well qualified for admission.  B.)  They were satisfied with the clinical experience I bring to the table.  (I'm hoping it's this one).  Or, I suppose C.)  I dazzled them with my rugged good looks and charming personality and distracted them from asking the clinical questions.  The Magic 8-ball doesn't seem to agree with answer C. though.

My every interaction with TCU has been fabulous.  They are a wonderful CRNA program with the backing of a great institution.  Not to mention every single person I've met from the program is so nice!  Plus I came home with a TCU umbrella, two Horned Frog keychains, a TCU pencil for my daughter (who has a pencil collection), and two nurse anesthesia stickers.  How is it an interview where I'm supposed to be selling me to them has better swag than the last 5k that I paid to run in!?  If I get in, I'm so there.

Before my interview yesterday afternoon, I headed to the gym for an easy recovery run to clear my head.  I did about 2 miles at an easy pace.  The first two thirds of the run I treated as a progression run--starting slow and then progressively getting faster every few minutes.   The last third I forced myself to decrease the pace incrementally until I reached my original pace for the last couple of minutes.  An exercise in self-control, but a perfect low stress workout pre-interview.

I had set a weight-loss goal of 240 lbs even by my interview date.  The day before the interview I weighed in at 240.4.  So while I didn't make my number (ssssooooo close!!) I'm counting it as a win.  Because 37.4 lbs gone is a win no matter what.

Regardless, if I did well enough in the interview I should be receiving an acceptance letter via e-mail Monday or Tuesday. 

I may or may not be holding my breath until then...

Simplicity

Photo Source

Two days ago I crashed awake at 4:30, shaken to the core by a truly awful and vivid dream.  So much so, I found myself reconsidering my choice of profession here in real life.

Sometimes I think it would be nice to work a job that didn't come with quite so high stakes.  A job where a simple mistake could quite realistically result in someone losing their life can wear heavily at times.

This uncertainty 2 days before I have an interview (today!!) for a graduate school program that will cost a significant amount of money, will consume a significant amount of my life, and will require significant sacrifice from those in my life.  It takes me much further down the path I am currently on, and the responsibility for others' lives will only be greater.  However, the result of successfully completing the program could be life altering for my family and me.

Faced with the enormity of it all, I knew that I wouldn't fall back to sleep.

I also knew that I would likely sit there and wallow in the stark negativity of my dream.

So I got up, got dressed and headed to the gym for a run.

By all accounts it wasn't a particularly enjoyable run.  I had a stitch in my side the whole way, regardless of how much I focused on form and breathing.  I couldn't easily find my headphones without waking anyone up before I left, so I was music-less.  There was a loud talker/laugher chattering away a few rows behind me during my entire run, with just the perfect grating edge in her too loud voice.  It took my legs a while to loosen up, and my muscles were not fans of having no breakfast before being required to perform.

Still.

That terrible run, was so, so much better than the alternative.

I crave the simplicity and clarity that running brings.  Life is as simple as the next mile, the next interval, the next step.  I covet the perspective a workout grants.  It was 3 miles of chances to evaluate myself, 30 minutes of time to recenter myself.  It was a welcome pause before I had to deal with whatever life was thrusting upon me.

It was an escape.

My day didn't get much better--in fact it only got worse.  A truly bad day regardless of the timing or impending potentially life altering events.

Clearly running is not a cure all.

But in the moment, mid-stride, I am free.

And things are so very simple.