2015: Lake Trout Festival Half Marathon

Had everything I planned for 2015 — life and running events alike — panned out as I had planned, this particular journal entry should have been seeing the light of internet a few days later, and I should have been just about done exploring the wicked(ly awesome) wilderness in Forever West and Big Sky Country planned around a half marathon each in the vicinity of Grand Teton and Yellowstone National Parks: witnessing stuff that I have only watched in various Ken Burns’ documentaries (Roosevelt Arch, Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone, Old Faithful in action, Mammoth Hot Springs, Norris Geyser Basin, Tower Falls, Willow Flats and Teton Range, Moose Junction, Snake River Valley, Jenny Lake and a plethora of wild flora and fauna), hanging out with friends (Sara and Dustin) I haven’t seen in quite a long time, tracing and living many a fond memories of dear friend Kyle‘s 2008 adventures, re-tracing and re-living many more of my own from the 2010 Great American Road Trip with buddy Nils, visiting the Stickelmyers (Kari, Steve, Anna and Tommy) and Stenvigs (Tom, Annie and Alexa) in South Dakota — the birthplace of my pesto obsession during the aforementioned 2010 Great American Road Trip, adding some more photographs to the somewhat stale portfolio, flooding the instagram feed with images of food and beverages, and making more friends and memories to last few more life times.

Being in sciences and engineering for much of my adult (or what some would call an antique) existence and treating my life as a series of never ending experiments, it is much easier to comprehend the changed course of action by treating it as a new entry into the Journal of Failed Experiments (thanks be to Dr. L Brad King for sharing this phrase in a coffee shop discussion many months ago). An interest in the history of natural sciences, thanks to wonderful teachers at just about every level, has often led me to an assemblage of experimental results smacking down many a proposed theoretical predictions, and in turn, has taught me that one can seldom connect the dots looking forward — in lab and life alike. The cause of failure for this experiment may remain unknown or be put in I proposed it and life disposed it category forever, at least until other things transpire to disclose the value of another opportunity currently masked behind a missed one.

While the above sounds like a litany of would have, could have and should have, all that the changed course of action did was to replace three entries from from the planned list of races (a half marathon in Grand Teton National Park, a 5k and a half marathon in Yellowstone National Park) with a seemingly much less glamorous Baraga County Lake Trout Festival Half Marathon. The 2014 edition of this event had its fair share of highlights: first half marathon event since buying into eating, sleeping and working out habits, first successful sub 2:30:00 effort, first such event where the second half had felt as good the first half, first podium finish (there were only two in my age group although I didn’t stop others from participating in the event) and the worst time of all participants.

A lesson learned during the race and post-race festivities in Green Bay several weeks ago was to fight the urge to start out too fast but maintain consistent pace instead. Another very important lesson learned the hard way during a test ride n’ run in Copper Harbor for the upcoming Copper Man Triathlon with a dear friend some weeks ago (#10 in the above list) as well as an ill-conceived long run a week ago (#25 in the same list) was that I don’t do very well in terms of maintaining the pace if/when I stop: that is, I haven’t earned enough stripes to have a second (or third or fourth) wind and all I get is one wind per race. A combination of these two factors (latter coming from stoppages/slow downs through aid stations as well) probably had been costing me several minutes during many previous races. It took several training runs, trained as if they were races, to be somewhat comfortable with approaches to consciously fix these issues, or at least, minimize the chance of encountering them again.

With less than four hours of sleep the night before, and waking up with what seemed like bloodshot eyes and warmer than normal body temperature made the race day morning a little less pleasurable. With the fear of bodily injuries not too far from reality, thoughts of just not going to the race showed up but fortunately didn’t stay long. The ride to the event, like last year, was punctuated with a pit stop to watch the glorious sunrise over Lake Superior. Picking up the race packet and heading to Aura, the starting point of the race, was smooth and uneventful as well.

The race started a few minutes past the scheduled 7:00 am start, and the weather was near perfect for running. My idea was to start around the 7:45 min/mile pace, sustain it for the first five miles and buying a 2-3 minutes towards the eventual 8:00 min/pace, maintain around 8:20 min/mile pace for the next five miles, and somehow muster enough gas to finish the last three miles at 8:00 min/mile pace or faster. For one of the only times that I can remember, the plan went just about as exactly as I had planned. Carrying the hydration belt (thank you that seemingly familiar yet unknown lady in Green Bay that vouched for this product) turned out to be a good idea as well. With water and plenty other things — gel as well as many a penny for thoughts — fueling the run, I didn’t feel the need to stop, and totally forgot about the lack of sleep or warmer than normal body temperature or few knots in my stomach.

First two parts had gone nearly as scripted: first five miles had bought me a little over two minutes, and by the end of mile #10, the clock was hovering around 1:20:00. The question (read: doubt) that popped in a few times was whether or not I had it in me to get the last 3.1 miles in under 25 minutes to achieve the coveted and much sought after sub 1:45:00 finish — a goal that has been about eight months in the making with three previously failed attempts (Madison in 2014, and San Francisco and Green Bay in 2015): something, if achieved, would be more than just a PR in more ways than one at a very very opportune time; and something, if not achieved, would require an additional month of waiting for another chance with no guarantee of success — which might just very well be a bit too late. Mile #9 took nearly 9 minutes — not much of a confidence booster — leaving me with just about 16 minutes to spare. Mile #12 took about 8 minutes leaving me with an equal amount to accomplish the said goal. One of the long wanted thing has been to identify how far from the finish line I can start the all out push (or in the words of my favorite coach, Big Push). And again for one of the only times, the timing seemed to have worked out just right.

Thanks in great part to Keweenaw Running Group and Robert Larson‘s recommendation of picking up a speed workout in lieu of a strength/core workout and explicit workouts with the Tuesday night track workout crew, the Big Push began about a quarter mile from the finish line. I dropped the hydration belt off by the road side to shred some unnecessary weight (didn’t really need any more fluids to complete the sprint from that point), sprinted full steam and was out of gas as I crossed the finish line. I have no shame in admitting that I had no strength to stand and lied on my back catching my breath for a few minutes. And I have no shame admitting that I did cry looking at what my GPS watch showed for the final time — 1:44:05, nearly a full minute better than the goal time.

Post-race activities included attending the awards ceremony with many a dear friends (I did successfully defend my second place finish from last year — there were only two in my age group although I still didn’t stop others from participating in the event) and refueling to some extent before heading back to Houghton.

Thanks be to

the rejections and opportunities life has brought my way, event folks (organizers, sponsors, volunteers, timers, law enforcement officials, photographers, fellow participants and spectators) and my family of good friends, mentors and coaches in and outside of my community for all the unexpected, undeserved and unrewarded acts of kindness and constant encouragement as well as offerings of constructive criticism to improve myself as a human and an athlete. I am eternally grateful to all those who let me train with them, who shared their meals and experiences with me, who helped keep me in good health, who helped me stay the course, and who cheered me on from home or along the course.