portland to coast 2011

Most days I am a runner.

But once a year, I get my racewalk on and participate in the Portland to Coast Relay with my Late for Lattes friends.   Portland to Coast is the sister event to Hood to Coast; we start at leg #13 early Friday morning, and walk 130 miles to the beach - each taking two legs of the journey.  The course is the same as the running version; we just move a bit slower along the way.  

This was my 10th year doing the walk.  I have only ran Hood to Coast once, in 1997, and I found it to be a crowded, crazy adventure.  By contrast, the Portland to Coast offers less crowded exchanges and more time to support your walker along the way.  And since finding a wonderful team, it has been difficult to imagine enjoying the race with anyone else.

Van #1 ready to start.

For the past six years, I had been in Van #2, acting as driver and van captain.  But after selling my minivan this past spring, I was a "free woman"...and we decided to assign legs based on walking pace and distance.  Thus I found myself in Van #1.

Now the tales from van #1 have been legendary.  Dancing at midnight, adventures with other teams, loads of laughs...the list goes on.  Not only that, Van #1 is the one who gets to have their team photo taken post shower...what's not to love?

I should explain that this team was originally formed by dance team members from the local high schools - both dancers and coaches coming together to walk this race.  They hear a song and bust out a routine in unison; it is something to behold.  I did my best to keep up.

We danced early and often.

 We may walk fast, but we also goof around a lot.  Here is our second walker doing her "peel the banana" dance...one we would see all weekend.

As we waited for our walker to pull up to us for water, we realized she had a strange hat on her head.  A vulture hat, saved from being lost along the side of the road.  There was no way this wasn't from another team...and now we had something to ransom!

 The miles ticked off quickly.  We would drive up ahead of the walker, wait for her to pass, offer water, cheers, dances...and then leapfrog ahead.  The clouds quickly lifted and the heat came on like wildfire.

The race vehicle. Our latte cup's foam lights up at night.

Walker 3 passes off to Walker 4

 Before I knew it, my leg was next. 7.13 miles along busy Hwy 30, with no shade and plenty of heat.  I focused on my cadence, counting "1,2,3,4" and trying to keep the beat fast.

My leg was hot. Hot, hot, hot.

 Such relief to hit the exchange.

The hardest part of race walking is getting the leg positioning right.
I actually have correct form here.

 After all six walkers are finished, we hand off to Van #2.  Here we are getting them ready to start.
While they walk, we attempted to rest in a blistering hot field.  Needless to say, there wasn't much sleep to be had.  Mostly I wanted to get going again.

Meeting up with van #2 for our first major exchange.

 After Van #2 finished their legs, they informed us that a major rivalry with Road Kill Grill had started.  Turns out it was their vulture we had found.

"I have yet to go out the sunroof!"

 As evening started to fall, our spirits rose.  We started hooting and hollering at the other walkers, getting punchy as only the tired can.

My second leg left me a bit nervous.  We were getting out in front of all the other teams, and fellow walkers were few and far between.  It was dark (I started walking near midnight), and the section I was walking was a lonely hill.  At one point, I could hear something in the bushes, moving along with me.  I thought about yelling, but instead picked up the pace.  Finally I passed it by.  The extra adrenaline helped me power up the hill.

Kristina and her "babies". We stole a second vulture while parked at an exchange.

We all walked strong on our second legs; by 2 am, we were done with our legs and were headed to the beach cabin for a couple hours of sleep.

Morning breaks on the lake where we slept. So beautiful.

Thankfully we were able to drive right in to Seaside, find a parking spot, and headed to the beach to wait for our walker.  Finishing for most Hood to Coast teams would be nowhere as easy.  We crossed the finish line about 8:40 am.

Heading to the finish.

 Our friends from Road Kill Grill, who had been very fun in the entire vulture-napping incident, finished about the same time.  So of course we had to have a little more fun.  They did let us keep the vulture hats, which will be incorporated into next year's decorations, I'm sure.

A little more heckling before we go.

We spent most of the day in the beer garden, eagerly awaiting our results.

They were well worth the wait.  Turns out we placed 5th in our division, 20th overall, with a 12:12 avg pace. Podium, baby!!

five ways to mess yourself up running

I'm not a coach.  I'm just a runner who has made lots of mistakes in her running.  I have finally seemed to have found a bit of a groove, running injury free for nearly two years.  Here are the lessons I've learned along the way.

1. Run every training run like a race.
When I first started running with any sort of regularity, I would find myself racing my last performance. If I was running a route I had run before, I knew my fastest time on the course, and I would run that training run in such a way that I could set a new PR. Every time.  There weren't easy days; only days that I didn't feel so good.  And that didn't really help my training at all.  It did help me mess up my hips and knees though.

I run a lot of easy runs now.  I will push a run when it feels good, but never in competition with what I've run before.  Most of the time, I don't even have the watch going.  I run by what I feel that day, and that has made a huge difference in keeping me from walking that injury line.

2. Be inflexible with the training plan.
If the plan called for 20 on Saturday, that's what I would run.  Even if I didn't feel good.  Or if the plan called for 20 on Saturday, and my schedule wouldn't work for that, I would just skip the workout entirely.

These days, I don't really have a day to day schedule.  I sketch out in my mind the major workouts I want to hit in the build up to a race, and then I fit those in when I can.  I could be more structured in my approach to training, but I find that less structure works better for me overall.

3. Run through the injury.
So I have stabbing pain every time I step with my right foot...running six miles on that will make me tougher, right?

Nope.

I take a day off right away now when something doesn't feel right.  And I wait until it is feeling better before I start up again.  I ignored this wisdom and few weeks ago and ran when my back didn't feel great; five days later, I could finally run again.  Had I followed my own hard earned advice, I probably would have only lost a day or two.

4. Run your ass off when you've only been training slow.
I recently learned an important lesson about going fast when all you have been doing is training slow.

It hurts.

Not just while you are doing it, but in the muscles that you rarely recruit when most days you are running at a leisurely pace.  If you want to run a really fast pace, you need to train your "really fast" running muscles - the hip flexors and the psoas in particular. Occasional speedwork is crucial in keeping those muscles strong if you are going to want to bust out a run every once in awhile.  I will be incorporating some weekly speed work just in case I want to throw a 5k in to the mix in the upcoming months.

5. Tie your happiness to a performance goal.
This one can be a doozy.  I worked really hard to run a sub four hour marathon at the Rock and Roll Seattle race last year.  I knew heading in to the race that I might have some trouble, since I had been sick during a few key weeks heading in to the race, but I really wanted to nail that goal and "prove" myself as a runner.

I didn't run well.

The first 18 miles were on track, but I fell apart after that...and then for months following.

There were a few weeks when I wasn't sure that I wanted to run anymore.

Slowly I began to change my thinking about running. Was I really going to let it be all about how well I did at a race? Was this the only reason I would lace up my shoes every day? Or could I allow my running to be about the journey over the performance? Could I let myself slow down and enjoy the people, the energy, the moments that make up a race?

The problem with tying your happiness to how well you run is that so many factors can throw you off.  How well you run should be a by-product of your joy and enjoyment of the sport - not the focus.

Learning that has been the best lesson of all.

after the run

after the run,
when your tired shoes huddle together
across the warming air of the register -
and your socks slink off to hide their pungent shame,
when your remaining armor
has been pulled with a grunt -
or lifted gingerly
from your glistening limbs,
and the hot, steaming rain
has lifted the trail from your skin,
once the bands in your legs
have begun to unwind,
after the heaving,
the panting,
the love you made, there
on the shoulder
of the highway,
the neighborhood trail,
the street where you live,
after all this has come to an end -
you sigh,
a knowing smile slipping across your lips
and coming to rest
in your heart.

cascade lakes relay 2011

Once again, the Cascade Lakes Relay proved itself to be one of the most entertaining, tough, and beautiful running experiences of my year.

Evening falls at Diamond Lake. 

We spent the night on the lake, listening to the guitar playing in an adjacent camp. I woke during the night to witness an incredible sky full of stars...

Van #2 enjoys an early morning wake up call to see us off at the start.

The wake up call came at 5 am.  My first run was only an hour and a half away.  A little bit of coffee, a couple of bites of greek yogurt, and I was ready for my 8.5 miles.

First leg.

Of course they are all smiling. They haven't run yet.

We may not be the fastest team in the race, but we just might laugh the most.

Creepy morning fog as Meg kicks ass up the hill.

The fog was incredibly thick that morning.  It was burnt off by 10 am.

Our own superstar.

A lot of dust, a lot of heat.
 

The most brutal leg of the relay is #5. Hot cinder roads, big ass bugs.

But at the end of leg #5 is a beautiful marsh.

Sarah takes off for our final leg of the morning.

 The first set of legs measures 47.5 miles - it is a tough haul out of Diamond Lake.  We enjoyed our rest in Silver Lake, finding the watering hole the first time (I had forgotten the way every other year), hanging out at the fire station doing some yoga, playing juvenile games...

Secret watering hole. So it's an irrigation ditch...

Yoga class.

The locals were fascinated by us.

We headed out on our second set of legs near 8 pm.  The sun was just beginning to set as I ran 7.5 miles down the dusty road.  While the headwind was good for keeping the bugs and dust away, it wasn't so great for my pace.

The sun sets as we begin our second set of legs. We were treated to clear skies full of shooting stars.

Unfortunately, I was not able to capture any good photos of Meg's glow stick running man. He was epic, in a 30 consecutive hours in a van sort of way.  We managed a couple of hours of sleep before it was our turn to run one last time.

I actually turned out my fastest leg on my 3rd go-round; a first for me.

Nothing goes better with a cold river than a Tecate. Even at 9 in the morning.

 We enjoyed the crisp, cool waters of the Deschutes.  This is beautiful country.

The race began to take its toll.

No words needed.

But before we knew it, we were passing off to our teammates and heading to Elk Lake for a dip in the lake.  Our relay was done.

We finished about 5:30 pm, enjoyed a few victory beers, and then headed to our hotel room for some sleep.

At 216.6 miles, the Cascade Lakes Relay is not for the faint of heart.  But it has proven, year after year, to be one of the best running experiences in Oregon.

two schools of thought

I had an experience a few weeks ago that I haven't had in a long time.

I ran fast.

I was part of a team that ran even faster.

Running fast in a tu-tu. It can be done.

We unofficially won the women's race at the Barrel to Keg Relay (except that we were in the wrong division, competing against mixed teams, so it doesn't look that way in the results).

I started having dreams of glory.

You know, the type where training goes perfectly, long runs are fast, and you find yourself running up the giant concrete stairs before your fight with Apollo Creed.  Wait, that was a movie.  But you know what I mean.  Dreams of Boston, flying low, zoom.

That is one way to run.

But there are two schools of thought on this running thing.  One is to run to the point of puking - nearly every time.  Haul ass, take no prisoners, head down, eyes on the prize.  The way to win.

But there is another way.

With joy.  And that has been my experiment of late.  Running more slowly, taking it all in.  Chatting with friends.  Meeting the livestock.  Enjoying the journey as much as the finish line.  Going slowly, smiling, zen.

Which way to run?

Both paths are right.  Both have joy to be discovered in them.  No matter what path you are on, enjoy the day.