Kind of defeats the purpose to be writing a prologue for 2025 when it’s already 2025 right? Well I’m not really known for doing things on time so here we are. It’s January 9th, 2025 and I’m currently killing time before I start my first run in over a week. Not ideal. But we’ll get there.
So I guess I’ll start with the purpose of all this.
Why am I doing this? Well, I used to write a lot years ago. A decade ago I was blogging fairly consistently. I had time to do it as a kid with nothing but time on his hands until graduate school started. I’ve gone back and looked at that stuff from time to time. Mostly to chuckle a bit at the stupid ideas I had for training myself and how I was my own worse enemy. The former has changed for the better, the latter, well, what do you want me to say…
Anyways.
Honestly? I’ve had a pretty tough time finding that spark to be creative again. Not just creative, but even just the spark to commit myself to anything aside from most things outside of my career, running, a few choice relationships. Over the last couple of months I’ve realized that I haven’t really done a good job executing on things that I really want to do. I’ve found a lot of enjoyment with cataloging my experience trying this running thing again and the successes I’ve found through it. The medium of social media has really taken much of my motivation to do it though. The last year felt like everything was just a photocopy of whatever was popular/getting likes. Another new Runnerinstagram and the same reel reposted week by week. It’s not a knock on particular people but the combination of all of it has made that entire platform feel formulaic and unimaginative. And well, frustrating.
Enough ranting for now.
This year I want to get back to writing again. And I’m going to use the medium I pay a yearly fee for to do it. My goal is to try and post once a week, recapping how running has gone in the lead up to the California International Marathon 2025.
So let’s do a quick intro of where I’ve been. 2023 was the best year of my life. I set personal bests across every distance I toed the line at. The second half of it featured my most impressive performance of my running career thus far by a pretty good amount, a 2:19:13 Marathon in early December. That block left me pretty emotionally exhausted as I battled a training block with a nagging injury and what I thought was a challenge with a binary result, pass or fail. I wondered whether this was still an enjoyable endeavor as I limped through each run. Ultimately I found some rhythm when it mattered and while I did technically fail, the result was significantly better than I ever could’ve dreamed I could attain just a couple years ago.
2024. Well. It was a year of disappointments. I won my 50K in April but came 10 minutes short of a goal I thought was realistic. Cratering alone for the last hour plus in the freezing cold was about as humbling experience as I could’ve had. New York? Well, I still haven’t found the time or energy to finish that recap… From aiming for a top 40 finish to sprinting with all I had to get 100th. Disappointing is an understatement for 2024. But that’s running for ya. You can be fit but sometimes you just need the day to be right and I definitely didn’t expect anything that could go wrong go wrong in the span of two hours and thirty minutes. But that’s why we race. I’ve been lucky enough to be on the other side of that for so long. I’d rather the gods even the score a bit in a year that doesn’t matter than when it does again.
When is it again? Well I hope it’ll be at CIM? That’s if the USATF actually decides to announce an Olympic Trials Standard for 2028. What will that be? Who knows. Will it stay at 2:18? Will it move down to 2:17? Faster? Beats me. Regardless, I need to get my ass in gear to put myself in position to try.
2025 starts on a back step. I started to shake off an IT band issues while I was on vacation out west and then bang, sickness. I don’t know what kind of bug I got but it took me down from Thursday to now. I’m finally feeling like myself again. We’ll see how this goes.
That’s it for now. I’ll add more if I feel like it this week. If not? I’ll catch you next week.
Following CIM (Recap: https://www.reddit.com/r/AdvancedRunning/comments/18hyxcl/took_my_shot_at_the_moon_and_finished_thankful/), I took about about a week and a half off running completely. For once I didn’t really have a Spring race locked up ahead of time. Since I wanted to go all-in for this trials thing I decided against signing up for Boston 2024; the first time I wouldn’t sign up since I started marathoning in 2018.
Immediately after CIM, I emailed the elite coordinator to inquire about the pro-development field. Unfortunately the field was full, but I was put on the wait list. I figured I would make my final decision post Olympic Trials, thinking people would most likely scratch afterwards.
My second option was USATF 50K Champs in March but after checking in with how my body was holding up 90 days post CIM, I thought it would be too quick of a turnaround. Plus, from my understanding, members of the 50K Road Team for 2025 would not be chosen from this race. So that made my decision much simpler.
My final, and most likely option would be Mad City 50K. The USATF site said that the third spot from the previous year was typically chosen for the team. So the goal would be to run under the qualifying standard (3:00) and win. Judging from past results it would probably take sub 2:55 to take the win here. Coach and I thought sub 2:52 would be possible.
My first full week of consistent running would be the week of Christmas when I was home for the holidays. It was easy to be motivated when the low temps was 50 degrees instead of the 20 back home. 58 miles on 6 days to start and then it was back to Ohio.
I spent the start of January essentially shitposting all of my runs. Chipotle had a segment challenge in my town where the prize was free chipotle for a year for the most segments on a .18 mile stretch. I had no shot of winning but I wanted to make sure my buddy didn’t pack it in after gapping the field early. This lasted about a week when my coach responded to my text about potential Spring races with:
“…You’d need to get pretty serious now and prob stop running back and forth for 8 miles lol.”
Noted.
The remainder of January was filled with just getting consistent miles, jumping into other people’s workouts, and rehabbing this lingering glute issue. While miraculously the issue from last Fall disappeared the morning of CIM, it came back in full force as soon as I crossed the finish line. I made big improvements and was able to be start working out on the 31st.
February Miles: 324 Miles Highest Mileage Week: 86.09 (6 days)
Highlights:
Feb 3rd: 11 miles w/ 30 second pickups and then 3x 5min on the Olympic Trials Course. Splits: 5:19, 5:02, 4:56
Feb 7th: 20x 1 min @ MP/1 min uptempo (7.41 miles, 5:33 avg)
Feb 14th: 15 x 1 min on/1 min off, 16x 30 seconds on/30 seconds off (8.29 miles, 5:43 avg)
Feb 18th: 12x1k w/ 200 jog 4@ MP + 10 seconds (3:27-26-25-24) 4@ MP (3:19-19-18-19) 4@ HMP > 10k (3:10-09-07-04)
Feb 21st: 20x 1 minute on/1 minute on @ MP + 30 seconds, 5 flat mile 8.26 miles, 5:32 pace, final mile: 4:58
Feb 25th: 15x1k w/ 200 jog recovery. 5 sets at 50k pace 5 sets at MP 5 sets at HMP >
Feb 28th: 30 x 1 min/1 min@ MP +20 seconds (10.78 miles, 5:34 avg). Real feel of 22 degrees, 19 mph winds
Lowlights: Feb 11th: Epic blowup during 16 mile LR (6:14 avg), last 4 supposed to be MP, actual: 5:18, 5:23, 5:53, 5:24. Bad route to finish and massive wind. Completely unprepared and too trigger happy.
March was filled with travel. Two out of state weddings for me and long road trips at the beginning of the month.
February Miles: 341 Miles Highest Mileage Week: 90.41 miles
March 13th: 6x 1 mile w/ 2 min slow jog 5:04-5:02-4:59-4:58-4:57-4:56
March 17th: 24 miles @ 6:32 avg with final 6 @ 50k Pace: 5:36, 5:29, 5:24, 5:24, 5:27, 5:25
March 31: 20 with progression at 10 starting at 6:00. 6:00 > 5:14. (6:00, 5:59, 5:47, 5:42, 5:35, 5:30, 5:25, 5:21, 5:17, 5:14)
Lowlights: March 2nd: 19.08 miles: 6:11 avg, 12 mile progression 4@5:45-50, 4@5:35-40, 4@5:15-20 Actual: Foot issues with Adidas Pro upper, Blew up at 10.7 miles. High humidity in savannah and driving 9 hours over the last day made for a disaster.
March 9th: 20.12 miles, was supposed to be last 8 @ 50k pace. Made it 5.25 before blowing up because of temps and high humidity in SC.
March 20th: 20x 1 minute on @ 50k/1 minute @ 6:00 10x 30 seconds on @ hmp, 30 seconds @ 6:00 9.08 miles @ 5:39 avg
March 22nd: Wrecked my foot on a trail run in Austin for a wedding and could barely put weight on it for a couple days
April:
April 7th: Tuneup workout/race: 9 miler (start at MP and work down to HMP) 9.05 miles @ 5:14 avg
April 10th: 4x 1 mile w/ 2 min jog Mp-mp-hmp-hmp 5:17-16-03-03
Lowlights: Glute issues began to rear its ugly head following the tuneup workout. I had done this same race the last two years before Boston with little issue. This time I’m pretty sure I got a little too aggressive on a rolling course and just aggravated the spot.
Pre-race
We made the drive out to Madison from Ohio on Thursday morning. My original plan was to stop in Chicago Thursday night and finish the drive the following morning but seeing as it was just about an 8 hour drive from Ohio, I thought it would be best to make it in one trip and try to stay off my feet until race time.
I did a loop on the course with a friend of mine as soon as we got to town to try and scope out what was in store on Saturday. The course would feature some rolling but nothing that seemed to be too much of an issue. Wind was a bit of a menace but hopefully it would die down by race day. As soon as we finished we realized we did the course backwards. Whoops.
Glute continued to be a problem despite how much I tried to roll it out. Shakeout felt awful on Friday and but was hoping that I’d get lucky like I did in December. Spent a fairly lowkey day grabbing my bib, and making a stop at New Glarus to grab beer for home.
We drove the course the correct way after we grabbed our bibs, looking at specific spots to build a race plan. The race would be 5 passes over a 10K loop. The race would start over just behind the finish line. Over the first mile we’d run out of the park, a sharp left a quarter mile in to a neighborhood street, a sharp right for our first hill (first a short small one, a slight dip, and an immediate longer one) before another sharp left onto the sidewalk to pass the first mile. The second mile would begin with a quick downhill section down the sidewalk before jumping on a bike path where it settled fairly nicely. After a quick left to head into a neighborhood section, we’d start a small negligible incline at 2.3, then really feel it ramp up at 2.6 and move up until another set of two sharp left turns 400 meters later. None of these first hills were particularly tough but sharp turns when cresting would make it hard to get back into rhythm, especially when we’d face them later in the race.
Mile four would have a quick downhill section coming off the sharp left turns as we headed towards the parking lot of the arboretum. We’d pass mile four as we made our way up the final incline, the mildest of the three incline sections of this course. A second aid station would greet us just after 4 miles with portapottys and water. The next mile would be a mild downhill section that could be a place to settle into a nice rhythm. Trees surrounded both sides of the road, protecting us from any nasty winds. The final section would be unshaded on one side, as the view of Lake Wingra and far off in the distance the finish line. One final sharp left turn took us out of the arboretum back into the park to finish the loop and do it once more. Almost a mile of this section would not have protection from the wind if it decided to pick up.
The race had sent out the lineup for the 50k earlier in the week. I had scanned through the competitors and thought I’d have a fairly good shot at the win. It seemed like a lot of the men had chosen the 100k instead, which not surprising because it would be the qualifier for worlds this Fall. Regardless of what it said on paper, I was prepared to have some people to race with. I’ve learned over the years that you can’t be too confident; the distances will humble anyone.
Race plan would be to settle into the first two loops at about 5:40 average and then start moving over next two. No major moves until the marathon distance.
I struggled to go to bed the night prior to the race. I didn’t think I had overhydrated by any means, but I was waking up every hour or so to go pee. I had a beer at lunch, but I typically have a beer at dinner before races. This was worse than I’ve experienced before.
I finally got some sleep and then woke up around 5:30 to get ready to head out. Bottles were prepared and bags were packed. I had a maurten bar and drank a Maurten 320 mix. Something wasn’t sitting right. I was feeling sick and spent the next hour or so trying not to vomit. I thought to myself that while vomiting would probably ease my nausea, I’d most likely be heading into the race with a caloric deficit. To me it was better to be a little uncomfortable early than heading in without some fuel in the reserves.
The weather for the morning was a nippy 33 degrees with a real feel of 24. Wind had died down compared to yesterday but you could still feel a fairly strong gust come up. I decided to put on my brighton base layer under my singlet and double gloves. If I needed to ditch the mittens, I’d drop it after loop one.
With my stomach still struggling I instructed my girlfriend to hand me Nuun Endurance for the first two loops and Maurten for the final 2. The former was fairly easy to drink and would hopefully help settle me down. I took 3 Gus with me and left the remaining with her.
At this point I had made some adjustments to my race plan. The wind was not great and my legs weren’t feeling that race day pop. I would play the conservative game for the two first loops and keep it under 3 hour pace and work my way down. 2:55-8ish would be a great day today. That seemed attainable.
After a 10 min jog and some strides, it was time to head to the start line. The 100k field had already been out for about 90 minutes and we cheered as each passed us. I took my first gu, thankfully I was able to take it down without any issues.
The race official separated the 50k solo runners from the relay teams. I said my final well wishes to one of my athlete’s running in the women’s field and lined up at the front.
Race
After a bit of shuffling at the start I maneuvered my way to the front. I had two relay runners with me and another that had bolted immediately, gapping the field quickly. A quick left turn into a neighborhood and then a sharp right for our first hill. This first loop would be all about getting my bearings for what’s to come. I was okay with a slow first mile. As long was I could maintain an average of sub 5:48 for the loop, I’d be under the 3:00 standard to start. As I crested the first hill and made the sharp turn down the city sidewalk the first beep came through, 5:49. Good good. Stay calm and settle in, don’t get antsy with 30 miles to go. Take the first three conservatively and let the last three be the place to make some ground. I brought the pace down slightly over the next mile with a 5:45 and then hit the next hill section in a 5:50. Fine, just fine. Crest the hill and two sharp lefts to get into the arboretum.
As I made my second left I saw the leader of the 50K relay. A bike had pulled back with him. “I wrecked my achilles.” To be honest I didn’t really know how to respond to this. I said “Are you okay?” knowing full well he wasn’t but that’s the first thing I could think of. I kept going and thought to myself that this was probably going to be one of the loneliest races I’d ever be in. 3 Miles in and I’d been running the majority of this solo already. I was going to have to get real acquainted with my own thoughts.
It was time for the easier part of the course. While this section had some rolling in it, it was much gentler than the previous section, making it really easy to settle into a groove here. I had looked up the splits of one of the women’s winners from one of the past years and saw that this section was the place where you could find a groove. I hit a couple 5:30 mids in this section, trying to focus on holding things back a bit here. A second gu just after 4 where I took some water to help take it down. While the wind was not as nasty as the previous days, the final mile was tougher than it needed to be. A final sharp left to get us back to the finish line as I started to feel some mild discomfort, less than 6 miles in, and I needed to go to the bathroom.
As I got smacked around by the wind a bit over the final stretch, I made the decision to ditch the mittens. I have massive raynauds issues but my hands seemed to be just fine with just one pair of gloves. If worse came to worse I’d ask for them back over the next loop. We came back through the finish straight and I scanned the crowd looking for my girlfriend. For a half second I worried I’d miss her, but sure enough she was there ready. I yelled out for a Nuun bottle, tossed my gloves and grabbed the bottle in one fluid motion. Okay got this one without any issues.
One lap complete in 36:09. I took a couple swigs of a cold Nuun and tossed it in a grass ditch 400 meters later. I’d grab them after the race.
As we left the park section I scanned my surroundings. My stomach had begun to tighten up. I need to go pee bad. I took a final look around, jumped in some bushes and did what needed to be done. Back on my merry way. I knew this mile would be slow with this pit stop and focused on not trying to over compensate with a fast next mile. We’d have plenty of time over the last 12 to be a little more aggressive. The next couple miles would be just focused on setting a barrier for myself. A second or two faster per mile would be okay here, but nothing crazy. I took my second gu without any issue.
I crested the second hill with no issues and enjoyed my downhill reward. Up ahead I saw a familiar singlet in the 100k field. “That’s fine.” I knew a couple guys from my conference ran for this club just after college. I had actually run my first marathon in this singlet. I immediately knew who this chap could be.
“Kris!”
“Yeah?”
“It’s Cris from La Verne!”
“Oh I know who it is!”
I rolled past him and another competitor saying hello. He surged slightly and gave me a loving shove forward.
Editors note I hadn’t seen Kris in probably 10 years. I went to my first brewery when I had just turned 21 with this guy before I got all into this scene. Kris would eventually come in third during this race, running a conservative, consistent and calculated race. The meet director said he looked like he was having the best time. I’d agree.
I was in good spirits as I went through the second half of the course. My stomach had settled up and I was able to take my third gu without any issue. As I approached the final straight I yelled “Nuun and two gus please!” My girlfriend was not expecting me to ask for Gu but she made a quick move to grab them just in time for me to pass. It was an awkward pass due to me trying to grab everything in one motion as my hips just started to really feel the movement to grab. I noted this but figured it was just a fluke as I had this feeling during a practice session getting bottles in the past.
I came through in just about 72 minutes and I was fairly confident with how this was going to go still. As I made my move up the first hill I started to get that familiar feeling again. Really, I had to pee again…
Just before 14 I jumped into some trees and went. A 5:51 mile section for my troubles here. This was getting fairly annoying. I thought to myself, this is definitely the last time this is happening, suck it up and get back to business.
I saw another familiar face as I passed a 100K group. Geoff! I said hello and he cheered me forward and it was a nice pep up in a fairly quiet race. I had little trouble getting back into rhythm and cresting the second hill following the pitstop.
As I approached 16 the cracks in the armor began to show. It was a familiar feeling. A feeling back to 2021 when I tried this distance the first time. I’ve never had this feeling at the marathon distance but somehow this was happening 16 freaking miles into a 50K race.
My feet hurt.
Maybe it’s the downhill sections. Maybe it’s the pair of Vaporfly 2’s that have 100+ miles on them already. This causes a quick short circuit to my confidence. This should not be happening. I’m not running that fast. This is 20 seconds slower than I ran in December.
I quickly shake those thoughts. Be here, now.
I take my fourth gu with no issue.
With my feet in mind I make the conscious effort to pull back on the pace a bit. I ran 5:31 for one of these sections last loop. Let’s keep it to 5:38-5:40 to be safe. The pace doesn’t feel like I’m straining but my feet just are achy. Hopefully this is just a fluke.
I pass through final stretch once more to grab my first bottle of Maurten. I’m fairly nervous at this point. I’ve stayed on pace, roughly, but things have been far from perfect and while my stomach is feeling settled, who knows what another chug of maurten 320 is gonna do.
I take the couple swigs and toss it into the patch. I see some familiar bottles. My athlete chose the same area to toss her bottles too.
Over 19 miles in and I’m still pretty consistent here. My feet are still crying out to me but other than that my legs feel relatively okay. As I crest the first hill again, another chip. That sharp left turn is feeling much much harder than it was before. My hips are tight and my left side is beginning to labor with each step. The downhills have been chipping away at an already unstable structure and now 21 miles in, these cracks are starting to show.
Again, I pivot on easing for the next couple miles. Ease the pace and hammer that last 10k. “You’ve run 5:20’s before.” There’s still a chance here. The harsh reality is starting to set in as I crest the second hill that even the prospect of sub 3 hours is fleeting. My head isn’t short circuiting here. It’s focusing it’s energy on checking in on how I’m feeling. I know this isn’t going well. But thinking about it more isn’t going to help. I have to live with the cards I’m dealt right now.
The “fast section” is now filled with 5:50s, 10+ seconds slower than miles I was joyfully running an hour earlier. Over the last two miles the thought of dropping out at the end of this loop comes to mind.
I’m not having a good time. My main goal for this race is gone and my feet hurt. Why am I out here…
“Well you’re 24/25 miles in this race. You have nothing left on your schedule. You drove and invested all this time/money to do this. You’re also winning. Finish this up dude.”
As I made the penultimate pass through the finish line area I tried to look somewhat composed. Mostly because I didn’t want to alarm my girlfriend. lol. The wind down the final stretch definitely made that a tougher endeavor than I would’ve thought.
This last bottle had no issue. I had another thought that maybe I could thug it out and pull something out of my butt to take me under. But after that final first hill, I knew it was all gone. I passed the marathon mark in 2:32 and with my muscles now screaming at me with every step I knew these last miles would be about survival.
A 6:13 off the hill. A 6:15 down the hill. The climb up the second hill didn’t feel too horrible but once again, I needed to go pee. Of course. Let’s rub some dirt in it. I have to pull to the side again. Getting back onto it was harder this time. My knee drive is pitiful as I struggle with each unforgiving next step. The nice downhill sections over 20 miles ago are now my nemesis. I try my hardest to keep myself under 6 minute pace as though that would help heal my fractured ego. But alas, I can’t. These legs aren’t going. I need to get myself to the finish line. What was my redemption at this distance was an ego check.
I pull myself over the next two miles as the wind keeps smacking me in the face. By the time I hit the final stretch I can’t even kick. I put my arms up as I cross the finish. My legs aren’t stinging like they did at CIM, I don’t have the sharp stabbing pains. My body is just tired.
I’m done. I won. 3:04:04.
Post-race
I came out of this race feeling fairly bittersweet about my experience. The event and weekend itself was incredible. Aside from my performance over those three hours, this had to be one of the most memorable trips I’d done. But if I had to be honest with myself, my performance was the worst I’d had in since Boston 2021.
I had some time to unpack it all over the following days and weeks. I felt conflicted, particularly when trying to answer the question How did it go?
Well I won. I set a pretty big PR at the distance. But I struggled to hide my disappointment. The confusion in their reaction made it worse and left me feeling like I was just being greedy whiney.
Dude you won. That’s huge.
While I did travel to Madison to win, that was a far C goal for the day. Getting under the qualifying standard for Worlds next year was my consolation prize for a hard fought battle last December. And I came nowhere near close to what I thought I had on the day when I signed up for this.
As I thought more on the subject, I realized that while this may have been a gut punch, it was a nice reminder of how these distances work. As I said before, this was my worst race since Boston 2021. Since that time, I’ve been lucky to have had a string of home run races since then. I’d argue that I’ve overperformed in most goal races that I’d put on the calendar in the last 2.5 years.
That Boston Marathon was just over a 2:32:01. Since then I’d run 2:28:23 at Boston, then 2:23:58 at Chicago, 2:23:27 at Boston, and finally 2:19:13 at CIM. I was due for a tough outing.
Mad City was a harsh reminder of what the distances can do to you if you’re not 100%. I have New York in the Fall. This course has very similar elevation. Had New York been in the Spring it would have ate me alive in my current state. So I take away knowing that I still have a lot I need to work on to make sure I’m ready come Fall.
I’m fairly disappointed with this effort but I’m thankful all the same here. It’s a great learning experience and I had an incredible trip.
As a note for anyone looking at these Mad City races. I was pretty blown away by how they treated us. The event coordinators are incredibly passionate about the race and the people. I received a handwritten card that came in today saying congrats and referencing a conversation we had after the race. I’ve raced a lot of big races over the years but little things like this mean a lot.
I’ll be back eventually. I still have a bone to pick with this distance. I’m proud of this effort and while I’ve done plenty of typing on my great days in the sport, I think it’s really important to talk about those days that just don’t go your way. To me this effort was much harder than CIM last December and I didn’t quit despite my body yelling at me to do so. I thankfully recovered much easier than I had from the last couple marathons though I still have general aches and pains from the issues I had heading into the race.
I have some time, but as this block showed me, November will come quickly. So for now, it’s time to dust myself off and try again.
In Greek Mythology, Icarus was the son of a master craftsman, Daedelus. Imprisoned in the labyrinth by King Minos, Daedelus fashioned two sets of wings made from feathers, threads from blankets, clothes, and beeswax to escape the island.
The plans for the day ahead of me began four years ago. Riding a high from my first breakthrough at the marathon distance at the Columbus Marathon, I thought to myself, Maybe it’s possible to get down to 2:18:xx by 2023. At that point I had been fairly active on Letsrun, mostly in the Sub 2:30: Chase for Amateur Glory thread. One day I found a thread that lit the spark and started the chapter that I will close this weekend.
D3 Runners who OTQ.
At that point in time the list had to have been less than about 100 if I remember correctly. Once I saw it, I couldn’t shake it. After failing to qualify for the National Championships, I told myself this would be my redemption. This would be the next chapter of the 4:52/10:26 HS kid finding his way in this crazy sport.
The Master Craftsman? An old internet pal from my Dyestat message board days.
I can’t say that I ever shared my intentions this far out to many in those early days. Even being a rookie at the distance, I knew from my share of heartbreaks over the previous thirteen years that absolutely nothing was guaranteed. I’ve had a HS school record slip through my fingertips as I let off the gas with less than 800 meters to go after running what I thought was the race of my life for those first 2.5 miles. I’ve missed out on almost every major goal I’ve had for myself in this sport either by sheer bad luck or injury.
My teammate at the time, Sam, was probably the only person that I had let know what my long term goal was here.
I’m not sure if Zach had much thought of me growing into this position that I am now. When he took me on as an athlete I had just run my second marathon, a 2:34 at Boston where I came to a crashing halt 22 miles in. Maybe after Columbus those thoughts may have started for him too. Negative splitting a 2:30:25 in October after missing almost all of August due to injury? Maybe this kid can fly like I can.
He would let his belief known the morning of the 2020 Olympic Trials.
I had just finished a 16 mile run with 8 miles average about 5:30’s along a bike path in Atlanta. An early workout before I would get ready to cheer Zach on as he competed at his first Olympic Trials Marathon. I sent my splits to him as I always did, figuring he’d get to it in a couple days after combing through what was probably hundreds of messages from friends and family.
But my phone would buzz short thereafter.
I’ll see you here with me in four years.
And now four years later I sit here preparing for my chance to try and make my end of the bargain.
Nothing has been particularly flashy over the last couple of years. These wings haven’t been fashioned by altitude or training groups filled with people that have been there before. I train in Columbus, Ohio with a training group made up of great friends. Talented friends, yes, but not training partners because of their ability levels. I have a career that I work my mileage around; making sure that I don’t get myself too carried away in this running thing that I begin to have a negative effect in the things that actually matter. I’m not a professional runner, nor will I ever reference myself as such. And thankfully, I have a circle of pals there to remind me should I ever need it. A large amount of this endeavor has been funded on my own. Trainers? Find discounted pairs of old models and stock up. I haven’t had a marathon paid for by another entity. All out of pocket.
Of the 83 men and 81 women toeing the line this weekend in Sacramento, many of us will share a very similar story. ~150 of us with personal bests within 8 minutes of 2:18:00 and 2:37:00 have spent the last few years carving our own journey to this very starting line. Each having that moment that led us to believe: I can fly too.
Before escaping the Island Daedelus warned his son not to fly too close to the sun or too close to the sea.
To truly fly tomorrow involves taking a massive risk. Many of us will line up with personal bests that on paper do not inspire confidence for the task ahead. 2:23:28 seems like lightyears away from 2:18:00. But as Zach once said: We’re not going to CIM to run 2:21. You can run 2:21 anywhere.
The window for the 2024 Olympic Trials Marathon closes on Dec 5th. Why not give it a shot. Why not fly. Dozens of us will affix our wings and take flight tomorrow. Runners from all walks of life, the distance doesn’t discriminate. We’ll pack up stride for stride as we roll up and down the roller coaster ride from Folsom to Sacramento, all in good spirits, with bright eyes and hopeful hearts. We’ll attempt to settle into cruising altitude; riding the boundary between comfort and redlining.
As our journey continues to the promised land the upbeat and lively group will begin to disassemble; runner by runner falling off the pack. Packs will splinter and choices will be made that will decide the fates of each runner.
Overcome with giddiness while flying, Icarus soars higher and higher into the sky. As he soars, the heat from the sun begins to melt the beeswax. The wings begin to fall apart as Icarus valiantly attempts to stay in flight. But alas, his attempts prove futile as he slams into the sea and ultimately drowns.
Most of us in these packs will drown tomorrow. Some will hold on and be rewarded with consolation prizes of personal bests while others will drag themselves across the line, pulling themselves out the deepest pool of fatigue they’ve ever experienced. But so comes the risk with the challenge. No risk, no reward.
There will be carnage tomorrow, but there will also be celebrations to be had. Many will achieve dreams they never thought was possible. Regardless of the result, all of us can hold our heads up high. We all will fly, just some of us will fly the full 26.2.
I gave it all gave it all I had. 12th in the region. About a month ago not even thinking I could even be all conference. I find out tomorrow if I make nationals. 4 teams need to make it in order for me to go. Regardless of whether I make nationals I must say that I’m proud of how far this team has come and damn proud to be a SCIAC athlete. A couple years ago no one would have ever thought to see La Verne battling for a national spot, or even sending a team much less an individual there. It’s been a wild ride and it’s been a great journey. – November 16th 2013
As years go by, memories tend to blur together. Almost two decades in this sport will do that to you. I’m no longer the kid and that just feels just weird to me. I’m 31 now, just a few years shy from an entire new age group. Running has almost become second nature to me, an almost daily routine that very rarely has major highs or lows. I joke that I generally care about my own running about ~2 hours of each week. Everything else is just necessary motion. It’s a hobby. I don’t make money from it and I’m generally okay at it. I can’t say I don’t love it. I can’t say that I’m not obsessed with it. Why else would you continue to dedicate 10 hours a week toward something.
Being around for this long you learn a lot of lessons. I guess you have to for the sake of self-preservation. Those that don’t learn from those lessons have a short life span in this sport. If you’re lucky you’ll continue to just jog around a couple days a week as an enjoyable endeavor. Others are spit out, never wanting to ever associate themselves with it. And once you’re out long enough, that mountain becomes much steeper.
Over the last couple of years I’ve had the pleasure of watching new runners grow in their own journey. From past athletes in other disciplines, to just people taking something up during a very lonely pandemic, our community has grown just due to the accessibility of running itself. As I’ve created and interacted with my own community, both locally and virtually, I’ve continued to watch enthusiastically as new barriers are broken and goals once thought impossible are set.
But with time in this sport comes inevitable setbacks and disappointments. Some controllable, others not so much. It’s not ever a question of if, but more when. If there’s one thing that running teaches us, it’s how to find the silver linings in those moments of disappointment. Despite success feeling almost binary, we can find victories in even some of our lowest moments.
Running can be a cruel endeavor. I’ve had my heart broken more by running over these last two decades than anything else. A running career filled with injuries and setbacks has forced me to learn how to pick myself up, put the pieces back together, and go forward again.
As I’ve learned over the years, it’s the low moments that truly test who you are in this sport.
The thing is, everybody wants to be a winner. And when you’re psyched up, you’re willing to make any sacrifice. After a great workout, you’ll happily go hit the weight room, or add extra miles, or eat spinach and broccoli. But what will you do when you’re feeling like crap, or all your friends are going out, or it’s pouring rain, or you’re running poorly? To keep striving over the course of years, you need to smooth out the natural highs and lows of your desire, so that you have a constant and unrelenting force that drives you off the sofa and out to run. Every day. Twice. – Once a Runner
My running career has been full of those tests. None more-so than my final cross country season at La Verne.
I entered that final season of undergrad with one last shot to make the NCAA DIII National Championships in green and orange. During those years if you asked anyone on that men’s squad what the mission of La Verne Cross Country was, it would have been the same. To make the National Championship. We were united in this goal from the moment we stepped on campus. When AJ, the first national qualifier in our school’s history, returned from nationals our freshman year he told us:
I want you there with me next time.
Freshman Year
My Sophomore season our team was snakebit when it when it came to Regionals. AJ was out due to an injury between conference and regionals. Our top runner that year, Alex, who was in battling for winning the region, aggravated an injury during the race. Sean was unlucky and battled a cold. I was our top finished in a slightly disappointing 28th place finish. Good for All-Region but hardly enough to help the team. We finished 9th as a team, heartbroken.
2011 West Region Championships
My Junior year, I came in with high expectations. I had capped off my Sophomore year with a school record in the 5K, one that would absolutely be destroyed in the following years, but a school record nonetheless. My goal was to step up and hopefully be part of an interchangeable 1-2-3 for our team. It didn’t matter who finished first, just that we had a team of low sticks.
Fresh off a new school record in the 5k
Just days into arriving on campus, my season was over before it started. I fractured my middle toe walking at team camp and had to redshirt the rest of the season. The team kept rolling without hesitation and had the best season in school history. A few short months later they would make good on the promise they made to AJ during that run, La Verne qualified for the National Championships.
Making the best of a bad situation. Dapper Days 2012.
The feeling of conflicted emotion was something that I have yet to ever experience again. There was a profound sadness that despite being there from the early days, I sat there in my dorm room as my best friends achieved a goal we had talked about countless times. But that sadness took a back seat to pure happiness for those hard working gentlemen. I was excited for the team. They busted their asses for years to achieve what no one thought we could years prior. To not be excited for them would be selfish. Against all odds, they did what they set out to do.
As their season came to a close, so began my first steps post crutches. Weeks later AJ would knock on my dorm room door and hand me a gift. The national qualifier medallion.
I already have one of my own. Plus, you were as much a part of this team as anyone else. You can give it back to me when you get your own.
School Record in the Steeplechase Spring 2013
You dream of your final season as a movie like crescendo; three years of trials and tribulations leading to breakthrough. This was nothing like that. I capped off another Track season with a school in the Steeplechase one place off the podium at conference. I was ready for a breakthrough in my favorite season. This season would be different. I would be the only returner from that group of five men that bonded my freshman season. Alex, Matt, and Sean graduated that spring and AJ had made the decision to not return to the team. That season was solely about unfinished business.
And again, as summer came to a close I was faced with another injury. This time an IT Band issue that got so bad that I had trouble bending my knee without being in excruciating pain. Instead of running with the guys every morning I spent them on the stationary bike or dropping out of workouts as my knee would once again lock up. While I had made friends with the underclassmen, it was impossible to replicate the bond I had with those old teammates. I had a new coach I couldn’t see eye to eye with, a schedule outside of practice that left me running on fumes, and I could barely run. My motivation was at its lowest. I felt defeated. I wasn’t a good teammate. I struggled to wake up for practice on time to stationary bike while the team ran so I was punished by having to sit out for races that season. I bombed out in my first conference race, finishing 80+. Later that season I told a close friend from a rival team that I was contemplating quitting the team before conference. At this point this was no longer enjoyable. I had begun to hate the very thing I loved more than anything else at that point.
Something in me couldn’t give up on the guys on the team. I was emotionally beat but I definitely was not dead yet. Some of the younger guys hadn’t given up on me. I had done this turnaround before. So I kept going, and eventually I found a stretch where I stayed healthy and could prove my fitness. At the final conference meet I ran the race of my life to finish 9th overall. An improvement from 80+ just a couple weeks prior. As I came through the finisher shoot our top returner looked back in shock to say:
YOU!?
I was back. The stories were all true. I’d be there when it counted. And i’d be there to give that nationals berth everything I had.
I came into regionals confident but hesitant about the level of fitness I was in. I played it conservative and put myself in a position where I was just on the outside looking in. For years, top 15 would be the magic spot to get you to nationals. Land in there and your ticket is as good as punched to the big dance. Outside of the home team, I was the most experienced on this course, it being about 2 miles from my childhood home. The course lined with familiar faces: conference pals, teammates, friends, and family. This was the best I had felt all season. As my competitors began to strain, I began to make my move. I was quickly picking up spots as we neared closer and closer to the finish.
As I crested the small hill leading to the final stretch, I could see one final jersey within sight. 250 meters to go and I hit the track. I hug the curve, pumping my arms as hard as I can as I inch closer and closer to the finish line. There’s not much room left. It’s my last race. I don’t care. It’s all I have now. I tap into any remaining energy I could muster up and attack. I sprint as hard as I could and despite knowing that the finish line would come before I could pass that final competitor, I still give it everything. If I was going to miss out it was not going to be because of lack of trying.
My friends and family embraced me as I tried to catch my breath. AJ picks me up and gives me a giant hug.
12th. 12TH!
Exhausted and almost in tears I can’t believe it.
I’M GOING TO NATIONALS.
I cheer for my teammates as they cross the line, each having given everything they had out there. We celebrate one heck of a season together with no doubt in our minds that we did all we could that day. Three men All-Conference. Two National Qualifiers.
As we begin to calculate the team scores, I’m reminded of something our former coach said.
100 points. If your team finishes third and under that, you’ll go to nationals.
Third place: 109. Fourth place: 132. La Verne: 149.
I begin to count the individuals ahead of me.
If they take only two teams, my teammate Bryan is the final spot in 10th. If they take three teams, I’m the first one out by one second.
As the reality of all this began to settle, I realized that barring some kind of miracle, this goal that I worked so hard for years for, would never come to fruition.
And yet as I sat there with teammates past and present, I felt something that I never thought I’d feel in a moment like this. Thankfulness. As I celebrated the end of the season that night with conference foes turned close friends, I came to terms with the reality that I would never be a national qualifier. And so I celebrated. I celebrated the journey that was those last four years of hard work. I celebrated the fact that an overlooked 4:52/10:26 HS kid from a family of non athletes was even in the position to be here.
Over the last couple of years as running has become more serious to me than I ever expected it to ever be again, I’m reminded of that moment. As I placed the goal on the board to qualify to the Olympic Trials a couple of years ago I find solace in the fact that I’ve failed at almost every one of my biggest running goals. But hell if that 4’10” 70 pound HS freshman with a 20:07 3 mile PR ever thought it was possible for this to be an option.
As I see friends this week crushed by a standard they had no control over, I’m reminded of this experience. Three years later a good friend of mine would punch his ticket to the national championships with a 23rd place finish. Sometimes it’s just the luck of the draw.
While there may be feeling of finality following a moment of disappointment, the beauty of this is in the journey. To have been able to put yourself in contention is something to be proud of. Because that takes work and dedication. We as runners are not defined by a qualifying standard. Sometimes the draw lands in your favor, and sometimes it doesn’t. But regardless of the result, it doesn’t change the pure happiness that came crossing that finish line.
I’ve told myself over the years that if every story was perfect, it just wouldn’t be worth telling. In the thick of training blocks we seldom have time to thing of the growth we’ve made as athletes. Take that time to reflect on it and give yourself credit for sticking to it. Running tends to have more tough days than memorable ones and out of thousands of miles there’s very few that I hold close. Hold those good days close. Celebrate them.
Almost 10 years later those college memories continue to provide me a gentle reminder to take the time to appreciate the journey. 10 years ago I realized one of my biggest fears. That day running broke my heart. I closed that chapter of my life disappointed but happy as hell I even had the chance to be there. Little did I know it at the time, this was just opening up a new chapter to a story that is still being written.
As you wake up the tomorrow to lace those shoes, discouraged as you may be, remember, this is just another chapter, not the finale.
10 years later, running is the most fun it’s ever been.
We are not in love with running. We are in love with running well.
We don’t voluntarily get up every day to suffer. we don’t use running as a form of cardio. We identify ourselves as runners; whether we are those that just enjoy training or that do this to race. We keep doing this because there is something enjoyable about putting one foot in front of the other for miles.
With that said, I’ll repeat, We are not in love with running. We are in love with running well.
Our fascination and at times obsession with it comes from us trying to better ourselves, pushing ourselves further and faster, testing the limitations of our bodies. We post about great workouts, hang medals on our walls with pride, but what happens when it all seems to be going backward. What happens when you’re caught in a slump?
We’re in a particularly hot and humid summer here in Ohio. The low in the early hours is a cool 75 degrees. It’s muggy and it’s hard to enjoy running. While we may have prayed for summer to come quickly when we were struggling through negative temps in the winter, a couple weeks of this have really made us miss freezing. I’m constantly surprised at how my Strava feed finds new creative ways to say that this weather feels like complete hell.
As entertaining as reading those captions and descriptions are, I’ve also seen some questioning their fitness and motivation. I get it. Another day, another run that is a ton harder than it was months ago. The good days start becoming rare, and you start question why you’re out there at all. It becomes hard to get out the door when you know the next hour will be filled with you feeling like you’re going to pass out from an “easy effort”.
We romanticize running. We keep ourselves going because of our memories of great workouts, races or memorable runs. We forget those terrible blocks of time. Let’s be honest with ourselves here, running sucks most of the time. There’s absolutely nothing fun about struggling through an easy run after a race with your muscles screaming at you. If it was 55 degrees every day and we could never feel sore we’d have no reason to not love this.
But it’s not. For the next couple months we have to fight through what seems like an endless muggy path to the next season. It’s hot, it’s humid, it sucks, but it sucks for all of us. The heat and humidity will affect your pace. There’s articles all across the web that talk about this (like this). There’s a reason that prime temperatures for a marathon are under 50 degrees, the heat makes the body work harder to try and keep it cool. Add in humidity and we have the elements really working against us. You’re not losing fitness, you’re not going backwards, it’s just hot.
We have a long summer ahead of us. When I was coaching, the two things we worked on was trying to stay healthy and avoiding mental fatigue. We tend to be very impatient when it comes to training. We jump into workouts quickly, excited for the fall and wanting to get fit now. I held my guys back all summer, slowing their tempos and regular run paces, just focusing on getting the miles in and dedicating at least twice a week to run with others. The excitement of summer training fades pretty quickly and I wanted them to stay hungry. Running was going to be hard no matter how fit they were. The goal was to was to stay hungry and keep themselves fresh.
And that’s the key here. While their peers found their motivation wavering and fatigue settling in by mid July, they continued to press forward because they were not exhausted mentally or physically. They made it through the summer training running 80 miles per week without injury and hungry to run fast. Both PR’d that season. I remember back in college when I could barely knock out 5 mile tempos at 5:45 pace during the summer only for months later to finish 5 at 5:08 pace. Keep focused, stay patient, and stay hungry. Take care of your body, get a group together to get through the long days, and find ways to motivate yourself. It’s easy to be excited about running when it’s nice out and you’re running well. These are those moments that will test you and eventually make you a stronger runner.
I say it often, summer is all about survival. Get out there and run the miles, focus on effort and keeping yourself fresh. We’re all out there suffering, but you’ll thank yourself in the fall when you’re crossing the finish line.
It’s early afternoon on a particularly cold winter day in Columbus Ohio. The state has been crushed by snow the night prior and the roads are left a slippery mess. It’s tough to drive let alone walk, with cars whipping their tails on every turn and people coming one wrong step from busting their butt on the unforgiving pavement. One would think most people would be tucked away at home, sipping their hot chocolate and wrapping themselves in their heated blankets. Not us, not today. We’ve all been waiting over a month for this event.
It’s Dude-A-Thon.
I first heard of Dude-A-Thon shortly after moving to Columbus. An afternoon watching The Big Lebowski on the big screen with one of the best tap lists in the city? You don’t have to do much more to convince me.
Wait. You’re telling me there’s a beer tasting for each screening, hosted by a different popular brewery before the movie?! There’s no way I’m missing this.
Originally I missed out on the event. I had no idea the tickets would sell out so quickly and by the time I remembered to check, SOLD OUT. With no one giving up their tickets for the event I thought I was completely out of luck. A week later the good people at Studio 35 added a fourth screening. There was absolutely no way I was missing this opportunity, regardless of the guest brewery. Sure I was missing out on Bell’s, Three Floyd’s, and Columbus Brewing Company but I figured whoever the guest brewery for our screening wouldn’t be too bad.
Madtree brewing ended up being the last brewery added to the event. I didn’t know much about Madtree outside some of their flagship beers and special releases. Their Citra High is one of the better IPAs I’ve had in Ohio and Psychopathy was a go to when I was in graduate school. I would be lying if I said I was expecting to be completely blown away with their beer. Madtree was a last minute addition and I did not expect them to be able to source anything too crazy on such short notice. I fully expected to have excellent beer but that wasn’t the priority, the experience I was coming for was the feature presentation.
I was here to watch The Dude.
We arrive 25 minutes early expecting to be some of the first people at the event. We enter finding that the party has already started. The bar is packed and filled with taps left over from prior screenings. The patrons are trying to get their fair share of what’s left over before the event starts, filling up on drinks and popcorn (mixed with M&M’s of course) to get the full show experience. Upon entering, the staff at Studio 35 do a great job introducing us to the debauchery we are about to experience. You get a glass, towel, 10 drink tickets for the tasting, and one extra ticket for the raffle.
How could you not love this glassware?!
We shuffle ourselves into the theater. We’re fortunate to have prime seating at the back with a table to place our drinks and snacks. It’s time to party.
Announcements are first. We’re greeted by a bearded gentleman in a viking hat that has an impressive way of engaging the crowd. This was definitely not his first rodeo. A quick overview of the afternoon’s festivities begins, first the tasting, complete with prizes from the brewery and related to the movie, and then what we came here to see, The Big Lebowski. The host made it very clear from up top what we were in for:
“If you don’t have fun, well, thanks for the money.”
Flanking him on both sides are two individuals that looked like they just came from a morning at the lanes. Complete in bowling attire, one of which had an incredible homage of one of The Big Lebowski’s resident bowling enthusiasts Jesus “The Jesus” Quintana, these two have come more prepared for the afternoon than the majority of the crowd.
As it turns out, these are our representatives from Madtree, all decked out for the occasion and ready to introduce us to their beer.
Through my time in this community I’ve learned not to get too excited about “beer tastings”. Typically most breweries come with only their flagship brews. I understand the reasoning, introducing potential consumers to the beers that are easily accessible will provide these consumers with beers that they can find at their local bars or shops. It’s a great way to push beers that essentially fund your entire operation.
This was not the case here. Instead of simply bringing beers that I could find at my local bar, Madtree treats us with an excellent mix of styles and rarities. Sours, stouts, IPAs, and even a barrel aged brown. They are short and sweet introducing their beers, giving the audience what they needed to know, and if it is available. They make it no secret what beers are special to the event and what they could find at their local shop.
The Big Lebowski is great as always but I find myself talking about how impressed I am with Madtree following the event. It is my belief that the role of a brand manager is to tell a story to their consumer. In this industry a well executed tasting can convince a new consumer to seek your beer or in my case it can open the eyes of a consumer that may have overlooked your brewery. The staff made us feel like they were part of the event, not just two people trying to convince us to buy their beer. For new consumers that first impression is so important; I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard a friend say that they refuse to try a breweries beer because of a bad first try. Even if the styles of beer may not be to the liking of the individual the effort put in by the representative could convince them to give that brewery a second chance. Instead of seeing the brewery as just a company, a successful brewery sales representative can humanize their brand by engaging with their community. This in my opinion, is what most breweries are lacking. In a time where one does not have too look too hard to find a fantastic representation of each beer style, breweries need to find ways to stand out amongst a sea of fantastic beer. The key is connecting with the community. If your brand can stand out to a consumer, you have an advantage and while it may not seem like it, there is still some brand loyalty in craft beer.
“So why are we going 5 hours out of our way to go to a brewery?”
The sun is shining brightly as we’re driving through Wisconsin on this beautiful summer day. It’s the beginning of June and this is day two of my road trip from Ohio to my hometown in Southern California. Our car is quickly filling with beer as we stop at breweries along the way, trying to maneuver bottle after bottle in an already cramped Dodge Dart. The passenger on this trek through the United States is my younger brother. He’s a bit hesitant about this segment of the trip. I get it. As we travel further from Chicago, we begin to see fewer people who look like us. We’re heading deep into the country, parts of the US we’ve only heard stories about.
“Don’t you know the Midwest is full of racist people?”
For many in my community, this is the sentiment. I’ve dealt with my share of racism. I’ve been stopped for committing the crime of “driving while brown.” I’ve had one of my own teammates voice her fears of moving to a new part of the country because of “all the dirty Mexicans.” I’ve experienced more casual racism than I would like to admit. I guess wearing a bowtie makes people feel comfortable enough to voice their bigoted thoughts… For some, like my family and countless friends back home, years and years of dealing with these instances makes them very wary about trusting people outside of their own race. It’s a defense mechanism.
After another couple hours of driving, we arrive at our next destination, Decorah Iowa, home of the award winning Toppling Goliath Brewery. Upon entering, I am handed a glass.
“Clark’s sharing brews to welcome Mikkel for their collaboration.”
We make our way outside to find a tasting already in progress. It’s a full crowd of beer enthusiasts, chatting and enjoying the day, having excellent brews. There is no pushing or shoving, just a crowd of people that are actively trying to make sure everyone is getting a chance to taste the next beer that is being shared. While the crowd is friendly, it’s obvious that my brother is uncomfortable. From his perspective, it’s understandable; two skinny Latinos, who most would see and think aren’t old enough to drink, much less travel without their parents, don’t necessarily look like they belong at a brewery in the middle of Iowa. He was very slow to open up and hesitant to talk to strangers in a patio filled with older Caucasian males. Minutes later, I notice that his demeanor had changed. He was no longer uncomfortable; instead, his expression resembled astonishment at what he was experiencing. These strangers were actually reaching out and trying to make him feel welcome! While he may not have known a single thing about beer, and admitted as such, they were happy to educate him on what we were drinking and made an effort to bring him into the rest of the group. He looked right at home in a place full of strangers.
Hours flew by and we got back in the car heading to our next destination on our road trip. Our interaction following this visit is still as clear as the day it happened:
“Dude, these white people are really nice.”
“No dude, that’s beer people.”
As I stand in line for yet another beer release, it’s easy to see that I don’t characterize what one would expect a craft beer nerd to look like. As a Mexican/Venezuelan American, I am well aware that I am typically one of the few splotches of color in an otherwise white male dominated community. Living in Ohio, it’s even more noticeable. Regardless of where I’ve lived or traveled, one thing has remained true:
Craft beer doesn’t care what you look like. It doesn’t care what the color of your skin is, your sexual orientation, gender, religion, political ideology etc. This is one of the few communities that is welcoming. For a kid traveling across the country looking for his new home, I knew that no matter where in the country I was, I could find a home in the craft beer community.
It should come as no surprise that I’ve found myself pretty frustrated with Good Beer Hunting’s recent article regarding the lack of diversity in the beer industry. What could have been an opportunity to do some good for the community instead completely fell completely flat. Their attitude following the criticism they received shows that they are clueless as to what this is all about. Our issue is not at all with the topic, but rather how it was addressed. We are receiving representation from people that have no understanding about the issues at hand. In Good Beer Hunting’s discussion with The Brewsroom last night, both stated that they have no experience working for a brewery or even selling craft beer. The extent of their knowledge is in the marketing perspective of the beer industry and therein lies the problem. What we have here is an outsider’s perspective of serious issues within the craft beer culture with regard to minorities and women. Their attempt to provide a dialogue about the lack of inclusion instead became a sensationalist witch hunt, going after good people that are actually making a difference in the industry and using the plight of women and minorities as fuel for their attempt to gain clicks. I mean it worked, I guess. I’m sure that their site has seen a lot of traffic after publishing that post.
The lack of minority inclusion in the beer industry is far more complex than some brewery employees being goofy on Instagram. With regard to their opening remarks, GBH truly misses the point of these accounts. With the industry quickly becoming more and more pretentious, it’s refreshing to see breweries let loose a little and take themselves less seriously. I know that the stereotype of the “pretentious neckbeard” bashing people for their beer choices is something that repels a lot of my friends from the community. These accounts do far more to welcome people than they do to exclude them. They are able to break away from being a business and are able to humanize themselves to their consumers. Some do cross the line, and I’m not defending those instances, but they definitely aren’t the cause for minorities feeling excluded from craft beer.
What this article fails to take into account is how important cultural and socioeconomic status are to this issue. Any marketing class will teach you that failing to do this will lead to failing marketing campaigns or, even worse, alienation of the market you are trying to attract. Craft beer already has an uphill battle trying to break Hispanics from brands that they have seen for decades. In terms of the Mexican market, brands like Corona, Modelo, Pacifico, and Tecate are ingrained into the culture. For many of us, these are the first brands we saw or drank. At this point, going to a family party and not seeing these brands would be shocking. That is not even considering the battle that beer has had trying to fight with the spirits market.
Craft beer is a luxury item. While we are beginning to see craft beer in places that were once only reserved for macro brews, we need to remind ourselves that the ability to afford an 8 dollar pint is a privilege. As of 2015, the median annual personal earnings for a Hispanic person is $25,000. While the thought of going around handing out sour brews to my local community sounds pretty awesome, the individual would most likely scoff when they heard the price, regardless of whether they enjoyed the beer or not. The wealth gap in the United States does have an effect on minority inclusion in craft beer. Moreso than anything else, this is the main reason for the lack of minorities in the craft beer community.
Dave Infante does an amazing job touching on the topic of the lack of African Americans in the beer industry in his article There are Almost no Black People Brewing Craft Beer. Here’s Why. Craft beer has always been “white,” and racism in the United States did not do much to help minorities in the beer industry. As is stated in the article, this lack of diversity has more to do with simply having an industry that began so white.
The industry, however, is quickly changing. The Hispanic craft beer scene is growing and you only need to look to California to see how quickly the scene is becoming more diverse. If you frequent any Southern California brewery, you’ll see people of all races enjoying brews together. Sales reps are beginning to understand this too. One of my friends who works for a large beer distributor in Toledo told me just how much of a hit pairing 5 Rabbit beers with some of their Mexican restaurant accounts has been.
The issue is not that craft brewers are trying to keep us out, it’s that this industry is still trying to find ways to properly use marketing to their advantage. Where once I could only find macro brews at my local 711 back home, I can now go back and find a great mix of craft beers filling the shelves, taking away prime real estate from big beer. Craft beer will see an explosion in minority involvement with this next generation. While Hispanics are less likely to drink than non-hispanic whites, and are more likely to abstain from alcohol, acculturation can lead to higher levels of alcohol consumption. Hispanics are joining the craft beer scene at a faster rate than anyone else. All it takes is some market research to see that the breakdown of consumers is quickly becoming diversified. At least in California, breweries are taking notice and you’ll find that most festivals have some sort of craft brewery participation.
Craft beer is one of the few communities that welcomes people from all walks of life. From my experience, frequenting the “dumpster fire” that is the Facebook craft beer trade groups, no matter how angry people are or how off the rails things may get, I have seen very few, if any, racist comments or slurs mentioned. We only have to look at the Craft Draft 2Go debacle from last fall, in which the owner was outed as a Nazi sympathizer, to see how quickly the beer community comes together to eliminate these types of bigoted individuals from the community. The community is very close and does a very good job at regulating these types of situations. Racism is not taken lightly here.
This community is far from perfect. I continue to see women have a tough time being respected in the community, but this is far more a problem with the attitudes of the craft beer drinkers than the craft brewers. It’s improving and I’m seeing more and more males stand up against the misogynistic comments that are often thrown out to females in the beer threads. We have a long way to go here and women in this scene continue to have to deal with more garbage than the rest of us. The issues in craft beer are representative of issues in our society as a whole. Racism and misogyny are still prevalent in the United States.
We are aware of the problems that exist within our little community. What we don’t need is a privileged “whitesplaination” of our issues. Good Beer Hunting attempted to highlight the lack of diversity, but their lack of understanding of the issues at hand led to a lazy and sensationalist attack on breweries that actually do promote inclusivity in the beer community. I have no connection to the breweries mentioned, as I do not live in St. Louis, and the breweries would be quick to tell you that the beer community does not hold back on their criticisms regardless of how popular you are as a brewery. When people began to criticize GBH’s article, they were quick to dismiss them all, claiming that they were contributing to the problems mentioned. The irony here is GBH continues to dismiss the perspectives of the people they are claiming to champion for. I find it hilarious that GBH claims to be for diversity in the industry, but a quick scan of their staff shows no minorities. GBH writer Michael Kiser has the audacity to carry this “holier than thou” attitude toward the criticisms he has received and acts like some type of martyr for our cause, yet he is completely okay with cultural appropriation in his personal life. I’ve said this many times over the last couple of days, “we are not a tool for you to promote your business.” He spoke about our inclusion in the beer industry like it was some type of marketing tool. The attitude of GBH’s staff regarding this topic has been offensive and over the past couple of days they have continued to dismiss our perspective because it did not fit their narrative. Imagine having someone from outside of your community try and act like the moral authority on something that actually has to do with your people. That’s offensive.
Craft beer is one of the most welcoming communities I’ve been lucky to be a part of. I firmly believe it changed some of my family members’ perspectives on people outside of our own bubble and continues to impress me with its kindness and selflessness. The past couple of days have reinforced this for me. Unlike the Good Beer Hunting staff, the people in the beer community never once dismissed my perspective. Maybe they should reflect on that….
When I was in college this was a typical routine. Scouring through endless pages of Ebay listings. Searching obscure names like “Bowerman shoes” or “Nike track shoes”. Adjusting my search constantly in order to hopefully catch a break and win shoes at a fraction of the cost from some clueless parent liquidating her son’s “old junk” without his knowledge. Deadstock OG Steaks or Marathoners from 2008 for 30 bucks a pair, copped that (The former I’m still using almost 6 years later). My collection grew and grew, to the point where at its peak I probably had over 50 pairs of just racing shoes. I was in deep and I knew it.
Then I was introduced to sneaker culture and I realized that I was just playing on the surface; the rabbit hole was deep and it was cutthroat.
In the couple months hanging with my college teammate I was shown just a tidbit of what the scene was like. Some of it was fairly similar to my experience, taking photos of new pairs and updated collections or hitting the various forums looking at the For Sale/For Trade posts or discussing the next releases. Other things were completely different to me. While the majority of people involved were simply enthusiasts, for some, this was business. Camping overnight for the latest releases only to flip them for profit was a regular thing. Counterfeits ran rampant across this scene and I learned to spot fakes. I distinctly remember heading to LA for a sale with a muscle tagging along; in this scene it was not uncommon to see people get robbed. It’s a luxury item, and unfortunately as with all luxury items, there are always people looking to take advantage.
Recently I found myself looking through Ebay again. I’ve been out of the game for almost 5 years now but with my Streaks on their last legs I’ve been trying to find a replacement for my road races. I stumbled upon an article about pairs of Promo Nike Zoom Fly Off Whites. The online sale was set for the following week.
“Just when I thought I was out… They pull me back in…”
I thought this would be easy, I’m become somewhat of a master with these things through this whole beer thing.
A tickets for Dark Lord Day? Check.
Fundamental Observation? Check.
Duck Duck Gooze? Took a couple times but… Check.
I have trained for this, no way I’m losing.
“Ah you think darkness is your ally? You merely adopted the dark. I was born in it, molded by it.”
I struck out. And instantly I saw pairs going for double retail. I looked to twitter to see people complaining about it all.
“I’m never doing this again.” “Why would they treat their loyal customers like this?” “Everyone is cheating and I’ll never win.”
This looked familiar…
Oh right, this is craft beer.
Craft beer isn’t just an emerging fad anymore and from the looks of it, it’s not going anywhere anytime soon. It seems like every place you go to you’ll see some kind of craft beer on tap. Chain Restaurants, bowling alleys, hell, you can even get it on tap on some airlines. Everyone I know seems to be drinking it now and new people from my past keep coming out of the woodwork, jumping real deep into this scene quickly.
When something gets this popular it’s only a matter of time until it brings out the worst in people and things get out of control.
Websites going down from the sheer amount of traffic for a limited release. Grown men lining up before noon on Thanksgiving Day for a chance at getting Bourbon County the next morning. Lines wrapped around blocks in NYC for a couple of cans of IPAs. People flying out to Anchorage Alaska for a chance to get sets of A Deal with the Devil (#BIL). You would think that after all that investment people would at least drink the beer right? Nope. Just like the sneaker scene, these are instantly being flipped, sold for maxprofits or traded for something they can’t get their hands on. Then you have those people that seem to only have these beers as a sort of status symbol. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen the same people post a picture of a rare bottle that they probably kiss before they go to bed each night hoping to get the approval of some stranger from Naperville, Illinois.
“But it’s nowhere near as crazy as the sneaker scene.”
You’re right, no one is currently getting shot or stabbed for beer, well at least not yet. This scene is quickly running off the rails though. In the past couple years I’ve seen some ridiculous antics all for the sake of an alcoholic beverage. People recapping and waxing bottles of beer with the intention of swindling some unsuspecting pour fool out of their beer. Guys leaving their kids in their car for hours while they stood in line for a couple bottles or even worse, bringing them out to releases where they end up leaving visibly intoxicated and putting them in danger. I’ve seen instances where people have bullied store workers to sell them cases of limited beer before releases or even outright stolen beers from coolers. Not to mention the daily entertainment watching some neckbeard blow a head gasket because some guy from Florida is trying to lower the trade value of their local brewery special release.
For many of us these stories have ceased to surprise us. Usually the reaction is the same now:
Beer is stupid.
The parallels between the sneaker and craft beer scenes are apparent. Don’t get me wrong here, I’m not saying I’m against trading and such. I know I’ve done my fair share. What people do with or for their beer is their business. It’s just so interesting how two completely different scenes have become so similar. I feel like the majority of the community is most likely pleasant. There’s a reason why people like me end up hanging around for so long. There’s good people, enthusiasts, that genuinely enjoy hanging out and talking with others about these things that bring us together. Again, It’s a luxury item, and unfortunately as with all luxury items, there are always people looking to take advantage. I’ve heard the argument that this is only a fad, that the bubble is bound to break, but I don’t know. The game has to be part of people’s fascination with this. I’m not above it. I know I’ll be on my phone waiting for the next big release.
Beers and Miles 