runner – Page 2 – Beers and Miles

Road to CIM 2025: Perspective

February 11, 2025 beersandmiles

I have to admit, finding energy to recap this past week is a bit tough. Over the last week I experienced such a hodgepodge of emotion that really writing about my week of training just seems like such, well, so small in the grand scheme of things. Jotting my thoughts out has always helped a bit and adding an Instagram post just doesn’t seem right for the moment or topic so I’ll just use this. Seeing as I paid another year of subscription for this domain, I better keep using it.

This past week began with a bit of an outline for what the remaining block was to be. After setbacks over this past month and issues with what feels like my entire right leg, this block would be much more cautious than previous blocks. 60 miles on the week. I would be traveling to Boston on Thursday after work so this would be a welcomed week to be a little bit down in milage.

The week kicked off on a high note with some early miles with Ian. The morning was a bit chilly but I’d highly welcome a real feel of 19 than -10 like we had the previous week. Chats around shoes, the state of running culture, and of course running influencers. It was an hour or yapping. The adjustment to my social media intake and these weekly checkins have seemed to be a bit of a help for just my general energy surrounding all things running in this day and age.

Wednesday would be my first workout where I’d try to scrape some of the rust off. It was a modified fatigued miles type of workout. 4 miles at marathon pace + ~30 seconds, half mile jog, then 5x 3 minutes at 5:00 mile pace with 1 minute jog recovery. Max joined me without hesitation. I continued to still have issues with my left leg, lingering tightness around the knee following it locking up before Christmas break, but the uptempo miles weren’t too tough. We tried not to get too carried away with ourselves there:

5:49-5:47-5:49-5:47

Knowing the state of my left leg, I decided it was probably best that I took these next reps off the road and hit the track. I ran out of time with the half mile jog and started my first rep on the roads just as parents were dropping their kids off at school. I successfully made it to the track without being run down but my pace took a hit. No worries, we’d get on it. I was almost right on with the next four but man did it feel like I was doing a lot of work to get myself into rhythm. Aerobically, not horrible but this leg was not having it.

Double at Hoof Hearted went fairly well compared to the previous week. Great chats and another great crowd for our gnarly squad program. Closed Wednesday off with 16 miles on the day.

No matter how often I do it, trying to fit a run in on a travel day is always a shitshow. Thursday was no different. Knowing I had a long run on Sunday and was out of GU, I decided to round my loop out to Columbus Running Company, grab a couple to get me through Sunday and then place an order for a case to get me through the block. Knocked it out during the lunch break but jumped right back into work and didn’t have enough time to eat before getting to the airport. A sandwich and a beer thankfully helped. We were off to Boston.

Landed in Boston with no issues thankfully. Made it in time to meet one one of the team members, Ashley, who greeted me with a cool tote bag that included socks, a hat, a nice note, notepad, and a new pair of 880’s. Truthfully, I didn’t know what to expect beyond the Grand Prix on Sunday but I was really excited for what was sure to be a weekend to remember. I made it in time to grab dinner with some of the other members of the group and got to chat a little bit about our respective run clubs, Val representing Good Boys Denver, Hanna and Carolyn representing Hoboken Track Club, Mak & Yves representing Society Track Club, and Zach an artist/designer based out of SF. The night ended fairly early for me as I was tired and was going to be working a half day prior to the first event that afternoon.

The next morning a group of us met up for some coffee and then a run. There I was formally introduced to Matt, Tim, and Tom before we got to running. We got a chance to tell our stories of how we ended up in the cities we were and I got to tell how I ended up in Ohio by accident. Tom, Matt, and Aidan were working out this morning and Tom was all good with joining me for some easy miles. We talked a bunch about our respective running journeys, clubs, and scenes. It was a refreshing conversation.

I got back to the hotel just in time to clock into work for a couple hours. Knocked everything out and got out there just in time for lunch. And what a lunch it was. Tasty apps and a lobster roll for me. Man, I love the east coast.

This kicked off what could only be described as a running nerd’s dream weekend. We kicked off the afternoon with a tour through the New Balance Sports Research lab. As someone who was a massive shoe nerd starting from his college days, I was locked in here. All the details and tools used in shoe and apparel technology were showcased to our group. It was the first tour of the weekend and I was already so blown away. We spoke with a team from merchandizing/apparel and had a feedback session with some of the more east coast members of our group. Hearing the feedback from the other members of our group and current needs and wants from their respective communities was incredibly insightful, especially as I look to see what the future of Ope Athletic Club is to be in 2025.

The night ended with some duckpin bowling/dinner and a nightcap of live music with a smaller group of us. I was surprised (well I shouldn’t have been at this point), that a lot of us had one degree of separation with each other without even knowing it. Whether it was racing against mutual friends or even unknowingly racing each other in college, it was pretty cool to see how small this community could be.

The next morning I awoke to a missed call from my mom at 2:30AM EST. My mom is not known to call me very late and a chill went through my body knowing there could be some bad news coming. With it still being early morning I went off to our morning run with a larger group that were here with run specialty businesses. I got back to a couple missed calls and text messages. A quick glance to a message preview told me everything.

My condolences for your Grandmother’s passing.

I immediately called my mother. My grandmother had lived at our home for about the last 20 or so years. She saw me through my formative years and much of the years I’m not proud of. From an angry, insecure, high schooler looking for his way to the man I am today. I was a very angry kid for many of those years, and then distant as I left to find myself in college and then ultimately in Ohio. I can’t say I was ever really that close to my family in those years. Language barriers made it tough for me to have full conversations or express myself to her. But there was a love and patience that transcended language barriers that was unwavering, even when I didn’t want it for all of those years. I came to appreciate it all as our family came together to celebrate her 90th birthday almost 3 years ago. I caught up with the cousins I grew up with that were now adults with families and careers of their own. It was a reminder of the importance of family and almost a homecoming of the self if that makes any sense at all. The happiness that came with that weekend is something that will stick with me for a lifetime. Many of us who had not seen each other for almost a decade, gathered around and celebrated a kind, selfless human being that gave so much love for all around her. It had a lasting impact on me, even years later.

The rest of the weekend could’ve been a tailspin of emotions. I worked on trying to adjust my flight on Monday to surprise my mother while also trying to be present in such a once in a lifetime opportunity. Things eventually worked out where I would fly home to California instead of Ohio, so in a weird sort of way I was lucky. As I try to unpack it all over a week later, the thing that sticks with me is how life can have a way of providing experiences that are hard to fully categorize in column A or column B. The entire weekend provided me with an experience that I can confidently say was one of the best of my life. The incredible individuals that were involved with this program made me incredibly thankful to still be involved with this sport almost 2 decades later.

I completely blew up in my long run workout that Sunday but part of me wanted to run with others moreso than getting after it in chilly/icy conditions. I spent most of it running with friends new and old and while the workout portion itself went poorly, I had to be realistic as to how much energy I had in me. I was emotionally drained from the weekend.

I capped the weekend off watching some of the best athletes in the world compete while I enjoyed some wine and chowder with fellow track nerds. Then we all sang our hearts out in karaoke. A much needed escape from what was sure to be a tough week ahead.

As you can probably tell, this was written in two parts. I put it off for a bit after writing most of it early last week. Sitting here, in my childhood living room, it’s still hard to really express out this week. But that’s life I guess. I’m thankful for one of the best experiences a track nerd like me could have ever had and found myself refreshed about community again. I’m grateful for the life I’ve had the opportunity to have and the kindness of others around me. We were in for a tough time, but I didn’t feel alone in that. I often find myself so caught up in small annoyances or issues and this was one of those reminders of just how inconsequential most of it can be.

Til next time.

running

Road to CIM 2025: Turbulence

January 30, 2025February 7, 2025 beersandmiles

It’s a fitting title for the current moment and this past week. As I sit on my flight to Boston I have some time to catch up on how last week went and well, hopefully line this blog up with the current week that I had just finished. Or this beer I had will make me sleepy and I’ll push this off til Sunday. Let’s try this out.

Last week continued a shit week of weather in Columbus, Ohio. The dip in temps had iced over any snow that had landed over the previous couple days. Cold? Well, we were in for worse. Welcome to freeze hell, the worst week of the year for the Midwest.

Tuesday. 10 degrees. Real feel of 0. How in the world you can find comfort running in this beyond me but dammit we found a way. Enough layers and some coverage from the wind did enough to make this feel okay. Heck it was just as fast a nice day. Things are looking up! I even started doing strength training. We’re back police? Hey. It’s Cris calling.

But the temperatures continue to drop. How about -6 and a real feel of -10. But three of us showed up to jog. This is far too cold to work out and too dark and icy to trust moving fast, so a shakeout it was. Again, enough layers and the help from some handwarmers was enough to make 5 miles in this faux tundra bearable.

While I’m known my friends as someone with a habit of getting to things fashionably late, I do a reasonably good job at planning out my workout days. This wasn’t one of those days.

I ran out of time before run club and decided to push the workout to Thursday. Tonight would be an easy 8 to get me 13 on the day. I was overwhelmed, frustrated, and just in a foul mood as I tried to get two miles in before I got around to doing announcements for the club. 3 miles solo after would be on the schedule. Great. Funny enough I thought to myself during the run that being upset during runs typically didn’t go well for me. It was distracting and it was an easy way for me to…

*pop*

I rolled it. I fucking rolled my bad foot again. I’m 3/4 of the way back to bar. I can hobble home. Bad step. I almost go down from the pain. It’s fucked again. Dammit. Just what I needed. I just had a great week for myself. Everything was supposed to be looking brighter.

I limped back to the brewery grabbed my stuff and went home. It was hard to hide just how upset I was and I felt like I didn’t need to be that kind of person in a place that is genuinely a place to relax and enjoy the company of others. I vented to my best friends about it and they pulled me out of it. I took the next two days off and focused on pulling myself back together mentally and physically. It was a little stumble but nothing that was any different than things I’ve experienced.

By Saturday I was back to running. No pain, thanks to an ankle brace that I put on to stabilize my foot as I walked throughout the day. It was strange to have something hurt so bad and then just go away but then again I haven’t been able to really understand what the hell is up with this foot since I first rolled it two years ago.

By Sunday I was good to long run again as though nothing happened. I tossed on some alphaflys and focused on a strong long run with some uptempo. 16 miles at 6:21 average with a couple miles rocking at 5:40s. We’re back police? You have another incoming call.

In all seriousness though, while this week was frustrating and a small setback in multiple aspects, it was a reminder that it’s not always a straightforward path despite all the work we put into it. Sometimes the universe likes to toss a random hurdle in there to make sure you’re awake. And well it’s a wake up call. This block isn’t gonna be as simple as just getting out there and doing it. You gotta be ready for some turbulence along the route. But we’ve beat the worst two weeks of the year weatherwise so hey, we’ll take our wins where we can.

That’s it for now. I’m sure this weekend will provide a lot for me to talk about.

running

Road to CIM 2025: Clarity

January 27, 2025January 27, 2025 beersandmiles

Sliding in on Sunday to make sure I keep this streak alive. Sorry, had to finish Twin Peaks so I can get on with my life.

Last week I completed my first 70 mile week of the block. Now some would say that jumping from 29 miles to 70 is probably a bad move but considering the 10 days prior were basically a wash due to sickness, I’d say this isn’t that crazy of a move.

Now, Columbus experiences a couple choice bad weeks. 365 days around makes you forget about that until the realization hits you like a truck. Last week, well that was the start of one of them. The city had been smacked around by snow and the temperatures dropped. Snow isn’t bad. Ice? Yeah, that’s where it get’s a little hairy. That’s the thing, most of these runs aren’t going to be the vision of excitement of fun that you see plastered around social media. Sometimes it’s gonna just be you, and what’s gonna get you out there where there is nothing exciting about the next hour. And when there’s a solid chance that there will be very few runnable areas to cross in this hour? Well, anything helps.

22 degrees, real feel of 13. 10 on the schedule. Yuck.

I grabbed my headphones and put on a go to playlist I would listen to when I had to run at 5:30am before work years ago. This was one of the better Tuesday runs I’ve had in recent months. I felt in control for miles as I trotted through the city, one step after another, no pain, just a calmness as I ran through a quiet bike path into the downtown strip. I made the turn for home as the unforgiving wind blew directly into my face. On different days I’d probably be hoping to be anywhere but here but in that moment I felt good. It’s awful out yes, but that punch of cold air was enough to make a man feel alive. I didn’t mind being there. This was dare I say, enjoyable.

I just wish the rest of the run was enjoyable too.

A couple miles later as the sun started to set I saw my first person on the bike path. We gave each other a head nod before I dipped under the over pass. Hmm, wonder who he runs for I thought to myself before my body went into panic mode as my foot lost traction. Crash. I’m on the ground. I pause my watch and lay there for a bit while I try to survey the damage. If it was a little warmer I’d lay there for a second and just take a breather but every minute seemed to be getting colder.

I dusted myself off and kept going. A little banged up but stride didn’t seem too affected. Just about 400 meters til I got out of the bike path and got onto safer streets. Just one quick left up the roundabout and I’m home free.

I didn’t even have time to think. Crash. On the ground again.

I looked over to my left as commuters slowly drove on the highway next to the trail. Well I hope my fall at least entertained them on that shit drive. This one hurt a bit more. I slid a bit and now the opposite side was now evened out. Dust off and head home. Just about 2 miles to go. Stay on your feet and don’t kill yourself out there. Can’t say I shed a tear from those falls but I may have shed a tear when What Sarah Said came on. We got home safely thankfully.

That was cold? How about 5 degrees at 6am.

Yeah. I didn’t want to workout. I was just gonna go out and do a shakeout. I had an hour progression. But the other boys were working out and I didn’t want to workout after a day in the office so he we go, loops alone in temperatures cold enough to shut off your mp3 player. My face hurt. I kept worrying my contacted lenses would freeze. I oscillated between feelings of numbness and rhythm. I figured I had to be going slower with each passing mile but with each passing beep I was pleasantly surprised to see the paces go down ever so slightly. I bargained to myself that I would continue to go until the next mile seemed like it was just a little too much. These paces had no business being difficult but being layers and freezing made this a bit of a challenge. It wasn’t difficult by any means but 6 minute pace is typically fairly easy nowadays. I got to 45 minutes. From 6:39 down to 5:46. I jogged home to my warm apartment and got ready for work. Was this a character builder? It was something…

The next two days were days where you just bargain with yourself to get out there. Just 6 you tell yourself. Next thing you know you’re 5 miles in on an out and back and it’s another 10 miles in the bank. Theres a feeling in the back of my head that knows that I’ll get the miles in. I just need the loud voice to lie to myself a little bit to get over the lazy thoughts of watching another episode of the show I’m binging and staying warm. 2 days. 20 miles. 70 was in play.

I joined Breydon and Jamey for their run before jumping into my long run. 16 miles with 4 miles uptempo somewhere after 10. I put on some beater Vaporfly 2’s and hit some uptempo. I was quickly reminded just how stiff these shoes could be. Eventually I found rhythm again. 5:59-5:40-5:34-5:28. Just one more run ahead of me.

The cold and my laziness proved to be my enemy on this Sunday run. I pushed my run until after an event I had to go to in the early afternoon. Before I knew it, it was 4:15, I hadn’t ate since 11am and I was 30 minutes from home. 10 miles ain’t much anymore but I know that it’s enough to make the body feel crazy after not eating for a bit. So I called an audible. 10 piece wendys nuggets and a double stack, an hour to let it settle and then out the door at 6.

I hit the road at 6:10 and was greeted by about 30-40 minutes of snow flurries. The snow was consistent enough to stick. Every step was a gamble with the hope that whatever was underneath the next step was concrete and not ice. Pace was not going to be the focus tonight. It was going to be staying upright. This wasn’t gonna be a fast one but I’d also rather not be a speedbump for some innocent bystander driving down Goodale Boulevard that night. Nothing felt particularly bad thank god and I stayed on my feet. 10 miles at 8:21 average. But it was 70. It was a step forward.

Outside of running, this was a step forward mentally. For the last 6+ months I haven’t really been able to go through a day without the desire to take a nap and have had a lingering fatigue and brain fog as I went through my days. Running for some reason didn’t feel that fatigued. I didn’t feel like I was overtraining. I just felt a general feeling of apathy as I went through my daily life. The beginning of the year I decided to take a better look at my social media consumption. I realized that a lot of the things I saw on social media, whether it be running or otherwise, tended to bring on a negative reaction from me. I felt like a worse person in this past year because of it. So I actively avoided and unfollowed and well, last week was a massive difference. This series may be a way of me expressing myself now since Instagram just seems like it sucks the creativity out of me with copy paste like posts.

But here’s to another week. I’ll try to get this current week updated during the middle of the week so I can get things written out closer to when it happens. But for now, this is what we got. Another week down.

Uncategorized

Coming up Short: Loving the Sport After it Breaks Your Heart

September 29, 2023 beersandmiles

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.

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.

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.

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.

running

Boston

June 1, 2019 beersandmiles

Prologue: My original plan was to have two separate posts for this. I was going to do a pre-marathon post reflecting on my build-up and then a recap. Below is an excerpt of what I wrote on the plane to Boston on Friday morning:

If you were to tell me a year ago I would be running my first Boston Marathon I’d probably laugh at you. The thought of running a marathon or even two for that matter was outrageous. I never considered myself a marathoner nor did I have any desire to join that group. Yet here I am, on a flight to Boston looking to PR in a distance that is still uncharted territory. With three days until Boston it’s as good time as ever to reflect on this build up.

The road here has been both some of the best and worst experiences of my running career. I spent the majority of this training block grinding through aches and pains in an obsession to reach 100 miles healthy. That 7 week block of training was the most consistent I’ve ever been with my running and showed me just what I can do when I put my mind to it. Chasing those miles brought me back to enjoying running for the first time since my last season at Tiffin. I was 3 days out before my Achilles let me know it was time to take a break. I spent the next month aggressively rehabbing in an attempt to hopefully make it to the line pain free. At some points during that time I was terrified that I may have damaged it to the point where I’d have to spend significant time off, no Boston, no running. The last month has been a roller coaster of emotions, from wondering if I was going to be able to even finish to now creating a race plan for a big PR with at least some confidence to go after my original goal: 2:29.59. Somehow with 3 weeks out, through consistent rehab and the help from the staff at Fit For Life I’ve been able to turn things around. I’m healthy and it’s such a relief to be able to type that out. The weather may not be looking great at this point but I’m still going to fight. I just have to remember, I came here to race, not to just finish.

*************************************************************************************

Soon after I wrote that sentence we had to prepare for landing and I had to put my laptop away. I would get to it later that weekend (as you can see that didn’t happen).

*************************************************************************************

I had a very different Boston weekend than most. Instead of touring the city and exploring the various marathon weekend festivities, I, in typical Cris fashion, took a 7 hour excursion through Vermont and Maine visiting indulging in seafood and bucket list breweries. This meant that I ended up not running on both Friday and Saturday, the first due to the road trip and the second because I ended up sleeping in after a wild night out in Portland. Not really the most responsible thing to do before a big race but I’ve found that these trips take the nerves off of me. I’m already fit, the last thing I need is to be nervous. I was already nervous for Boston, mostly due to the last 7 weeks of almost no down mileage and rehab to get to the line healthy. The last thing I needed was to have my whole weekend be me thinking about it. The beer trip served as a much needed vacation before it was time to get to business.

57277813_10218956305520943_2159062875535048704_n — Let’s just say, I bought a couple beers.

*************************************************************************************

I also had the opportunity to meet an awesome fellow from Mexico, Sigfrido. Through my Boston posts on Instagram we ended up following each other. He shot me a message the week leading up asking me what my plans were for packet pickup and that he was looking for some help navigating through the city as it was his first time at Boston. By some chance we were in the same hotel and I let him know I’d be happy to take him along with us to get our packets together and get to the race. I’ve had so many people help me out in my travels throughout the country; I felt like this was a great way to finally pay it forward. Plus, any time I get to practice my Spanish is always a plus!

57350438_10156242569629033_1866781297251188736_n — Sig and I at packet pickup

*************************************************************************************

I started my Sunday with a short shakeout from the hotel. Despite getting to bed early, I felt incredibly groggy and tight. My last mile was 6:40 and it didn’t feel all that great. I kept thinking to myself, I want to run almost a minute faster than this tomorrow? I brushed it off, I’ve had rough shakeouts before and on the bright side my Achilles was completely healed. The last couple weeks of rehab and easy running had proved to be just what I needed to get to Boston healthy.

While physically it was not a great day, mentally Sunday was a cathartic experience. I toured the city with my family and Sig, picking up our packets and checking out the finish area. The energy surrounding the finish area made me excited to be there. This was a much bigger deal than I thought it to be. Everywhere I looked I saw people in Boston jackets. The city was filled with runners from across the world all here to toe the line and try and conquer Boston. The atmosphere was so positive and welcoming, we all made it here one way or another, and it was as though we all were in this together. Sunday made me proud of the work I did to get here despite the setbacks. I made it here and there was nothing I could do to make me any better. One foot in front of the other for 26.2 and if I was meant to run fast I would. At this point I had done everything I could do given the circumstances. I went from almost reaching 100 miles a week to spending the last 7 weeks averaging less than 30 miles per week.

57012684_10218937924501429_4920067474893832192_n — #677, how close to that would I finish?

I had no race plan besides just focusing on effort. My buddy Zach had called me Friday night with tips on how to tackle Boston: Hold back for 10 miles and not get too excited with the downhill. Once the route levels out, move, maintain up Newton, then crush the finish. He warned me multiple times, go out too fast and the last half will break you. The excitement of the crowds will make you want to go, be patient. He had negative split this before and run low 2:20s. It was possible to run fast here if you didn’t do anything stupid.

Monday I awoke still not feeling great. I had trouble sleeping and wasn’t feeling my bouncy self. In all honesty, this was probably the worst I’ve felt before a big race. It was a complete 180 from Erie where I felt I was ready to kill. I tried turning on my I-Pod Shuffle to get me focused. Dead. Looks like I wasn’t going to need that during my race. My intention was to have it ready for the second half, put the headphones on and block out the pain and focus. I was a bit thrown off; this was really how my day was going to go.

Getting to the start line felt like a mission in itself. Rain smacked us as we made our way to the bag check and on our way out to Hopkinton. As we came closer and closer to race time, the rain seemed to not let up. It seemed like we were in for another 2018 but with warmer temps. The forecast called for the rain to clear just before race time and I crossed my fingers it would hold true. I came prepared for the rain and mud in the athlete village. I wore some old sweats over my racing kit and kept my racing shoes in a plastic bag to avoid them from getting wet or muddy. I would keep all of this on for as long as I could and once we got away from the mud pit I would ditch the old clothes and head to the start line dry and ready to go.

With about 45 minutes to go the rain finally cleared. What was left was a light breeze. We all moved our way to our corrals trying our best to get some type of semblance of a warm-up routine. It was a bit of chaos getting to the line with people trying to get some jogging in, some trying to find a way to sneak a last bathroom spot out of sight to avoid the long lines, and others just taking their time walking, looking as though the rest of us were crazy. Rookies, they probably thought.

After somehow making time for two more bathroom breaks, I finally arrived at my corral, Wave 1, Corral 1. We would let the elites go out first and two minutes later it would be our time to tackle Boston. Two minutes out, bang, the elites are now off. The next 120 seconds felt like time slowed to a standstill. We all stood there, antsy, just waiting for those seconds to click off and we can finally make our journey toward Boylston.

I can’t say I remember much about the start of this race. I just remember running, trying to force myself to slow down. The downhill was a bit of a shock to my system to start, definitely did not expect it to start like this. And oh, an uphill? I really should have done my homework a bit more, I thought to myself. My first mile was a bit slower than I wanted it to be but I didn’t let myself be too bothered by it. I’ll take a 6:07 first mile now if it meant I didn’t crash and burn in the second half. I was ahead of pace from my marathon PR already so there was worse things that could happen. As runners around me began to settle into their pace I began to get into rhythm, moving by groups rather quickly. My pace dropped pretty significantly to a 5:47 and it felt easy. I made a decision then that I would not focus too much on my pace. I would monitor my breathing and my effort and take a glance at each mile just to see where I was at. I settled in, sticking with packs and moving forward, the beep of my watch my guide as I moved forward. The crowd was incredible, people lining both sides of the streets loud as could be, cheering on strangers as they passed. It was easy to get caught up in the hype, but I remained controlled, focusing more on my position. The goal now was not to lose position, just gradually move forward. The goal was now to try and negative split.

59129490_10219060260279747_4844927266863448064_n — Real early, moving up.

Going through Wellesley I got a little too excited. Unlike in Erie when I was just focused on blocking out the race, I got into the crowd and started having fun with it. I would raise my hands and encourage people to cheer, give high fives to people on the sides, and look for people I knew. After seeing my family right before the Wellesley Scream Tunnel, the pace started to drop into the 5:30s. Luckily I caught it before I went too long here, while the downhill was over, we still had the hard part to go.

57101660_10218949453469646_1165026711016833024_n — Wellesley Scream Tunnel, rockin’ and rollin’

And this is when the wheels started to fall off.

I maintained steady through 16. I had crossed the half at 5:47 pace and was going to work on the hills and try and average 5:30’s for the miles following heartbreak. As I came down the final steep downhill at 15 I began to start feeling something off. My hamstring had started to tighten up, most likely due to the first couple miles adjusting my stride for the downhill sections. As I saw the Newton sign the race had changed and it seemed like the crowd atmosphere had too. Whereas the first 10 miles seemed to be a celebration of the accomplishment of being there, the second half of this race were more people trying to motivate runners as they tried to survive the second half. The runner’s faces of joy had become grimaces, the discomfort of the beating downhill section now starting to settle in. With the crosswind now gone, the reality of the warmer temperatures had also now begun to take their toll. The crosswind masked the heat, leading me to not hydrate as much as I should have in the early miles. Now making my climb up the Newton Hills, signs of thirst became apparent. I took small drinks through to try and satisfy that feeling and kept moving. The pace had slowed but I expected that with these hills. I would make sure to keep it under 6:00 and then as soon as I crested Heartbreak the dash for home would begin.

The hilly section of the course wasn’t all that terrible. The hills themselves were gradual and your legs definitely felt it but it wasn’t anything close to the mountains back in California. What made this tough was that my legs were already beat by the downhill. My hamstring tightness had now begun to impede my running form a bit, my muscles now shooting small sharp pains as each foot hit the ground, but I pushed forward and finally made it to heartbreak. After seeing the top of the hill for what felt like forever, I finally crested it. I had skipped GU at 20 thinking that I was close enough where I wouldn’t need it. I tried dropping the pace after cresting heartbreak but I couldn’t move. I felt stuck, tight, and lightheaded. I kept trying to fight the negative feelings and block out the pain and I got myself back under 6:00 for the next mile.

As I inched closer and closer to mile 22 my form broke down and I began to crash. As I passed the water stop at 22 I made a decision, I had to stop. At the last table I came to a complete stop and asked the volunteer for water. I drank as much water as I could and took my last GU. Overwhelming emotion came over me, I felt like I was quitting, but almost instantly as that thought came into my head I took my last cup of water and got back out there. I didn’t travel this far out for my race to go to crap in the last 4 miles. Mile 23 with that stop was a 6:42.

The last 4.2 miles of that race were some of the hardest running moments of my life. My feet had begun to start burning and my muscles were aching but I kept fighting to try to get my pace close to where it was before I crashed. I began to count down the time in my head, 25 minutes, 19, minutes, etc… After all that work I had put in the winter I could survive another couple minutes of discomfort. As I arrived into the craziness of the city I made one last effort to finish strong. With one mile to go I pushed hard, I could see the clock, 2:33:00. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t lose all that much time and if there was a chance I could get under 2:35. I sprinted, I sprinted as hard as these legs could take me and I crossed the line, 2:34:46, 193^rd overall and the top finisher from Ohio. My body hated me and I could barely walk but I finished my second marathon with a big PR.

59339779_10219060268159944_5455216560274669568_n — Rounding those last couple turns.

58939932_10219060258879712_1488465407995019264_n — Officially a Boston Marathon Finisher.

58549650_10219060256479652_883526449833705472_n — These guys helped me move through those hills.

With a month and a half since Boston, I’ve had a chance to really think about my performance. I’m not completely satisfied with being a 2:34 marathoner but considering what my buildup was I’m proud that I was able to run that. I really shouldn’t have been able to run like I did with those last 8 weeks of training. This race humbled me a ton and changed me as a runner. The support I received during and after the race was overwhelming. So many people reached out to me and congratulated me for the performance and it’s now become one of the most proud moments I’ve had as a runner. This journey introduced me to a new community of runners and helped me get more involved in the Columbus running community. Big shout out to Fleet Feet/Front Runner, Columbus Track Club, Hoof Hearted, Zach, and Fit for Life Physical Therapy. Without the help and support of them I wouldn’t have gotten this far. Also shout out to my mom and brother for coming out short notice to surprise me. Seriously guys, that made this trip even more memorable.

58669659_10219060251919538_137920475140456448_n — My awesome family.

58740027_10219060254799610_8590873604994891776_n — Whittier and ULV reppin’ at Boston

My co-workers were live streaming at work and made me this when I came back. Thanks RevLocal!

I’ve always thought of myself as a cross country and steeplechase guy but I guess it’s time for something new, it’s time to take this marathon thing seriously.
Nationwide Children’s Hospital Columbus Marathon, watch out, I’m coming for you.

58543011_10219060466684907_2452430565148721152_n — Next time it’ll be me racing these streets.

running

My first marathon was easy, the recovery? Not so much.

November 29, 2018December 9, 2018 beersandmiles

Have you run a marathon?

If I had a dollar every time I heard this I’m sure I’d be able to afford a couple pairs of Vaporfly 4%’s.

For over 12 years that question followed me throughout the entirety of my competitive running career. I heard this from friends and family that didn’t understand running. If I was running so much a day how was I not trying to do a marathon? The concept of finishing a race being the accomplishment had never been motivation. That’s not a knock on others, just for me personally, I did this because I loved racing, I loved feeling fast.

I began to hear the topic of the marathon come up more often as I joined local running clubs in the area.The majority of the people in these clubs were training for a half or a full marathon, looking to try and top an old personal best. Every so often I’d get the question asked again and at that point I had just answered with, “I don’t want to run a marathon.”The years of hearing that question had completely turned me off of it.

To me the idea of running a marathon or even running one was not anything I was interested in. When you actually have to pay for races, you begin to think about things a little differently. With the prices of marathons being significantly higher than some dinky 5K, if there wasn’t a chance to get something out of it, either through a fast time or some prize money, there just wasn’t a reason for me to run it.

Eventually that ended up changing. With a couple craft beers in me I finally decided to sign up for one. I told myself I had 3 months to get in shape for this. I was finally healed up from a bad foot injury in the winter and now I had something to motivate me to get back in shape. I set two goals for myself in this training block, I would have one 80 mile week off singles and one 20 mile long run. I was going to try to stick around 60s for the majority of the summer and focus on quality mileage.

My progression of mileage went like this:

Week of:
May 28: 19.3 miles (4 days of running)
June 4th: 19.1 miles (4 days of running)
June 11th: 21.5 miles (4 days of running)
June 18th: 9.1 miles (2 days of running)
June 25th: 15.4 miles (4 days of running)
July 2nd: 30.2 miles (5 days of running)
July 9th: 23.6 miles (5 days of running)
July 16th: 63.5 miles (7 days of running, 15.4 mile long run)
July 23rd: 18.3 miles (4 days of running)
July 30th: 70.7 miles (7 days of running, 18 mile long run)
August 6th: 27.3 miles (5 days of running, 14 mile long run)
August 13th: 80.1 miles (7 days of running, 20 mile long run)
August 20th: 23.8 miles (5 days of running)
August 27th: 31.5 miles (5 days of running, 10.1 mile long run)
September 3rd: 37.2 miles (4 days of running, marathon)

So much for quality mileage…

I struggled to get any sort of consistency in my mileage throughout this block. For the first couple of weeks I was very slow to start as I was hesitant coming back from injury. After a sub 16 3 mile effort later in June, that went away but I began to struggle putting together consistent back to back weeks of mileage. I was fine up until I hit those long runs and had a horrible time recovering. I almost passed out at the end of my 18 mile long run and followed that week running less total miles than I had in that one run. My 20 miles ended up being the best long of my life but I spent the next three weeks struggling to feel good. I had 11 miles in my legs the week leading into my first marathon. I took two days off before out of desperation. 20 miler or no 20 miler, I wasn’t ready for this.

The Race

I was extremely conservative with my first 10 miles due to my trouble the previous three weeks. I figured I’d stay around 6:30’s for 10 and then make a decision from there. Whether it was to move or to stay at that pace, once I made a decision I would have to commit to it. My race plan changed before we even got to 3. I was able to latch myself onto 6:20 pace without working hard. Aside from a quick pit stop at mile 8 for a tinkle, I was pretty much right on or under 6:20s. My legs wanted to move faster but I didn’t let myself go under 6:15. The time to commit would come. Mile 10 was soon approaching.

I pulled my headphones out of my back pocket and got ready. I had made my decision.. I had been chomping at the bit for a couple of miles already. The pace change was almost instantaneous. I was tapping on the gas a bit, just enough to satisfy that craving for a little of the fast stuff. I wanted to really let loose but a lot could happen in the last 16.2 and the last thing I wanted was to implode after 20.

Miles 10-13.1 were very much like my first three miles. I spent most of my time making sure I was right on 6:00. I would reevaluate over the next 10 miles what I wanted to do. If i felt good longer into the race I would push a little. From 16-20 the pace began to come down. Mile 17 came, 5:46. Mile 20, 5:50. This was going much easier than I thought it was going to be.

The next 4 miles weren’t too hard but just like that last 1/3rd of a 5k, I was starting to feel it. At mile 24 the real struggle began. The run for home reminded me of that last kilometer of a Steeplechase, trying to survive across each barrier with each subsequent one looking 10 feet tall. These last two miles felt like I was running through peanut butter. I could have sworn I had imploded here. There was absolutely no way I was running under 7 minutes per mile. Turns out I didn’t falter too much, I dropped back to 6:09 and 6:07 for my final two miles.

I crossed the finish line in 2:41:07. I ran a four minute negative split over my first half.

41830041_10217284805134478_2932157358182236160_n — Finally done.

41360621_1337258979743926_5813268209712758784_n — 8th overall and third in my age group.

The Aftermath

The moment I stopped running it was as though I had someone stabbing every inch of my legs. My muscles were spasming and it was the worst pain I’ve felt after a race. I could barely move my body, with the only movement coming from every muscle in my lower body twitching in pain. I struggled to walk over the next couple of days. In my 12 years of running I had never felt so awful after a race.

The pain eventually subsided and I attempted to return back to running after a little over a week off. About 3 miles back in I felt horrible popping in the tendons behind my knee. The marathon effects continued to make running almost impossible without a pain in the same spot. Even months later the pain from that marathon still lingers. While it’s not as bad as it was then it still continues to hamper my training.

My first marathon was relatively easy. I ran well considering the little amount of training I had going into it but the key point here is my body wasn’t ready for it. A large part of being in shape is the ability to recover. The ability to recover from a run, a workout, a race, and get back on schedule without too much of problem. Consistency is what I lacked in this training block and it led to some of the hardest months of running following the marathon. almost 3 months later and I’m finally starting to run steady without any issues. Our bodies can work through much of what we put it through. There’s a limit to these things though. Consistency in training and a reasonable progression in workload allows our bodies to be ready for how taxing a race can be. A stable training block doesn’t just allow for optimal performance, it allows for our muscles to be ready for the demands that come with it.

Next time I’ll be ready.

Boston will be that next time.

41818762_10217289399009322_1742801852161851392_n