It’s funny, but until 2004 I never thought of myself as a real runner — just a cyclist who was “faking it.” Nowadays, however, it seems like I run even more than bicycling. It is ultra-convenient as it can be done almost anywhere, in any weather — just bring a pair of running shoes.
 "Caroline and Felix passing Carson Lake at Mile 42 of the Grand Mesa 100. (Photo: Ning, Caroline's pacer)")
“Grand Mesa is the largest flat-top mountain in the world,” said Phil, the organizer of the inaugural Grand Mesa 100-mile run at the pre-race meeting, “but you will find it is not flat.”
Phil then presented more information calmly and matter-of-factly as if it were the seven o’clock news. We probably should have interpreted the details, however, more like a warning that the Titanic was about to sink. Continue reading »
“I’m 29,” my friend Cat declared. “Again!”
Today was her birthday in which she decided to celebrate by running her age. Naturally I thought that was a great idea — having run my age in kilometers just a few weeks ago — but instead of running it metrically she insisted on the whole she-bang in miles. Less wimpy, you see.
I was a little puzzled, then, about why we were going to run 46 miles today instead of 29. It seemed like 17 extra-credit miles were a bit excessive. Continue reading »
Count this as a race I’d like to forget or even be disqualified from. I had taken over the #2 position at Mile 2.7 and had second place virtually locked up with a half-mile remaining — but then I got hopelessly lost. Crying out “WHICH WAY?” in vain to the atmosphere, I turned around to see runners behind looking equally discombobulated. “Inexcusable,” exclaimed the #3 guy, referring to the non-existent course markings at the end. Ultimately, after darting down an embankment and climbing over a chain-linked fence, I found my way to the finish line, but only after I had lost eight minutes. Instead of finishing second in a PR 39:xx, I finished in 47:xx after an angry sprint to the banner.
Oh well, it was a charity event to abet illiteracy in India. And I got to see a bunch of ol’ pals. Four of them, in fact. Continue reading »
Even though his fame came before I was born, I was familiar with whom Frank Shorter was from the movies Prefontaine and Without Limits and Kenny Moore’s book Bowerman and the Men of Oregon. From Wikipedia I also knew that he was a Yale grad and had attended law school at the University of Florida. But what I did not know was that this living running legend lived in Boulder, Colorado, only 55 miles south of where I reside. For the last 40 years, in fact.
“I find that I am most productive in a place that suits me best,” he said at a presentation in the Chautauqua Center. Funny, that’s exactly why I had moved to the Front Range. Continue reading »
“I have three goals for this race,” I declared as Cat, Dan and I hovered around the start area, waiting for the Free State Trail Races to commence. “One, to complete the distance. Two, to run the three laps as evenly as possible. Three, to not feel like I had been beaten to a pulp by the very end.”
Not long after, I positioned myself mid-pack in a throng of racers, which I figured would prevent me from starting out too quickly. Energy conservation, I figured, would be the order of the day. After all, the distance I was trying to run was 62 miles. Continue reading »
“You couldn’t pay me to run 26.2 miles” is something people have told me over the years. I guess they wouldn’t understand my buddy Dan then. He was actually paying to run 26.2 miles not just once, but 13 times in 12 weeks at an average of $250 a race (including registration fees, travel and lodging). And for what? Well, tangibly, for seven stars on the Marathon Maniacs website. Yes, a bunch of stars. Continue reading »
