Forming the Plan

Alright folks, here's the plan. The San Diego half-marathon is coming up on 5 June. That gives me 16 weeks to train, starting today. My goal is once again 1:20, and provided I don't have a significant injury, I foresee no problems in attaining that. 1:19 or 1:18 might even be possible, although I have to take care not to get too far ahead of myself. The main priority right now is just staying healthy. To that effect, this evening I did 30 minutes on the elliptical, followed by 12 minutes of running. From now on crosstraining will be a regular part of my base aerobic work. And since right now all I'm doing is base work, I'm becoming quite familiar with the elliptical (to the point where it's getting pretty boring). I think I'm going to look into spinning classes on base. It's taken me nine years to learn, but I have finally realized that training smart is just as important, if not more important, than training hard. That means strength-training, stretching, and even some yoga drills are now part of my routine. I would like to add plyometrics eventually, once I'm sure that my calf can take it.

The plan is do to a four-phase training program based on Jack Daniel's Running Formula. Each phase will naturally be about four weeks, although I may shorten the first phase to three so I can get to my quality workouts sooner. I can't do any speed for at least the next two weeks, just to make sure my calf is fully healed. But that's fine; the important thing right now is to work on basic cardio fitness, and that means steady effort at 75% of max heart rate (for me, that's about 150-160). There are some local road races beginning in mid-March that I would like to do, so I plan to have at least a few quality workouts under my belt by then. The local races will be good tempo efforts and will also help me build competitive toughness, which has obviously diminished in the two years that I haven't raced. My mind is not accustomed to the pain, and I need to get it back to where it used to be. I like to think of myself as a kind of Prefontaine; I pride myself in having a high pain tolerance and just being able to outwill the other guy.

A group of officers are planning on carpooling over to San Diego for the half. That will be cool; certainly a lot better than making a solo trip. Running is way more fun when it's a social endeavor. Plus, it will be a chance for me to share some of my running knowledge with my peers. Coaching is honestly one of the most enjoyable parts of the sport. For the past year and a half I've been an informal coach to a lot of folks in our squadron who have sought my advice to improve their running times. One of our senior non-commissioned officers (NCOs), Gallup, is doing San Diego. It will be his first half. I promised to draw up a training plan for him. Today he joked that I would be back in Phoenix by the time he finished the race. I told him that breaking 2:00 would be a realistic possibility. One of our other NCOs, Belcher, might also run it. I have to see if I can convince him. In order to have credibility as a coach, I've worked hard to boost my running IQ. In addition to Jack Daniels' Running Formula, I'm also reading The Runner's Body, a publication of Runner's World magazine. It's pretty much a crash course in training, injury prevention, and nutrition, with a lot of good scientific explanations of how the body responds to training. Today I learned that I should be taking fish oil supplements; better add that to the shopping list.

One of the purposes of this blog will be to chronicle the training and racing experiences of other runners that I'm coaching, as well as my peers and friends that I'm not directly coaching, but with whom I share the passion of running. I am especially interested in knowing why people run. Gallup says he wants to prove to himself that he can finish a half-marathon, a kind of "midlife crisis" kind of challenge. I have actually thought of a potential book title: "Why We Run." Ideally, it would follow three or four people as they prepare for the same event. One would be me, another would be an elite or sub-elite (someone like Sally Meyerhoff), and the other two would be "recreational" runners, like Gallup. Sure, writing a book is a pipe dream right now, but maybe somewhere down the road I'll have the journalistic reputation to pitch the idea.

Meeting the Gouchers

This one completely took me by surprise. According to the official schedule published on the Internet, Kara Goucher was supposed to speak on Friday but be absent on Saturday. Because I couldn't get to the expo until Saturday, I was disappointed that I wouldn't be able to see her. It turned out, however, that Kara missed her initial flight into Phoenix due to some health complications (since resolved) with her newborn son, Colt. So she did indeed appear on Saturday. When I heard the announcement, I rushed over the stage and took a seat near the front. I've followed Adam Goucher's career since high school, and I've been a huge fan of Kara's over the past two years. I delighted in the possibility of seeing them in person (to be honest, I was only thinking about Kara). When Kara finally arrived, all the seats were taken and there were dozens of others standing in the back. Unlike all previous speakers (including Frank Shorter), Kara received a special welcome, accompanied by cheers and a steady round of applause. "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Kara Goucher, America's sweetheart!" She walked down the central aisle, all smiles, and took a seat on stage. I was struck by how young she seemed. She's 31, but she could have passed for 20. There's a kind of youthful exuberance to her. She is also very pretty, in a kind of "girl next door" kind of way. There's a reason why she is frequently photographed, and the paparazzi was out in force on this occasion. There were two or three with huge cameras; they even had her pose for particular shots on stage. She's been on the cover of Runner's World at least three times (I guess an equivalent distinction would be gracing the cover of Vogue). Nike has found, in Kara Goucher, a perfectly photogenic and congenial poster child. What a coup for Nike to have her on the payroll.

The moderator asked Kara a bunch of questions, some of them predicable, others decidedly less so. He asked about Colt. He asked about her relationship to Adam, and how they started dating (according to her, she asked him out). He asked about her hobbies and favorite music. Why ask such questions? It's the same reason people gobble up celebrity gossip magazines. We want to know all of the intimate details about our favorite celebrities, and Kara Goucher is "the" celebrity in the running world, maybe even the only one. She alone combines athletic ability with tremendous charm and an easily-recognizable beauty. I have to admit, I listened with intense interest to the entire conversation. While I often dismiss my friends' obsession with celebrity culture, I now understand the phenomenon. We want to feel as close as we possibly can to these idols of ours.

Afterwards, there was an autograph session. I got in line and waited my turn. I knew that this might be my only chance to actually talk to Kara, ever. I regretted not bringing my camera. Fortunately, the woman in front of me asked me if I would take her camera and snap a shot of her and Kara. I agreed, and the woman generously offered to take a picture of me and Kara and then e-mail it to me. I knew I only had time for a brief exchange of words with Kara, and I thought about what it should be. I decided to ask her about the current state of women's distance running in America. After she signed my event program, I took a seat next to her for the photograph. "That's going to be one tough 10K in qualifying for Worlds," I said. "With Shalane and Molly Huddle." "And Lisa Koll," she said, smiling. "It's nice to see Americans competing on the world stage," I added. "Finally," she said, with emphasis. I thanked her and departed. She seemed very normal to me, and I wouldn't say I was star struck when speaking to her. I don't know if it was because of her down-to-earth charm, or because I simply see no distinction between celebrities and "normal" people (she's the first celebrity I've ever met). All in all, I was delighted by the encounter; it was the highlight of the day. She signed it, "Dan, believe! - Kara Goucher."

A few minutes later, I approached Adam Goucher. He was holding his son, and I could only imagine the wonder he was experiencing as a new father. "I just want to say, you've been an inspiration for me since high school," I said. And I meant that. I remember taking Running With the Buffaloes with me on the bus when we drove out to track meets. "Hey, thanks man," he said. I asked him if he planned to return to competition. I already kind of knew the answer, having read an article online about the subject. He said that his plan is to do some track races in the spring and then make it to the Olympic trials in the marathon. "You were at the Olympics in 2000, right" I asked. I guess I wanted him to know how much I knew about him. "Yeah; injuries kept me out in 04 and 08." He said that he had just had surgery for a torn ACL. "Soccer, right?" I had further demonstrated the depths of my geekdom. "Yeah," he said, smiling. "I should know better. You know, if you want to follow my running, I've put together an online running community. We've got a blog and a radio show, and we're going to publish a book." He turned around so I could see the back of his shirt: Run the Edge. "I'll check that out," I said. Although I would have loved to have continued the conversation, I decided that it would be best to leave. The man was busy, after all. I would have shaken his hand, but he was holding his son, so I figured that would be awkward. "Nice meeting you Adam," I said, then departed.

Though brief, those were two very cool encounters with some personal heroes of mine. I may never speak to either one again. I just happened to be at the right event at the right time. It's kind of strange. After reading so much about these two, to include memorizing their PRs (I'm not joking here), it's cool to talk to them and realize just how normal they are. They're not larger than life. Maybe it's because they're not ridiculously wealthy. Kara, in spite of her fame, is certainly not making more than $1 million annually. It's probably closer to $500,000, in fact. Still a lot, but nothing compared to an NBA or NFL star. Whatever the reason, these were two very normal folks with very normal concerns, to include the doting love that they obviously have for Colt. At the end of the day, they're just like the many thousands who toed the line with Kara this morning. They're two folks in search of self-mastery, intent on plumbing the depths of their potential. And I can't wait to see what they accomplish in the next two years.

Reflections on the Half Marathon

Okay, so as promised I'll give you a quick review of the past two years, at least in regards to running. In short, I haven't done much running. I won a local 5K at Luke AFB a few months ago, clocking 18:01, again with minimal training. I haven't run more than 20 miles a week at any point in the last two years. My priorities have been elsewhere. The only reason I ran the half is because my friend Tyner convinced me to do it. Several of our co-workers had also signed up, but all of them dropped out, leaving just the two of us to take on the challenge. When I signed up, I set my goal at 1:20. I figured I could get in a four month block of moderately intense training. Unfortunately, I hurt my soleus and couldn't run for about six weeks, so that plan was shot. Still, this half was the most fun I've had with running since high school. There was a festive atmosphere in the air, reminiscent of big high school meets. All of these people, of various backgrounds and ages, had come to Phoenix to engage in the purest of all athletic endeavors. In the words of Josh Cox, today's marathon winner: "We all go through the same thing out there. We all reach that point in the race when we question our courage." And that's what makes running such an awesome sport. It's instantly accessible to layman, and even the novice will face and overcome the same barriers of fear and self-doubt that plague even the most capable elites. Running is a journey of self-mastery that unites everyone who has laced up a shoe. Big events like this half-marathon further solidify that idea, because you see so many different people, and even the 45 year-old mother of three will attack the same course as Kara Goucher and Josh Cox. The social aspect of running is something that I've missed. Sharing challenges with other runners is surely one of the great parts of our sport. There's this image of the runner as a solitary figure, but that's true only to a point. Running the half, I could feed off the energy of those around me. It's unbelievable the kind of boost you can get from that. Secure with the pack, flying along just felt effortless (until mile 11, that is). And afterwards, when it's all over, you can't help but share your story with those who have just gutted through everything with you.

PF Chang's has reawakened my love of running. It's been a passion of mine, on and off, since 2002. I have almost ten years of running experience, although that's not entirely true since I have taken long breaks. Still, it's cool to say that I have a decade of experience in something. After I passed mile 1, and said to myself, "Come on, Dan; you may be out of shape, but you've got almost ten years of experience; you can do this!" I had so much fun with this half marathon that I will certainly do another one. With proper training, I'll smash my PR. 6:00 or even 5:50 pace is definitely within reach, and I think I could reach that with only 40 miles per week. That would put me in the 1:18 range, good enough for top 50 at an event like PF Chang's.

The fitness expo on Saturday was a lot of fun. It was like the Comic-Con for runners. I felt like a complete geek browsing through all the booths, asking folks about the latest gadgets and gizmos. A Brooks rep analyzed my running gait; apparently my arch collapses and my foot rolls in, so I need "stability" shoes. I ended up spending quite a bit of money on Gucci gear. I bought a Halo anti-perspiration head band, some sunglasses, and a storage belt (which I used to carry my credit card and cell phone, in case of disaster). All the major shoe companies had reps, with Brooks taking the lead with a kind of "circus" of "curiosities." While some of this was indeed shameless gimmickry, I must admit that I did enjoy all of it. I've never been to an event like this before. The highlight, of course, was the impressive lineup of guest speakers, including Kara Goucher. But I'll reserve that topic for my next post.

I'm ready to get back into running, with the tentative goal of returning to my hometown of Seattle for the half marathon in late June. The key is not getting injured. To that end, I'm going to boost my running IQ through aggressive research. If I can get to 1:18 in the half, who knows how far I can advance? Perhaps even 5:40 pace might be possible. While I would love to get back into the mile, track races just aren't that accessible. Plus, track is a pretty lonely sport. I think road races are the best bet right now.

Race Update: PF Chang's Rock n' Roll Half Marathon

It's been over two years since I've updated this blog. After events over the past two days, I feel that I need to revive it. The phoenix is back again, after a long absence. I'll explain more about the past two years at a later time. For now, let's talk about PF Chang's!

Despite hitting the wall at mile 11, I finished in 1:32:17, or about 7:02 per mile. I am very pleased with the result because I had virtually no training build-up. I've been injured for most of the past three months with a soleus tear. In fact, I had no more than five or six training runs prior to the event, the longest one being six miles on the treadmill, which I accomplished just two days ago! So as you can tell, I really didn't know what to expect or what I might be capable of doing. My game plan going in was to run the first 6 miles at 8:00 pace, and then pick it up from there if I was feeling good. However, as they say in the military, "no plan survives first contact with the enemy." It's pretty much the same in running. I came through the first mile in 6:50 and I felt like I was walking; it was effortless. So my plan pretty much went out the window at that point. Then, up ahead, I could spot the 1:30 pacer. I figured if I could stick with him and his pack, I might just be able to run a decent time. I joined up with the group, which had a solid pack of maybe twelve runners of all different types. The pacer himself was a light-skinned Latino guy in his mid to late 40s. Then there were several middle-aged men, a serious-looking blond gal with expensive racing attire, a 16-year old boy, and a Latina girl who could not have been more than 13. As I think about it, I realize that this is one of the great things about running. When would you ever see such a diverse group of folks pursuing the same goal?

This was probably the most enjoyable part of the race, running stride by stride with these folks. There was a sense of team unity, even though we were all strangers to one another. I joked with a few of them and encouraged the pack as we clipped along at 7:00 pace. Around the 4 mile mark, this pack started to break up. Some slowed, while others picked it up. Soon after, it was just me, the pacer, and the 16-year old. The pacer said that he wanted to throw in some surges, a kind of "one mile on, one mile off" kind of deal. I didn't protest; I simply voiced my agreement. Things were going well and he seemed to know what he was doing. We could see Papago far in the distance; knew we would get there around the 10 mile mark. What I didn't know is that a few miles of reckless surging would ultimately make the last two miles a nightmare.

And surge we did. One of them was a 6:20, according to the pacer's watch. This was a little taxing, but we slowed back down to 7:00 and I was fine. We were catching lots of people, the crowds kept me energized, and I felt good. We were traveling at well below my VO2 max, even considering the fact that I was out of shape. 7:00 is an easy pace regardless of what shape I'm in. I didn't feel a great aerobic strain; the half is not like the 5K, where you're running at close to VO2 max pretty much the whole time, and your lungs are gasping for air. No, this was different. It was a cumulative fatigue, more neuromuscular than aerobic. The one thing I had not done was prepare my legs to run fast for 90 minutes. The pacer said that he wanted to surge at the beginning of the hill, around mile 9. I told him I would stick with him as long as I could. In a few minutes, he and the kid completely dropped me. There were uphill and downhill portions for about a mile. This is where the fatigue kicked in, muscle fatigue. My calves howled in protest. I had been having some problems with them for weeks in the run-up to the race, and now they were urging me to back off. At mile 11, I felt like hell, and at mile 12 I felt a lot worse. I was at the bridge at this point, painfully close to the finish, and yet I had to slow down. I had hit the proverbial wall. I was past the wall, in fact. I had nothing left to give; I had exhausted all of my glycogen reserves, meaning no more energy in the tank. That, combined with inadequate muscle preparation, produced severe cramping in both calves. All I could do was struggle along at about 9 minute pace. I knew at this point that I would not make 1:30. About thirty people passed me in the last two miles. They had conserved, intent on finishing strong. The idiotic surges had caught up to me.

When I reached the finishing chute, I did pick it up a little. There were hundreds of spectators. I felt like they were cheering for me specifically, and maybe they were; I felt the crowd roar with approval as I pumped my fist into the air. I heard the announcer as I neared the line: "Let's hear it for these runners, folks! They're finishing with 7:00 minute mile pace. Just think about running one mile at 7:00 while your watching football later today." When I was finally done, I thought to myself, "You know what? 7:00 for 13.1 isn't bad at all." My thighs and calves hurt so bad I could barely walk. After getting my medal (by far the nicest medal I've ever received; these rock n' roll folks do a good job with that), I grabbed several energy drinks and two power bars, and basically just plopped down on my butt for thirty minutes. I swapped some stories with a few others, including a 40 year-old female triathlete who finished just in front of me. She and her friends were trying hard to decide if they were satisfied with the race. This is also one of the great things about running. You can talk to total strangers and instantly be interested in their goals, PRs, ect. It's like a giant fellowship centered around the shared struggle of putting one foot in front of the other.

So that's the play-by-play action of the race. In the next post, I'll reflect on my overall experience with the half, to include the fitness expo I attended on Saturday.

Week 13 Training Update

28 Nov

So far, the changes I've made to my training have been successful. Last week I ran 44 miles and didn't feel absolutely exhausted, as I had the previous week. I've backed off the pace of my easy days and long run to 6:40-7:00. I only took one day off out of seven last week. I also finished three hard workouts: 2 x (4x1000 + 4x300) on Tuesday, 2x15 minute tempo on Thursday, and 3x1600 (4 minutes rest) on Sunday. The Friday workout kind of sucked. I only managed to do 5:11, 5:06, 5:11. I didn't get discouraged, though. I had just finished a ten miler the day before, and I was trying to do quality mile repeats at the very end of my highest mileage week in four years. You can't expect too much.
This week I'm projecting 42 miles. On Tuesday I did a workout my coach calls the "monster." It's 4 x (4x400) with a short jog for rest. Some of his elite guys, including former NCAA 10000 meter champion Keith Hanson, have done 5 sets. The goal is to do each 400 faster than the previous one. If you fail to do this twice, you're done. Anyway, we were doing it on the non-regulation track, which is shorter than 400 meters (by how much, I'm still not sure). I started with 75 and worked my way down to 55 on the last one. The last four were a little challenging, but the workout wasn't hard, which is good because I felt fatigued going into it. I was too tired to give a max effort, plus I wanted to taper a little for a harder workout later in the week. I went easy on Wednesday and took Thanksgiving off, then came back this afternoon and did one of my best distance workouts ever. I was disappointed with my previous 1600 repeat workout, so I decided to make another go at it. This time I vowed to do 5x1600 with 4 minutes of rest. The goal was to start at 5:15 and work down from there. At a minimum, I wanted to average 5:15. I ended up doing 5:09, 5:10, 5:11, 5:15, 5:13, for an average of 5:12. This was a very tough workout, the hardest I've done since getting back into training. I was on the ground heaving after the last one. The controlled inhale/exhale breathing eventually gave way to labored breathing on the last two repeats. On the last 1600, I slowed to 80 seconds for the middle two laps, then finished with a 76. 5:20 pace has become kind of a default pace when I'm heavily fatigued. The 4:00 of rest was enough to get my heart rate back down to 120-130. Nevertheless, the lactic acid buildup in my legs became more and more severe as the workout continued. My VO2 max wasn't taxed heavily on the last 1600 until I started kicking with 400 to go. I think this is because, as Jack Daniels writes in his Distance Running Formula, the lactic acid buildup prevented me from working hard enough to tax VO2 max. Daniels doesn't recommend going beyond 5:00 for intervals, because the lactic acid buildup simply becomes too great to push into the VO2 max. So in short, I probably didn't maximize the benefits of this workout. I finished the last 1600 in 5:13, but that's only because I kicked hard in the last 400. A more even-paced workout would have been more productive. Nevertheless, I'm proud of this workout. I averaged 5:12 for 5 miles, with less than equal rest (I've always taken equal rest when doing mile repeats). It's definitely the best mile repeat workout I've ever done. Of course, the significance of this accomplishment is tempered by the fact that Kim Smith did 6x1 mile with only 2:00 of rest, starting at 4:52 and working down to 4:40 on the last one. I'm certainly no elite. However, I'm progressing, and that's all that matters. A year from now I'll be able to average 4:55 or faster for this workout.
I've got about two weeks until my next race, the Fiesta Bowl 5K. I'll do three more hard workouts before then: Tuesday intervals, Thursday tempo, and a 3200 time trial on Sunday (with a goal of sub 10:00). With all of this work under my belt, and with a week of tapering before the race, I'll be able to average 5:15 and run under 16:20. I'm looking forward to finishing that race and calling myself a sub 16:20 guy. When I'm done, I will have trained for almost four months. This is by far the longest competitive season I've put myself through. I'll be taking a two week break, meaning no running at all. I'm going to need this before I start my buildup to the outdoor track season, which could last as long as July provided I qualify for club nationals.

Week 11 Training Update

16 Nov

I continue to make novice training mistakes. My goal was to run 42 miles this week, and I find myself taking three days of rest (Monday, Thursday, and today) and being forced to settle with 34. The reason? I'm simply running my miles too hard. Even on "easy" days I'm doing at least 6:20 pace. My long run of 10-12 miles has essentially become a long tempo at 6:10-6:15 pace, which is forcing me to work way too hard. Basically, I have not been doing easy runs. My brain automatically urges me forward at 6:20 or faster, because I subconsciously believe that anything slower simply isn't worth my time. Unfortunately, this approach to training has lately caused a great deal of fatigue, so much so that I can't even run three consecutive days. Yesterday I went to the canal for my usual long run. I planned on doing 40 minutes out, 40 minutes back. I started on what I thought was a comfortable clip, only to pass the 5 mile mark at 6:12 pace. I ended up turning around at 38 minutes. I took my heart rate at this point, and it was 160. That's just too hard for a long run. After 60 minutes at this same pace, my legs were simply too dead to continue. I took a quick rest and jogged the remaining two miles. For the rest of the day I felt absolutely drained of energy. I ended up taking a two hour nap, followed shortly by nine hours of sleep! I'm just not training smart. I need to adhere to the hard-easy formula. Run your hard days hard, and your easy days easy, meaning minimal effort. I should not be going faster than 6:40 on recovery days, and my long run should be around 6:50 pace. I'm going to put this plan into action next week. If I do things correctly, I should be able to complete 47 miles with three hard workouts (Tuesday intervals, Thursday tempo, and Sunday mile repeats), two recovery runs on Monday and Wednesday, and the Saturday long run. We'll see how this goes. I can still get in three and a half good weeks of training before my next test, the Fiesta Bowl 5K on 14 Dec. It's a flat course so I'm shooting for a sub 16:20 performance.

Race Update: Phoenix 5K

9 Nov

Today I clocked 16:42 for the 33rd Annual Phoenix 5K, finishing in 13th place. The course was flat and fast, with no hills and minimal turns. I set out intending to run around 16:45, so I met my goal. I am usually pretty good at predicting my fitness level. Like all races, I did this one at max effort; I was hurting pretty bad at the end. Here's the play by play action:
I felt fresh during the warm-up. My last hard workout had been the 3200 meter time trial on Monday, and I had tapered for the race. I knew I was ready to run fast (by my standards, at least). It was a festive atmosphere, with fitness booths and live music. I didn't feel the least bit nervous. I have grown accustomed to the pain of physical exertion; that doesn't scare me anymore. I also had nothing to prove to anyone, save myself. This wasn't a qualification race. It was just a fitness test. I already knew I was going to run way faster than the 17:21 I had posted at my last 5K, six weeks earlier. There was no reason to be nervous. I took my place at the front of the pack, scanning the crowd, sizing up the caliber of the competition. I searched in vain for Roger Cahill, a Flagstaff-based runner who had won the race multiple times. There were a bunch of young, lean guys with long hair; the classic look of the collegiate runner. And then there was a young woman in blue doing strides that I instantly recognized: Sally Meyerhoff. She had earned All-American honors in the 10000 at Duke University and had finished 24th at the Olympic Marathon Trials in 2:39. I had first heard of her while researching summer race results in the Phoenix area. I was surprised to see her at the New Times, as she had just completed the NYC Marathon the weekend before. Before the start, I asked her about her performance in New York. "2:40?" I asked, remembering the official results I had seen posted online. "Fourth American," she said. Place is evidently more important than time when it comes to a race like New York. I shook her hand, congratulating her, and then prepared for the coming test.
As expected, the guys with long hair and racing flats went out hard. I controlled myself, focusing on maintaining a steady rhythm and good form, the latter of which has sorely been lacking. I left Meyerhoff behind within the first 400, and I assumed that I wouldn't see her again. The possibility that she might beat me didn't even enter into my awareness. I was oblivious to all of the other runners, her included. I came through the 1 mile marker in 5:15, and I could immediately feel the stress on my system. I was only a third of the way done, and I certainly wasn't feeling comfortable. Ahead of me was a long, long stretch of road, and I was running alone. It was going to be a dreary race in no man's land, with no one to push me.
The isolation didn't last long. About 400 meters into the second mile, I started to detect footsteps and heavy breathing coming from behind. Somebody on the side of the road yelled, "Yay! Go Sally!" I risked a glance over my shoulder and saw a blur of blue. I realized at that point that I had not, in fact, dusted Meyerhoff within the first 400. Within moments she was at my shoulder. "Good God," I whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. She muttered something in response, I think to encourage me. I was feeling heavily taxed at this point and evidently so was Meyerhoff, as she didn't pass me. My body was forcing me to recover from a fast opening mile. We came through the 2 mile marker in 10:52, which I thought was an ugly split. At this point I was sufficiently rested to pick up the pace. I knew I had enough left in the tank for a hard finish. Meyerhoff had the same idea, as she matched my speed. We had run together for about a mile and still she didn't pull ahead. We were both going all out. "Come on," I whispered, as we accelerated into the third mile. This time she didn't respond. I said this to encourage her. It wasn't a challenge, but judging by what happened in the final mile she may well have interpreted it as such.
I could see the finish far in the distance. It was just one more stretch of road, and it would all be over. Then, unexpectedly, the runners ahead took a sharp right turn, and instantly I remembered what I had seen on the map. We were going to have to run on a side street for a couple of blocks. It wasn't one straight shot to the finish. That realization broke me psychologically, and at that moment Meyerhoff made a move to pass me. Instantly I matched her. We were running neck and neck at faster than 5:20 pace as we completed our little detour and came back on to the main road. In the final minute I kicked as hard as I could, but she remained several meters ahead. She was too strong to overtake. I didn't care, though. All I wanted to do was finish, and I did so one second after her. I gasped for air, barely cognizant of the woman who handed me a "Top 50" medal. Meyerhoff, meanwhile, calmly exited the finishing area. She didn't seem to be hurting nearly as bad as I was.
I didn't get a chance to speak with her afterwards, which is a shame, considering the fact that we ran most of the race together. She was busy talking to her parents, and I wasn't going to intrude. I think we both ran faster due to each others' presence. I certainly benefited from hers. There's no shame in getting beat by a girl, especially when she's an elite. I ran in the 1640s, so I was happy. My battle with Meyerhoff actually made this race a memorable one. It was an honor to challenge someone of her credentials.
So after ten weeks of training, I managed to clock 16:42. I judge that a success. About half an hour later, I finished the 10K in 37:09 with medium exertion. I focused in on 6:00 pace. It was just a way to pick up some extra miles. I ended up in 24th place, again just behind a female runner.
The 5K winner was Brandon Bethke, a transfer to ASU from Wisconsin who is not yet eligible to compete for the Sun Devils. He finished in 14:22. Fasil Bizuneh, a professional athlete sponsored by New Balance, finished second in 14:33. Andrew Lemoncello, a 2008 Olympian for Great Britain in the 3000 meter steeplechase, won the 10K in 30:33. If I had known who these guys were, I would have asked for their autographs.

Full results: http://www.cepmtnbike.com/results_misc.cfm?year=2008&raceNum=140