[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] [See image gallery at sgowtham.com] It was about a year ago that I had the first opportunity to be actually a part of Copperman Triathlon festivities, as a (slow running) member of Two Wolverines and a Badger, from inside rather than just looking on in from the outside. And if you have been fortunate enough to be in the start (or transition or finish) area, you would be quick to know that there is more than just the colloquial meaning to the previous sentence. It was quite the experience, a memorable one at that, and it did motivate me to some day do it all by myself. I’d be completely lying if claimed that I knew that that some day would be during the very next edition of the event.

Acquiring an awesome road bike — NORCO Valence C4, a thing of beauty and as such, affectionately nick-named The Carbon Beauty — in the middle of April (thanks to dear friends in The Bike Shop for a plan to wisely invest the tax dollars Uncle Sam was so kind to return) and learning that 2015 edition of Copperman included a duathlon (Run, Bike and Run) option seeded some thoughts doing it solo. But a quick conversation with dear friend Andi around the same time removed the said duathlon thoughts, and replaced them with a suggestion to grow something else and do the triathlon (Swim, Bike and Run) instead.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] While just about anybody can challenge someone to do something, the challenger is very seldom a good teacher. And even seldom is the case where the challenger makes time to teach the required lessons in a hands-on way. I have been supremely fortunate to have friends that not only challenge me to get better but also willing to teach the required lessons in a hands-on way and to periodically monitor the progress: Adam, Jess, Rob, Ryan, Steve and Tim took me out for biking lessons (fixing a flat, changing gears, maintaining posture, line of sight, cadence and tire pressure, clipless pedals, etc.) while Andi, Christine, Dave, Ray, Shannon and Stephen offered plenty of swimming lessons (pool and open water techniques, maintaining posture and line of sight, importance of wearing goggles and wet suits, breathing, resting and survival techniques in case of freak out sessions, etc.).

Many of these and many more (Chris, Leah, Mark, Nils, Rick and Rob) were also kind in canning their triathlon experiences into easily usable lessons. An apriori two-part goal for this event was put 500 miles of road biking and 15 miles of swimming as training while not overly sacrificing running since signing up: only the former saw fruition (700+ miles) and swimming goal only made it a bit past one third of the way with most of the mileage coming in July. Rolling the ankle during Canal Run Half Marathon got me banned from running for about week (by the strong-willed folks in Keweenaw Running Group) — creating an opportunity to spend more time than I would otherwise done on the bike, and more importantly, in the water.

Courtesy of my boss-man (himself an athlete), I had Friday off from work and courtesy of XTERRA customer service folks for having ensured a timely delivery of my new wetsuit, I was able to escape the confines of civilization and cellular coverage by mid day. The drive up north was pleasant and uneventful. Reaching Copper Harbor early offered, for the second year in a row, an opportunity to get a glimpse and be a part of many a behind the scenes activity in the start/transition/finish area. A really long list of things — small and big, and simple and complex — that needs to get done, doing them the right way, and number of volunteers and staff required to ensure that an event of this magnitude goes as smoothly as it does, and attention to detail — for all the aforementioned things — were yet again the take-home lessons. This experience also re-validated the belief that there is no magic wand to wave and make things happen — most certainly not for anything of significance.

The Eles family was kind enough to let me use their campsite in Fort Wilkins Historic State Park. Not only was the campsite within a stone’s throw from the start/transition/finish area of the race but also came with lovely and friendly neighbors (Kim and Greg Green). Dinner at the Mariner North led to discussions with many a dear friends around the town and by campsite which, in turn, led to a planned full night of sleep around 10:15 pm. I was wide awake five and one half an hour later with dreams/hallucinations of gusting winds, nervousness, higher than normal heart rate and potential ways to freak out and earn a DNF but learning from the experiences of Canal Run Half Marathon not too long ago, I chose to stay horizontal instead of running around the campground. A 20 minute nap from about 6 am definitely calmed the nerves and still left me with plenty of time to get the body marked and more than decent enough slot in the transition area to keep my belongings.

Swim (0.50 mile)

I should have made enough time to test out the new XTERRA wetsuit before leaving for Copper Harbor (and carried the one that Stephen graciously let me borrow for training as a backup) but I was grateful that it fit me quite well. Water in Lake Fanny Hooe was very pleasant (69 F, all of it on the plus side of zero) albeit a bit choppy, and I didn’t probably need the wetsuit but it did help in making me look like a penguin of sorts and simultaneously hid the butterflies fluttering around in my stomach. Given that I had never swam the length of this course in one shot, with or without treading waters and/or with as many fellow swimmers, there were quite a few Oh my God, this is actually happening and the swim will start soon in the minutes leading up to the 9 am.

0.65 mi (estimate; Garmin recorded 0.94 miles), 0:29:23 (official: 0:29:28), 45:12 min/mile, 1.33 mph
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Fear of failure and not being able to do two of the three things I am actually decent at while potentially earning a DNF against my name in light all that so many had taught me so much was more than enough motivation to keep my act together and not freak out in spite of getting a kick in the face (within the first 100 feet of start) and feeling a cramp in the left leg. Remembering some of the survival techniques, I chose to move wide of the pack to prevent more kicks but didn’t feel the need to either tread waters or change the stroke. I wish I had diligently put in more effort to learn the techniques of swimming as they were being taught but it was a valuable lesson to learn the hard way in a production environment: keeping the head above water and turning it both ways with each stroke required unnecessary expenditure of lot more energy. Coupled with the extra distance I chose to swim and lack of maintaining a proper line of sight, it added 50% more time than what I had for my goal. Though I wasn’t the last one out of water, there weren’t too many left in it either and could be counted using just the digits in one hand. In spite of all this (and fortunate for it), I felt like I had plenty left in the tank as I headed into T1.

T1 and Bike (23 miles)

T1 seemed to take forever as I couldn’t get the wetsuit off my feet. In addition, putting on a bike jersey and shoes with prevalent wetness turned out to be, as I was made aware ahead of time, much more difficult. As if that weren’t sufficient, my infatuation with collecting and analyzing data required changing the mode in Garmin Forerunner 620 from Run (this model doesn’t have a Swim mode) to Bike which, in turn, added even more time to T1. It was frustrating to have taken a long time to get moving on the bike but not surprising since T1 had all along been just a theoretical construct in my mind with zero practice in reality.

22.26 mi, 1:25:27 (official: 1:24:26), 3:50 min/mile, 15.65 mph, 150 bpm
Splits: 3:20, 4:05, 3:31, 4:01, 4:07, 4:54, 3:02, 4:12, 4:36, 4:00, 4:18, 3:56, 4:02, 3:16, 3:29, 3:34, 3:42, 3:09, 3:13, 5:02, 2:54, 3:26, 7:35
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Having test driven this course a handful of times over the last three months to get as familiar as possible with the terrain and turns as well as with varying weather conditions ensured I could just react to the terrain and turns as they approached rather than thinking (and worrying, and in turn, wasting brain cells) about a strategy. Visor removal to further minimize air resistance (thank you, Chris), clipless pedals, changing the gears to keep up the cadence, tweaks to ensure that gears changed at normal pace (thank you, Rob in The Bike Shop), a posture that has improved over the last 250 some miles, pushing when the course lent itself but not cooking up the legs too much … helped a great deal in countering the west winds off the Lake Superior and maintain a decent pace throughout the course finishing about four minutes slower than my intended time.

Sticking to the suggested nutritional plan, I did consume an energy bar over the two miles past the last turn around point in Esrey Park — to give the body enough time to work on it and be ready for the last leg of this event. It wasn’t until a few miles left in the biking portion that I noticed non-existence of an energy gel in the back pocket of my jersey: a result of not paying enough attention to detail before leaving the transition area which was a direct result of never practicing T1.

T2 and Run (5 miles)

T2, unlike T1, was something that I had indeed practiced a few times in real life and the practice did pay off: there was tingling (or giving out) sensation in my legs as I dismounted the bike. But much like T1, T2 also took longer than necessary as I had to change out of biker jersey and shoes into their running counterparts, and consume an energy gel. Using Salomon trail running shoes saved few seconds as I there wasn’t any need to lace them up (thank you, Andi). My continued infatuation with collecting and analyzing data required changing the mode in Garmin Forerunner 620 from Bike back to Run added more time to T2. I failed quite miserably at it as I didn’t push all the right buttons, and in the interest of time (and amidst a friendly reminder from a dear friend and event photographer, Adam Johnson: G, what’s taking you so long to get moving?), I let it stay in the Bike mode and started my run.

5.00 mi, 0:42:00 (official: 0:42:18), 8:28 min/mile, 7.09 mph, 161 bpm
Splits: 8:05, 8:42, 9:02, 8:54, 8:34
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As I had done for the bike course, I had several test runs along this course over the past three months to gain further familiarity. Legs continued to feel good during the run but I did stop at nearly every aid station, and did walk a few other times. Leaving the water bottle at 0.50 mile aid station turned out to be a good idea as I could pick it back up at 4.50 mile mark on the run (thank you, Justin and Linda) and have more water for the one last push. I didn’t quite time the big push well for I was left with a bit too much energy after crossing the finish line (about two minutes slower than my goal time).

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Post finish line activities included chugging down several cups of energy beverages, exchanging pleasantries with volunteers, spectators and fellow participants, getting some medical attention to what I thought was a bug bite or bee/wasp sting (but in reality was just the wetsuit kiss) and what I knew was a cramp in the left leg (thank you, Cindy, from Aspirus Keweenaw). As I was beginning to contemplate on areas in which I could have done better and that needed improvement or a better effort for next edition, the awards ceremony got its start.

And little did I know that some one (or many some ones) had nominated me for the Nick Bell Memorial Award for the pursuit of athletic excellence: whoever wrote the recommendation letter, by far the most humbling one I have ever received, you seemed to know almost every aspect of my life so very well. It was (and still is) very overwhelming experience and meant (and still does) a lot as it’s instituted in the name of someone special to the community and the event (I wish I had the opportunity to meet this guy in person but I hope to meet some of his family members some day), all those folks that have previously won this award, and the community that I live in choosing to nominate me in an anonymous fashion. THANK YOU, and all I can pray is that life may shower you with its choicest blessings, and all I can hope is that I will live up to your expectations.

The goals for this event had evolved over a period of time, with practice, leading up to the event, and looking back, were fueled partly with ego rather than common sense backed by even more practice. Swim, bike and run had approximately 6, 700 and 1260 banked miles respectively — since taking up each of these three disciplines — before the event, and the return on investment showed very vividly (and unsurprisingly) in the trend of my standings within the division and amongst overall participants. I didn’t get any of the goals I had in mind, but this event definitely provided not only an opportunity to get my feet wet (colloquially and quite literally) but also very clearly demonstrated aspects that need lot more attention to detail and mindful practice before the 2016 edition.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com]

Post event activities included sharing a few beverages with dear friends in the campground and at other fine establishments — in Copper Harbor and Eagle River. The evening ended early, and the return drive to Houghton Sunday morning was just as uneventful as the drive up north.

Praise be to the Good Lord and life's blessings, and thanks be to

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] All of my familiarity with the Swedetown Tails, at least until the beginning of this Summer, had to do with cross country skiing as part of the The Great Bear Chase festivities. And by skiing, I mean my desperate attempts to stay upright and minimize the number of falls/wipeouts. With 25+ falls/wipeouts in 2014 (2:13:26 for 10k) and 7-8 more in 2015 (1:22:18 for 10k), it’s safe to say I have been on my behind and back more on these trails than I standing up on my feet.

So, when dear friend and race director for the Mount Bohemia Trail Running Festival, Bridget Durocher (who works at Western Upper Peninsula Health Department, announced that she would be voluntarily putting together another trail running event — much closer to home — (a) with proceeds from it serving as a fundraiser for the Swedetown Trail System, (b) to promote an active lifestyle by getting people out to enjoy the trails and outdoors, (c) to make her hometown, Calumet, be known more than just as a Burger King destination amongst the not-so-active kids and adults alike in the area, and (d) with many a weekend training runs that she graciously arranged and led over many a months leading up to the event along many a trails that would eventually become the course, which, in turn, would increase my familiarity with the this system of trails … it didn’t require any persuasion to sign up and participate in this event.

With this event being a fortnight before my maiden marathon and with the longest of long runs completed a week ago (#21 in the table above), I happened to be tapering — although I have never done so before, and still don’t know what it means or how to go through one (but it does sound fancy!). Timing of the event would make me treat it like a training run and not a race, and coupled with the kind and terrain, it would certainly offer a much needed platform to practice/instill a few lessons I have been going after for a while: (a) start slow and be ok with it, (b) let go of less than useful thoughts, (c) run the mile I am in, (d) pick up the pace as and when the terrain lends itself to do so, (e) maintain good posture throughout but especially so in the later parts, (f) time the beginning of the big push towards the end, (g) add a little kick to the big push to expend most, if not all, of the remaining energy by the time finish line comes around, and more.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com]

The race day morning, unlike past couple events, came at a normal pace. Driving up to Calumet with Chris and Murat was uneventful and smooth. And there were no butterflies or pre-race jitters — treating the event more like a training run had much to do with it. It was a, like many first edition events, was small: seven participants in 5k, 16 in 10k and 12 in 25k, and had a pretty good representation from the Keweenaw Running Group. However, it did bring a few firsts: (a) crinkling of the bib — I need to do this more often to observe its aerodynamic impact (thank you, Shannon), (b) a raffle that required demonstration of a said exercise and naming a vegetable of said color, and (c) a pre-race huddle with fellow participants, volunteers, spectators and the race director.

15.50 mi (14.91 recorded by GPS), 2:30:12, 9:41 min/mile, 6.20 mph, 169 bpm
Splits: 10:08, 9:36, 9:49, 10:20, 10:27, 9:49, 9:54, 10:13, 10:14, 10:15, 10:06, 9:46, 10:13, 10:23, 8:58
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The event started on time, and no sooner had about one half a mile passed on the wide open Valley Trail, than it led us into a mostly canopied network of single tracks starting with Two Hoots Too. To say that that course was beautiful doesn’t do much any justice. Though prior training runs made some of the course familiar, the joy of following the trails as they snake through the valleys and meadows by creeks and waterfalls and some bridges with a spectacular array of flora accompanied by more than an occasional chirping of birds and insects … is something one has to experience first hand, and it sure was a privilege to do so on a glorious morning.

Personally, the event started with keeping pace with dear friends Andi and Chris until a course-forced separation took Chris and me deeper into the woods. Even though I took no less than useful thoughts with me into the run, they somehow crept into my head: a courtesy of mileage disparity between my and Chris’ Garmin watches — about 0.06 to 0.07 miles less per every mile, and as such, a lower pace and speed. I should have just gone with the feeling I had that my pace was certainly faster than what the watch indicated but it took nearly one half the total distance to realize that this indeed was a less than useful thought and that there was nothing I could do about it.

Chris led the pacing efforts until about mile 8 or so, and then let me try it for the next several miles. My pacing over the next 5 or so miles was slow and certainly cost him quite a bit of time. Having him to follow over the last few miles was a big bonus — as my posture and form were all over the place, I certainly would have walked on more than a handful of occasions if not for him, and served as a good big push towards the end. All said and done, we finished with a decent kick and only a dozen ticks past the intended 2:30:00 mark.

Not the case of the grapes I didn’t get were sour anyway but I am happy to have the first two goals: first, a healthy pair of ankles, and second one thanks in great part to Chris’ pacing skills. I can live with being 12 seconds slower over 15 miles (would have finished at least 12 seconds on the desirable side of 2:30:00 had I not slowed down Chris over the last few miles), and it’ll probably teach me a thing or two about when to start the big push and when to add a kick to the said big push. Post-run festivities included a photo by the lovely hand-made race sign, chatting with fellow participants, spectators and volunteers, and an uneventful ride back to Houghton.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com]

If resources (time, opportunity and the almighty dollar) permit, Swedetown Trails are definitely worth exploring in all of the two seasons Yoop gets to have irrespective of one’s outdoorsy interests and inclinations and level of expertise/experience: casual (photo) walk, hike, run, mountain bike, snowshoe or ski. The Great Bear Chase is a popular pre-Birkie winter time activity, and this new Swedetown Trail Run festival joins The Great Deer Chase mountain bike race to spice up the non-winter time activities.

Praise be to the Good Lord and life's blessings, and thanks be to

Haven’t you done enough half marathons? Are you ever going to do a full? If so, when?

Seven (one each in Detroit, Marquette, Porcupine Mountains, and two apiece in Green Bay and Madison) of the 17 half marathons I have had the good fortune of participating in so far since 2013 had featured a full marathon as part of their festivities. The course for many of these seven aforementioned half marathons had partly, if not entirely, overlapped with that of the corresponding full marathon. The often interesting and inspiring but always entertaining and hilarious signs that people held along the side for the marathoners, as such, were quite hard to miss. And so were the aforementioned questions that many a friend, in and outside of my community, frequently and caringly put forth over the past many months to put me outside of my comfort zone, and in turn, make me better — a whole lot better.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] [See image gallery at sgowtham.com] [See image gallery at sgowtham.com]

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com]

Unforeseeing one! Yes, he fought on the Marathon day:
So, when Persia was dust, all cried, “To Acropolis!
Run, Pheidippides, one race more! the meed is thy due!
Athens is saved, thank Pan, go shout!” He flung down his shield
Ran like fire once more: and the space ‘twixt the fennel-field
And Athens was stubble again, a field which a fire runs through,
Till in he broke: “Rejoice, we conquer!” Like wine through clay,
Joy in his blood bursting his heart, – the bliss!

So, to this day, when friend meets friend, the word of salute
Is still “Rejoice!” — his word which brought rejoicing indeed.
So is Pheidippides happy forever, — the noble strong man
Who could race like a god, bear the face of a god, whom a god loved so well,
He saw the land saved he had helped to save, and was suffered to tell
Such tidings, yet never decline, but, gloriously as he began,
So to end gloriously — once to shout, thereafter be mute:
“Athens is saved!” — Pheidippides dies in the shout for his meed.

And, there was/is this indelible association with the Greek soldier/messenger, Pheidippides: the man, the myth and the legend of 490 BC — who apparently had run about 300 miles from Athens to Sparta to Athens (to see if the Spartans would lend a helping hand to the Athenians in the First Persian War) before running another 25 or so from Marathon (the site of The Battle of Marathon) to Athens to deliver the news of Greek victory, and died upon the delivery of such message. Apparently, the aforementioned poem — Pheidippides by Robert Browning in 1879 — [there is even a peer-reviewed (?) article published nearly 100 years later in the British Journal of Sports Medicine] inspired the founders of the modern Olympic Games to include a running race called the marathon — starting out at 24.85 miles in 1896, fluctuating for a while amidst heated discussions and (dis)agreements before settling down at 26.22 miles from 1924 and beyond.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] [See image gallery at sgowtham.com] So, why do a full marathon? The biggest influences were/are my friends that have done one or more of these marathons and (half) Ironman triathlons, the books I read or listened to (Racing Weight, Lore of Running, Born To Run, Unbroken), and the televised races and movies/documentaries I watched that had some or much to do with running (Boston and New York City marathons, Iron Man and other triathlons, Leadville Race Series, Western States Endurance Run, Badwater, The Imitation Game, Desert Runners, Unbreakable: The Western States 100, 100: Head/Heart/Feet). A personal desire need to be not just half crazy as many such signs had indicated, be more like my aforementioned friends and test the semi-empirical relationship: played a large role. And so did the desire to not have to answer the same aforementioned questions and be alive to tell the story. The maiden opportunity — albeit a comical one — to be a Kenyan in someone’s mind (and a Greek in my heart — along with being a Chinese, an Ethiopian, a Mexican, a Nordic/Scandinavian whose family spent 20+ years in India before recently returning to the US, a Yooper, a trolling hobo … depending on who is answering the question) for about three and one half hours was the last to complete the line up.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Given all the layered reasoning, it wasn’t a hard decision to finally make up my mind and run a full marathon in 2015, and to sign up for the Marquette Marathon on 1st December 2014, as soon as the online registration opened up. And if the above semi-empirical relationship indeed holds true, I should have enough time to thank everybody that has ever helped me run twice and still have some time left to invest in some delusional self-indulgent thoughts.

So, why Marquette? There aren’t too many races in the Yoop that offer the full marathon option. Of the few I could find, Whitefish Point Marathon in June would have been a bit too soon with far fewer training miles. Ignorance removed North Country Trail Run in August as a very doable option (and due to laziness, it is no longer an option in 2016). Probably Grand Island Trail Marathon in July and certainly Porcupine Mountains Trail Marathon in September would have fit the bill as far as the training miles were concerned, but to say that the race director/race director’s spouse combination (of Great Lakes Endurance) is not very pleasant to deal with is a very polite understatement. Maybe there are some maturity issues I need to work through to get better and grow up, but that’s not on the menu till 2016 running season.

So, then why not some fancy destination race? Long story short, I am high maintenance, and I know it. Short story long, it has been a habit so far to keep as many of the new distance races — at least my first attempt at them — in the Yoop. Thus, relatively closer proximity of Marquette, and familiarity with one half the course (I had done the half marathon in 2014) — fast, mostly downhill, USA Track & Field certified Boston-qualifier course along the Iron Ore Heritage Trail with a good portion of it on hard-packed trail to make it easy on the joints — made it an easier choice to pick this event to be my first of the marathon kind.

With as much heads up I had given myself for this event, I should have been able to find and stick with a marathon training plan. Instead, I chose to train for each of the half marathons, triathlons and weekend festivals so far — San Francisco Half Marathon, Green Bay Half Marathon, Lake Trout Festival Half Marathon, Run The Keweenaw, Hancock Canal Run Half Marathon, Copperman Triathlon and Swedetown Trail Run 25k — not only as not-short runs but also as intermediate checkpoints (with their own goals) to measure my performance and progress, get the necessary feedback from friends and experts, and estimate the additional effort necessary to prepare for the marathon.

Perception, and as such reality (and in turn, personal definition) of quick, short, medium and long runs had to be revised by mid-February/early March: quick (under 10k), short (between 10k and a half marathon), medium (between a half marathon and 20 miles) and long (20+ miles). Though signing up and training for a triathlon since mid-April certainly came with the recommendation that running goals had to be rolled back a bit, it also went a long way in making me a better runner: biking improved the cadence and swimming (certainly from the lessons before and after the Copperman festivities) improved breathing and lung capacity (some evidence of it). Biking and swimming together reduced the overall fatigue keeping the legs fresher while serving as cross training activities. Learning to run after the swim and/or bike taught me to dig deeper to find motivation (or a reason) to finish what was started.

As the miles — slowly but ever so steadily — started to build up over the last few months, I am ever so grateful to every one of my friends that ever ran with me, let me run with them, served many a dose of reality, fed me slices of humble pie, listened to all my (sometimes delirious and incoherent) stories, shared stories and wisdom of their own marathon preparation, participation and recovery, and even paced me — be it for a mile or two or five or seven, or five and seven, or even fifteen — as part of my quick, short, medium and long training runs.

Just as I was starting to make travel plans for this event about a month ago (when to leave, where to stay, and so on), I received a Facebook message from Paul Mann — a gentleman that I had the good fortune of sharing the course in two events over the past ten months or so (Mt. Bohemia Trail Running Festival and The Muck Run) — that I could stay with him and his wife, Beverly, for this event. Given a choice, I would rather stay with friends, get to know them better, hang out and eat with them and earn an opportunity to reciprocate any day over staying by myself. So, it wasn’t difficult to accept the Mann’s kind offer to stay with them.

Timing of this event worked out well to my advantage: the tapering period (thank you, Chris, for explaining what tapering meant) coincided with last week of orientation and first week of classes at Michigan Tech. The busy-ness ensured that I didn’t really have time to dedicate multiple hours per day to workout and forced me into lighter activities. More than one of my good friends was quick yet kind enough to point that a 90 mile bike ride a week before a marathon wouldn’t necessarily count as tapering. But they were just as quick and kind enough to remind me that problems in my head would probably affect the my performance in this marathon more (in a negative way) than the aforementioned long bike ride.

The week leading up to the event was an unhurried one, and getting the latter half of Friday off from work (thank you, bossman) provided enough time to gather everything I needed for the weekend. The trip, however, didn’t begin as auspiciously as I had hoped. As I was locking the apartment door, I thought to myself: the next time I walk into this apartment, I would have completed a marathon. I hadn’t even gone past the Michigan Tech campus on US41 when I realized I forgot couple things I did need for this trip. So, I go back into the apartment, pick them up and I thought to myself as I lock the door: the next time I walk into this apartment, I would be a marathoner. And this time, I hadn’t even completed the Yooper loop when I realized that I forgot something else that I needed for this trip. So, I got back into the apartment yet again, picked it up and thought to myself as I locked the door: the next time I walk into this apartment, I will definitely have completed a marathon. I could easily have let this whole unpreparedness get into my head as a bad omen of some sort but the reminders from dear friends came in handy once again to keep such thoughts where they should — for once — outside of my head. It was lot easier to wrap it instead in the things don’t come easily blanket and continue on with the journey.

The drive to Marquette was smooth and uneventful but punctuated with a pit stop in Ishpeming — a pretty little historic town that is just east of dear friend Sarah‘s hometown — to scope out the starting area and the arrangements therein. While the stop was short it did come with running into two more dear friends — Kelsae and Michael — one of which would be running the marathon as well.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] I met Paul in the Lakeview Arena for the pre-race expo and packet pickup. Once that was done and dropping much of the necessary belongings at the Mann residence, we (Beverly, Paul and myself) went to The Pasta Shop for dinner. A cute little place, introduced to me by dear friends Kate and Kris many many moons ago during the XTERRA Marquette Epic Triathlon, did not disappoint — the pesto genovese was quite tasty and filling. I didn’t stay awake for much too long past dinner, and for the first time in a handful of races, I promptly retired to sleep by 9:15 pm.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] For the first time in just as many handful races, the race day morning came at a very comfortable pace and after a full eight hours of non-stop and refreshing sleep. It’s difficult to put into words the importance of avoiding distractions or minimizing freak shows before a race: Beverly was kind enough to wake up early on my count and drop me off at the Berry Events Center parking lot to catch the bus — saving me the trouble of driving myself, finding a parking spot and when the race was done, driving back in potentially delirious state. The last bus, scheduled to leave at 6:15 am, was full and a handful of us were left waiting a few minutes. While the lady in charge was making the necessary arrangements to get another bus, the others with me seemed a little antsy and worried (and Beverly patiently waited to make sure the bus indeed arrived and left with me in it). In the worst case, the bus would get me to the starting about 15 minutes later than the scheduled time and that, in turn, would mean 15 less minutes I would have for my pre-race freak show. When all said and done (bless the driver’s heart), the bus got us to the starting area with 35 minutes to spare.

26.26 mi, 4:06:21 (official – 4:06:16.4), 9:23 min/mile, 6.39 mph, 158 bpm
Splits: 9:11 (1), 9:00 (2), 8:57 (3), 8:57 (4), 9:01 (5), 8:52 (6), 8:45 (7), 9:00 (8), 8:55 (9), 8:52 (10), 8:52 (11), 8:42 (12), 7:56 (13), 8:29 (14), 8:24 (15), 8:24 (16), 9:04 (17), 8:49 (18), 9:24 (19), 9:48 (20), 9:56 (21), 11:31 (22), 10:47 (23), 11:08 (24), 11:09 (25), 12:04 (26), 2:25 (27)
Garmin Forerunner 620 and WP GPX Maps plugin for WordPress

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Thick fog with warm and humid conditions made the starting area more reminiscent of a scene from some eerie movie. The usual exchange of pleasantries with fellow racers and many a dear friends led to a couple servings of humble pie (Frank Bartocci, #327, attempting his 680th full marathon, and Bill Sved, #5, attempting his 254th) and a beautiful rendition of The Star Spangled Banner. It was awesome to see dear friend, Adam, drive all the way from Houghton just to be at the start!

The event started on time, and sticking with the plan (read: combined wisdom bestowed upon by friends), I started out with 9:00 min/mile pace. The first five miles went by in a hurry and I felt pretty good — thanks to a chat about our areas of research interests with Kevin Flaherty (#21, a faculty in The University of Michigan) and his daughter, Melanie (#22, a student in Northern Michigan University). But humidity and increasing temperature had drenched me (and almost everyone else too) from head to toe. For one of the first times that I can remember, I made a sensible decision in a race: instead of picking up the pace and making up some time, I chose to stick with the same 9:00 min/mile pace for five more miles and then reconsider the pace change decision. Five more miles went by rather quickly as well and punctuated with a short discussion with Kumar Rao (#196; I had run into him at the expo — he hails from Bangalore with much of his family coming from areas of Mysore that I was/am very familiar with), a high five with Sarah Olson (#143; I had met her a couple times before in 2013 — Copperman Triathlon in Copper Harbor and XTERRA Epic Triathlon in Marquette), a super quick stop to hug the guy that was doing his 680th full marathon, and yet another Adam Griffis sighting.

Temperature had increased even more and with sun glaring straight down the Iron County Heritage Trail, I chose once more to not pick up the pace but stay at 9:00 min/mile pace for couple more miles and then reconsider the decision. Chatting with an elderly gentleman, Peter Wertanen (#37) from Negaunee, about the importance of willingly seeking direction from the wise and providing the same to the ones that could use it when the time is right made the next couple miles go by really quickly.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Humidity had gone down a bit by mile #12, and the Iron County Heritage Trail was covered in a canopy offering much needed shelter from the blasting sunshine. Having run this section of the course last year and knowing that I had about four (maximum of five) miles of this canopy, I picked up the speed and consistently managed sub 8:30 min/mile pace. Once I was within Marquette city limits, there wasn’t much to protect me from the sunshine and there wasn’t any breeze off the lake either. So, the pace kept dropping with every passing mile thereafter but remembering a sign that I had seen in several other events was very useful. Any attempt to pick up some pace in the shaded downhill portion of Presque Isle were marred by the rigged up roads and fist-sized rocks that had the potential to roll/break the ankles. I did choose to do the slightly extended walks through the remaining aid stations and did walk less than a handful of times outside of them as well.

A comical relief, if it could be called that, came just before the last uphill push towards the finish line. Having run this part of the course a year before, I was taking a few steps to rest the body briefly and collect my thoughts for the last Big Push. A younger looking but strongly built friendly guy (Ryan Lusardi, #361) comes running from behind and encourages me to start running: Dude, we can’t be walking. We got this. Let’s push and run to the finish. I believed in his words more than he probably did and I was willing to let him carry me a few steps further than I might have been able to go on my own at that point in the race. And I started running with him. No sooner had we made that left turn onto 3rd Street, than the young man proclaimed upon sighting the barely visible finish chute: $#%& this hill. I am going to walk for a bit. So, the comical relief had quickly turned into a teachable moment: it was time for role reversal and my turn to pick up that guy … maybe make him believe in himself that he could indeed run up the hill. And he did, and it was neat to see him do so a few strides ahead of me.

With four of the five goals I had for this event gone by the wayside well before I made that left turn onto the 3rd Street, I started picking some pace for a potential 400-600m sprint to the finish. While the time might not show that it was a sprint, it for sure felt like it — especially when compared to the pace for last 4-5 miles. I remember getting somewhat overwhelmed as the finish line got closer. I was later told by a dear friend, Kara, that I didn’t look like I had ridden the struggle bus up the 3rd Street — so, the form must not have been too bad. It was very memorable to see as many people and dear friends — Adam Griffis, Amy Madsen, Ann Hoover, Beverly Mann (with a dry towel and fresh pair of my clothes in a bag), Bri Drake, Federica Lanza, Joshua Myles, Kara Graci, Lauren Scheafer, Paul Mann, Rich Johnson, Sam Graci, Sue Perry, Tyler Barton (and many more tracking my progress from afar) — being present in scorching sunshine and heat just past the finish line.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Post-race festivities included consuming some food (water, chocolate milk and bananas), a massage (apparently, I had and still have one too many knots in my legs — first of its kind after a race), a shower and watching a disappointing Penn State loss to Temple at the Mann residence, dinner (pasta with roasted peppers and garlic) with the Manns in The Pasta Shop, and a few choice beverages (Mondo Beardo Imperial Stout, Nordskye Session IPA and a sip of Wasabi Ginger Pale Ale) in Blackrocks Brewery with the Manns and Vertins (Melissa and Joel) before succumbing to the call of sleep.

Yet another full night of sleep at the Mann residence and a quick breakfast in Third Street Bagel made way for an uneventful drive back to Houghton. While happy to have had the good fortune of training for, participating in and completing a marathon (with Amy, Josh, Kelsae and Marine; it was a maiden effort for the latter two as well), the drive and rest of the next many hours were spent in reflecting upon and analyzing the performance, and finding the potential areas for improvement:

1. Had I listened to my friends (those in Keweenaw Running Group), this day could have come a year or two earlier. Had I taken up on dear friend Lena‘s offer to train with her, it could have come five years earlier. Either one would have made me far better athlete than I am today.
2. The need to learn to worry less about things that are beyond my control (for e.g., weather, terrain, etc.) but to create the opportunity to mimic such entities as part of training.
3. Sticking with the plan, following the directions of friends and not doing monkey see, monkey do business prevented an early burnout and saved me from getting a potential DNF against my name. Also, taking and following directions and unconditionally yielding to the collective wisdom of friends is a lot easier said than done but is indeed a lot easier said than done if I put my ego aside and believe that my friends do have my best interest in their mind.

Remembering mile by mile or chunk by chunk in such a long distance run proved to be quite difficult. As the table above clearly demonstrates (numbers rarely lie), my recollection the run-time performance borders along vaguery more so than it does on reality. Looking back, I thought I had little more energy left in me past the finish line to be run a mile or two more — a clear indication of pacing issues between miles 22.36 and 26.20 arising out of inexperience. Should I be fortunate enough to train for and participate in one more marathon (I sure hope so), these miles will no longer be an uncharted territory. With enough practice, I should do a better job of pacing the last 10k and remember how I felt throughout the course. Maybe some more experiments are in order: treat the marathon as if it was some combination of 5/10 milers and 5k/10k. Barring the few moments of being overwhelmed on either side of the finish line, I didn’t (and still don’t quite) feel like I accomplished anything just yet but I do appreciate all that my friends did/are doing to explain what I did, and helping me comprehend and appreciate it.

The book I am currently reading about a very pragmatic and wise personality (and few others I have read in the past year) drove home some of these points — the value in paying attention to minutiae of everyday activities — I had recently been discussing with a few friends and mentors, and will serve as a frequent reminder in pursuit of a sub 4:00:00 finish before the curtain comes down on 2015 running season:

Some may think these trifling matters not worth minding, but they should remember that human felicity is produced by little advantages that occur everyday.

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Praise be to the Good Lord and life's blessings, and thanks be to

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] It’s not a snowcapped mountain, at least not year-round. Its highest peak, at least on the course, barely reaches 1,500 (yes, fifteen hundred) feet above sea-level with the basecamp stationed less than a thousand feet below the top. And yet this thing is called a mountain? When touching just 2,000 (yes, two thousand) feet has been a Sisyphean task even for the highest peak in the entire state, 1,500 ft doesn’t sound all that bad. Unlike the real mountains elsewhere, this one (with a handful of its siblings/cousins) is right in our own backyard. And quite importantly, it (and each of one its siblings/cousins) offers the same lessons my favorite wilderness prophet talks/writes about in his 1901 book.

Add all these lessons to all that the race director, Bridget Durocher, does for the community as a part and outside of her work with Western Upper Peninsula Health Department, and top it all with the potential for some spectacular fall colors, and result was seeing myself register for the event in mid/late January as soon as the online registration opened.

Much like the previous trail running event in August, Swedetown Trail Run, this one happened to be about a month before my next road race of marathon distance. Unlike the last time though, not only I was at least two weeks away from the beginning of tapering period but approaching the end of a fantabulous experiment (more about this later). Timing of all these things would make the runs in this Mount Bohemia Trail Running Festival a part of the experiment and not a race — if competing against my own previous self is ignored — in the general sense of the word. The goals for this event would be quite simple: don’t walk except aid stations, improve the times from past year and don’t come home with an injury that would prematurely end the running season.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] During one of the training activities leading up to this festival, #11 in the above table, dear friend Alice talked about and recommended one of the books she happened to be reading: Long Distance — Testing the Limits of Body and Spirit in a Year of Living Strenuously by Bill McKibben. I recalled was reminded by Alice, ever so gracefully, that she had talked about that book once before during our run and I was smart enough to remember the title this time around.

A couple days into reading listening to this book, the author talked about the importance of long runs at a slower pace keeping more than an eye on the heart rate. He also talked about punctuating such runs with a speed burst every 20 minutes or so … so as to not forget how to pick up the pace after running at a lower pace for a considerably longer periods of time. So, I decided to spend the the next 8-10 weeks with one long run per week dedicated to integrating this particular lesson from the book — run long, run slow, watch the heart rate, add a burst every 20 minutes during such long slow run, make detailed notes about what worked and what didn’t, what I remembered to do and what I shouldn’t forget for the next long run, and so on.

First such run didn’t take too long to come about (#13 in the above table). Though the prevailing high humidity ensured that it didn’t go nearly as long as I had originally intended, I did what I thought I should be doing: went slow enough to keep the heart rate in check, included a burst every once in a while, and heeded to the body and weather conditions to end the run. I also made notes about these things for the following run. As per the plan made earlier that week, I went over to the Vendlinski residence to watch a college football game. While Andis beloved Wolverines dressed in maize and blue were taking the descendants/disciples of Brigham Young to school in The Big House, she brought up the concept/practice of and the potential for doing a 10 in 10. I admitted that I hadn’t heard of such a thing and didn’t really know what it meant.

A little schooling of my own followed, and I learned that it meant a run of 10 miles (or longer) for 10 consecutive days. Schooling also came with a favorable yes to both my concerns [(a) can I count today’s run as the first one in this 10 for 10? (b) can I break up the 10 mile run per day into multiple runs of shorter lengths?] and a fair reminder that I should end my pursuit should I experience a pain or an injury. With the history of such things having always done more good to me than expected, it was a no brainer to put my body through this newest and by far the toughest, at least on paper, experiment. Since the experiment hasn’t yet been completed (one more day to go), I will save detailing the results as part of a subsequent post-race report. However, I was quite happy to see the body as well as the mind adapt well to the experiment so far and the experiment had no negative impact — in terms of fatigue or injury, mind or body or a combination thereof — on weekend’s festivities.

The eve of the event weekend ended on a much calmer note and included a quick trip to see dear friends Katy and Henry. And the race day morning, for day #1, came at an expected pace. The seemingly never ending repair of the Houghton-Hancock Lift Bridge and its often unannounced closures for lengthy periods of time (as well as potential road closures as a result of an ill-conceived event in Houghton) called for leaving town much earlier than usual. The drive up north was smooth and uneventful — with checkin, packet pickup and exchange of pleasantries with fellow participants and friends completed upon arrival, there was about an hour left for the pre-race meeting. And for the first time that I can remember, I made a conscious effort to nap in the back of my car and give my body a little more rest.

Pre-race meeting as well as the 5k started on time. Starting slow and pacing myself better (thanks to repeated lessons from many a friends over the past year) with many a friendly faces — Bev, Cheryl, Cindy, John, Kate and Paul, and Anne and Melissa from Marquette — played a vital role in the negative splits. A year’s worth of training on varied terrain, one recent training run up and down Mont Ripley, and institutional knowledge about the course from yesteryear made me look and feel a lot smarter. This, in turn, gave my feet quite a bit of confidence and ensured the miles went by much quicker than yesteryear as well. And before I could realize, the course that hugs the Little Red Riding Hood had brought me face to face with the lovely (I do mean it) Big Bad Wolf. This Big Bad Wolf isn’t something one would/could easily get through without realizing and my first encounter with it was no different (neither would the remaining three over the weekend). When I did get through and crossed the finish line, leg #1 of the festival was behind me but with plenty left in the tank.

3.23 mi, 0:32:19, 10:00 min/mile, 6.00 mph, 159 bpm
Splits: (1) 11:01, (2) 10:08, (3) 8:28, (4) 2:41
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A timely advice from dear friend, Chris Schwartz, a day or two earlier about paying better attention to nutrition and resting well (read: not doing any monkey business) between events came in quite handy. I consumed some protein bars and fluids, and retired to the backseat of my car for yet another ~40 minute nap. I missed the pre-race meeting (I was still napping) but the 10 started on time. Starting slow and pacing myself better would remain a theme and the number of familiar faces grew quite a bit for leg #2: Amanda, Anika, Christine, Cindy, Jessie, Kate, Paul and Shannon.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] The course was slightly modified compared to 2014: the usually humbling Little Red Riding Hood came with a topping of an Ugly Ducking before taking on the very humbling Pinocchio. Taking the top off of Pinocchio offered some respite but didn’t take much from the glorious view — especially for those 10k participants who weren’t participating in the half marathon the next day.

Rest of the course remained the same — leaving the Little Red Riding Hood on occasion to snake through Tortoise/Hare and Mad Hatter before bringing up the Big Bad Wolf prior to crossing the finish line. For the second consecutive leg, the miles seemed to go by much quicker and required much less effort to do so (a little extra motivation that shall remain unmentioned didn’t hurt either) leaving still plenty in the tank for day #2.

6.06 mi, 1:00:30, 9:59 min/mile, 6.01 mph, 165 bpm
Splits: (1) 11:27, (2) 9:49, (3) 9:35, (4) 10:23, (5) 9:09, (6) 9:34, (7) 0:32
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The uneventful drive home after legs #1 and #2 was punctuated with a pit stop in The Fitz for lunch with Bev and Paul Mann. A quick nap made way to a mile long jog to keep the 10 in 10 experiment alive. Heeding to the intuition, seeded and nurtured by the collective wisdom of my friends, I called it a night quite early into the night. Knowing that there wouldn’t be any unannounced bridge closures, I slept in a little more, and the race day morning, for day #2, came at an expected pace as well. The drive up north, for the second consecutive day, was smooth and uneventful as well.

Pre-race meeting as well as the half marathon started on time. Much like the previous two legs, I started slow and paced myself at least through first few miles with many dear friends: AJ, Bryant, Cindy, Ian, John, JR, Kate, Kelsae, Paul and Simon. The course, with the aforementioned modifications for 10k, remained about the same as last year and did in fact go all the way to the top. With miles passing yet again much faster, I found myself at about the 9 mile mark shortly after 90 minutes. Institutional knowledge about the course, acquired during last year’s festival and studying it as meticulously as I could to remember it well, came in quite handy yet again. Knowing that it was mostly downhill or flat from that point, I thought of picking up the pace my implementing one of the lessons learned from the still ongoing 10 in 10 experiment. It did pay off quite well: the pace did see a spike, helped me relax quite a bit and regroup myself just in time for the final encounter with the Big Bad Wolf. And when I did cross the finish line, I was quite satisfied with the overall effort for the weekend and felt like the tank wasn’t completely empty. I, for one, would believe that I could have run harder but my ever so thoughtful friends, once again, convinced me that it was more an indication of conditioning and signs of things to come.

12.21 mi, 2:07:29, 10:26 min/mile, 5.75 mph, 157 bpm
Splits: (1) 10:40, (2) 10:01, (3) 9:02, (4) 11:55, (5) 13:29, (6) 9:06, (7) 11:06, (8) 10:17, (9) 10:53, (10) 8:56, (11) 8:41, (12) 10:06, (13) 3:16
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[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] [See image gallery at sgowtham.com] It’s not an exaggeration to claim that much of my life, thanks primarily to a pantheon of lovely teachers and friends from elementary school onwards and a handful of relatives, runs mostly in compliance with the above definition of science. I might not be seen working and/or running around in a lab coat holding an effervescent test tube, but I am just as mad and certifiably so. Just ask any of my friends and they’ll vouch for it … maybe even for my messy hair on occasion.

Apart from It’s for science (I should probably hashtag it to be cool, #ItsForScience) and the scientific opportunity that this would bring again to test the semi-empirical relationship, , there were a few more reasons to change the Madison registration from half marathon to its full companion a day after the Marquette Marathon:

(a) not wanting to be a one trick pony — kinda goes with the #ItsForScience scheme of things if one takes into account repeatability of an experiment and reproducibility of results as a requirement of science; (b) the need to improve my performance and this being the last feasible opportunity in 2015 to do so; (c) opportunity to run on a singular type of terrain; (d) add a wrinkle to the experiment since the weather conditions would be considerably different and hopefully, more conducive to running; (e) remove a wrinkle from the experiment since no part of the 26.2 mile stretch was a part of uncharted territory.

I would have done a second marathon much sooner but my inability to find one within reasonable driving distance coupled with the teaching/research/work responsibilities of a new school year made me wait a hair over two months. But the time between was sufficient to work on several aspects that needed some work, and training in the Yoop made it relatively easier to find a course with comparable terrain and texture.

10 in 10 experiment, Take I

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] A quick recap (genesis detailed in Mount Bohemia Trail Running Festival report): my dear friend Alice had introduced me to the book, Long Distance — Testing the Limits of Body and Spirit in a Year of Living Strenuously by Bill McKibben. One of the things discussed in it was the importance of long runs at a slower pace keeping more than an eye on the heart rate, and punctuating such runs with a speed burst every 20 minutes or so … so as to not forget how to pick up the pace after running at a lower pace for a considerably longer periods of time. The day of the first such run, dear friend Andi had brought up the concept/practice of and the potential for doing a 10 in 10 — a run of 10 miles (or longer) for 10 consecutive days. Below are the results/lessons learned from this experiment:

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] (1) ability to do something that I thought I couldn’t do or didn’t even know I could do, and the value in listening to my friends who believe in what I can become well before I know it; (2) adaptation of mind and body — it got easier by day #3 and I was actually looking forward to run over remaining days; (3) compressed 10 weeks into 10 days saving and buying me more time to do more with it — lesser chance of forgetting lessons from one week to the other, and paving way for better consistent meaningful repetition. For e.g., cadence technique led to lower heart rate, seemingly less energy spent and an observable increase in speed for much lesser effort; (4) a chance to explore some hitherto unexplored roads, trails and parts of the Yoop while the Fall was in splendid glory; (5) a possibility for the data gathered in the process to contain answers to many questions I don’t yet know how to ask.

The experiment also came with an unintended demoralizer as well: if I could run about 10% of the annual running goal in just 10 days, taking 265 days to cover the remaining 90% makes the year very very underachieving.

10 in 10 experiment, Take II

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] A 10 day break after the 10 in 10 experiment took me to the suburbs of nation’s capital for a fun-filled work trip (no, it’s not an oxymoron). Lured by the promise of being taken to watch the theatrical version, I read the highly recommended The Martian by Andi Weir on my way down to Milwaukee and back to the Yoop. The lure has remained as such and the promise is yet to be fulfilled to this day but the book was worth the read, and reminded the value of a plethora of inter-related aspects and some old but really important lessons: reward often lies in the journey and not in destination, work should be done for the pleasure of working and not for the fruits thereafter, and unreasonable expectations are the root cause of most disappointments.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] My first ever run in the nation’s capital marked the completion of 1,000 miles of running in a given calendar year — something that I had never ever done before. The run, motivated by a neat little yet very profound note from a dear friend (please see above), took me around some of the well known landmarks — The Capitol, Washington Monument, World War II Memorial, National Mall, Lincoln Memorial, Reflection Pool, and The White House — in a way that I had never seen before, and marked the beginning of repeatability of 10 in 10 experiment — a run of 10k (or longer) for 10 consecutive days.

In spite of a rather unscientific approach to experimentation — scaling down the size of experiment rather than scaling up, and being somewhat mindless during these runs, it still brought in some very valuable lessons: (a) accumulating more mileage on the road rather than trails in preparation for Madison; (b) running more to learn more; (c) October 2015, by sheer volume, the became the best running month so far.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] The drive to Madison two days before the race (to prevent car legs) was quite uneventful and included a pit stop that has been a little over two months in the works and many a years in my dreams: John Muir Memorial County Park. Once in the park, I got out of the car and asked the lady that seemed to be finishing her hike do you know where John Muir’s farm house is?. The lady, named Toby (a current resident of Connecticut I would soon learn), acknowledged she didn’t but thought her mother, Pat (from Green Lake, WI) did. Unfortunately, neither did her mother. Upon learning how much John Muir meant to me and that seeing his farm house was my bucket list item, Toby asked for my phone number and offered to do some search on my behalf — so that I would have an improved chance of seeing it on my way home on Monday.

However, it only took her a few minutes, and she called me with directions. I went and saw the entrance to the farm house, and was on my way out of town when Toby called again — to let me know that she had spoken with the current owner of the property and that he wanted to meet with me. So, I turned around and went back. The owner, Eric, turned out to be a kindhearted gentleman, and a former resident of the very Keweenaw Peninsula where I now live. A lovely little conversation ensued about what we do and how John Muir had impacted (and continues to do so) our lives. Not only did I get to see the area John Muir spent many a formative years of his childhood, I now have a new friend in Wisconsin — a place to stop and share a conversation and a meal with! A random person that I had never met before who had no business whatsoever helping another stranger let alone go out of her way to check off a bucket list item made it a very very beautiful and memorable experience.

Rest of the drive, from John Muir Memorial County Park to Madison, continued to be uneventful and so was checking into the hotel. Time between arrival and start of the race was spent mostly working on work things while attempting to do nothing stupid that could nullify the training invested so far: dinner on Friday night with dear friends Karen and Adam, a short and easy paced run on Saturday morning followed by lunch with Karen and Adam, renewing my semi-annual Wisconsin citizenship with help from Adam after lunch followed by dinner with dear friends Jamie and Sarah.

26.36 mi, 4:22:30 (official – 4:22:21), 9:57 min/mile, 6.03 mph, 161 bpm
Splits: (1) 8:07, (2) 9:01, (3) 8:27, (4) 8:28, (5) 8:07, (6) 7:54, (7) 8:14, (8) 7:56, (9) 8:01, (10) 8:45, (11) 8:37, (12) 8:35, (13) 8:36, (14) 8:47, (15) 9:19, (16) 9:12, (17) 9:45, (18) 10:08, (19) 10:23, (20) 11:16, (21) 11:44, (22) 11:53, (23) 12:21, (24) 16:54, (25) 14:00, (26) 13:55, (27) 4:05
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To say that the race day morning and the conditions were sartorially resplendent is an understatement. And for one of the fewer times in recent memory, I even dressed in just the right number of layers. The drive to The Capitol was quick and easy, and so was finding a spot to park the car nearby as well as in Collectivo to stay warm before the start of the race. The Star Spangled Banner rendition was very well done, especially with the orange rays of rising sun lighting up the Capitol dome in the background.

The race started on time. Having found the right pace group to start ahead of time, it was relatively easier to navigate through the crowd and have plenty of wiggle room around me to minimize the chances of being in the way of a better runner. The course took me through some really calm and serene areas with frost-bitten sidewalks and grass and shrubs, steam raising from the waterbodies, and an occasional group of spectators that grew with every passing mile. Things seemed to be going fine for the first half of the race: given the ideal conditions for running and prevailing cooler temperatures, I thought I wouldn’t be needing as much hydration as usual and decided to use only every other aid station.

First sign of crack in the plan of action showed up around mile #14 with a cramp in the left leg. I tried to walk/jog it off and it wouldn’t go away. Letting the 3:40 pace group go, and with it the dream of sub 3:45 finish, felt a lot like the gut wrenching Cliffhangerian experience. The cramp stayed on through the next many miles slowing me down considerably with every passing mile. Second sign of crack (and deliriousness too) showed up around mile #17 when I repeatedly estimated that I needed 63 minutes (instead of 81) to complete the remaining 9 miles at 9 min/mile pace. It wasn’t until mile #20 or thereafter that I felt somewhat relieved but the relief was quite short-lived: just as I attempted to pick up the pace and push for a sub 4:00 finish, the cramp showed up in the right leg and stayed with me through the end. I had lost much of the steam by mile #23 and got served with the aforementioned Cliffhangerian experience twice more (with 4:00 and 4:20 pace groups, and the dream of improving over the current PR of 4:06) before hobbling across the finish line around 4:22:xx mark.

Apart from performing as desired during the first half and seeing some familiar and friendly faces throughout the course (Adam and Kora at mile #11, Robyn and Gus around mile #20, Phat around mile 25, and the kind volunteer lady who checked on me several times during miles 15-20), there wasn’t a whole lot to write home about. I even needed help making a decision to not sit down immediately after the finish, and I am thankful for Adam‘s presence to be there, quite literally, and make some decisions on my behalf.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] [See image gallery at sgowtham.com] It was the Spring of 2015. If you know where I am local and the weather therein, italicized Spring should be self explanatory. Teaching responsibilities for the academic year 2014-15 had long been wrapped up, and the preparations for the then upcoming Cellcom Green Bay Half Marathon were about being wrapped up too. With qualifying for and participating in Boston Marathon being far too distant and far too difficult to even dream about (sub 3:10:00 finish, 7:15 min/mile or faster) and with over a dozen half marathons in the rear view mirror, I started doing some literature search (read: google-ing around) for Boston’s equivalent of half marathons: a race that didn’t just let me in for fun but expected a little more by requiring qualifying standards in spite of having to pay the registration fee. Several days and many combinations of keywords and phrases later, Google led me to exactly what I was looking for: Race Raves‘ article on an inaugural qualifiers only half marathon event … in November … in San Diego!

I read through the article, and though the qualifying time for my age bracket [sub 1:55:00 (8:47 min/mile or faster)] was nearly four minutes better than my then personal best and over six minutes better than the best effort in 2015 for this distance, it somehow seemed within reach. Initial plan was to not rush the pace and wait till the Baraga County Lake Trout Festival a month later to get the qualifying time. But the event (i.e., the one in San Diego) came with a cap of 5,000 participants — on a first earned, first served basis. The fear of missing out on being a part of the inaugural USA Half Marathon Invitational made it an easier decision to try my hardest to earn the qualifying time in Green Bay. Much of all I needed to go well did go well in Green Bay and I did get it in with nearly two minutes to spare.

SC15 in Austin, TX

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com]

Running around and in between the shadows of Madison Marathon and the festivities of annual SC conference (i.e., Easter, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Homecoming … all bundled into one event … in a candy store like atmosphere; and getting to Austin, TX, via a six hour drive to Milwaukee, WI) meant that there was little time to completely recover from one event, put in enough training miles in between and get ready for the next race.

Timing of SC15 made it a real blessing in disguise: the bootcamp-like schedule forced me to eat and sleep on time; the vast expanse of the convention center meant that there was plenty of walking around (low impact, low heart rate, cross training?); a combination of the two and the tasks at hand (learn, share, meet people, and learn more …) ensured my mind was mostly off the upcoming race. In a nutshell, SC15 was just as overwhelming as any of the previous four editions I have attended but was by far the most humbling one: meeting people and listening to their stories — of struggles, of serendipitous opportunities, of lack of (a or an n^th second) chance to do something, of price they paid and sacrifices they made to eventually get to where there are now, of needing to be grateful for having gone a step or two further than many and of using that as a responsibility to do more, and of how it all seems worthwhile in the rear view mirror from where they are now.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com]

Memories of Madison Marathon and how lack of the long runs played a vital role in it being a less than satisfactory performance made sure I did do at least one such long run prior to this event. Dear friend from my very first year at Michigan Tech (and more importantly, one of the two that took me out to my very first softball practice, and a member of the legendary Team Fiziks that went onto win 116 of its next 128 games and five league championships spanning 11 years), Nathan Erickson, not only looked me up but offered to take me along for a long run with AustinFit. Saturday long run with Nathan, Brooke and many more from the AustinFit program took me around the Colorado River (yes, Texas has a Colorado River; no, it’s not the same as the one that cuts through the Grand Canyon in Arizona) and introduced me to the local trail system to run on my own — should I be able to find or make time. Dr. Curt Hillegas, who was kind enough to let me tag along for a couple runs in Arlington (Virginia) a few weeks ago during the Fall CASC meeting, was kind enough to share a quick cure for mid-race cramps. However, with everything that was happening in SC15 and outside of it, I didn’t make any time to run more than just once more, and did not get to try out Curt’s suggestion before the race. Closest I came to any organized physical sporting activity was playing frisbee and catch in (yes, in) the home of Texas Longhorns during the Technical Program Reception.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com]

San Diego, CA

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] The Southwest flight from Austin, TX, to San Diego, CA, was on time and uneventful. Watching three parts of a documentary en route, 100 Miles From Nowhere, helped put a lot of things into a better perspective (read: taught me to suck it up) the next day. Flight crew went beyond the normal call of duty and concocted a less sugary drink for me on their own upon learning that I was heading to San Diego for a race.

First experience in America’s Finest City, however, wasn’t all that memorable as the cab driver took me to a wrong hotel — without understanding or asking for clarification of my destination. The city/region was also going through a heat wave relative to its seasonal and recent weather conditions forcing me to stay inside the hotel on Friday afternoon and evening except for (a) two outings for lunch and dinner, (b) pre-race expo to pick up the bib, and (c) a quick easy paced jog around the San Diego river.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Pre-race expo was well staffed and organized but the number of sports-related outlets was underwhelming. Lack of gear check changed changed my plans for race day to some extent: I had to carry the cellphone with me for, without it, I would have no easy way of getting back to the hotel after the race. A more important change came from a serendipitous chat with one kind gentleman named David Levine (head coach at the Los Angeles based USA Marathon Training and an author of The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Marathon Training — I would learn many hours later). He was watching the pace group booth and when my turn came, I explained to him what I had done recently, what my best effort was for this distance, what I thought was capable of doing the next day, how I thought I was going to approach, and asked if he had any thoughts or suggestions that would help me get the goal.

David didn’t act or speak arrogantly or brush me off or give me a canned response. Instead, he patiently listened, thought for a few moments and started working backwards from the goal time. His approach and suggestion for this race (start slow, hold the slow pace through one half a mile past the three mile mark, and then use the terrain to your advantage and pick up the pace) was in stark contrast to my usual plan of start out faster than intended pace, use the banked minutes in the middle miles and push through the last few miles at race pace. Even though I had no clue of who he was or what he had accomplished, he looked like he knew what he was talking about and his tone or body language seemed like he wasn’t the kind of person to lead people astray. So, I decided to discard my plan and trust his for this race.

The race day morning came at a very reasonable pace and after a nearly full night of good sleep. Not knowing the details of street closures and the availability of cab rides, I opted to be at the start area around 4:30 am. The ride from the hotel left me with a completely unsolicited yet very timely piece of advice (a sign of unconditional love for a random stranger?) from the elderly Uber lady that would go on to serve me well. And in hindsight, the event also provided a fantastic opportunity to take a couple more baby steps in a couple of things I have been working to improve in recent times: the act/art of letting things go and keep the very want of doing something from becoming so heavy a weight that it becomes an unnecessary obstacle.

The event started on time, at 6 am, after a beautiful rendition of The Star Spangled Banner. With temperature already at 55 F and rising like a helium balloon, carrying my own hydration pack turned out to be a really good idea. Scrapping my race day plan and sticking with David Levine’s turned out be an even better idea. I started with the 1:40 pace group but I let them go within the first mile. Just like David had explained and suggested, I held the pace back through the first 3.75 miles. Just when the grand descent (please see the elevation profile below), I got a little too desperate for a PR and started doing all sorts of mathematics in my head to estimate the desired pace, etc. So much so that the 1:45 pace group was right on my heels and with it was the feeling of Déjà vu from Madison Marathon a fortnight ago.

13.14 mi, 1:43:02, 7:50 min/mile, 7.66 mph, 177 bpm
Splits: (1) 8:02, (2) 8:20, (3) 8:09, (4) 7:59, (5) 7:38, (6) 7:14, (7) 7:22, (8) 7:42, (9) 7:47, (10) 7:59, (11) 8:03, (12) 8:00, (13) 7:52, (14) 0:59
Garmin Forerunner 620 and WP GPX Maps plugin for WordPress

I dropped the mental mathematics and started just focusing on the task at hand but apparently letting it (i.e., the mathematics) go was harder than necessary. I thought I had picked up the pace enough but lo and behold, the 1:45 pace group was on my heels yet again with the same Déjà vu feeling. It was some combination of David’s suggested plan from the day before, Uber lady’s unconditionally loving advice from morning and the fear of failure that eventually helped me drop the mental gymnastics for good and focus on just running the mile I was in.

Apart from the weight of sweat drenched outfits, rest of the run was relatively very free. In a serendipitous fashion, parts of the course resembled much of the lone long and short runs in Austin: a combination of asphalt and hard packed trail. There was a hint of cramps in the upper right leg but went away just quickly as it showed up, and didn’t get a chance to try Curt’s cure for such cramps. With a new PR well within reach and with temperature rising, I didn’t want any injury or otherwise get a DNF. So, I held back a little again over the last three miles (the splits analysis table below, along with the elevation profile, provides the evidence) and even chose to not do the usual sprint finish at the very end. When I hit the stop button on my Garmin, I had a 1:43:02 finish — good for a new PR by about a minute — and was fairly happy and still be able to easily walk around the finish area.

After a quick trip to Stone Brewing in Liberty Station, rest of the day was spent hanging out with dear friends — Lisa and Matt (who drove all the way from Phoenix, AZ), and Karis and Michael, and all their little ones in the suburbs of San Diego. A short night of sleep made way for a full day of travel: 6 hours in air from San Diego to Milwaukee via Denver (with a heavenly view of the Grand Canyon thanks to Southwest pilots), and an equal amount of time on the road from Milwaukee to Houghton.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] About a week had passed by since my maiden attempt at skiing and dear friend Carrie suggested that I should consider partaking in one of the events at the Noquemanon Ski Marathon (referred to hereafter as just Noque — somewhat for the purposes of brevity but mostly to sound cool). The aforementioned maiden ski attempt had taken over an hour to cover less than one mile on relatively flat trails. More so than skiing, it was a battle between yours truly and formidable laws of gravity and friction that the latter two won in a merciless beatdown. Given the sheer lack of information, expertise and/or experience, the chances of me surviving the wild and presumably treacherous Noque trails let alone making it out alive were very very slim … if not non-existent. So, it didn’t happen in 2014.

Carrie, however, didn’t forget and frequently reminded me about this event throughout 2014 calendar year and into the beginning of 2014-15 ski season. She kept bringing up that it was a downhill course, not as treacherous as I had imagined, and that I was quite capable of doing it. Preparations for the conference surrounding the Kaiser Permanente San Francisco Half Marathon hadn’t necessarily overshadowed running or skiing efforts in January 2015. But working under the wrong assumption that this event was held either in February or March instead of January (read: lack of attention to detail), 2015 edition of Noque had long been wrapped up by the time I decided to sign up for it. So, it didn’t happen in 2015 either.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] [See image gallery at sgowtham.com] It didn’t happen in 2016 either … almost. Still working under the same wrong assumption, and figuring I had at least 4-6 weeks to train properly, I looked up the Noque website on January 11. To realize that the event was less than a fortnight away wasn’t a pleasant feeling. Although I had just about 5k of training in 2015-16 ski season till that point, the opportunity to share a chunk of our space-time continuum with some of the elite athletes I had the privilege to watch during the recently concluded 2016 US Cross Country Championship (yes, this is also my lame claim to fame) seemed too good and painful to pass up. And no sooner did I sign up for this event, than I got a note from the Gracis (Kara and Sam Jr.) that I could stay with them the night before!

Despite the prognostications of doom — powered primarily by near-zero training and near-zero finer information about the terrain — looming quite large, it took three additional days to make my way to the trails. Next eight days, however, saw my skis ski about 50k (yes, fifty kilometers) — some of short distance and some of distance comparable to the race; some for getting the legs moving and some for time; some of it with dear friends (Amanda, Anika, Henriette and Kurt during evenings and weekends) and some solo. One such solo attempt, the last one leading up to the event, was my longest distance ever — completed mid-day on a weekday, thanks to my bossman. And oh, there was an episode — about a week before the event — of forgetting the skis by trailhead, one of them getting buried under a foot of snow (the other ski and both poles were graciously rescued by the student employees of Michigan Tech’s Nordic Ski Club), and quite literally having to dig it out and being one dig away from completely giving up on the excavation.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] The drive to Marquette was very smooth and uneventful. First stop was the Forestville Trailhead, just outside the Marquette city limits, to watch the kids (of Sarah and Stephen, and Robyn and Adam) some of the Junior Noque festivities. And watching those kids fly by with grace, and chatting with some of the race officials to get a sneak peak of the amount of work that goes into making something of this magnitude successful fed me the first two (giant) slices of humble pie.

A quick pit stop at the Gander Mountain to acquire some of the much awaited winter necessities was followed by a visit to the Superior Dome. I picked up more than just my bib at the pre-race expo but that’ll be the material for some other story … for some other day. I didn’t stay awake much longer after the tasty and filling dinner at The Pasta Shop (pasta primavera with a colorful array of vegetables) with Kara, and called it a night a few ticks before 10 pm.

I woke very well rested and feeling refreshed after eight hours of full sleep — first of its kind in many a recent moons. After getting a quick bite to eat at the Third Street Bagel, I headed towards the Superior Dome. Finding a spot to park the car didn’t take much time and neither did finding the bus (#5) for the Forestville Trailhead — both thanks to Kara’s timely tips. The bus ride started on time and was uneventful was as well. As the minutes counted down to the start, the mercury steadily raised to the point of being warm, cozy and extremely comfortable — an icing on the spectacular day with sunshine and blue skies!

7.46 mi, 1:44:23, 14:00 min/mile, 4.29 mph
Splits: (1) 12:15, (2) 12:60, (3) 20:24, (4) 16:05, (5) 12:58, (6) 13:60, (7) 11:52, (8) 0:37
Garmin Forerunner 620 and WP GPX Maps plugin for WordPress

When I got the skies clasped and attempted a few warm up glides and strides, however, that sunny feeling sank a little as the feet slid a bit too much and I felt like it was my first time ever all over again. There wasn’t much time to contemplate on my misery as the horn went off and I found myself where I belong — at the very end of the pack. Assumption/Understanding at that time, in spite of the goal to not be the last one to finish, was that I would start slow for the first half and eventually gain enough ground over the latter parts.

The theoretical construct of skiing the entire course standing upright lasted less than one half a mile in practice. In an attempt to stand up after the first fall, my ski poles almost tripped up another seasoned skier probably going after a podium finish and I was at the receiving end of her frustration. I probably deserved the f-bomb she dropped as she side-stepped her way out of the tracks, at full speed, never to be seen again. The next fall came when the texture of the snow changed quite drastically (snow brought in from elsewhere to patch the road) and the one after didn’t take too long going down the first of many sharp slopes. One after that was quite a wipeout going down the very same slope.

And that became the theme for the next couple miles as the trail snaked through the wilderness. And so did the messages/gentle screams from the skiers passing by: wait for the faster skiers to pass you before going down the next hill, stay down, don’t get up, skier on your left, skier on your right, wipe the snow off your butt so that it doesn’t look like you fell … and so on. If each fall symbolized a slice of the aforementioned humble pie and each wipeout a pie in the face, then I had all the pie I could handle for one day well before the halfway point of the course. And as to how my iPhone remained intact in my unzipped pocket in spite of these tumbles will forever remain a mystery. It’ll be one of those mysteries I am happy to not care one way or the other.

After a few more tumbles and couple more wipeouts, an attempt to stand up led me to an accidental discovery: I could just use the right ski for controlling direction by bending it inwards or outwards, and double poling and digging the left knee into the snow to control the speed of descent. I employed this technique in the open and didn’t ruin the tracks for those behind me. Though it saved me at least 30 minutes, if not more, in the overall time to complete the event, the new found technique wasn’t without perils: I dug the left knee a bit too much on at least on couple occasions and fell face first just off the trail, and once my face landed within 6-8 inches of a moderately sized boulder.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com]

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] The terrain/course was certainly wild (and pretty). Lack of information about the finer portions of the trail (having never skied this course before) and my general lack of experience (I am quite bad at going down the slopes even when there are tracks; I am worse when the descent doesn’t have any tracks; and, I am quite hopeless when the descent includes turns, with or without tracks) made some portions of the course seem/feel quite treacherous. The falls and wipeouts could have been far more painful and dangerous had the temperature not been as high as it was, and I would have had a very hard time skiing through the icy segments. All said and done, the clock showed a few ticks shy of 1:45:00 when a beat up and humbled version of yours truly crossed the finish line. In spite of all the falls and wipeouts, I was happy to have done it, and fairly fortunate to be still standing upright.

A stop in the timing RV (yes, an RV) by the finish line to chat with Kara and Sam Jr. led to a very unexpected yet pleasant news that I’d get a cowbell for placing in the age group — something more materialistic than just short lived pain and long lived memories to show for my day’s efforts! Post-race activities included a pint of North Third Stout in the Superior Dome, lunch at The Pasta Shop (pesto genovese with an extra serving of vegetables), chatting with fellow participants and organizers and volunteers, (accidentally) serving at the Great Bear Chase Ski Marathon booth for a while and picking up the cowbell before embarking on an uneventful drive back to Houghton.

Praise be to the Good Lord and life's blessings, and thanks be to

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Until about two years or so ago, Birkie was something I couldn’t care less about. So much so that I thought and truly believed that Birkie was a real physical town somewhere in Wisconsin. And I even tried looking for a sign to this town on my way to Red Wing, Minnesota, to participate in the 2014 Ragnar Relay Great River, and I don’t remember being disappointed at my inability to find it.

By its 2015 edition, my awareness had grown a little: Birkie had transformed from being a mythical town to an event — in the areas surrounding the real townships Cable and Hayward — that a pantheon of my skier friends trained for (some throughout the year) and proudly participated in. I had even learned that Birkie was short for Birkebeiner although I made no effort to learn what it was about or what it meant. My personal skill set though wasn’t nowhere near being good enough to participate, it was sufficient to be a part of it as a spectator and a member of the support team — or so I thought. But an unexpected series of events ensured that I would have to wait at least one more year to experience it.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Having gone back and forth a few times in Summer/Fall 2015 on whether or not I should sign up for the Prince Haakon 12k, I finally dropped the idea following the friendly advice/warning in the Birkie website: Attracts first-time racers and other skiers looking for a shorter event. Please note that the 13K course does include several challenging uphills, downhills and turns and is not suited for beginning skiers. Beginning skiers should consider the 5/10K Family Fun Event. My lack of experience in dealing with downhills and mass starts made it relatively easier to be content with the decision.

2016 ski season got off to a friendlier start: the first 40 miles (or 64+k) was pain free with barely any falls or wipeouts — made possible by the careful choice of flatter terrain. In hindsight, it (i.e., the choice of flatter terrain) meant living comfortably within my comfort zone — an utterly poor decision on my part that quite certainly hindered progress. A 12k outing in Noquemanon Ski Marathon about a month ago exposed this lack of progress. My first attempt at getting out of this comfort zone was to confess things I needed help with [(a) rounding curves/corners (b) doing a at the bottom of a descent (c) doing b when there are no set tracks for classic XC] to Doug Oppliger, the technique coach of Michigan Tech Nordic Ski Club, and seek a fix via the skate skiing lessons.

The aforementioned skate ski lessons were wonderful and built successively on previous week’s material (#2, #13 and #22 in the above list of training activities). Though I showed less than satisfactory progress over a three week period, these lessons did help me learn double polling technique as well as picking up my foot when it goes astray (from the tracks or otherwise) and regain balance — to minimize the number of falls. Greg Green was kind enough to take me (and my brand new classic skis from Down Wind Sports; #19 in the above list) through the 10k course in Swedetown trails as part of my preparations for upcoming Great Bear Chase. The Handlers — Christine, Rob, Shannon and Stephen — took me out to explore the pristine and serene trails north of Forestville trailhead in the Noquemanon Trail Network on a glorious sunny day with blue skies (#20 in the above list).

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Having fallen numerous times during #19 and #20, signing up for Prince Haakon was still a very distant thought, if that, at this point. Though I had quite the detailed hour by hour plan to accompany a friend to the same event as a day trip, it remained as such — just a plan. But the process led me to learn that the poster for 2016 Birkie was designed by my dear friend, Christopher Schmidt, and sowed the seeds of hanging an autographed copy of it in my apartment.

Just purchasing the poster, however, made me feel guilty (don’t ask me why for I don’t know the answer) and the need to earn it made those distant thoughts not so distant once again. And as if on cue, Kim and Greg Green not only took me out to test the course for Chili Chase for Charity that involved some new and challenging (to my current skill set) trails but also taught me the ever important snowplough technique (#21 in the above list). The distant thought was no longer distant but I felt the need to sign up for the Prince Haakon before the thought became distant again, and more importantly, before the event sold out. And I did.

Next couple weeks leading up to the event saw me practice the snowplough and double polling techniques a fair number of times: banking corners became a bit easier with each passing attempt, and the number of falls became less and less frequent. The travel plan changed from being an exhaustive and ill-conceived day trip to one that included an overnight stay in Ashland, Wisconsin (thanks to Chris Schmidt for inquiring the availability of rooms in AmericInn). Christine offered to school me on waxing and gave a handful of pro-tips to prepare for the event — including leaving early, parking, bussing to start, getting to the start line with plenty to spare, course structure and terrain, and carrying a backpack that’d go into the giant Birkie bag to keep the dry clothes and shoes a bit warmer to change into afterwards.

It was rather surprising, however, to not find a single GPX file detailing the course and its elevation profile for the Prince Haakon 12k. This, in turn, kept me from mimicking the course as part of the training. Several important one-off tasks at work and a complete whiff during a double polling attempt (activity #22) that had me fall face first into snow during a training session also forced me into resting more than I would have liked. Knowing my inability to taper well prior to an event, this was probably a blessing in disguise. Activity #29, with Anna and Leah, through the Balsam loop in Michigan Tech Trails and Recreational Forest gave a glimpse of things to come in Birkie: not only providing adult supervision for a previously unexplored trail and adding it to my regular course in the future but also gave yet another opportunity to learn to fall or learn to stand up after each fall on a previously unexplored trail. The tapering period also provided enough time to completely read through The Race of the Birkebeiners, an illustrated storybook detailing the genesis of this event that Christine had lent me many a moons ago. Summarizing it for my own reference:

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Around the year 1200, the rival groups shared the identical but opposite goal of controlling the entire country. King Sverre’s death in 1202 meant some decrease in the power of the Birkebeins (named as such by the Baglers and originally intended to be offensive — referring to their leggings of birch bark, indicating that they were poor and incapable). His successor (King Håkon Sverresson) died only two years later, leaving his son Håkon Håkonsson as the ultimate target for the Baglers to get rid of as the contender to the throne. In 1206, the Birkebeiners set off on a dangerous voyage through treacherous mountains and forests, taking the then two-year-old Håkon Håkonsson to safety in Trondheim. Norwegian history credits the Birkebeiners’ bravery with preserving the life of the boy who later became King Håkon Håkonsson IV, ended the civil wars in 1240 and forever changed Northern Europe’s history through his reign. The name, Birkebeiner, carries a sense of pride, strength and endurance — something thousands of people, participating in the historical race every year, keep striving for.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] [See image gallery at sgowtham.com] With unseasonably warmer temperatures throughout the region of interest (i.e., an area within 60 miles south of Lake Superior shoreline), the drive to Hayward amidst rain to find my inner (potentially stubborn and wannabe stoic) Norwegian was rather uneventful, at least on the main highways. The icy backroads and sleet didn’t cause any havoc or considerable delay either. Picking up my bib at the pre-race expo in Hayward High School was a breeze as well.

After spending about an hour or so with Handlers (Christine and Stephen) and Vendlinskis (Andi and Jim) exploring the expo, seeing the legendary Kikkan Randall and acquiring more materialistic memorabilia, I headed back to Ashland for an overnight stay. A hearty meal at the Black Cat Coffeehouse, check in at the AmericInn, a pint of Inland Sea Pilsener at the South Shore Brewing and laying out the race day gear including the bib (thanks to Shannon for sharing her last year’s experience about it) soon made way to calling it a night at 8 pm (Wisconsin time).

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] The race day morning came quite early around 4:45 am but after a full and good night of sleep. Temperature had remained above freezing overnight and the roads weren’t icy at all (although it took a few miles of slow and careful driving to watch out for the dreaded black ice). About 45 minutes of uneventful driving saw me reach Cable, WI. Instead of heading straight to the Como parking area, I stopped in the Cable Cafe on Hwy 63 for some food to fuel my morning and learn more about the event (and its impact on the township/area) from the locals. I reached the Como parking area around 7:30 am and to say that it was an ice rink is an understatement. Chatting with fellow skiers, Heidi and Don from Madison area, made the line (to the bus) go by rather quickly and the bus ride in itself to the starting area didn’t take long either.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Weaving my way through a sea of skiers and spectators — from about every conceivable skiing country/culture around the world — made it seem as if it was some sort of a ski pilgrimage: a description probably not too far from reality given that this is the biggest ski event in the US. Getting used to the magnitude of it all, and enjoying the proceedings amidst being overwhelmed took some effort but being with friends who had been there more than once helped.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Exchange of pleasantries, friendly chatter and checking out fellow skiers’ outfits (some were really funny and outrageous in a good way while some others were really scary) soon made way for start of my dear friends’ starts one by one. With about 30 minutes left to the start of my own event, I dropped my Birkie bag (enclosed within it was a backpack that would keep my dry clothes and shoes a bit warmer when I got done) and headed into warming tent. A few minutes chatter about politics and % of voting in elections across the globe being a socio-democratic-statistical experiment with an elderly gentleman still left with me enough time to get into my wave rather comfortably.

The event, Prince Haakon 12k, started like any other of the day so far with us skiers moving up one wave block at a time (and included singing happy birthday to a fellow participant) before the gun went off and the banners went up (check out the video for a visual of the gun going off and the banners going up to mark the start of a wave).

Of the gun going off and the banners going up

The official video of the start and finish: women’s and men’s 51k skate

Zero training with regards to the (multiple) wave blocks and mass start of this magnitude meant that I had to rely very heavily on the combined wisdom bestowed upon by my dear friends and well wishes from random strangers sandwiched carefully between two friendly (and very timely) pieces of advice: Just don’t be yourself (thanks to Christopher and Anika) and Just don’t die (thanks to Andi). Shin splints, something I hadn’t experienced in over a year now, made their untimely appearance within the first kilometer. As the course made its way to the power line climb, more and more of the bestowed upon wisdom started becoming my own (somewhat painful) experience: having to stop mid stride uphill because someone ahead of me was either going slow or had stopped (thanks to Stephen), and in turn, made it quite impossible to use the momentum gained during downhill portion for the subsequent uphill.

A mindful repetition of my favorite chant (one may even consider this a hymn of sorts or a much shorter version of the Serenity Prayer) — not my circus, not my monkey — to the soothing tune of beating drums about halfway up the power line (thanks to Karen Myhre, a friend of my dear friend Amy, and group) became a good segue for the jugglery between Just don’t be yourself and Just don’t die over the next few kilometers. The course was challenging as advertised — I even had to take the skis off to get down two descents and I wasn’t alone in doing so. And yet, not dying was an easier task compared to not being myself.

Having fallen more than the intended number well before the midway point, falling face first one more owing to the skis getting stuck in softened snow shouldn’t have been all that painful if only it wasn’t accompanied by a rather unpleasant pop in my left shoulder. Since this expedition was mostly about finding the stubborn and stoic Norwegian in me, I didn’t scream (yay for being stoic) and I continued skiing after a successful self-healing effort (yay for being stubborn). And I’d be lying if I said watching the kids with special needs play a spirited game of basketball in Dollar Bay a few moons ago with friends wasn’t a motivation to keep my mouth shut, suck it up and keep on going.

7.45 mi, 1:43:58, 13:57 min/mile, 4.30 mph, 167 bpm
Splits: (1) 13:27, (2) 12:35, (3) 15:40, (4) 20:36, (5) 13:57, (6) 15:11, (7) 12:22, (8) 4:55
Garmin Forerunner 620 and WP GPX Maps plugin for WordPress

Having accomplished the unwritten yet primary goal for the event, the mental jugglery switched topics: Learning to want what I have (e.g., limited skill set and experience, growing pain, etc.) vs Wanting what I cannot have, at least not yet (e.g., better skill set, more experience, less falling, more fun, etc.), and the usuals of paying the right price, making necessary sacrifices, and earning the stripes as the bridge between the two. The debate, however, was punctuated twice to check on a couple of fallen skiers and being with them until either the necessary medical attention arrived or they had regrouped enough to continue their pursuit. If not for somehow managing to not be myself, I would have certainly missed out on the opportunity to be of use in these occasions (so, thank you Chris and Anika!).

In light of the numerous volunteers and fellow skiers letting me take my time getting back onto my feet after each fall and checking on my well-being before moving on, the jugglery switched topics one last time for the home stretch: Does one get everything she/he deserves? vs Does one deserve everything she/he gets? Does one deserve to keep something she/he undeservedly receives now in spite of not getting something that was perceived to be deserved in the past? And it’s not often (at least not in my experience) that there’s exactly one last turn left when the crowd/volunteers cheer one more turn to the finish line but it was indeed the case here — to my pleasant surprise. I crossed the finish line under watchful and cheering eyes of Dr. Bob, and my Garmin indicating 1:48:44 — missing a PR by about four minutes.

As I stood in line with others to get my Prince Haakon pin stapled came a really good (and practical) test of the last mental juggling act: the misty eyed volunteer mistakenly tried to hang a medal — designed specifically for the first time finishers of Kortelopet (24k) — around my neck. Declining it with a polite I don’t deserve this just yet. Maybe next year, and walking off the finish chute was a no brainer, and I was probably more proud of it than all of the actions combined over the previous 1:45:00 or so.

Post-race activities included changing into warmer clothes (the lone concern and a suggestion for improvement for subsequent years: keep the women’s and men’s changing areas in opposite corners of the warming tent; any tall athlete on one side could see everything on the other side quite easily), catching a bus to return to the Como parking lot with Dean Woodbeck, driving down to Hayward to be with Andi and Kathy (Christine’s mom) as Christine, Stephen, Jim and Boyd (Christine’s dad) finished their respective races, and hang out with them as well as several other of my friends for a while before embarking on an uneventful drive back to Houghton — with a pit stop each at the Ashland Baking Company and the Black Cat Coffeehouse. A pleasant surprise awaited as I got home and checked the results online: in spite of not giving it all I had on the course and in spite of falling and stopping on numerous occasions, I had somehow managed to earn a PR for this distance albeit it by less than 30 seconds.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com]

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] There are big races and then there are BIG races. There are wave starts and then there are WAVE starts: Birkie easily fits into the latter description of both categories. 10,000+ participants and 25,000+ spectators descending upon a bunch of sleepy little towns in this part of Wisconsin definitely added a few layers of logistical and logical complexity. Needing to be in one’s wave while at least two other waves are packed and ready to start ahead was a unique and first time experience. [See image gallery at sgowtham.com] In retrospect, at least one half the total falls were caused by my anticipation falling down (need a change in mindset here), half of the other half were legitimate (course beyond my skill set), and the rest were just a result of the nature of the event: mass start, narrower trails, varying skill set of fellow skiers, and so on. Sharing (at least a part of) the course with the crème de la crème of skiers (a handful of whom are my dear friends), re-learning that downhills are still the primary cause of my downfall, surviving it all in spite of no apriori knowledge of the course thanks mainly to the collective wisdom of my friends and lessons therefrom, and caring, sharing volunteers and fellow skiers … were some of the memorable incidents from the weekend.

Although the King or the Queen of Norway won’t question my loyalty, I don’t expect a call from them to rescue their child anytime soon. Maybe I’ll be picked as an aid station volunteer or a temporary guardian somewhere along the way but certainly not as the carrier/transporter. Be that as it may, the sum of all experiences from the weekend of Birkie festivities was definitely greater than some of the experiences. And with a bit more training than I have in the bank right now, I’d definitely look forward to adding to this sum in 2017.

Carpe skiem!

Praise be to the Good Lord and life's blessings, and thanks be to

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] In all seriousness and retrospect, this should have been my only ski race of the 2015-16 season. For, in all the same seriousness and retrospect, Great Bear Chase has become the final test of my skiing talents each season — cumulative (since January 2014) and newly acquired (with each passing season/session) alike. And it’s a test — a long running and well established, managed and reputed one at that — in my home area that comes with the added benefits of near-zero traveling, sleeping in my own bed couch the night before, and being with dear friends and community members before, during and afterwards.

I did contemplate upgrading the distance to 25k this time around but having been served a fair share of humble pie in recent times on and off the trails, I stayed put at 10k to see how well I remembered lessons of the past and how well I could integrate the recently imparted ones, and if all went well and according to the plan, how fewer times I could fall and how much I could improve the time to completion. Physical fatigue/pain following the American Birkebeiner Prince Haakon 12k XC Classic Ski two weeks ago didn’t linger on nearly as long as I had imagined. This made way, in turn, to spend more time on the trails than I had imagined to practice the snow plough technique (courtesy of Kim and Greg Green), and focus on regaining balance and maintaining form/posture (courtesy of Doug Oppliger, Michael Young and Dr. Bob) in the second half.

Although 2016 would be the third attempt in Great Bear Chase and overall fifth ski race (not counting the 2014 edition of Book Across The Bay — which is more of a ski party than a race), this turned out to be the first time I made a conscious effort to ski through the course ahead of time, twice. These two conscious efforts were facilitated by Greg and Kim Green graciously taking time out of their schedule, and went a long way in helping me re-familiarize with the terrain. This, along with learning to read the cues on trees (thanks, Greg), would go on to help decide when to pace and when to push.

Rewinding a little … all the way back to the penultimate weekend of January 2016. My beloved New England Patriots had been humbled by the Denver Broncos in the AFC Championship Game earlier in the afternoon, and the Carolina Panthers were stealing the Arizona Cardinals‘ lunch (or dinner, given the time of the day) in the NFC Championship Game. While I was with the Handlers (Christine, Rob, Shannon and Stephen) and Ontls (Kelly and Todd) at Shannon-Rob residence watching the latter, Christine and Shannon were busy sewing away spectacular outfits for this event. Glamor and fun aside, it was yet another friendly reminder that neither the Rome nor the Pyramid was built in a day — that nothing good rarely, if ever, happens overnight and that such good things take plenty of time, planning and conscious execution of the said plan to become a reality.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] The collective suggestion from the Handlers and the Ontls was that I too should pick a fancier outfit. It didn’t take too long to decide that I’d be proudly representing my Mexcian origin and heritage. And should I be able to find 4 way stretch fabric, Shannon offered to stitch me a pair of ski pants! Rob thought, in true research-sque fashion, that we ought to look for pre-made stuff for an economical price and time, and he did — on etsy.com from a seller based in Seoul, South Korea! Since the Great Bear Chase was the only scheduled ski race for the season at that time (and I had no knowledge of snow plough or regaining balance or maintaining good posture), I figured I might as well have some fun, join the glamor party, and at least look good — though not nearly as good as the model showcasing it does — even if my skiing talents didn’t necessarily match up. So, an exchange of few emails with the promptly responsive seller and ten days later, the said ski pants took on a transcontinental voyage and arrived in Houghton.

The usual trip up north to pick up my race packet at the pre-race expo and check out the Junior Bear Chase were uneventful but did include a listen to your body chat and estimating the chances of a podium finish (there were only three registered in my age group; so, the plan was to push for at least a second place finish) with Kelsae, drink enough water reminders from Arni, the nature and value of student-teacher relationships with Bruce McDonald and ringing cowbell as the youngsters skied past and up a hill with effortless grace. Keeping with the last year’s routine, an hour or two were spent at the Christine-Stephen Handler residence eating more food, and getting schooled on waxing lessons from Boyd (Christine’s dad), Rob and Shannon.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] [See image gallery at sgowtham.com] [See image gallery at sgowtham.com] [See image gallery at sgowtham.com]

A good and a full night’s sleep, a luxury as well as a privilege in many a recent days, made way for a calm race day morning. Traffic up north was non-existent and smooth, and finding a spot to park my car didn’t take much effort either. An exchange of pleasantries with friends, an inquiry about the legendary Mexican Olympic skier from a fellow racer, and an impromptu interview for the Daily Mining Gazette with friendly Mexicans (Elizabeth Martin and Dan Wiersgalla — sombreros atop their heads made them far more authentic than I was) were the highlights prior to the gun going off at about 9:50 am.

6.20 mi, 1:07:28, 10:53 min/mile, 5.51 mph, 177 bpm
Splits: (1) 8:58, (2) 10:18, (3) 10:38, (4) 11:32, (5) 12:40, (6) 11:56, (7) 1:28
Garmin Forerunner 620 and WP GPX Maps plugin for WordPress

Groomers and Swedetown trail system crew had done a remarkable job setting the trails — especially in light of recent warmer weather and lack of fresh snow. The value of good waxing became very apparent very quickly: except a few strides to get past the initial hill and into the Len’s loop off the Valley Trail, double polling was all that I needed to get through the first couple kilometers! It wasn’t until shortly after the mile mark #2 that a skier in the 10k skate category passed me. This was a sign of considerable progress compared to previous two years: in 2014, I hadn’t even passed the very first hill past the end of double polling line and all the skate skiers had gone by; 2015, I had barely made it to the first aid station by the chalet when most skate skiers started passing me.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Thanks to many lessons from dear friends, taking corners and going down the slopes came with very little pain. Consuming plenty of water over the past 24 hours ensured I didn’t have any shin splints or cramps. I still managed to fall a few times — a few times too many to my liking: once, it was due to not knowing how much to dig in during a snow plough attempt while one other time, it was due to digging in too much and falling face first. Once I fell standing still at an aid station, and one other time, I stepped a little too much to the side and found myself on any icy surface. And rest of them were going down a slope of some kind while having to make a right turn. If only the course was entirely uphill or if it only had left turns down all its slopes (you know, NASSki — like NASCAR), I would have a much better time in these events. But then again, I wouldn’t learn much. So, I don’t mind the right turns and downhills in the name of learning, and learning new things.

Unlike the 2015 edition, I didn’t promise anyone that I’d ski the course stride for stride with them, keep them in my sight and ensure their safety until they successfully completed the race — though I wouldn’t flinch to do something like that to a worthy friend again. It was for the first time in a long LONG time that my mind was circus free and was able to race the mile (or the kilometer) I was currently in, look forward to the next one, keep the focus primarily on me and an eye for the safety of fellow racers. And it felt good wonderfully delightful.

The temperature rose with every passing mile (or kilometer) and the cowboy hat provided the much needed shade from the blasting sunshine over the last couple kilometers. And when all was said and done, the clock showed a few ticks past 67 minutes as I crossed the finish line — about 2-3 minutes slower than what I had hoped but nothing I would lose sleep over.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com]

I left the finish area a few minutes too soon and as such missed out on being a part of the team photo. As I was walking towards my car, a gentleman started speaking to me in Spanish. He was a bit disappointed to learn that I didn’t speak any of it — or at least to know that the extent of Spanish was uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, ocho, casa, hola, amiga, amigo, gracias, salsa, guacamole, and para espanol, oprima numero dos. His significant other later explained that he was thrilled to see someone from his home country up in this part of the world. As happy as I was to have found the Mexican in me, I felt embarrassed to have let someone down.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] As much as I take pride in the process and delayed gratification, the process of waxing the skis the night before and see it bear fruits the very next morning was not only a very rewarding but also quite a therapeutic experience — a case quite literally of getting out what’s put in. I am now a staunch believer in waxing the skis, even if they are waxless, before every upcoming race, and plan to set aside a portion of the basement in my future home for this purpose.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] The post-race festivities activities included picking up the official race time slip, enjoying a hearty pasty lunch with the Richards (Carrie and Dr. Bob), enjoying another bowl of yummy lentil soup, cheering on my friends as they went up to receive their medals/prizes, receiving a medal for the third place in my age group, and a sushi party at the Shannon-Rob residence later in the evening.

Knowing that there were only three racers in my age group, I didn’t make much of the third place medal during the awards ceremony. It wasn’t until I got home and checked Superior Timing website that I realized there were actually five registered racers in my age group, and what I had earned was indeed a very legitimate placing — for the first time ever in my short racing career in any sport. Since, unlike in 2015, I didn’t lie to anyone with the intent of helping them get their time/goal (and in turn, cost a potential podium finish of their own), I won’t be giving away this piece of bling to anyone anytime soon.

Should the predicted weather over the next few days hold true, this might be the very tail end (if not the end) of 2015-16 skiing season. Or at least until winter makes a return and brings us some fresh white stuff. If this indeed is the end, it has been quite the memorable season in many ways than one, and I am very grateful to all the lessons, tricks and tips taught and shard by my dear friends. For now, off to explore a rabbit hole called the waxing technique.

Praise be to the Good Lord and life's blessings, and thanks be to

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Signing up and participating in this event has turned into a tradition of sorts. Owing to the organizers’ unique three-year medal strategy that started in 2015 and my innate inability to let certain things go — one of them being the want of materialistic memorabilia for there is no display case for memories, this tradition will continue at least through its 2017 edition.

Tradition, apart from the aforementioned entities, comprises to a much greater extent the mystique of Green Bay — a city that had once made someone say Can you imagine living in this godforsaken place?, and then went on to provide the opportunity and with it the grand stage for the same someone leave an everlasting impact not just on the city and/or its neighboring communities but on the very sport itself. It also includes an opportunity to roam around the said hallowed streets, neighborhoods and the sidelines, meet and hangout with friends, measure my new self against the one from last year, and my good fortune of owning an ever so tiny portion of the only community-owned NFL franchise that calls this town home.

Tradition aside, I did lose quite a bit of time in February and March, and the progress towards this particular event was slow: some most of it was due to my inability to let certain things go, shortage of sleep and excess of stress … all resulting in a very slow and sluggish transition from skiing into running, and in the absence of noticeable desirable speed when running did indeed pick up the distance — thanks to the weekly runs with Keweenaw Running Group (KRG), solo runs in the nation’s capital and in Arlington with Curt, and weekend runs with Andi, Christopher, Christine, Rob and Shannon.

Of all the things that helped fasten the process of letting things go, ease the associated pain, and in turn, help me find the missing gears were the many chats/discussions with dear friends, placebo effect resulting from retail therapy (Garmin fenix 3 HR — thanks to Kurt and James), and a beautifully articulated story in The Michigan Daily (you can and should read it, even if you are from that other state … you know, south of our border). En route to America’s Steel City about a month ago for some work-related activity, iTunes serendipitously played the America’s Game: 1978 Steelers. An anecdote from it, included below for the sake of completeness and its beauty, and remembered/recalled a few times during training runs through the city’s trail system and many more times since then, did its part in teaching me the value of (or lack thereof) carrying things beyond the point of relevance and focusing more on the tasks at hand.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Tapering period, started after the completion of #69 in the above list, was aided in good part by the retirement festivities honoring the careers of two of my teachers at Michigan Tech (Dr. Beck and Dr. Seel), and preparing for the visit by DCAA folks.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Apart from a certain irresponsible driver abruptly stopping his car short twice and almost causing wreckage about a mile before the Michigan-Wisconsin border on US-141 (and resulting detours to DMV, make a phone call and chat with Marinette county sheriff), the drive down to Green Bay was uneventful. The American Buffalo, recommended by Stephen so that I could learn more about this magnificent animal — recently named the national mammal, kept good company during this drive. A quick walk through the Prevea Health & Fitness Expo in the Lambeau Field to pick up my (and Shannon‘s) race packet left me just enough time to show up to (the traditional) dinner with Katie (and Kelly) in HuHot Mongolian Grill.

An attempt to check into the reserved room in Days Inn & Suites involved a then a bit scary but now funny situation: at first, the lady in-charge couldn’t find my reservation using my name; once she did find the reservation using the confirmation number, she tells me someone had already checked into the room and wondered if I was traveling with someone else; she finally hands me the card with a then funny-sounding note: hope no one is in your room!

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] I lug my stuff up and enter the room only to find luggage and running gear spread around. Fortunately no one was around in the room, and I come down to the lobby to report my findings. While the guest services lady, kind and capable of taking a joke at the same time, started going through the check-ins to identify where it had all gone wrong. As if on cue, one lady from the room also shows up with a complaint that her key no longer opens the room. I eventually got the room that no one had checked into, we all got a good laugh, I requested the lady to bring her husband down so that we could all take a group photo in fond remembrance of the proceedings, and she did! A short trip to Olive Garden to meet Elizabeth, Holly and (baby) Landry was followed by calling it a night.

The first part of Saturday was spent in walking the 5k course with Elizabeth, Holly, (baby) Landry and Jeff. There was a wide spectrum of people in terms of age, background, capacity and limitation, and with it, a wide array of free lessons. Post-walk activities included a trip to The Pancake Place and Elizabeth showed the value of dipping a tator tot in honey. I may never eat another tater tot any other way ever again! Rest of the afternoon involved meeting Chris at the expo, picking up Rob‘s race packet, devouring a bowl of gypsy vegetable soup in Kavarna Cafe, a stop at the house the coach once lived, a short nap, a tour of the Packers Hall of Fame, dinner with Rob and Shannon at Mangiamo Pizza & Pasta sandwiched between very short shopping pit stops before yielding to the call of a good night’s sleep.

Race day morning came at a decent pace, and for the second time in as many years, brought along warm (60+F and sunny) and humid (~70%) conditions. Maybe it was lack of practice (six months since the last road race) or maybe just not paying enough attention to detail, I only did a part of the pre-race fueling routine. Getting to the starting area with Rob and Shannon, finding a parking spot and meeting Chris around gear check around 7:30 am was uneventful. Opting to use the atrium restrooms instead of the portable ones saved us some time and helped us get to our respective corrals with plenty to spare. The event started on time as usual but after a less than glorious rendition of The Star Spangled Banner for the second year in a row — probably the most horrendous one so far in my 14 years of being a part of it on this side of the pond.

13.14 mi, 1:52:53, 8:37 min/mile, 6.96 mph, 178 bpm (86.83% of max)
Splits: (1) 8:09 (2) 8:01 (3) 7:58 (4) 7:57 (5) 8:08 (6) 8:18 (7) 8:40 (8) 9:26 (9) 8:09 (10) 9:13 (11) 9:38 (12) 9:07 (13) 8:38 (14) 1:36
Garmin fenix 3 HR, Garmin tempe external temperature sensor and WP GPX Maps plugin for WordPress

Race started out just fine on a personal note, and I stuck to my plan of starting out with ~8:00 min/mile pace for the first few miles. Doing so took less than one half a mile to lose sight of Chris and Rob, and a little over three quarters of a mile of weeding through the fellow A-corrallers to find an arm’s length of space around me. First six+ miles went according to the plan with pace hovering in the neighborhood of 8:00 min/mile. While I used every aid station along the course, I didn’t consume the first Honey Stinger Gel until after mile six. Support from the community through which the course snakes around, just like previous years, was exemplary. This, along with the lovely spring-time bloom and their equally lovely fragrance, made me not pay as much attention to the said heat and humidity. I had also been ignoring the tingling sensation in my left foot for a mile or two by now in the hopes that it’d just go away.

Warmer weather conditions, improper fueling before and during the run, lacing up the shoe a bit too tight, …. just any one of them or some weighted function of all of them, aided by my lack of attention to detail and ignoring to fix the fixable issues as they made their first appearance, led to a mild dizziness around mile seven. I chose to slow the pace down and even walked to some extent. The recently consumed energy gel probably had enough time to do its work, and by mile nine, I felt mostly fine and it showed in an increased pace — to about 8:10 min/mile. The dizziness made its appearance again, on and off, for the next two+ miles and I didn’t come anywhere close to the desired pace for reminder of the course.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Seeing the familiar faces of Elizabeth and Holly (I don’t recall if Landry was there too or not) around mile 10 was a pleasant and welcome surprise. As I made the turn onto Orrie Lane around mile 11.75, I had to stop and hug Sharon — the lady who had fed me on the course a couple years ago. Ever the kind and thoughtful one, she not only didn’t mind the sweaty and stinky me but also made sure I didn’t need any food or water to complete the race. Running through the tunnel onto, on and out of the Lambeau Field was just as goosebumpy experience as my first time in 2014.

Staying quite ahead of the 1:50 pace group as I crossed the finish line, I was expecting a sub-1:50 finish of my own, and even doubted the data collected and time shown by my Garmin. It took some schooling from Shannon to realize that the 1:50 pace group started well after I had, and that the data collected and time shown by my Garmin — 1:52:53 — was indeed correct.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com]

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Post-race activities included a warm refreshing shower back at the hotel, a meal (cheese curds, a white bean and lentil burger and a Berliner Weisse) at Titletown Brewing Company with Rob, Shannon, Chris and his sister’s family, a nap and an attempted autopsy of my performance (or lack thereof) for some hours before heading to sleep around 10:30 pm. The drive back to the Yoop on Monday was uneventful to the extent that it didn’t involve any life threatening incidents but a pit stop along a lake to enjoy lunch and Spring-time blooms, and was accompanied by completing The American Buffalo and beginning The Idea Factory (thanks to Brandon for the recommendation).

Hindsight being 20-20 and having had a little more than 24 hours to think through things, there are a lot of things I could have done better to have a better experience and memory of this event: not making enough time for strength training or swimming or biking (over the past 3-4 weeks), speed workouts, tempo runs, longer than 13 mile runs, etc. account for a majority of the explanation in terms of preparation. Every single workout I chose to not do for whatever reason during this period could have potentially negated a part of this disappointing experience. My lack of attention to detail (e.g., incomplete pre- and during the race fueling techniques, not checking the weather conditions ahead of time), ignoring to make the necessary changes on the fly (e.g., using the sprinklers provided by the community to cool off to some extent and/or taking time to loosen the laces), and succumbing to this won’t affect me, etc. leave much to be desired in terms of game-day operations.

To borrow a quote from the same someone that once had the opportunity to coach a football team in this town, fatigue makes cowards of us all, my improper conditioning and preparations made me a coward to the extent that I couldn’t push through while my friends (and many many more) found a way to do so and accomplish their goals. One of the speakers at the previously mentioned retirement festivities, Dr. Samuel Trickey, wrote in his abstract — progress almost is never free.

If the numbers don’t lie and they don’t in this case, I am at about the same point in my performance curve now as I was at this time in 2015. The lack of progress (or worse, the downward trend) is probably an indication of lack of the price I have paid so far, or at least of the lack of mindfulness and quality in my training routine. I think I have come a little too far in this journey and have had way too much support from friends (if the incomplete and inexhaustive list below is any indication) to be just happy with finishing a race and be ok with not making progress.

Hopefully, the curve will head in the appropriate direction two weeks from now, and will help bring the PR, probably sunburned beyond recognition by now in America’s finest city, home to the Yoop.

Praise be to the Good Lord and life's blessings, and thanks be to

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] [See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Each of its three previous editions — 2013, 2014 and 2015 — this festival of trails has gone on to teach quite a bit about myself, our trail systems in Eagle Harbor and Copper Harbor (I am no mountain biker and so, I don’t ride them at all) and the trail running etiquette, and brought me closer to a fairly large number of friends — from around and outside the region — that are competitive while being the kind, cooperative, caring and the very embodiment of the said etiquette.

So, in more ways than one, this festival has become a homecoming of sorts — to hang out with quite many of the aforementioned friends I don’t otherwise get to see (with the notable absence of Christine Van Asten, Claire Luby, Gus Lang, Jim Vendlinski, Maggie Turnbull, Phat Huynh, Riccardo Tortini, Scot Van Asten, and more), a retreat away from the grips of electronic communication-overloaded civilization and nudging us to have humane conversations, and a lovely little platform to learn from the immovable mountains and never-stop-moving runners alike.

A part of the preparations for the 2016 edition started about four weeks after the completion of the 2015 edition: chatting casually with the race director (and dear friend) in KBC, I inquired training methods with which I could move up the standings … you know, from being the Average Joe to potentially cracking the top 25% for the epic weekend. The response was quick and very very practical: it’s quite difficult to predict the number in and the calibre of the field, and working to improve personal times by some X% is more feasible (and within one’s reach) than making the top Y%. Another part of the preparations started in October 2015: securing the cabin reservations for the Keweenaw Running Group (KRG) in Mariner North and ensuring that they stayed reserved. It took a couple drives up north but the time and drives were totally worth the second chance my friends afforded me to redeem myself from the last year’s screw up.

So, as in previous years, registering for the 2016 edition and preparing for it wasn’t at all a difficult decision. Since cracking the top Y% wasn’t a practical option anymore, I figured I should at least be in the top 5 to sign up for the event. And I am happy to report that I did!

Since the last race

A not so glorious outing in Titletown in May, brought along in its aftermath, a fair number of valuable lessons/reminders: attention to (minor) details, compounding and long-term effects of lack of such attention, the need to let things (not in my control) go, mark a poor performance as a bad datum in these experiments, and to focus more on the present. My dear friends in KRG were quick yet kind enough to remind of me few other things as well:

1. I had made sufficient progress over the past two years and the plateau effect in this learning curve was a naturally expected phenomenon. I knew of this effect from other studies and studies of the learning curve itself but just was arrogant/cocky enough to assume that it wasn’t going to happen to me. More about this in detail in a year-end entry … in about a few months.
2. As a result of the above, I couldn’t possibly push the body by racing every other weekend — in a local event or in some other exotic location, and expect an improved performance without risking temporary or worse, long-term injuries.

Taking these free and caring pearls of wisdom into account, the decision to treat much of the remaining races in 2016 as just training runs was both a bit difficult — thanks to my super-massive ego, and easy — knowing that my friends have all been athletes for lot longer than I have and that they knew what they were talking about.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] The difficult part became a whole lot easier after the completion of Lake Trout Festival Half Marathon in L’Anse, MI, on 11th June 2016 (with Amy Aldrich, Christopher Schwartz, Erin Kaupplia, Kate Thayer, Laurie Keteri-Smith, Sarah Hoy and Shannon Lee Mattson). The first half of this half marathon was pleasant and as planned — a consistent ~8 min/mile pace. But the second half was consistently plagued with inability to deal with heat, muscle cramps, fatigue, etc. even after pouring cold water over my head at every aid station, and took nearly 90 minutes. The mentality was more of a long training run instead of a race but not paying any attention to nutrition while recovering from sickness over the previous 7-10 days did not help the cause at all — a point brought about by Christopher following the event.

About halfway through what seemed like an innocent bike ride a few days after the Lake Trout Festival Half Marathon, Ray, Rob and Shannon helped understand the cause of recent poor performances: lack of iron (Runner’s Anemia: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5) and protein in my diet. Not only that, they also provided what I needed to do to fix: taking iron supplements and adding more protein to the diet (read: a trip to the local GNC store).

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Staying on schedule with intake of the iron supplements and protein (thanks be to Stephen Eles for pointing out that I needed vitamins as well to absorb the iron and for recommending Accelerade), realizing that I couldn’t possibly do two hard workouts each day but needed more sleep/rest/down time and less stress (and consciously working towards it) showed first signs of progress/improvement two weeks later in Pictured Rocks Road Race Half Marathon in Munising, MI (with Lisa König, MaKenna Stelpflug and Ruth Oppliger). I didn’t experience any fatigue, muscle cramps, etc. over the course this long training run and was able to complete it in about two hours that included the last mile at 8 min/mile pace — about 15 minutes slower than my best time for this distance in 2016.

From a comparison perspective, I was fortunate enough that all three events (Green Bay, L’Anse and Munising) had nearly identical weather conditions: 65+ F starting temperature and increasing throughout the day, near 100% humidity, muggy, sweaty, and such. I tested the impact of these changes by working out more than once on several occasions, and the results seemed to be holding steady and/or steadily improving.

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Taking the day off on Friday of RTK weekend from work didn’t really keep me from working, and delayed the start of my smooth and uneventful drive to Copper Harbor by over 90 minutes. Courtesy of dear friends in Mariner North helped check into the cabins to complete the preparations for Saturday evening potluck a few hours ahead of time. The evening ended with packet pickup, a quick trip to the Brickside Brewery to say hello to a few good friends, and a rather long but lovely dinner with friends in Mariner North (second year in a row — must be a tradition, right?).

Mt. Baldy Summit Run (6k)

Waking up a few hours before the start time gave Christine and yours truly plenty of time to go through the pre-race rituals and drive down to Eagle Harbor. Fourth time was indeed the charm, and unlike three previous attempts, I was able to stick with the goal of running up the entire course. For the first event in a long long time, probably the first time ever in 2016, it was a blissful experience to just let go of certain worries (about people or projects or saving my legs for the next stage) and just enjoy the mostly shaded course lined up with a variety of wild flowers.

I caught myself grinning on more than one occasion … especially once the distant tree line in the adjacent mountain range was at eye level. Recalling the ups and downs to appropriately pace myself also seemed a lot easier compared to previous attempts. I was a little slower to cross the finish line compared to 2015 (and something I knew would happen a few strides earlier, thanks to Ray announcing the time) but people across and around the finish line were just as friendly and cheerful as I can ever remember.

3.55 mi, 0:37:56, 10:41 min/mile, 5.62 mph, 172 bpm (83.90% of max)
Splits: (1) 9:49 (2) 10:14 (3) 11:54 (4) 5:59
Garmin fenix 3 HR and WP GPX Maps plugin for WordPress

Post-6k included walking/jogging down to Eagle Harbor with Christine and Julie Springsteen, participating in food (courtesy of Keweenaw Co-op) and awards ceremony with most of the participants (Kelly Higgins and I shared the Average honors for this leg; Kelly would go on to be the women’s champion for the weekend in about 24 hours while I would drop well below the eventual Average Joe on men’s side), and an uneventful drive back to Copper Harbor.

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Pre-14k activities included re-fueling, hanging out with friends around the cabin, a trip to the Keweenaw Adventure Company and the General Store to pick up a few supplies, a chat with the Weathers family, an easy bike ride to the end of US41 with a pit stop on the way back in Fort Wilkins Historic State Park Campground to chat with Ray, Kim and Greg Green, and Shawn Oppliger, and watching the kids’ 2k race.

Copper Harbor Trails Challenge (CHTC; 10k)

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] A completely new course and distance, tailor-made for the speedsters amongst us, had attracted a larger than usual (?) number of participants. Starting where it usually started (and on time), the course snaked through previously unknown (to me) trails before merging with one that runs the length of US41 to its end. It was an utter yet lovely surprise to see Whitney and Adam along the course holding up a sign to cheer me on (I had absolutely no idea that they were even in Copper Harbor) — first of its kind ever in my so far short athletic career!

Right around the bridge over the Garden Brook overflow from Lake Fanny Hooe, the course crossed over to the other side of US41 and hugged the ever so beautiful but rarely used (it was first time for me too) Lake Superior shoreline for about one half a mile before returning to US41. Next one and one half a mile were familiar territory — to the end of US41 and into the Mandan Loop. It was somewhat surprising (and mildly worrisome too) to see my Garmin show low 8 min/mile pace for the first half — over two minutes per mile faster than the intended pace.

Using the aid station at about mile 3.1 on the run and entering the recently completed portion (Phase I: Manganese Road to Mandan Road on the south of Lake Fanny Hooe) of the Keweenaw Point Trail removed any such worry. The pace naturally slowed down and made way to enjoy the sheer beauty of the trail and everything that surrounded it. A lovely and long boardwalk and the ups and downs and curves with a consistent view of the greenery followed by the majestic blue of Lake Fanny Hooe followed by a green strip followed by even more majestic blue of Lake Superior on the right side … so pretty that one could just cry in happiness. But since the teary eyed vision could potentially land my face on the rugged rocky course, grinning was an easier and practical proposition. So, I chose the latter instead — for the second time on the same day.

As I managed to keep a pretty decent pace while hearing every single breath and heartbeat loud and clear and the (full sleeve) tee clinging on to my body as a second layer of skin, half a dozen or so women quietly came from behind, politely asked if they could pass, made running up and down the course seem as if they were effortlessly gliding (there was no sign of sweat on their forehead either) and ever so gracefully just disappeared into the wilderness ahead of me … the story of my life, as some would say 😛

6.29 mi, 0:57:53, 9:12 min/mile, 6.52 mph, 178 bpm (86.83% of max)
Splits: (1) 8:14 (2) 8:16 (3) 8:16 (4) 10:33 (5) 10:28 (6) 9:54 (7) 2:10
Garmin fenix 3 HR and WP GPX Maps plugin for WordPress

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] Before I knew it, I had gone down the Paul’s Plunge with relative ease, was passing by Manganese Falls on my left and a short a ascent later, I was on the road for the home stretch. It was somewhat disappointing to see someone drive their automobile (even more disappointed to see it have a Michigan license plate) past a stopped truck into the opposing lane in spite of the easily visible cones and runners on the road. I had a relatively hard time to stay focused on running instead of stopping to give the driver of the said automobile some sane advice. Finishing this leg, as with any other in this event, with plenty of cheerful friendly faces is a delight that gets the blood pumping a little faster, heart thumping a little harder, and a little high stepping too — one just has to experience it to experience it.

The overall time taken to complete the 10k course did surprise me a bit — a full minute per mile faster than what I had hoped and planned. Post-10k activities included awards ceremony with most of the participants, a hearty potluck with friends at the cabin (a brainchild of Christine and Andi), a short walk to Brickside Brewery with Stephen, and calling it a night around 10:30 or 11 pm … although it took another hour or two to actually fall asleep.

Carl Olson Memorial Adventure Run (COMA; 25k)

Pre-25k activities included a walk through the town an hour or so before the start to stretch the legs, and a drive down US41 towards the Garden Brooks crossing with Rob and Shannon to stash some bananas as well as a bottle of protein shake to refill the hydration pack — a Christine and Rob idea that would go on to serve very well a couple hours later.

Having started on time, the course led us through the usual field surrounding a pond but did have some newness to it. Unlike last year’s trail to get us out of town, the course snaked through the mostly sleepy Bernard Street and onto the Hunter’s Point Trail before crossing M26 to the bottom of The Flow. I had consistently good company of at least three fellow athletes (David Berry was one of them) to occasionally chat my way up this trail and then down On The Edge until crossing US41 on Garden Brook. Experience of having done this portion once before, and the collective wisdom graciously bestowed upon by dear friends in 2015 — Jim, Mark, Mike, Rob and Stephen — came in quite handy to take it easy and be slow but disciplined during ascents, and make use of the flats and descents to achieve the desired overall pace. A plethora of wild flowers — sometimes occasionally and some other times in bounty — lined up on either side of trails making it a real joy … even when running up the hills.

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A minute or two pit stop to eat a banana and refill my hydration pack with protein shake (and chat with Stephen, Sarah and the Sheriff) at our personal aid station, I did slow down the pace approaching the real aid station on Garden Brook. Taking into account the miles I had run so far and the recent poor performance of in Green Bay/L’Anse (and knowing that I’d be a loooong way from help if I did end up experiencing muscle cramps or hamstring pull or something worse), I cautiously slowed down my pace during my ascent up the Stairway To Heaven towards the Keweenaw Mountain Lodge. Somewhere about two hours from start and shortly after the 10 mile mark, my Garmin chose to freeze. All it would have needed was a hard reset but I chose to treat it as something that was beyond my control at that point, and as such, just let it go (or be as it was).

14.66 mi, 3:02:58, 12:28 min/mile, 4.81 mph, 164 bpm (80.00% of max)
Splits: (1) 9:28 (2) 10:31 (3) 12:12 (4) 11:24 (5) 11:36 (6) 10:12 (7) 11:08 (8) 11:17 (9) 12:44 (10) 15:32 (11) 2:02
Garmin fenix 3 HR and WP GPX Maps plugin for WordPress
Garmin fenix 3 HR froze shortly after mile 10 around the two hour mark
Track completed using the GPX file from 2015 and using Garmin BaseCamp to identify common coordinates

Much of this ascent, and then descent via the fairly technical Red and Ma Maki Trails was solo, and was rather enjoyable — even though I had no clue what time (of the day) or my pace was. With Manganese Road within a stone’s throw, Christine passed me while letting me know about the time (we were about 2:47 into the start). A bit of road led to the usual lap around the field before approaching the finish area. And as I have grown accustomed over the past many legs of few editions of this event, I crossed the finish line shortly after the three hour mark amidst the cheer from friendly faces, and recent fond memories of Young Kyle playing Waldo with me!

Post-25k activities included a refreshing quick shower in the cabin before returning to attend the awards ceremony with most of the participants. To have completed all three phases in this festival without any kind of muscle cramps or hamstring pull was a certain blessing and provided much needed hope for what remains in the 2016 running season with re-scaled goals. To have done so with friends, to have put faces to names (or profiles in activity tracking websites) and made more friends (Minnesota and Wisconsin contributing a majority of them) and having had the opportunity to hangout with many of them was an even better one.

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Post-event activities included checking out of the cabin, grabbing a quick bite to eat in Mariner North, uneventfully driving back to Houghton and hanging out with the lovely Madison folks for one last time — this time — before they hit the road.

Praise be to the Good Lord and life's blessings, and thanks be to

[See image gallery at sgowtham.com] As per usual, Hancock Canal Run signals the completion of two full years since I took to running half marathon distance and marks the beginning of a new year (#4). Reasons to participate in this event haven’t really changed over these years: a very well organized and attended race in my own backyard, the potential to see and be with a lot of friendly faces from the awesome community I am so fortunate to live in and a chance to sleep in my own couch the night before, and show just about everyone in this community that has ever helped me run (better) that their investment in me wasn’t a wasted effort.

In spite of being on the mend from lack of iron (Runner’s Anemia: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5) and protein in my diet, the preparations for this event were spotty. Treating the week after Run The Keweenaw, A Festival of Trails as a normal week, and keeping up with the volume and intensity weren’t very smart decisions in hindsight. There was also a noticeable dearth of strength and cross training. Given that this was only one two remaining events in 2017 that I was treating as a race, I should have been paying better attention to diet, rest, etc.

Pre-race activities included homemade dinner with Elizabeth, a stroll through downtown Hancock to checkout the Key Ingredients and impromptu communal birthday celebrations thanks to dear friends, … before calling it a night around 10/10:30 pm. For the second time in 2016, I forgot some of the race day activities/rituals, and deviated from the recently proven (only with subjective evidence, all which are my own) full sleeve tee shirt technique. I caught one of the last shuttles to the starting area, and there wasn’t much time left beyond the normal exchange of pleasantries with friendly faces and a brief warm-up run.

13.11 mi, 1:55:39, 8:48 min/mile, 6.82 mph, 148 bpm (72.20% of max)
Splits: (1) 8:29 (2) 8:25 (3) 8:44 (4) 8:47 (5) 8:27 (6) 8:25 (7) 8:35 (8) 8:39 (9) 9:03 (10) 8:55 (11) 9:14 (12) 9:49 (13) 9:17 (14) 0:46
Garmin fenix 3 HR, Garmin Tempe sensor and WP GPX Maps plugin for WordPress

The race, on a beautiful sun-kissed morning, started on time, and for the first time, it involved a timing strip at the start. Not wanting to repeat the mistakes and mishaps of last year — 6:20 for mile one, 7:05 for mile two, rolled ankle shortly after mile three, puking by mile seven — I opted for a slow start. Plan was to keep the pace in the neighborhood of 8:15/8:30 min/mile through first five miles, and then consider improving it for what remained afterwards. I was able to stick with the slow start through the first five miles and paid a bit too much attention to every little rock on the course but didn’t roll any ankle. For some unknown reason, the pace never picked up after the five mile mark. I stopped at just about every aid station and used my own hydration and nutrition pack fairly well. There was a hint of sharp pain in my right heel right around the 8.50 mile mark. This was something I hadn’t experienced in recent times. Being unsure of what it was made me a bit cautious and kept me from increasing the pace. Worrying about what it could have been made me a bit weary for the next few miles. Each of the remaining mile took with it one or more of the goals I had in mind for this race. If not for Shannon coming up the final hill screaming (not literally; she ran ~7 min/mile for the last two miles — much of it was uphill) and taking me along for the ride in her wake, I would have taken a few more minutes to cross the finish line.

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Post-run activities included participating in the awards ceremony, hanging out with friends in the Hancock Beach, and calling it an early night. While the final time was disappointing, there were a couple positive takeaways: Iron and protein supplements seem to be doing their thing and being able to run 13.1 miles for the very first time in 2016 without stopping, and couple lessons: the need to rest well during the week leading up to this race, and the importance of nutrition, rest, and training. Hopefully, I wouldn’t forget these for the next (and last?) race of 2016 in Marquette in about six weeks.

Praise be to the Good Lord and life's blessings, and thanks be to