Oak Hill Flyer

this tuesday will mark my 13th anniversary of being on the road. and i am happy to say that there is a lot of fire left in this relationship.

however, it has been on several occassions that i wonder about this attraction [i know, i know... "you don't say!"]. specifically, i found myself running a local 5k this morning at a small-town german heritage festival. that sounds like familiar territory for OHF--it was in the german town that i grew up in where i ran my first races at the annual heritage festival 1500 miles away from where i am now.

the nostalgia was intriguing, if not amusing (whatever it was, it must have worked--a 6.5 year PR came crashing down in p-town this morning). somehow, there is a lot of nostalgia associated with the sport, more so than others: the old jerseys and bibs, tracking PRs and reading training logs. it leaves me wondering how healthy is this? in a world of improvement and advancement, it's almost passe to be "stuck to the past," as the way this nostalgia suggests.

however, there is a wonderful blend of moving away from that past that defines your daily routine. defeating that past. making that past look like child's play compared to what you are capable of today. creating that new story. maybe this is the 27-year-old buck talking in me (implying that in 30 years, i may be singing a completely different song), but there is true magic in admiring your opponent--your past--moments before you obliterate it from existence.

i'll always have a place in my heart for that starting line beside the elks club on washington street, 1 mile away from my house. however, as of today, of all places, the "home of the pflugerville panthers" has leapfrogged into the slot of where magic happens.

Posted by OHF at 23:55 | Permalink | Comments

this week honor's the anniversary of sir roger bannister's running of history's first sub-four-minute mile, considered to be one of the greatest moments in all of the history of sport, if not all of the history of the human spirit. in oxford, england an amateur track meet was held to honor the anniversary, and the now-retired medical doctor was the distinguished guest. bannister's words on the topic of the day:

"None of my athletics was my greatest achievement. My medical work has been my achievement and my family, those are real achievements."

Posted by OHF at 23:19 | Permalink | Comments

after spending the better portion of the drive to san antonio viewing the tornado-watch thunderstorm unfold before me in the morning sky, i parked my car in the first space that i could find at san antonio's mckinley park that saturday morning--there weren't many spaces to go around. after parking, i was quick to realize why this spot may have been open for so long: my back tires were half underwater in a giant mud puddle. the rain was coming down heavily, never mind the frequent lightning strikes. i managed to pull the car out of the puddle, after a good 30 seconds of spinning the tires and shifting repeatedly from drive to reverse. mud everywhere.

let's, for a moment, turn to merriam-webster for some enlightenment:

fore·shad·ow
Pronunciation: -'sha-(")dO, -d&(-w)
Function: transitive verb
: to represent, indicate, or typify beforehand : PREFIGURE

i ran a 10 mile race this morning. a 10 mile trail race. a 10 mile trail race on rocky, grown over one-lane trails. a 10 mile trail race on rocky, grown over one-lane trails that started just after a 2-hour thunderstorm subsided in 60 degree weather with winds.

ain't we got fun.

this race was nutballs. this race made high school cross-country look like a round of nine followed by cigars and brandy. within 2 minutes of the start (~100 people held behind a chalk line by the RD), one was soaked head to toe. not due to rain (that had reduced to a drizzle by race start), but due to 6-inch-deep puddles that were on the trail every 20 yards. i found myself the #2 runner out of the box, on the heels of the early leader. based upon (a) what i surmised of the participants of the race, (b) the adverse conditions (which i tend to favor), and (c) my position in the early going, i thought i had a crack at the crown. it's not everyday that i get to think this, mind you.

keeping with the leader was a kick... it was the equivalent of trying to drive in the same lane behind a bowling ball truck with its back gate open. avoidable puddle. rock. tree root. unavoidable puddle. 110-degree turns. all the while running a sub-7 pace with your eyes looking straight down at your feet to ensure that you don't faceplant, which was unfortunate given that all the trail markers to keep you from getting lost were at eye level (to the credit of the RD: chalk was laid all over the 10M course, but the rains washed it all away). after 5k, it was apparent that i was to be no match for the leader, and i let him have his way.

shortly after, another runner--jose--would pull up with me and we would be together for a good while. the two of us actually got off trail for about 200m or so, wasn't all that bad. with time, two other runners joined our suaree making for a pack of four.

we went through quite a bit together, the four of us. jose took quite a spill halfway through the race; on several occassions, the "trail" was nothing more than a runoff channel... we would be running uphill in 12-18" deep waters rolling rather strongly against our prescribed course for streches of up to 50m. and the race is named after after a catcus? how about salmon for next year?

on the whole, i was usually running 3rd or 4th out of the four of us. at times, the first two would be on upwards of 50m ahead. i was mainly focused on running the best that i could technically (not losing momentum on turns, cutting tangents, staying out of water, never mind the strategies of "not falling down" and "not getting lost"). there were few stretches where the opportunity opened up to pass... there was one downhill where you could see down the stretch of the entire SA airport runway, and a few rocky downhills where you shot ahead and passed only if you felt like you had an ankle to spare. after 6-7mi., the four of us were travelling together pretty tightly... at this point, i think we all had respect for each other and knew that the finish was going to be gutsy.

with 2mi to go, the pace was increasing. splits didn't mean much, aside from meaning you were that much closer to the finish. all four stayed tight, and the course was certainly in its worst condition at this point.

with one mile to go (all 10 miles were marked, credit to the RD), i turned it on. i was running 3rd in our pack of four... #4 was right behind me, #1 and #2 were about 30m ahead. i immediately dropped #4, he gave little chase. i was to find out post-race that this #4 guy in our pack was running that day's FIFTY-K and just happened to be running with us during that stretch. after about 800m, i found myself caught up with the front two of our pack, and the race was on. soon after that, we came to a fork where a course marshall was standing to guide us. his words as we flew by: "ABOUT 3/4 MILE TO GO! YOU'RE NOT GOING TO CATCH THE LEADER, BUT YOU THREE ARE GOING TO HAVE ONE HELL OF A RACE!"

it is very tough to run, much less put in your final quarter-mile kick through 2 feet of water. but that's what we had to do, and all three of us were doing it. i was still running third. it must have been a sight. with at the time what i surmised to be 100m to go, we hit a major puddle and the #2 guy right in front of me (jose), goes down hard in the puddle. i couldn't believe it. i jump around him and slide into the #2 spot. there must have been a spring at the bottom of that puddle, because jose was immediately on my heels; i had just about written him off, assuming a ~5 second delay for his spill. with about 30m to go, the single-lane trail turns into a 3-lane paved entry road, and one-by-one, we exit the trail and assume our sprinting lanes. for better or for worse, 30m isn't much room to come out of the slip and advance, and we finished in the same order... each person 1/2 step ahead of the person behind them, 1-2-3, all three of us finishing within .2 seconds of each other.

the tag scanner (the high-tech version of the tag tearer, apparently) struggled to keep the barreling mud monkeys in order. i finished 3rd overall, ~90s behind the winner. won my age, which for me was a first in the tough 25-29 M category. awesome post-race... all you could eat fajitas and all you could drink dos equis with a small group of 100 folks muddy from head to toe. lovely awards: i got a engraved mug (custom made, too... date, age group, everything)... the overall winners got their prize in the form of original artwork... a rustic-framed cactus water painting. very nice.

in my 13 years of running, i've seen many different types of races. this race is what i call a race.

a THRILLING (if not risky) race; one of the best i've ever participated in. definitely got my money's worth. now if i only had that race entry fee back so that i could pay to get my car cleaned out...

Posted by OHF at 18:36 | Permalink