Wildlife Half-Marathon 2011

I like having races almost in my back yard: I get up at six o’clock and that feels like a luxury. After a ten minute mediation session and a somewhat leisurely breakfast (plain yoghurt with almonds, dried cherries, a spoonful of chia seeds, and another spoonful of honey for sweetener), I head out the door at 6:45, and the ride over to Concord is only 15 minutes! Plus they have a more reasonable start time of 8:00.

What a day for a race! What a season! Fall in Michigan is the best, with the leaves all turning color, and a predicted temp of 80. I’m in shorts and a cotton t-shirt and feel fine.

I’m also feeling good because I had a great dinner last night, over at Mark’s. He’s a coworker and monster runner, getting 10th in the Burning River 100. A couple of Mark’s Marathon Maniac friends are up from Missouri to run the Wildlife Marathon, plus Joel, a JCC student, runing his first marathon, with Mark pacing him through for a good quick pace. I rarely get to talk to other runners, and never more than some quick banter before a race, so it was nice to hear all kinds of ‘war stories’ over delicious pasta, courtesy of Mark’s wife, Misty. Made me regret not signing up for the marathon, instead of the half-marathon. But, I’m running the Detroit Marathon next week and want to be in tip-top shape, so I can try for a PR.

I get to Concord High School at 7:00-ish, and zip in to get my bib and chip and t-shirt. Since I ran this last year, I figured they’d have a chip, so this time I planned ahead and brought some duct tape, to form a sticky ankle bracelet so the chip will register when I pass over the mats.

About quarter to eight I spot Mark and the crew hanging out in the Marathon Maniac t-shirts, so I close up the car and head over, barefoot, already getting some neck-snapping second looks. There’s more runner conversation, like about why ultra marathons aren’t represented in the Olympics, and why it shouldn’t be possible to qualify for the Olympic marathon try outs by running a half-marathon, which one guy is going to do today. I also learn that I qualify to be a Marathon Maniac, because I’ve run two marathons within 13 days of each other! Sign me up!

A quick kids dash starts things off right at eight. There’s about twenty of them, in all sizes, from small to super small, though the girl who wins, easily, is decked out in the latest running wear. I think she must be 12, so wow, that’s an early start. Future Olympic marathoner probably.

Then the marathoners are called to the the Start line. I wish everyone good luck. There’s about 40 of them, maybe a little more. Man, that’s going to be a long lonely marathon once they all spread out.

And without much fanfare they begin, Mark and Joel right at the beginning. Man, Mark looks determined. I hope he doesn’t run Joel into the ground!

Next up are us halfers, both runners and people who are walking the whole way, which is going to take all day. I put myself somewhat towards the front. I’m kinda not sure what kind of time I’m going to do this race in, but I’m thinking at least under 1:45. My PR is 1:39, but I’ve been pretty slow this year. Still, I’ve run a couple of 50 Milers recently, and I’m wondering if the upped mileage will help. That’s Mark’s claim: that running faster on marathons comes from upping overall mileage. Still, runing ultras, I tend to go at a fairly slow penguin waddle, which doesn’t really use the faster running muscles. I think. Not sure.

Anyways, I end up next to a woman who teaches yoga. She says she’s not built for barefoot running, even though she says she goes barefoot 90 percent of the time. That stuns me, that someone so much into the barefoot lifestyle, and who runs marathons, would be resistant to even trying barefoot running. I think I convince her to at least try it. Hopefull she does before the weather gets too cold. I don’t think anyone in Michigan is going to try barefoot running during the winter months.

And we’re off! I try not to start too fast, but the adrenaline is hard to resist. Still, even with holding myself back, I end up at the front. We go through a few twists and turns through little Concord, and the roads are pretty rough. Fortunately I know we’ll spend most of our time on the Falling Waters trail, which I’ve run many a time, and which is a nice smooth bike path. Still, to save my feetsies, I run on long strips of rubber/tar that have been laid over road cracks. Nice and soft cushy surface.

And, another plan-ahead moment, when we reach the Falling Waters trailhead, I know enough to zip around the gravel parking lot, along the outer grass edge, which I didn’t do last year. Much better this way, and I don’t lose much time at all, way less than if I tried to man-card up over the rocks.

And onto the paved path. Man, gorgeous day. Sunny, warm, but not too warm, with the leaves en regalia, and our first lake on the right. Us halfers are scooting pretty fast, so we actually end up catching some of the marathoners, who at this point are still on the same route, making for a, if not crowded, then full trail, which is about car width. I even pass one of the Marathon Maniacs from last night, who’s name I forget already. But, we exchange pleasantries. If I were running the marathon, I might be running about his pace, but for now I wave and move onward. I wish I could keep this pace for a whole marathon. Maybe I’ll be closer to doing that next week.

In the meantime, I’m loving having the home field advantage. I’m not sure why, or if it’s even really true, but I just feel like seeing all this familiar territory helps me relax a little? Which lets me run faster? Not sure, but I’m still really trying to relax into my pace. Relaxing the upper body, but keeping a good swift cadence. And, after getting a little out of breadth back through Concord, now that I’m out on the trail and basically just going straight and flat, I’m only just a little bit into anaerobic mode. That is, I probably couldn’t hold a conversation, but don’t feel winded either. I feel good. I feel like the more I relax, the faster I run, which is weird, but cool.

Through a couple aid stations. I’m carrying my Amphipod bottle, so I don’t even have to slow down. I’m liking not drinking Gatorade anymore, at least not for these shorter races, so I have all the water I need for the whole race, probably.

One guy comes up next to me and goes, “Well sir, I’ll say one thing, you’re certainly not making a lot of noise!”

And it’s true, one of the main sounds, the main sound, is the thump thump of running shoes on pavement. In fact, another guy comes up behind me and he just sounds like he’s SLAMMING his feet down: THUMP THUMP THUMP. I hate picturing what’s happening to his knees right now. There’s not way he can keep that up for years. I don’t know, maybe he’s just really giving his all, trying to catch the barefoot dude, since he seems to be kind of hanging out right behind me. Maybe not, but he’s that loud that I want to kind of get away from him. But again, instead of tensing up and forcing myself to run faster, I try to relax, breath deep, lower the shoulder, and without feeling that I’ve increased my cadence, I move faster. Relaxation = better efficiency.

At about Mile 5, the marathons split off to the right, south, to go run around the back country roads of Jackson County. Again, I feel the tug to go, but I’m enjoying the half too, the feeling that I’m going to run a fast race and still have most of my day ahead of me, without feeling exhausted! Only because I still have some student essays to grade, but still, I’m going to be in Ann Arbor to do it, with all the Ann Arbor hotties to stare at longingly.

But no, John, concentrate on the race! Man, I didn’t realize how many marathoners I’d been surrounded by. With them gone, the pack has dwindled considerably. And here comes the lead halfer, coming back the other way, well ahead of everyone else. Well, if he can keep that up, then I guess he would make a good Olympic marathoner!

There’s a final aid station at the half turn-around, with youths (or, ‘yoots’) passing out bottled water and Coca Cola. I pass on both, but thank them for being out there, since they’re not by any road.

The comments on my bare feet have been non stop. The best up to this point was one woman who said, when I passed her and her husband, “He’s barefoot! I couldn’t stand stepping in all those micro-organisms!”

But now that I’m heading back, right along all the runners behind me, which is most of the pack (not that I’m anywhere close winning this thing, no sir) everyone gets a full view of me running back towards them. And everyone is super supportive! There are many shocked, “He’s barefoot!”’s but I don’t hear any “He’s crazy!”’s. I guess since I’m ahead of all of them. This especially goes on when we start getting back to the walkers. I also see the woman I’d been talking to before the race, way at the back. I smile and point to my feet. She smiles back and yells, “Ok!”

My time at the split was 53 minutes. So, yikes, I gotta at the least maintain that pace to get any kind of decent finish time. I’m actually feeling good, no ‘bogging out’, no loss of energy. I’m wondering if indeed all the high mileage I’ve been doing is helping me out here. In fact, again weirdly, I’m kinda feeling like I have more energy than my body can use. That is, I feel like I could be running faster, yet don’t feel I can really make my feet go at a faster cadence. With five, then four, miles to go, I’m not feeling the my body is physically taxed at all. I only kind of maybe slow down just because I’m sort of by myself and can’t really gauge where I should be, speed-wise, until a woman I’d seen going the other way catches up to me, going at a good clip. Interestingly, she’s wearing shoes, but taking really short steps, and a really fast cadence. Basically, a barefoot running from almost. That’s inspiring, reminding me to get my own cadence back up, and I do, but I also go through another ‘relax’ moment, and slowly scoot back ahead of her.

After that, I don’t see anybody passing anybody, though the people ahead of me are all way strung out from each other. We get back to the gravel parking lot and I re-take the outer grass edge, not even being overtaken by the woman I recently passed. I think she slowed down to get some Gatorade at the aid station.

Back on city roads. And here comes someone just hauling ass, a guy I don’t remember seeing. He must have really been playing it slow because now he’s coming through with power. I tell him, Nice pace!, as he goes by and he’s nice enough to look back and say, “Stay with it! We’re almost there!”

Indeed, we are. We make a left, where a race volunteer informs us, “Only about a 1,000 meters to go and I can’t believe you just ran this barefoot!”

Up a short hill. That guy is way gone. I can hear someone behind me a little ways, I think it’s the swift shod woman. Again, the roads are a little rough. I at first try to run on the tar strips, but then decide, phuk it, just go for speed and take the pain for two more minutes. Not that it’s really pain even.

A twist and a turn, and another turn, with some Concordites out to cheer everyone on, and there’s the high school! Push it John! I don’t want to go into an all-out shod-type sprint, but I again feel like I can’t get my feets to move as fast as I’d like them to in proper BF form. Still, I speed up a little. I always have the fear that someone’s going pass me right at the end, probably because that’s what I would be trying to do if anyone was anywhere close. Nobody is though.

I pass over the initial chip scanner, which allows the announcer to call out my name, “John Yohe! From Jackson! Looks like you lost you’re shoes somewhere along the way!”

A round of applause from the onlookers and I cross! Check the watch: 1:44. Hm, ok. I’ll take it. Actually, let me do the math: If I was at 53 at the half, that means....Holy crap! My second half was faster than my first! 51 minutes! I also don’t feel exhausted. A little tight around the inner thighs, but not like I ‘left is all out on the course.’ Hm....

I hang out, get some water, a banana, and a muffin, and just wander around barefoot a little. A woman walks by barefoot and I joke, asking if she ran barefoot too. She smiles and says no, but that she’s tried wearing VFFs, but that she didn’t like them because they made her lower calves sore. I tell here that that’s normal, just using some new muscles, and to give it 2 or 3 weeks. I think I may have convinced her to try again.

As with a lot of races I’ve been to lately, the most up to date results are posted as soon as someone can print them up. At first they only have one guy in my age division, who finished at 1:33. Yeah, I wasn’t going to catch him. Then, the next sheet that comes has me at 5th in my age group, with the 2-4 guys anywhere from 2 to 4 minutes ahead. Ok, I’ll take it.

I also meet a guy in his 50s who finished at around 1:30 or so. I want to be like him when I grow up. He expresses interest barefoot running, saying he’s try it except that it attracts too much attention and he prefers to go unnoticed. I tell him to at least try it out on some wooded trail where no on can see him. He nods and smiles and says maybe.

No minimalist runners that I saw. Hm, well, Jackson County is always a little behind the times. Well, I think I did a good job of representin’. I’m not up for waiting around for Mark and crew to finish, I’ll check in later via text to see how they did. As for me, I’m headed back home, with another medal, for a nap, a shower, then a sunny afternoon still left ahead. I think I’m even going to go for a run tonight.

Wild Life Half-Marathon

I probably shouldn't be here. I'm going to be running the Detroit Marathon next week, but I'd probably be taking a two hour run today, Sunday, anyways, and this half marathon (and marathon too) is right in my back yard, on very familiar territory: The Wild Life Marathon, Half-Marathon, Walking Half-Marathon, and 5K start out in Concord, a small town/village just west of Jackson, where I now live (again). The majority of my race will be on the Falling Waters Trail, a ten mile paved trail between Jackson and Concord, an old railroad lane going through some of the most quiet and scenic land in Jackson County. In fact, the Jackson end starts almost outside my apartment door, and I've made the long run all the way to Concord a few time this summer. I feel obligated to come out and support the race, which is new, in its second year now, and a pleasant surprise in an area not known for it's interest in sponsoring anything interesting. In fact, I half-way expect there to be protesters outside claiming this run has something to do with witchcraft. You laugh, but if you grew up in Jackson you would not.

I get out to Concord High School, where the race starts, early. The website said the start was at eight o'clock, but I learn that the halfers actually start at 8:15. I register easily, no lines at all, the advantage of participating in smaller races like this. The bad news: I forgot to bring duct tape. They have the clunky square race chips that tie on shoes. Usually I'd whip up a duct tape band around my ankle. No go. I'll have to tuck it in the inner pocket of my running pants. It just fits. I'll also have to remember to take it out and swipe it over the timer pad.

And, coincidence, I happen to park right next to Rob, my running buddy from the Somerset Stampede Half-Marathon. We're switching today. At the Woodstock races, I ran the 50K while he ran the Half. Today he's running the full marathon, and I'm impressed with his goal of getting under four hours. Inspired, I decide to push myself. He and I ran the Stampede at 1:45. I'd like to keep that speed. So much for maybe taking it easy in preparation for Detroit!

At eight, the marathoners take off. There's about 40 or 50, and I want so much to be with them. But no, I am a mere halfer today.

Their route will take them out on a portion of the Falling Waters trail, but then off into back roads for a long loop. Us halfers will be on the trail for most, after running through Concord a little. I line up in front, deciding to just start strong instead of coming up from the back. I'm hyped, ready to go and like the idea of breaking off from the pack.

There are of course the obligatory comments coming from behind me: “Holy crap! He's barefoot!” “That dude doesn't have any shoes!” A photographer from the local Jackson paper, because people here still read newspapers, takes my pic and asks me for some basic info. So, that feels good, spreading the word.

And we're off! And I immediately forget to swipe my time chip. Doh. Well, maybe it'll register. Not sure how strong those transmitters are, but come to think of it, maybe it's not a good idea to keep it right by my testicles.

We sweep through the quiet sleepy streets of Concord. The roads are fine, nothing too rough on the feets, no pebbles, and certainly no glass. And, we're going at a good clip. Or, I should say that I'm going at a good clip, since I do have a choice in the matter. I figure I'll make a good fast start, then mellow out for the middle. After some twists and turns, maybe a mile and a half, we arrive at the start of the Falling Waters path. Here's the familiar territory, except, ouch, I've never had to run over the gravel parking lot. Damn, that's probably going to hurt on the way back. Certainly slows me down a little, though it's not that long a section.
Back on the pavement. Gorgeous. Off to the right is a lake/pond/river, with some swans swimming lazily on the edge of a cattail forest. We go over a wood bridge, the last houses drop away, and then we're in Fall trees: reds, yellows, greens. No breeze. Sunny. Warm. I'm in running pants and a short sleeved wicking shirt. Could've gone with shorts even.

Man, we're going fast. I'm going fast. I'm on right on the edge of being out of breath. Wouldn't be able to talk, except for a quick sentence or two. Fortunately everyone else seems to be panting too. That plus the clomp of their shoes are almost the only sounds, seemingly, except for the soft dainty pad of my feet. But then, “BWEEP!” No! One of those guys (and they're always guys) with some beeping watch or heart rate timer. I pass him, but I have a bad feeling that we'll be running the same pace. Argh. Why mimi, why? He's even listening to an iPod, so he can't hear his bweeps. But I'm sure he thinks he's impressing us all with his cool toys and professionalism.

Argh, I gotta stop letting this stuff bother me. Enough. Basta. Back to running. This trail is great. Smooth, new, straight, wide, I can actually afford to look off the side every once in a while to admire the view. More trees, a bigger lake. More houses, though off at a distance. We cross a road, with the first water station. I try not to slow down, just grab a water and take one gulp and toss the cup. A half marathon is short enough, and the weather's cool enough, that I'm not worried about dehydrating.

I'm practicing my fast barefoot pace, getting right cadence, lifting the feet to the tempo of the song “Turning Japanese” (thanks Jason for that tip, though please can we think of a better song?) and then doing the 'falling forward' lean, which really works. My feet don't move any faster, but I do. The trick is maintaining the lean, because as my mind wanders I tend to straighten back up. But being up with the big dogs, the fast runners, is definitely a motivator, more so than being way in back and pacing myself. I think this is how I'm going to do the Detroit Marathon.

We even pace some of the slower marathoners, though soon the split happens and they shoot off to the south. Good luck guys!

Crossing more roads, moving east. There are civilians out on the trail, it's not closed off, so I pass a mom out taking her two young daughters for a walk and one of them yells out, “That man doesn't have shoes!”

Indeed.

I'm keeping the fast pace. I feel good. I think running that 50K a couple weeks ago really helped my confidence, my ability to say fuck it, and push myself, take a risk. I'm still just holding on the edge of being out of breath, feeling pretty Kenyan even, though as we get out the half-way point, here comes the guy in first, on his way back. Nice. He's cruising, followed by others a ways back. Maybe he's a real Kenyan?

Ok, but not too much farther and here's the turn-around. I check my watch: 50 minutes. At first I think that's not good, then I think about it: Fifty and fifty is one hundred. An hour and forty minutes if I keep up this pace. Wow. I'm going faster than my Somerset Stampede pace! I'm doing ok, position-wise. In the top twenty maybe? And most of the people ahead of me seem to be wee young lads and lasses. Yes, here I am pulling the age card!

Actually, that said, and suddenly I seem surrounded by guys my age. They all seem to know each other, and many of the folks we're now passing, still on their way back out. Must be a bunch of Concord folks?

In a moment of weirdness, a few of these guys seem to lock in behind me. Me? At the head of a pack? Uh uh. Freaks me out. So, instead of mellowing out on the middle section, I up the ante a little, experimenting with the forward lean even more, seeing how fast I can actually get. I even get into a new kind of groove, my feet barely lifting, or that's how it feels, so that I feel like I'm doing some kind of extreme penguin waddle or something. Feels really...efficient I guess, though I can quite keep it up. I also notice that I tend to lift my head up, and even back, and that if I concentrate on leaning my neck forward, that that helps my forward lean. Another thing to concentrate on, though I could see where it could become more natural. But, interesting. I don't think I would be experimenting with these speeds on my own, so that's the value of races, and competing.

BWEEP!

No! It's Toy Man! And he's right behind me, drafting off me. Goddammit. I know he's locking into me, the Barefoot Guy. Hate that. I mean, the trail is super wide, no need to hang right behind a guy. I lean forward and slowly leave him, but, then my mind wanders and I slow down, and he catches up, and we do this dance for a while. I'm this close to just stopping and letting him pass, but no dammit, this is a good time, I'm not going to let him spoil it.

But, my nemesis gravel returns: That short patch at the end of the trail slows me waaaay down. My feets are a little more tender this time. I get passed by about five guys. Drat. Though one of them is Toy Guy, so good riddance. When we get back out on pavement, back into Concord, the return route takes us up a hill, which slows a couple of them down. I like hills, so I go up pretty easily and re-pass them at least.

Through the quiet streets. Still no people. But, it's Concord. It's probably quiet all the time. We runners are all spread out, everyone tapping into their reserves. A volunteer yells out that we have a kilometer left, which is helpful, cause I would have no idea where we are, with all the turns we're taking. I'm pushing it as much as I can, though I know I've slowed down a little. Only two of us on one block, I pass him slowly, and he gasps out, “Good job! I can't do it. I'm cramping up!”

“We're almost there! Stay with me!”

“I'll try!”

He does, he stays just a little ways behind me me, and bam, there's the high school, and the parking lot, one last turn and only about 200 feet to go! A woman is on a mic, announcing names as people cross. I cross the finish, do a little hop, and I'm done! A quick check of my watch: 1:39:44. Wow. That's five minutes shaved off my Stampede time. Who'd've thunk?

I hand off my chip, collect my medal, and head for the refreshments table, for a much-deserve water, banana, and doughnut, in that order.

I didn't hear my name when I crossed, so I walk about around to the announcer, and check in with her when no one's coming in. She doesn't see my name. Uh oh. She sends me to a guy sitting in a van nearby. He confirms that indeed my chip never registered. Doh. But, he is cool enough to take my watch time and enter it in. Thank you timer dude!

I place 23rd overall, with a 7:35 mile pace. 3rd in my age category. Pas mal!

So, to recap: I think I prefer a fast start. Just keeps me motivated, and helps push me. I will try this next week.

Also: I think after this and my 50K, I really feel 'healed' from my plantar fasciitis nightmare of two years ago. I think it's taken me about a year to really get used to barefoot running, in part because of some not-so-great experiments. But this summer I now feel as strong, if not stronger really, as I did before I got the ole PF.

Also also: There is something to having a good race at least once a month, instead of just mentally telling myself that I should only run one marathon in the Fall. I think if a runner can get to the point of running a marathon, especially in the Spring, that he/she can probably build on that fitness level and go on to a marathon a month, or certainly these half-marathons.

Next week: The Detroit Marathon!

www.johnyohe.com