Slow and steady wins the race

Ay, caramba! The Oyster was HARD! I think the best way to drive that point home is to recap a few quotes from myself and my teammates (in chronological order):

• "I hope we get a good workout."
• "I think we're definitely going to get a good workout."
• "You know, I think this might actually be the equivalent of running a half marathon."
• "This is more like the equivalent of a full marathon."
• "All I care about at this point is finishing!"
• "We're definitely not going to make the cut off." "How do you know?" "Because we're already past it." "Maybe it's a fuzzy cut off...?"
• "Okay! If we account for the 20 minute late start we just might finish in under 8 hours!"

That's right. IT TOOK 8 HOURS!! Well, 7 hours, 52 minutes. But I'm pretty sure you round to the hour at that point.

The Oyster calls itself an "urban adventure" race. In a nutshell, that means you get clues, figure out where to go, go there by running or biking and do other things when you get there. Some of the things we did were:

• Took pictures with Yoda statues
• Biked across the Golden Gate bridge
• Kayaked in the ocean
• Made quacamole
• Walked a tight rope
• Ate a raw oyster
• Guessed a bunch of song artists
• Played beer pong

(Sorry about all the bullets. It's been a busy day and I have to get up early and catch a plane tomorrow morning. Needless to say, I'm trying to get myself to bed.)

Oh yeah. And in between all of that we ran 9.5 miles and biked 22 miles. Before I go on and on about how hard it was, I'll stop to say a few positive things and share some pictures.

Here we were before it all began...so naiive...

This picture was taken halfway through the first bike leg. Yesterday was the third time (exactly) that I've ridden a bike since I was 10. And I only crashed once! Ha... We ended up biking through a tunnel (for cars) with a super narrow bike path. At one point the path narrowed even further and I think I mostly just freaked out. I had a minor run in with the guard rail, and now have a bit of road rash on my arm and a bruise on my calf. I think I fared pretty well, all things considered.

This was my favorite part. At one point a seal popped its head out of the water right next to our kayak and looked around with an expression that seemed to say, "What's going on here?"

I thought about getting a picture at the end, but (quite frankly) I was too tired to pull out my camera. Instead, I'll show you a picture of all the loot I got. I got the third shirt for winning the race! Did I say race? I meant raffle.

Now back to how hard this thing was. Part of the trouble was you had to know the city. Or have a smart phone. Or, preferably, both. About 10 minutes after the race began we went and bought a map. And even though we never got too terribly lost, I would be willing to bet we weren't the most efficient team in getting from point A to B.

And the longer we were out, the more people came out. (By people I mean tourists and traffic.) The more people we had to maneuver around, the longer it took to get from point A to B. And the longer it took, the longer we were out. The longer we were out, the HOTTER it got. Allow me to be more specific. Yesterday's high was 90 degrees. Did I mention we were out for 8 hours?

And the hotter it got, the more hills there were! Okay, that isn't true. I just needed a way to incorporate the hills into my story. Just think San Francisco and you'll get the idea.

But WE DID IT. As we were biking in to the finish after the last leg I told Kelsea, "This is the feeling of accomplishment at the end of a marathon." And it was.

At least a cold is temporary

I work with people of all ages, and a lot of the older ones like to say things like, "I was working here before you were born!" Or, "Just wait until you get older! My body sure doesn't behave the way it used to."

To which I reply by saying, "Whoa, man. You must be getting pretty old." Or "I know what you mean. As soon as I turned 24 I started falling apart."

Seriously.

I pulled my hip muscle at exactly 24.5. For weeks there was no improvement. Then one day I woke up and there was a step change. Still very much present, but better. That very same day my TMJD began. Within weeks my diet was restricted to yogurt, pudding, mashed potatoes and ice cream. And my chronic back pain kicked in right around the time the pain in my jaw began to subside.

I was possessed with back pain for the better part of two years. It was worst in the morning and kept me from sleeping in. I was also forced to meet with an ergonomic specialist at work every month, who basically told me to avoid all physical activity. It's a good thing I chose to completely ignore him and take up Bikram yoga. Within about 6 months my back pain went from debilitating to slightly annoying to non-existant...

Until I stood in an airport security line for hours with my 17", overweight laptop on my back. That was this June. The resulting knot in my back was just wrapping itself up when my good (or should I say bad?), old hip was resurrected. But all of this is really just background for what I'm going to tell you next.

I went to yoga on Wednesday. When I woke up Thursday morning and stepped out of bed my first thought was, "I don't feel any pain in my hip at all!"

My second thought was, "Oh great. I'm sick."

Running on empty

Brace yourself for some negativity. I had two eventful runs this weekend.

The first was a 3ish-miler and the first group run I've done with Team Challenge. I've been to a couple Team Challenge events now and, after hearing everyone talk about running, was worried that this would happen. What would happen? This... I'm the only "kinda" runner. Or at least the only one that was there on Saturday.

Two people took off at the start, and before I had time to dwell in my own envy they were out of eye sight. And by the time I started second guessing whether I was on the right path, I had lost the group behind me. There I was. Somewhere in between a runner and not a runner, trotting down the path by myself (on my group run).

And I will add - the wrong path. In my defense, the run was not planned well. A Team in Training group happened to be training in and around the same area, and somewhere along the line I started following their markers. In doing so I missed a turn (whoa, deja vu). Conicidentally (and thankfully) there was actually a turnaround arrow chalked on the sidewalk. And even though I hadn't seen the two front runners since they cantered off into the distance, I decided to turn around.

Long story short, I don't actually know how far I ran and irritated my hip a bit in the process. Beautiful. Sarcasm aside, I did catch a girl once I was back on track and managed to bank a few minutes of team bonding. So I guess it wasn't a total waste.

I also found some value in the nutrition and hydration clinic that followed the run. And (apparently) chose to drive the lessons home through practice...

On Sunday I met up with a co-worker in San Francisco for an 8 mile run. I was pretty nervous leading up to it. Partially because it had been about two years since I last ran 8 miles. Partially because of my hip. And largely because she's faster than me.

I'll just cut to the chase (no pun intended) and say that the run itself actually went fairly well. We ran from the panhandle to the beach through Golden Gate Park and back. The way there was tough. Despite the slight downhill, I felt like I was struggling to keep up. But I managed to maintain the pace, and even a little bit of conversation here and there.

We took a pretty serious break when we reached the ocean, which was fine with me. It gave me some time to stretch out my hip and my calves (which - side note - feel like bags of rocks these days), and learned that Katie thought I was the one setting the pace! We were both in favor of slowing it down on the way back, and I found that I felt great cardiovascularly. Despite the now slight uphill.

So there was the downhill. Then the uphill. Then the DOWNHILL.

I didn't eat anything before the run or during the run, and only had a few sips of water during our mid-run break. I ate a little and drank some water after the run and headed down to Union Square for some shopping. I don't know if it was the continued exertion (even if it was just walking) or delayed effects of the run, but I kept feeling worse and worse over the next couple hours. At 3:45 I found myself waiting for BART with a splitting headache and an overwhelming desire to lay on the couch. There was no (probably) about it.

As if that wasn't enough, something - I still don't know what - went down on the tracks in between Walnut Creek (my stop) and Lafayette (the stop right before Walnut Creek). The result? BART turned around and headed back to San Francisco. Jason had to come pick me up at the Lafayette BART station and drive me to my car at Walnut Creek. I didn't get home until 6:15. Yuck.

This run makes it official. I'm a horrific mess when it comes to fueling myself for and during long runs. I NEED YOUR HELP! What do you do? Eat? Drink? What gear do you use?

Deli meats and yoga

A few tips, brought to you by yesterday's yoga instructor.

• "Squeeze your chest to your thighs like a Japanese ham sandwich."
• "Feel that fresh, genoxygenated blood flowing through your body. Sooooo good."
• "Stand up, one vertebrae at a time, and pivot 185 degrees to your left."

A few follow up comments, brought to you by yours truly.

• Apparently the Japanese ham sandwich is frequently referenced in yoga. A quick Google image search yields yogis a plenty. But what I would like to know is - what does the actual sandwich look like? Is it named as such because it has very little ham? No ham? I think ham consumption is pretty low among the Japanese...does it even exist? (Oh my, why did I just spend my time researching Japanese ham sandwiches?)
• No. There's no such thing as genoxygenated.
• In case you're wondering whether I turned around and then turned just a little bit more, the answer is no. I just turned around.

The ugly

P from Adventures of an Average Athlete has inspired me with this hilarious post. I'm following suit and leaving out the good and the bad.

At first glance this one might look good. But what you don't know is that I crashed in that dirt patch very shortly after this picture was taken. Oh yeah, and it was about 10 ft after the start line.


This is my standard race photo face. The face of pain. This photo was taken near the finish line, and this lady did beat me. As she should have. I decided to pace myself against her and breathed down her neck the whole race. How annoying.


And my favorite.