From Rim Rock Farm to Right Before the Race
By about 4:30 PM our driver and David were pouring over the instructions on how to drive to Rim Rock Farm. We were somewhere outside Lawrence, Kansas, in a cold drizzle, on rural, dirt roads searching for street names and passing puzzled bikers who were wondering why we were waving to them as we passed them going in both directions. Finally we persevered in the final direction we were headed and found the entrance to Kansas University’s home cross-country course.
We left our cozy bus-nest and tumbled out into a cold, dreary and wet landscape, decorated with flags and trail markings from a previous cross-country meet. The ever-so-faint blue paint on the grass was for the boys’ course, and the faint red paint was for the girl’s. We tried to follow the boys’ route, a 5K distance that took us from the flat farmland down into a densely wooded hollow. The surroundings brought to mind J. Denver’s, “country road, take me home, to the place I belong.” The road took us past peaceful ponds and through two covered bridges, one weathered and gray, the other freshly painted barn red. Upon completing the course, we posed for group pictures, then boarded the bus, ruddy with wind-burnt faces and feeling so much better, having given our nervous, well trained legs much needed exercise. Just so we don’t have this weather on race day!
JW pulled back onto the highway and David played Jim Lynch’s DVD that celebrated the 50 state marathons he ran with David Zonker. The narrative of their remarkable achievement contained a scene that provoked much laughter: that of Jim and friends throwing the body of his ailing brother (portrayed by a store manikin) into the back of a van with a distinct clatter. (Towards the end, the DVD failed to play properly, but was successfully played again on the return trip to Denver.)
At 7:30 PM it was dark, cool and windy as JW pulled into the Hyatt Regency Crown Center. We lined up at the desk to get passes to our rooms. My roommate, Jim Lynch, and I approached Mikka, our European desk clerk. As Mikka is looking up my reservation on his computer, Jim asked him with a totally straight face and calm voice if he could give us a room with an ocean view. Playing along, Mikka said he would see if he had something. Jim adds, “Is this one of the VIP rooms?” Mikka says he can put us on the 40th (top) floor with access to the Regency Club, complete with food buffet. I am standing there in mute amazement at Jim’s talents. Well, what do you expect from a 50 state traveler-marathoner?
As agreed upon, we all met at 7:45 in the lobby to go out to eat. And I mean OUTSIDE, over the tracks and what seems like a mile away in the blustery cold. And me without a hat and only a thin running jacket, thinking we were eating inside the hotel complex. As all 25 of us (three didn’t meet in the lobby on time) trouped inside Manny’s Mexican Restaurant I expected to hear someone shout, “We have a code 10!” Astonishingly, they set up multiple tables end to end and seated us 12 on a side with “The Doug” Tisdale at the head. Doug offered the customary toast to celebrate our camaraderie. Some of us ordered light, but I chose heavy and was admired for eating the whole thing: an El Sombrero combo plate, a calorie intense meal that fueled my return hike to the Crown Center.
Friday morning found me looking down from the window of our 40th floor hotel room upon a city that looked deceptively flatter than a pancake. I wondered where all the hills were. I was to find that out later on our bus tour of the route. But first I ate breakfast in the Regency Club room just down the hall, bringing my own granola and soymilk and using their fruit, juice and delicious coffee. The two ladies at my table must have found me somewhat curious, with my discriminating food preferences. However our conversation warmed when they revealed they were there to support their children who were running in the marathon. As the ladies left the table, in walked Jim Lynch, Jim Turosak and Scott Hild. They were not interested in the bus tour of the race route, and so perused the morning paper for a good movie to see in the afternoon.
The Expo started at 10AM. There I met Diane Hudek, who finally arrived from California around midnight. She had sat up with her roomie, Tonia Carter, chatting until way beyond late. If you ever want to know the quintessential skunk story, just ask Diane! We were all happy to have her back with us for a couple days. Next I conferred with the fellow at the exhibit where you get pacing bands and can order custom printed bibs. I couldn’t decide if I was able to handle the 3:40 or 3:50 pace but finally decided on the 3:40 band.
Then I met Eladio Valdez at the Runner’s Edge (of KC) table. I was surprised at how youthful he looked. I had pictured a wizened veteran, grandfatherly type figure, not a robust 39 year old. I had that feeling you get sometimes, you know, when you feel as though you have always known a person you have never met before. He seemed to have heard about me through David and we chatted about pacing times, of course. After picking up my ticket for the pasta dinner and throwing my name in the Saturn give away lottery, I joined the group headed for lunch at the Crown Center food court.
Coming on the heels of breakfast, a full lunch at 11:00 seemed a bit much, so I shared a sandwich with Karen Craig at the Bronx Deli. This was to be her first full marathon and she seemed appropriately respectful of the distance to which she had committed herself. Did her calm demeanor mask anxiety or a quiet confidence?
The bus tour of the race route was to start at 1PM, but the bus failed to arrive and a substitute bus company was called instead, with profuse apologies from a race official. The tour was worth waiting for, as Eladio’s comments along the way were enlightening and sprinkled with good humor. I chose to plant myself in the front seat right in front of him, and was rewarded with the chance to chat with him along the way. He asked me a number of times how I felt about the course and the pacing band, as if my answers really mattered to him. Of course he knew the route like the back of his hand, having designed the course. For me, a highlight of the tour was winning a red KC racing hat by answering a quiz question, naming two jazz greats that had their start in KC. My answer of Coleman Hawkins and Charlie Yardbird Parker won me the hat that I subsequently wore on race day. After our bus ascended the last hill from M21 to M23 I burned in my memory the street name I would see at the crest of the hill, before the downward plunge to the finish line: E. Linwood Blvd. I knew if I got that far, I’d be home free.
That evening the traditional pasta dinner, held in the expo hall of the Hyatt, was preceded by a chance to meet the pacers for the race. I was surprised to find myself among only a handful of runners who took the opportunity to meet the pacers. By this time, with some misgivings as to my ability, I had decided to go for the 3:40 pacer, Joshua, a young man I had previously seen and read about on the KC Marathon website. His smiling demeanor expressed confidence and delight in his role as pace leader, as this was his first time leading. He also communicated a no-nonsense commitment to meeting the 3:40 goal with extra time to spare.
My memories of the pasta dinner are colored by an overbearing sound system that made conversation difficult. The male karaoke crooner was actually very good, but the amplification was too loud – typical for this e-charged generation and sadly expected at most social functions. However, the highlight of the dinner happened spontaneously when Doug Tisdale, upon hearing “New York, New York” being sung by the vocalist, grabbed the mike, stood up and belted it out in a way that would make Liza Minelli proud. Immediately, everyone owning a camera was in front of Doug as he squeezed emotive content out of every word. All cheered his talented bravado.
The pasta and sauces were good and the serving staff friendly, but the salad was wimpy, lacking in the most nutritious dark leafy veggies. (OK, OK, just had to throw that in.)
Jim Turosak scurried about taking pictures of everyone at our tables as the 2007 Soul Award presentations were finishing. The male winner in absentia was Lou Jolene, an 85-year-old running powerhouse, presently in Tanzania. Jim leaned over to me and said that I was a mere embryo compared to Lou. Thanks, Jim!
Next, the featured speaker, Patti Catalano Dillon, didn’t give a talk; she delivered a performance. This elite marathon runner, winner of both the Boston and New York races, reenacted a highly emotional version of her beginning running experiences, and including the stories of coming in second in the Boston to the fraud, Rosie Ruiz, (later Patti was awarded first place) and breaking 2:30 in the New York City Marathon.
I felt a kindred enthusiasm with Patti when she told of weeping in the shower after running her first hour non-stop. She said she felt so sore, but she felt so good. She ran with so much passion in her first marathon: “I wanted to breath, to live, but was willing to die.” She recorded an astounding 2:53:40.
Her words are worth remembering: “Give yourself a chance to excel.” And, “If nobody could give it to you, nobody can take it from you.” I believe Patti is saying that nobody makes you go through the hardship of training for a marathon – it is a self-imposed discipline. And this hard-won conditioning is something no one can take from you.
On the way up to my room I met Patti in the elevator and thanked her for her “performance.” She said that she had been asked to give a “presentation” to the KC Sports Commission. She told them she didn’t know what a presentation was. I bet she gave them a bit of what she gave us: part of her self-history reenacted. She wished me a good race.
Once in my hotel room, I carefully laid out running outfit for tomorrow, attaching my timing chip to my left shoe, pinning Bib #108 on my shirt and my 3:40 pacing bib on my shirt’s back. Regretfully I decided to wear a belt to hold a pouch for my gels, as I just couldn’t properly pin the gels on my shorts. Then I sat down and wrote out some affirmations as a practice to banish some limiting, negative doubts that had crept into my consciousness. They were the following:
I am achieving my goal of 3:40
Better yet:
I am surpassing my goal of 3:40
My first 30 minutes are very easy.
I have chosen the right pace group.
My 1st 20 miles are a warm up for my last 10K.
I carry the spirits of all those I love with me at every moment.
I am at ease, relaxed, poised and at peace as I run.
Then Jim Lynch and I had a really nice, relaxing conversation. He told me that I “had the eye of the tiger,” in my zeal to increase my speed. I appreciated his mentoring and encouragement and told him so.
I showered and slept fitfully that night, cobbling together an hour here and there. I was already awake for an hour before my wake-up call at 4:30AM. I ate a really untasty breakfast in the bathroom, so as not to bother Jim, still asleep. I have the practice of never drinking unnecessary liquids before a training run or race. So I melted my fish oil caplets into some hot instant oatmeal instead of swallowing them with water, and topped the cereal with granola, soymilk and a banana. The fish oil odor was a bit nasty. However the combination caused me no stomach trouble in the race and powered me through to the end.
Outside the hotel I walked alone in the pre-dawn darkness to the Crown Center Atrium. I wanted to experience the weather, so I avoided walking through the Link, an enclosed, glass tube that connected the Hyatt, the Weston and the Crown Center Atrium, restaurant and shopping center. I was the first of the Runner’s Edge members to be there, arriving at about 5:40 AM. This gave me time to go through my stretching routine, seek out the restroom and greet my friends as they arrived.
After a while I knew that I had to take care of three important things: deposit my extra clothes bag at the truck, use the porta potties at least once, and find my place at the starting line in the 3:40 pace group. And time was getting close. Nason Newberg and I decided to leave our friends in the Atrium and head out to the starting line on Grand Street.
The weather was cool but not uncomfortably cold - no need for an overshirt. I accomplished all three tasks. Now I was ready to channel all my excitement, energy and over four months of training effort into the next few hours. I was ready for the run of my life. I thought of all my friends, family and co-workers who would be awaiting the outcome of this race, to hear how I did. I thought of my deceased wife and other family members who were gone, Mom and Dad, and brothers John and Bob. I would not disappoint them.
By about 4:30 PM our driver and David were pouring over the instructions on how to drive to Rim Rock Farm. We were somewhere outside Lawrence, Kansas, in a cold drizzle, on rural, dirt roads searching for street names and passing puzzled bikers who were wondering why we were waving to them as we passed them going in both directions. Finally we persevered in the final direction we were headed and found the entrance to Kansas University’s home cross-country course.
We left our cozy bus-nest and tumbled out into a cold, dreary and wet landscape, decorated with flags and trail markings from a previous cross-country meet. The ever-so-faint blue paint on the grass was for the boys’ course, and the faint red paint was for the girl’s. We tried to follow the boys’ route, a 5K distance that took us from the flat farmland down into a densely wooded hollow. The surroundings brought to mind J. Denver’s, “country road, take me home, to the place I belong.” The road took us past peaceful ponds and through two covered bridges, one weathered and gray, the other freshly painted barn red. Upon completing the course, we posed for group pictures, then boarded the bus, ruddy with wind-burnt faces and feeling so much better, having given our nervous, well trained legs much needed exercise. Just so we don’t have this weather on race day!
JW pulled back onto the highway and David played Jim Lynch’s DVD that celebrated the 50 state marathons he ran with David Zonker. The narrative of their remarkable achievement contained a scene that provoked much laughter: that of Jim and friends throwing the body of his ailing brother (portrayed by a store manikin) into the back of a van with a distinct clatter. (Towards the end, the DVD failed to play properly, but was successfully played again on the return trip to Denver.)
At 7:30 PM it was dark, cool and windy as JW pulled into the Hyatt Regency Crown Center. We lined up at the desk to get passes to our rooms. My roommate, Jim Lynch, and I approached Mikka, our European desk clerk. As Mikka is looking up my reservation on his computer, Jim asked him with a totally straight face and calm voice if he could give us a room with an ocean view. Playing along, Mikka said he would see if he had something. Jim adds, “Is this one of the VIP rooms?” Mikka says he can put us on the 40th (top) floor with access to the Regency Club, complete with food buffet. I am standing there in mute amazement at Jim’s talents. Well, what do you expect from a 50 state traveler-marathoner?
As agreed upon, we all met at 7:45 in the lobby to go out to eat. And I mean OUTSIDE, over the tracks and what seems like a mile away in the blustery cold. And me without a hat and only a thin running jacket, thinking we were eating inside the hotel complex. As all 25 of us (three didn’t meet in the lobby on time) trouped inside Manny’s Mexican Restaurant I expected to hear someone shout, “We have a code 10!” Astonishingly, they set up multiple tables end to end and seated us 12 on a side with “The Doug” Tisdale at the head. Doug offered the customary toast to celebrate our camaraderie. Some of us ordered light, but I chose heavy and was admired for eating the whole thing: an El Sombrero combo plate, a calorie intense meal that fueled my return hike to the Crown Center.
Friday morning found me looking down from the window of our 40th floor hotel room upon a city that looked deceptively flatter than a pancake. I wondered where all the hills were. I was to find that out later on our bus tour of the route. But first I ate breakfast in the Regency Club room just down the hall, bringing my own granola and soymilk and using their fruit, juice and delicious coffee. The two ladies at my table must have found me somewhat curious, with my discriminating food preferences. However our conversation warmed when they revealed they were there to support their children who were running in the marathon. As the ladies left the table, in walked Jim Lynch, Jim Turosak and Scott Hild. They were not interested in the bus tour of the race route, and so perused the morning paper for a good movie to see in the afternoon.
The Expo started at 10AM. There I met Diane Hudek, who finally arrived from California around midnight. She had sat up with her roomie, Tonia Carter, chatting until way beyond late. If you ever want to know the quintessential skunk story, just ask Diane! We were all happy to have her back with us for a couple days. Next I conferred with the fellow at the exhibit where you get pacing bands and can order custom printed bibs. I couldn’t decide if I was able to handle the 3:40 or 3:50 pace but finally decided on the 3:40 band.
Then I met Eladio Valdez at the Runner’s Edge (of KC) table. I was surprised at how youthful he looked. I had pictured a wizened veteran, grandfatherly type figure, not a robust 39 year old. I had that feeling you get sometimes, you know, when you feel as though you have always known a person you have never met before. He seemed to have heard about me through David and we chatted about pacing times, of course. After picking up my ticket for the pasta dinner and throwing my name in the Saturn give away lottery, I joined the group headed for lunch at the Crown Center food court.
Coming on the heels of breakfast, a full lunch at 11:00 seemed a bit much, so I shared a sandwich with Karen Craig at the Bronx Deli. This was to be her first full marathon and she seemed appropriately respectful of the distance to which she had committed herself. Did her calm demeanor mask anxiety or a quiet confidence?
The bus tour of the race route was to start at 1PM, but the bus failed to arrive and a substitute bus company was called instead, with profuse apologies from a race official. The tour was worth waiting for, as Eladio’s comments along the way were enlightening and sprinkled with good humor. I chose to plant myself in the front seat right in front of him, and was rewarded with the chance to chat with him along the way. He asked me a number of times how I felt about the course and the pacing band, as if my answers really mattered to him. Of course he knew the route like the back of his hand, having designed the course. For me, a highlight of the tour was winning a red KC racing hat by answering a quiz question, naming two jazz greats that had their start in KC. My answer of Coleman Hawkins and Charlie Yardbird Parker won me the hat that I subsequently wore on race day. After our bus ascended the last hill from M21 to M23 I burned in my memory the street name I would see at the crest of the hill, before the downward plunge to the finish line: E. Linwood Blvd. I knew if I got that far, I’d be home free.
That evening the traditional pasta dinner, held in the expo hall of the Hyatt, was preceded by a chance to meet the pacers for the race. I was surprised to find myself among only a handful of runners who took the opportunity to meet the pacers. By this time, with some misgivings as to my ability, I had decided to go for the 3:40 pacer, Joshua, a young man I had previously seen and read about on the KC Marathon website. His smiling demeanor expressed confidence and delight in his role as pace leader, as this was his first time leading. He also communicated a no-nonsense commitment to meeting the 3:40 goal with extra time to spare.
My memories of the pasta dinner are colored by an overbearing sound system that made conversation difficult. The male karaoke crooner was actually very good, but the amplification was too loud – typical for this e-charged generation and sadly expected at most social functions. However, the highlight of the dinner happened spontaneously when Doug Tisdale, upon hearing “New York, New York” being sung by the vocalist, grabbed the mike, stood up and belted it out in a way that would make Liza Minelli proud. Immediately, everyone owning a camera was in front of Doug as he squeezed emotive content out of every word. All cheered his talented bravado.
The pasta and sauces were good and the serving staff friendly, but the salad was wimpy, lacking in the most nutritious dark leafy veggies. (OK, OK, just had to throw that in.)
Jim Turosak scurried about taking pictures of everyone at our tables as the 2007 Soul Award presentations were finishing. The male winner in absentia was Lou Jolene, an 85-year-old running powerhouse, presently in Tanzania. Jim leaned over to me and said that I was a mere embryo compared to Lou. Thanks, Jim!
Next, the featured speaker, Patti Catalano Dillon, didn’t give a talk; she delivered a performance. This elite marathon runner, winner of both the Boston and New York races, reenacted a highly emotional version of her beginning running experiences, and including the stories of coming in second in the Boston to the fraud, Rosie Ruiz, (later Patti was awarded first place) and breaking 2:30 in the New York City Marathon.
I felt a kindred enthusiasm with Patti when she told of weeping in the shower after running her first hour non-stop. She said she felt so sore, but she felt so good. She ran with so much passion in her first marathon: “I wanted to breath, to live, but was willing to die.” She recorded an astounding 2:53:40.
Her words are worth remembering: “Give yourself a chance to excel.” And, “If nobody could give it to you, nobody can take it from you.” I believe Patti is saying that nobody makes you go through the hardship of training for a marathon – it is a self-imposed discipline. And this hard-won conditioning is something no one can take from you.
On the way up to my room I met Patti in the elevator and thanked her for her “performance.” She said that she had been asked to give a “presentation” to the KC Sports Commission. She told them she didn’t know what a presentation was. I bet she gave them a bit of what she gave us: part of her self-history reenacted. She wished me a good race.
Once in my hotel room, I carefully laid out running outfit for tomorrow, attaching my timing chip to my left shoe, pinning Bib #108 on my shirt and my 3:40 pacing bib on my shirt’s back. Regretfully I decided to wear a belt to hold a pouch for my gels, as I just couldn’t properly pin the gels on my shorts. Then I sat down and wrote out some affirmations as a practice to banish some limiting, negative doubts that had crept into my consciousness. They were the following:
I am achieving my goal of 3:40
Better yet:
I am surpassing my goal of 3:40
My first 30 minutes are very easy.
I have chosen the right pace group.
My 1st 20 miles are a warm up for my last 10K.
I carry the spirits of all those I love with me at every moment.
I am at ease, relaxed, poised and at peace as I run.
Then Jim Lynch and I had a really nice, relaxing conversation. He told me that I “had the eye of the tiger,” in my zeal to increase my speed. I appreciated his mentoring and encouragement and told him so.
I showered and slept fitfully that night, cobbling together an hour here and there. I was already awake for an hour before my wake-up call at 4:30AM. I ate a really untasty breakfast in the bathroom, so as not to bother Jim, still asleep. I have the practice of never drinking unnecessary liquids before a training run or race. So I melted my fish oil caplets into some hot instant oatmeal instead of swallowing them with water, and topped the cereal with granola, soymilk and a banana. The fish oil odor was a bit nasty. However the combination caused me no stomach trouble in the race and powered me through to the end.
Outside the hotel I walked alone in the pre-dawn darkness to the Crown Center Atrium. I wanted to experience the weather, so I avoided walking through the Link, an enclosed, glass tube that connected the Hyatt, the Weston and the Crown Center Atrium, restaurant and shopping center. I was the first of the Runner’s Edge members to be there, arriving at about 5:40 AM. This gave me time to go through my stretching routine, seek out the restroom and greet my friends as they arrived.
After a while I knew that I had to take care of three important things: deposit my extra clothes bag at the truck, use the porta potties at least once, and find my place at the starting line in the 3:40 pace group. And time was getting close. Nason Newberg and I decided to leave our friends in the Atrium and head out to the starting line on Grand Street.
The weather was cool but not uncomfortably cold - no need for an overshirt. I accomplished all three tasks. Now I was ready to channel all my excitement, energy and over four months of training effort into the next few hours. I was ready for the run of my life. I thought of all my friends, family and co-workers who would be awaiting the outcome of this race, to hear how I did. I thought of my deceased wife and other family members who were gone, Mom and Dad, and brothers John and Bob. I would not disappoint them.
No comments:
Post a Comment