1st overall in 1:05:09 (3:40 margin over 2nd place Ted Howard). After finishing, the race chiropractor did her thang, and as soon as she touched my leg she gasped, "Ohhh, this is not good." While not as distressing as it would be coming from an oncologist or plumber, it is always scary to horrify a professional. So I asked her what was wrong.
"Has your IT Band ever ripped?" she responded.
"Umm...I don't think so," I replied. I did not reply, "Unless you meant my MITT Band, which rips it EVERY. SINGLE. NIGHT."
|Our bass player REALLY supports Chick-Fil-A.|
Anyway, she also went on to ask if I'd broken my hip. Her line of questioning probably means my muscles did really well at the race and pushed to the edge, or it means my legs are one false step from collapsing like a house of cards featuring Twilight's Bella and the Spain's Finance Minister. No es bueno.
|Me at the Chiro table.|
The big news is definitely Dad's miraculous recovery from prostate surgery (after being diagnosed with the most aggressive type of cancer last month). Based on my research (Googling "60 year old man wearing spandex, pictures"), he is a superhero. Good thing a new Spiderman movie just came out, because the important lesson from the movie is necessary with his new superpowers: with great power comes great responsibility.
As usual, I am talking about waste excretion. I imagine it doesn't take him nearly as long to pee without a prostate. Before, urination was more of a hope than an act. So assuming he spent 4 extra minutes staring at the toilet per day for the last 20 years, that is 20 days lost, longingly staring down, hoping for the best. So, Dad, 20 extra days to save the world with your superpowers over the next 2 decades. GREAT RESPONSIBILITY.
|Responsibility? Man, I just want to like, eat cake and stuff.|
Also, Megan visited Colorado for a month! As she recovered from a triple-stress fracture (thinking about the pain she ran through to get to that point is somewhat horrifying), we mountain biked all over the state. Or, a more appropriate thing to say is she mountain biked all over the state, while I expended 30% less energy sucking wheel through every canyon outside Boulder, Mt. Evans, Independence Pass, and Estes Park.
Awesomely, there were spray-painted T's in front of a bunch of road signs for that last place. Sutlety is soooooo overrated. Especially when it involves silent letters.
So last week I went down to Colorado Springs to race the Classic 10k to blow out some of the cobwebs. It was my second race called the "Classic 10k" in just a couple months. At both, I ran pretty much the same time (31:26, although this one was way more frustrating because I started moonwalking on the last 2 miles after hitting 4 in 19:35).
Clearly, I need to experiment with race adjectives to run faster on the roads. Maybe experiment with a little "Alternative" 10k, using it as a gateway to "Punk" 10k, then "Grunge" 10k, until I go off the deep end, racing every single night for a half-hour on end in a "Jam-Band" 10k, only to end up broken, sleeping under a bridge, with red, cracked eyes and debilitating paranoia. But I might have a sub-30 road 10k time, which is all that really matters. Well, that, and STOPPING THE GOVERNMENT FROM WIRE-TAPPING MY TOASTER.
After acclimating to suffering with that trip on the suffer-bus, I was super excited to race Mount Falcon today. The amazing race director gave a last-minute entry, which was especiallly awesome because Active.com still refuses to accept bodily fluid payments.
Stretch, sweat, strip, and start!
|Don't ewe be hatin.|
The course goes up the mountain (~3.5 miles with 2,000 feet of climbing), does an up-and-down loop, then bombs back down the rocky trail. I figured the stick part of the lollipop was the best place to make up time on some of the great runners at the race (Dan Goding, winner of Quad Rock 25 and 2:32 marathoner, and Ted Howard, UMich runner making a name for himself in CO), so I attempted to lope ahead on the steep sections. Like a deer plagued by buckshot and osteoporosis, the loping was not particularly graceful. However, it got me across the road before any pick-up trucks seduced me with their hypnotic shiny lights, and I hit the top with a good gap.
|Other hypnosis-inducing things that can almost make me get hit by cars.|
There was good gift certificate money at Mt. Falcon, which is especially good because (as a public interest environmental lawyer), I am perpetually needy.
Seriously though, I spent 2 weeks on a diet of peanut butter ($2.99 per jar), avocadoes (3 for $1), and sweet potatoes ($0.69) per pound. My bowel movements could be used as life preservers.
With my ballast in equilibrium after throwing all of the life preservers overboard in the bushes before the race, I began to feel really good on the rolling section. I kept hearing the phantom footsteps of Ted and Dan, which motivated some good downhill running on the gnarliest sections. Or narliest, depending on your feelings on themes and crap.
The rest of the race involved plunging down the mountain, hoping that sitting at a desk all day for a few months has given me cankles, thus throwing the injury-seeking rocks/roots off the scent. Or sent. Whatever. English is weird.
Crossed the line in 1:05:09, a few minutes up on Ted and just over 6 up on Dan. The Colorado summer has been amazing, but I am super excited to head back to NC next week. One, Megan and a bunch of awesome friends are in Durham. Two, without altitude screwing with cooking times, gourmet roasted hamster is much easier to microwave. Well, it's less of a roast than a chunky ragout, but there are far too many silent letters in that last word.
Thanks so much for reading, and for everything else. You guys are amazing :)