The Bolder Boulder

Ahh. The Bolder Boulder 10k race. Little did I know how big of a deal this race is in Boulder, and in the country. I mean, the race has it's own office, so I guess that should be a hint. It's also a $52 entry and is individually chip timed, so there you go.

image by oregon live

I got up at 5 a.m. to eat my half a banana and bagel, gather my racing pack, walk the pups, slather on sunscreen, lace up my Nike Frees, and drive up to Boulder. I parked halfway between the start and finish, so I got to do a brief warm-up on my way to the start line (and it was chilly!). I got up the start area by about 6:30, so I had almost an hour until my start time in the EF wave at 7:24. I must say, this race was highly organized. I supposed it would have to be with 53,700 people running, but everything was clear and exactly where they said it would be (via maps online). Clearly they've done this before (31 times before, in fact).

I had planned to run with my pack and possessions, but then I thought about how nice it would be to be those two pounds lighter, so I opted to let the mobile lockers take my stuff to the finish line. The dilemma was my stupid inhaler. I needed it about 20 minutes before the start, but I didn't want to be waiting in line at the lockers at that point instead of being with my designated starting wave. I saw one other person with an inhaler wandering around. She planned on carrying it, so I decided to do the same. (I also worried that I might push myself too hard and end up needing the darn thing on the course.) Racing logistics...I still need to figure all this out.

The waves actually started on time (more or less). I'm quite grateful for the waves because of the number of people and because at least I got to start with like-speed people with less temptation to take-off. We started out heading down 30th on a slight descent, so that was a great pace-builder. I had to keep reminding myself to take it easy (you don't win by running the fastest mile first). By win I mean doing a PB, or personal best. I have zero delusions of actually placing first. I can't run a five minute mile, so that's that. I am, however, good at maintaining a pace and enduring (and getting better). It's funny how running is such a solitary sport, yet we race in giant packs, often with friends, but it really comes down doing a little better than you did last time. There are only a handful of people in each race that are competing.

It's difficult for me to accept the fact that I am not and cannot be the best. To say that I am competitive would be a ridiculous understatement. This was only my second race (unless you go back to elementary school fun runs), and my first at this distance. Also my first race alone (I had T.S. running with me the first time). I don't particularly enjoy running in big groups, but it's a challenge for me. I have to remember that this is still for ME amidst the packs sprinting by. It was easier in this race...I think due to the sheer numbers of people. There was no "front" of the pack to me, so I didn't have that space jeering at me.

Still, I found myself trucking along and had to force myself to back off a bit. From 30th we turned onto Pearl St. and headed across 28th and then up Folsom. That's where we encountered the first (and longest) hill of the race. The incline wasn't bad, but the hill continued up Folsom and then up Hawthorn as we entered the third mile. Then it flattened out a bit allowing me to re-calibrate a bit. We continued winding around the edge of North Boulder until we headed down 19th St. Yet another hill faced us as we moved along into our fourth mile. At this point I was struggling to maintain a good pace. I wasn't tired, but I was trying to hold back a bit for the last mile or so.

After some more flat spots, we hit a slight downhill at 13th St., which really helped me hit my stride. I noticed that I was on the right track to meet my goal of 62 minutes for the race, so in my head, I set a mid-race goal of finishing at 60 minutes. Entering the fifth mile, I felt pretty decent, but I kept thinking about the hill at the end of the race, so I tried to slow it up again. My legs kept wanting to stride out (in retrospect, I probably should have just trucked on). We crossed downtown Pearl St. and wove our way back to Folsom, this time headed toward the CU stadium. With a mile to go, I was starting to feel my lungs getting tight and my mind went back and forth between "Oh god, I'm going to die" and "It's less than a mile."

The final half mile was all uphill, I think the second steepest of the course (kind of cruel, eh?). I knew I was close, but I struggled up that last hill into the stadium. The path built in the stadium was metal platforms with ridges where the pieces met. I, of course, immediately thought about how horrible it would be to fall NOW, with the finish line in sight. I didn't dwell on that long though, and I am proud to say I kicked it into high gear and sprinted around the stadium over the finish. While that last hill got to me, I was still able to dig down and finish strong...something I always try to do.

I finished in 60 minutes and 20 seconds, so I met my original race goal, but didn't quite get to my mid-race goal. With the chip timing, I get to see my individual mile times, which is a great way to see my weak spots. My first mile was my fastest (oops), but not by much. In fact, my fifth mile was only a second slower than the first. My third mile was by far my slowest, so I can see that I tried to pace myself too much at that point.

Throughout the race I was able to stay fairly relaxed, which has been something I've been working on. I was also able to put to use some of my tips from running books I've been reading (such as keeping your hips under you, passing runners one at a time, and breathing evenly).

Overall, I'm happy with the way I raced. I think I prepared well and raced the best I could for me today. I still wish I could have hauled butt up that last hill to make my mid-race goal time, but that will just be my goal for my next 10k in Estes Park. I ended up placing in the top quarter of my wave, the top fifth of women, and the top quarter overall. I can't complain.

After getting home and eating some much needed fuel, the only pain I have is in my ankles, probably because I'm not used to running on pavement as much as I am trails and rocks. I recovered quickly (less the few moments of wanting to collapse at the end) too.

I will definitely do the Bolder Boulder again next year. It was really cool to run through the city and have many of its people on their lawns watching, entertaining, handing out water and popsicles. The guy I remember most was in his bathrobe, on his "stationary bike" (bike on a wooden platform thing), pedaling with a beer in his hand. Boulder.

I'll be posting links and pictures as they become available!

Visit Bolder Boulder 2010 for news on the race.

Visit the Finish Line 8:20-8:25 for the live finish. You can kind see me toward the end, but the picture quality is poor. I'm in a pink shirt, black shorts, and sunglasses. It will be like Where's Waldo.

Sleep must really hate me

Because I haven't seen any decent side of her in about a week now. I'm not sure why I'm not sleeping well, but instead of going to sleep within minutes and staying that way (or possibly waking up briefly), I just fidget and twitch and think and sigh and think about sleep and wish for sleep and roll around.

image by farm 3

Maybe it's the season. It's been hotter lately (close to 90 today, ugh!), so perhaps my body is not adjusting to the temperature change. I've been thinking quite a bit (planning, I suppose) about what I want in life (ie...career wise), and how I'm going to keep going after it (or take more drastic steps). Honestly though, I'm always thinking like that, so I don't know why this past week would keep me up like this.

When I do get to sleep, it's fitful and uncomfortable and not at all satisfying. I wake up in jolts and my heart is racing. Maybe I should cut back the caffeine, but I only drink a cup (or less) per day in the morning, so again, I don't think this is the issue.

I've never been an easy sleeper. I wake up frequently, but I don't tend to move when I sleep well, which means I wake up rather stiff and feeling like a frozen Gumby. I wake up if I'm thirsty, hungry, hot, cold, or dreaming (so it seems). I wake up when lights are turned on or off and when constant noises stop or start.

Even worse is that I generally need to be exhausted by the time I go to sleep (especially if I want to go to bed early) in order to fall asleep. It's very difficult to exhaust myself daily in order to get good sleep. I don't particularly enjoy being exhausted. My increased running mileage over the past few weeks has helped me sleep a better, more solid eight hours each night...until now.

Maybe I'm too tired. Is that possible? I don't feel like I should be too tired. I'm not doing that much. Regardless, sleep is now this fanciful thing that I chase and can't quite catch and hold. I still have other thoughts, but they all revolve back around to sleep. I think I'll make a nest on the floor tonight and see if a change in environment helps. Wish me luck!

The Planning Monster

It's no secret that I like to plan. I can be flexible, and I can "go with the flow," but I'm a planner through and through.

It seems I have planned myself into a corner...covering each day with activities and things I must do to reach the next goal (plan). I guess I forgot that I need some semblance of a "life" too, but isn't all of this business life?

I'm getting better at enjoying the moment. Every day I do at least one thing that I'm not in a hurry to finish or where I'm not thinking ahead, but just living in the moment and enjoying it. I'm becoming less impatient in lines, more relaxed amongst crowds, etc. So all of that is good.

I still can't help but plan. Some plans are merely dreams, some are hopes, and some interminable thoughts that I can only watch unfold. I wonder how adaptable I will be to big changes ahead that I am unable to plan for completely. I don't know where I'm going to be in a year, and it's a bit scary to know that I could be leaving a place that makes me happy. However, I'm more than willing to go. Because I'll have something else that will make me even happier. A place can't replace a person, no matter which way you spin it.

I wonder why it's often easier to describe what you don't want as opposed to what you do want? It's not negative...I actually think that opens up more possibilities. If you rule out what you don't want, then what's left is a possibility of what you do want. If you know exactly what you want, then you have a single goal and everything else is the negative. Personally, I like the former ratio better.

I know what I don't want, so I'm open to seeing what will fill my want. I'm interested in so many things, so who knows how many of them I can cram into my space of fulfillment.

That must be why it's scarier to know exactly what you want, because then everything else threatens to take it away. If you want one thing, and it's gone, then what? There's one thing I want that is quite possible, probable even, but it's terrifying to think it could be lost.

I try not to think that way. Instead, I plan for a dream, hoping it will become a reality, but knowing that the plan to get to that reality may not happen. I'm content with that thought. I just need the reality, but I'm not picky as to how I get there.

The Dipsea Race

While flying home from St. John, I ran across an article in the latest Runner's World magazine about a race in Mill Valley, CA called the Dipsea Race. The pictures are what first snagged my attention, but when I started reading about the race, I fell in love and just knew I had to partake.

The race is the oldest cross-country running race in the country and has been taking place for over 100 years. Every year in June, 1500 runners are allowed to compete for the numbered t-shirts that are given to the top 35 runners, and each runner has an equal chance due to handicaps for race times and age groups. Winners include a nine year old girl and a 70 year old man.

The 7.4 mile race begins on a flat, quarter mile stretch before you have to ascend 676 stairs (ouch). Then you have to travel over areas called "Suicide" and "Cardiac Hill" with much of the trail covered in protruding roots. Some of the trail narrows so that its space only allows for one runner at a time to go through. There are some options involved as well, and shortcuts are allowed (but you have to find your way back to the trail!).

The race ends in a long stretch through windy, hilly moors to end up at the Pacific Ocean. Sound like fun? Well, it does to me!

The Trail Map.

Part of the Dipsea Race stairs:

image by Rick Rodriguez

The Ladder:

image by Jane Heber

Side of the hill coming out of the woods:

image from the "Sacramento Bee"

The last part of the trail before hitting the ocean:

image from muddybike.com

So here's the catch. The race only allows for 1500 runners each year, and they get up to 3000 applicants. The top 450 runners earn a spot in the next year's race, and then 500 are chosen from the first applications in (and you cannot hand-deliver your application). This method favors local residents (as in, they start accepting the next year's application on March 16th, and not before, and tend to receive way more than the 500 needed on that day). Then 100 entries are chosen with a silent auction, and 100 are chosen based on "bribes" (money donations over the $60 entry fee). Another 300 runners are picked through the Dipsea lottery, which is simply a random drawing. Two spots are available the night before the race at the Annual Dipsea Race Foundation Banquet where you can bid on the race numbers, starting at $500 each.

The other way you can get into the race is by sending in an essay or story that will get you noticed by the selection committee. I think that is my best bet to get in. I'm going to send my application overnight so that it gets there on the opening date, but I want to accompany it with a story based on the area where the race is held. I also want to include a significant monetary donation as well. I've got about ten months to do this, so here's hoping!

In the meantime, I can work on stairs and serious hills. The mileage is fine, but somehow I don't think "Suicide" routes will be easy. I'm also going to research shortcuts...

Wish me luck, and visit The Dipsea Race for more info.

Read this runner's account of his first Dipsea.