Race Report: Seattle's Inaugural Rock 'n Roll Marathon

I wasn't sure what to expect for this race. I mean, it seemed like the folks who put on these Rock 'n Roll marathons nationwide would be a lot more organized and well-prepared than the previous Seafair marathons. But I couldn't imagine how tough it'd be to close down several major thoroughfares--not only downtown, but the Viaduct that runs north and south, along the waterfront--on a Saturday, no less. Not to mention, this marathon had sold out in April and there were roughly 25,000 registrants.

So, I guess, in reality, my expectations were pretty low. But I was pleasantly surprised by how well, on the whole, the race was organized. I saw that even at the Health and Fitness Expo the day prior, as I was working our Pace Team booth. On race day, it was clear that the organizers delivered a unique, entertaining race that seemed to run like a well-oiled machine.

Since the race started in an office park in Tukwila, a mini "village" was set up where the racers congregated in the early morning hours. No one was allowed to park in the immediate area, and complementary shuttle buses (school buses, actually!) took people 15 miles from the finish area to the start. I got on one of those buses at 5:00 a.m. when the crowds were just starting to thicken. By 6:00 a.m., the marathon village was packed with people--nibbling on free fruit or bagels, sipping water or Cytomax, or waiting in line for that one last chance to use a Porta Potty.


I thought the bag drop idea was the best yet: the organizers hired 20 UPS trucks and organized them alphabetically for folks to drop their gear. I've never been one to schlep a lot of stuff to a race, but this time I actually packed another shirt and my UGG boots, along with a bottle of Gatorade, and a Balance Bar.

Since it was so early, it was still pretty cold outside. My team uniform was a tank top and shorts. I wore a pullover to the village but since the pacers had to meet at the starting line at 6:15, I had to check it with the rest of my gear early...so I was pretty chilled.

By 6:40, everyone had to be inside their assigned corrals--another new concept for me. Upon registration, each participant was required to jot down a projected finish time, which is then used to group people together according to that time. There were 35 or so corrals, starting with the elite and ending with those finishing over five hours. Since I was a pacer for the two hour, twenty-two minute (2:22) half marathon finishers, my corral was #21. Since I came into the corral with my 2:22 sign, many folks around me introduced themselves and asked me how I'd take us to the finish on time without burning everyone out. I told them I'd start off conservatively since I had run the course before, and knew what to expect elevation-wise. So for me, running negative splits was the way to go. Many people asked me if I had to carry the wooden sign throughout the race to which I replied "yes". Honestly, it wasn't that big of a deal. I'd carried far worse. The Seattle Marathon, for instance, had signs made out of PVC tubing which was a lot thicker around than the little wooden sign I held yesterday. Besides, I had trained holding a water bottle so I was used to holding something for long periods of time.

A lot of my corral mates were newbies, and it was a lot of fun to see their enthusiasm and excitement. It also reinforced the fact that I had to start out slow to conserve energy and that, no matter what, these folks needed to finish by 2:22.

The elite athletes began at gun time and then each corral was released two minutes apart. This meant my corral started 34 minutes AFTER gun time. I was pretty cold, even though the sun was up and the skies were cloudless. I think a lot of my teeth chattering, too, was pre-race jitters (which, no matter how many of these I've done, I still get) and the awesome responsibility of finishing ON TIME. Since we were all being clocked by chip time, our own "clock" didn't begin until after we crossed the starting mat--and that's where I started my Garmin.

The cool thing about the Rock 'n Roll Marathon was that there were local bands playing along the route. There were bands at every mile for the first few miles and then it thinned out as we made our approach to the Express Lanes of I90. But for the most part, the bands and the neighbors along the way provided a party-like atmosphere.

I started out 30 seconds per mile slower than my targeted pace time (a 2:22 finish means 10:50 minutes per mile). I knew I'd be able to close the gap once we finished climbing the hills around the Mt. Baker neighborhood and headed down to Seward Park and Lake Washington. At each passing mile, I'd close the gap by one second. This worked out perfectly because there were a few hills that proved pretty challenging for everyone and I didn't want too many people getting burned out so early on--a common mistake everyone makes, myself included. Besides, this was a super comfortable pace and it felt good and it gave me enough energy to look at our surroundings.

There were a lot of people who stayed with me throughout the race and when I saw someone speeding up, I'd yell: "Pacer back! 2:22 Finishers, be conservative. There are more hills ahead. Just because you feel good now doesn't mean it's gonna last!" A lot of people laughed--many slowed down and thanked me for giving them the advice. These were the people who, once they got all the hills out of the way, made their goal time (some even finished slightly earlier!)

Once we made it down to Seward Park, I let everyone know that we'd have about 4 miles of flat terrain. I cautioned that we can speed up, but only slightly since we had hills climbing up to the I90 Express Lanes ahead. This was where I closed my gap by 20 seconds--keeping my average pace around 11:01. It was there, along Lake Washington, that we spotted a majestic Eagle perched atop a tree branch next to the water. He was only about 50 feet up from us, so we could see how big he was. He looked as if he was enjoying the view of the race from up there. Just beyond the perched Eagle, several others soared around us. It was truly a beautiful sight.

We couldn't have asked for more perfect weather, either. The sky remained cloudless and the temperatures climbed slowly so I never once felt too hot or too cold. It was great, too, because I only slowed for water a few times.

Once we began our ascent to the I90 Express Lanes, at around mile 9, I stopped dropping to my hill climb pace. It's not to say I took off like a bandit up the hills, but I kept a close eye out to maintain my speed. If I dropped down too far, I'd have to make up for it between miles 9-13 and I didn't want to take that risk for fear that fatigue would set in. The group kept up with me--indicating how beneficial it was to start off slow. These hill climbs were short but pretty steep, and the last one wound around to the entrance of the freeway's tunnel.

As we made our way to the tunnel, people cheered loudly--their echoes bouncing off the walls. Everyone knew this was the last leg of the race and that understanding gave everyone extra energy to keep going strong. I felt great too until I glanced at my watch and realized that since I was in the tunnel, I'd lost my GPS reception. I panicked. How far was the tunnel? How long would it be without knowing my pace? Would this completely screw up my average pace? Would my watch adjust itself once I got outside of the tunnel? I think I sped up a little too much in panic. All I wanted to do was get out of the tunnel.

Four minutes later, we emerged. My watch began working again and much to my great joy, it adjusted itself--adding the four minutes and half mile I'd lost while inside. I was pretty stoked.

It was fun to see the runners around me open up their energy reserves and head downtown, even with the last steep hill climb before making out descent toward Qwest Field. I started getting pretty tired. I think I burned too much energy with my panic attack inside of the tunnel! By Mile 11, I just wanted it to end. I was still a little scared I'd bring us in either too early or too late.

The last part of the course was frustrating. Even though we rounded 4th Avenue south, which, if we had made a left turn onto Jackson, we would have run right into Qwest Field, we forged ahead. At the 12 Mile marker, we made a left and then...rather than making another left and doubling back toward Qwest Field, we were led to the Viaduct on ramp. I let out an "ARGH!" I loathe running on the Viaduct--and even though I only had 1.1 miles to go, I knew it'd be a long 1.1 mile. We wound around the viaduct and exited at 1st Avenue. Running PAST Qwest Field again and FINALLY making a left onto Royal Brougham. We made another left again, passing the WaMu Theater and the Expo center when we hit the 13 Mile marker saw the finish line ahead. I opened it up once I saw my watch was at 2:21. I was going to nail 2:22 if it killed me.

I crossed the mat and shut off my watch at 2:22 (official time was 2:22:04!) A woman came up to me and thanked me for keeping her motivated. She said her goal was 2:25 so she was delighted with the extra three minutes.

After I cooled down, I grabbed my stuff from the UPS truck and changed out of my sweaty, drenched top. I felt so much better. I sipped some Cytomax and ate an orange and some Fritos. I ran into a friend of mine--a fellow pacer who did half of the whole marathon and missed her handoff somehow (someone waiting for her to come and step in as a pacer for the second half). She was pretty bummed. This happened to me last year, too, so I knew the feeling.

All things considered, I had a great time. It's always nice to hear positive feedback from people and I'm glad my conservative strategy worked! It was nice to be in a comfortable pace, so I'm not too sore today. I look forward to pacing again in November for the Seattle Marathon!

Keeping the Pace

Tomorrow is the Inaugural Seattle Rock 'n Roll Marathon -- a race in which 25,000 participants will fill the streets of Tukwila and Seattle, running either 13.1 or 26.2 miles.

I'll be a pacer for the half marathon, which essentially means that I'll be carrying a sign and running at a steady pace and finishing at a set time. For those who have a goal to finish at that same time, they'll see me and follow me to the finish.

There are two dozen pacers for the race--one for each projected finish time for the half and the full marathon. We're there to keep people motivated and to stay on pace so that they can achieve their goal.

It's great fun to pace--I've been doing it for a year now, and I get a lot of satisfaction out of helping people achieve their goals. It's also lots of fun because it takes the pressure off of me to compete. I'm not a hugely competitive person, but I love being around people and the thrill of the crowd during races.

Don't get me wrong--I still love running in races and still do that a few times a year. The last half marathon I did was the Mercer Island Half and this year, I was chosen in the lottery to run the Nike Women's Marathon in October. I'll be running the half there, too. The big payoff for that race is the sterling silver necklace from Tiffany that each finisher receives! But after running 10 or so half marathons, I've found that pacing keeps me motivated as a runner. It helps me to remember what it was like starting out and it recaptures the joy and thrill. Many of the people who'll be running with me will likely be newbies to running, and most of those--about 70 percent--will be women.

It's also quite a challenge to stay on pace at all times, since my inclination is to always start out too fast! The key as a pacer is to expend equal amounts of energy throughout the race.

I'll be manning our "pacer booth" later today at the Health and Fitness Expo at Qwest Field. Later on, I'll be on hand at our pacer clinic, to answer questions and meet up with people who might run with me tomorrow. And then, tomorrow morning, I'll be getting out of bed at 4:00 a.m. to make it to the 5:00 a.m. shuttle that'll bring me to the Starter Village in Tukwila for our 7:00 a.m. gun time.

For those of you running tomorrow, good luck and have a great time! For those of you NOT running tomorrow, do yourselves a favor and don't try and drive anywhere. This tiny race is sure to snarl traffic everywhere.

Random ramblings: making sense of the viral spread of Neda's video

When NPR posted a link to the infamous "Neda" video on You Tube, my stomach twisted. I saw the still of Neda's fixed gaze and a halo of blood pooling around her, and I couldn't believe they would actually provide a post of the video. Initially, I was outraged by the audacity of such a wonderful, CREDIBLE news organization to stoop so low as to link to one of the most horrifying videos imaginable. Yet, as I read the piece, and found no direct link to one of the thousands of videos in cyberspace, I was relieved. In my opinion, death--even violent death--is so personal that I almost feel like I'm violating a code of ethics by watching it. It's as if this world has gotten so out of touch with preserving the last shred of human dignity in favor of our voyeuristic tendencies.

Yet, I understand why the person taking the footage did so. The people on the streets of Tehran are fighting for their rights and because this was such a violent murder, and journalists can barely capture the essence of what is really happening, the person using his video feature on his cell phone felt compelled to show the rest of the world the reality in his country--the reality of what he and all of the citizens in Iran endure. But once that video becomes popular domain in cyberspace, the original intention becomes clouded, the footage has gone from public outcry to public morbidity. I guarantee CNN didn't run the footage to educate the world. They ran it, and continue to run it, because it's a ratings boost.

Don't get me wrong: Neda's story needed to be told--there's no question in my mind about that. But I think showing a still image of her last moments would have been powerful enough for the media outlets to use, rather than using the video footage as B-roll on a daily basis. Think about past photographic images that captured horrifying events. Today, those images of the Kent State shooting, the liberation of the concentration camps, and the execution of a Vietcong prisoner still provide intense, valuable lessons.

I don't fault the witnesses who captured the moment, either. I fault the people here, half a world away, looking on as if the video was something out of Candid Camera. Americans love car crashes, and our "reality shows" give the rest of the world some sort of indication as to how banal and insignificant life can be. Just look at the things we watch here: flipping over tables on Desperate Housewives of New Jersey; divorce on Jon & Kate Plus 8. I feel like we're too reckless and irresponsible to watch what is really going on in the rest of the world.

Unfortunately, I don't see any solution to this problem. I don't believe in censorship, but I just wish there were some sort of way people could contribute or turn morbid curiosities into something more useful. Can anything good come from watching Neda's dying moments? Can we reach out to help in exchange for watching the video? That, I guess, would imply capitalizing on her death.

I'm not a praying person, but the people in Iran are in my thoughts. I'm saddened by Neda's tragic, untimely death and I hope that my wish for something good coming out of this situation is not in vain.

Search Me

I always find it fascinating to see how readers come to find my blog. And thanks to my handy, dandy site meter, not only can I see not where people come from, but what they searched for before clicking on to my site.

There are days when a number of people search for Sporticus and come here. Then, there are those who search for LOL Cats and come here. And lately, many have searched for a picture of Violet Beauregard and so they've landed here, which is kinda funny because there's an extra step to actually see her picture. I can't determine whether or not the searchers stay and read or just bail after finding whatever it was they were looking for, but I'm amazed by the amount of people searching for the same, random thing. I'd be less impressed if I had blogged about, say, lyrics, which, according to Google Insights, seems to be one of the most popular searches within the last 30 days.

And while I'm on the subject of popular searches, here's a little bit of trivia, in case you're interested in seeing who's looking for what:

In the "books" category, Dan Brown's name has been a popular search term, particularly in Ohio, followed by Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Massachusetts, and New York. Dan Brown? Ugh!

The most popular search term in the "Beauty and Personal Care" category is hair. Even more interesting are the rising subcategories: hairstyles for prom; prom hairstyles 2009; and Taya Parker (oh, my, I just Googled her, since I'd never heard of her before. Shows you how behind I am!)

Interestingly enough, the number one search term within the "Computer and Electronics" category ISN'T i-Phone or i-whatever...it's Windows. However, among the rising searches within this category are about the "cornficker virus".

So there you go, fellow netizens. If you've come here searching for Dan Brown, Prom Hairsyles for 2009, Windows and the Cornficker Virus, or Taya Parker, you've come to the wrong place.

Thanks for surfin' by!

The Ears Are Always the First to Go

Though Easter was a few weeks ago, our dining room table is still cluttered with Easter baskets, boxes of stale Peeps, and plastic eggs.

We're not big on religion. In fact, we celebrate more for the candy than anything else. It also gives us an excuse to dress up in our best pastels.

I never really questioned the correlation between Easter and rabbits. I just took for granted they always lived hand in hand, until I came across some information about the ritual's origins. Turns out, we have the Germans to thank for importing the Easter Bunny into American folklore. He first appeared on the scene during the 16th century, when it was written than if little boys and girls made nests out of their caps and bonnets, the Easter Bunny would fill them with colored eggs.

The word, Easter, comes from the term Ostara, which is the name of the Spring equinox, and it's been documented, too, by the Venerable Bede that Easter comes from Eostre--the Germanic goddess of Spring.

This little lesson reminds me of one of the funniest essays I'd ever read by David Sedaris in his book Me Talk Pretty One Day. The essay is written about taking a French language class in Paris with students from various parts of the world. When it's time to explain Easter, each student, save for the Moroccan, who'd never heard of the holiday, jumps in to provide details. What makes this essay so pee-in-your-pants funny is the way in which Sedaris translates their awful attempt at French into English:

The Italian nanny was attempting to answer the teacher's latest question when the Moroccan student interrupted, shouting, "Excuse me, but what's an Easter?"

It would seem that despite having grown up in a Muslim country, she would have heard it mentioned once or twice, but no. "I mean it," she said. "I have no idea what you people are talking about."

The teacher called on the rest of us to explain.

The Poles led the charge to the best of their ability. "It is," said one, "a party for the little boy of God who call his self Jesus...oh shit." She faltered and her fellow country-man came to her aid.

"He call his self Jesus and then he be die one day on two...morsels of...lumber."

The rest of the class jumped in, offering bits of information that would have given the pope an aneurysm.

"He die one day and then he go above of my head to live with your father."

"He weared of himself the long hair and after he die, the first day he come back here for to say hello to the peoples."

"He nice, the Jesus."

"He make the good things, and on the Easter we be sad because somebody makes him dead today."

Part of the problem had to do with vocabulary. Simple nouns such as cross and resurrection were beyond our grasp, let alone such a complicated refexive phrases as "to give of yourself your only begotten son." Faced with the challenge of explaining the cornerstone of Christianity, we did what any self-respecting group of people might do. We talked about food instead.

"Easter is a party for to eat of the lamb," the Italian nanny explained. "One too may eat of the chocolate."


The essay goes on further about explaining who brings said chocolate. But when a dispute between the American version of a rabbit delivering the candy versus the French version of a bell flying in from Rome, it raises the question of why would the French have a bell? And further, why would it fly in from Rome when it would be so much easier to use a bell from Paris?

Curiosity got the better of me and so I looked up the origin of the Bell Theory. Turns out, the bell has a little more Christianity tied to it than our American counterpart. According to legend, all bells cease to ring on the Thursday before Good Friday, to mark the death of Christ. On Easter Sunday, the bells ring again to mark his resurrection. Apparently one of the bells goes to visit the Pope in Rome, who gives him (him?) a bunch of colored eggs to take back with him. So the bell returns to France and scatters the eggs everywhere for people to find.

Personally, I'm siding with Sedaris who argues that the Easter Bunny is, at least, a character, where a bell "has all the personality of a cast-iron skillet."

Without the Easter Bunny, there'd be no chocolate rabbits; and without chocolate rabbits, there'd be no rabbit ears; and everyone knows, that's the best part.

Breaking up is hard to do

I've been going to the same hairdresser now for 12 years and while I only see her (I shall call her "Dee") every eight weeks for 2.5 hours at a time, I consider Dee to be one of my dearest friends. Those 2.5 hours are spent kvetching about dogs, kids, people, men...you name it.

We've been through a lot of changes together, too. From marriages to divorces to trying to get pregnant to adopting children, I'd say our relationship has run the gamut of every life event imaginable, except for maybe death. Unless you count the death of pets--then, yeah, it's pretty much everything.

Aside from our friendship, Dee does a wonderful job with my hair. I've gone through the short and sassy phase to the long and straight--and everything in between, and no matter how many different ways she does my hair, I've never had a problem with how it looked and have always gotten out of her chair feeling like a million bucks.

Since I live in Seattle, my natural blond has become a thing of the past--but only Dee knows my true color. Ten years ago, I attempted to bleach it on my own, royally screwing up my hair. Dee was there to give me shit and then she fixed it. She still gives me shit to this day--and I don't mind because she's masterful with color and I am not. With Renoir-esque strokes, she brightens my clouded-over locks, and blends the ever-present, encroaching gray hair I've seemed to sprout.

Dee has had her share of personal ups and downs, particularly in the relationship department. But a little less than a year ago, all of that changed and she found her true life partner. The good news is that he makes her happy. The bad news is that he lives in Utah, and so Dee has announced that she will soon be leaving Seattle, and me.

I try not to take it personally, but this is clearly one of the worst break-ups I've ever experienced. I know there are many hairdressers here in Seattle, but I'll never find another Dee.

Sniff, sniff...excuse me while I go cry in my Bumble and Bumble.

It Ain't Easy Being Green

On March 30, the City of Seattle added a mandatory food waste program to their weekly trash collection service. This means that all food scraps cannot be placed into a garbage can. Instead, food items must be thrown into a yard waste can, where it commingles with grass clippings and leaves. Before, our trash collectors picked up yard waste every other week, but with the new program, yard/food waste is collected weekly.

I think Seattle has always had one of the best recycling programs in the nation, and as far as I know, it's one of the most aggressive. Coupled with the new food waste program, our recycling no longer needs to be separated out between glass and paper and plastic. So long as everything is rinsed out, all recyclables can be placed into the same bin.

The launch of the new food waste program, however, has been a little difficult to adopt in our household. It's not that we're complaining about placing our food scraps into a compost bin, it's just one of those things that requires a little more thought beyond remembering not to throw egg shells and tea bags in our kitchen trashcan.

Last weekend, Pa bought a small compost bin that fits on top of our kitchen counter. To keep down the smell, the stainless steel bin has a charcoal filter on the lid, and there are small holes to help dry out the food scraps and keep them from generating a lot of icky-smelling bacteria. The only thing I have to remember is empty out the refrigerator once a week of those leftovers that never made it to repeat meals. I figure since they stay in airtight containers, it's better to dump them straight in the yard waste bin the night before our trash pick up.

So far, we've been really good at tossing our scraps into the compost bin; and surprisingly, the bin only needs to be taken outside and dumped into our yard waste can about once or twice a week. But yesterday, as I brought Lady La home from her first day of Pre-preschool, I noticed this underlying smell in our kitchen. It smelled like something was not full-blown rotting, just sorta, kinda rotting. I checked the handy-dandy compost bin, but as far as I could tell, it didn't seem to be the source. Then I checked around the pantry to see if I had any mushy onions or bananas--but again, nothing.

Then I stepped outside onto the back porch and noticed that the smell was coming from the yard waste can 10-15 feet away. Now, keep in mind, it's only springtime. With exception of a few 70 degree days, the average temperature here is still under 60. If the yard waste can is generating that much of a smell now, I can only imagine what our block will smell like come August! I'm thinking something close to Elizabeth, New Jersey on the smell register.
Thankfully, I bought some violets and impatiens from the store that I wanted to plant into a pot on the porch that was filled with lots of dead stuff, so I was able to dump a lot of that out into the yard waste can which seemed to absorb some of the odor.

So, you see, our new citywide trash collection service is now forcing me to grow a green thumb, and do more gardening, weeding, and mowing so the green stuff can hang with the food stuff and neutralize the smell. Personally, I think the new program is really an evil plot to keep our postage-stamp sized properties looking neat and trim, and free from dandelions.

I wonder when we'll have to separate out the dog poop and disposable diapers?