<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251799024759705199</id><updated>2012-02-16T17:20:36.117-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Balls on the Table</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5251799024759705199/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>screaminzab</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08519702001471982826</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/SQsfDnmh_MI/AAAAAAAAARA/M61bxGBbiHk/S220/IMG_0223.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>8</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251799024759705199.post-3798721582421920956</id><published>2010-10-12T12:15:00.048-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-13T23:19:23.505-05:00</updated><title type='text'>2010 Chicago Marathon: Willing to Beg, Steal or Borrow</title><content type='html'>I have had about 48 hours to think about putting this race report together and I thought of a few different titles, but opted for the one you see above. The runners up were:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Chasing the Ghost&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I Closed My Eyes and She Slipped Away (yes, from Boston's "More than a Feeling")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Those two are much too negative. I went with the one at the top because of that Ray LaMontagne song that I haven't been able to get out of my head for the last 6-8 weeks. And it sums up how bad I wanted to go sub3. Beg? Sure. Steal? Why not? Borrow? You bet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I make two promises before every race.  The first is to my wife Tiffany that I will stop if something is seriously wrong with me. The other is to myself, that I will do everything possible to hit my goal, short of irreparable bodily harm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Build-Up&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not going to spend too much time on the lead up to the race. I had an 11 week cycle that was supposed to be 12 weeks long, but I got busy or sick or something in that first week. I honestly don't remember but I see I only ran 4 days that week.  The cycle was fine, it included the usual ups and downs. I based the training plan off of Pfitz 12/70, but switched around some days, tried to run zero doubles and backed down mileage in race weeks. I had a crappy 10K where I ran off course that snapped a 13 race PR streak and then PRed at the Batavia Half a couple weeks later.  I peaked at 71 miles (hitting that number twice), ran five 20 (or more) milers  and tapered for three weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was feeling pretty beat up throughout the taper and was having some right hamstring issues.  I was pretty concerned so I took some time off race week. I took Monday off, ran a 5 miler on Tuesday, took Wednesday and Thursday off and then ran 4+ miles on Friday with my good pal &lt;a href="http://gotlactate.blogspot.com/2010/10/it-aint-heat-its-humility-chicago-2010.html"&gt;Ron Abramson&lt;/a&gt;. We spent the morning together with Isla and Tiffany and then hit the expo. I ran 3.6 miles on Saturday with a 3 minute burst for my Aussie Carbo-load. I felt the hammy in every run and hoped whatever it was wouldn't become a factor on race day. I have no idea where it came from. Anyway, total miles for race week before Sunday was 12.8.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Race Day&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got up and did the usual morning routine. This year, I had the company of Michael Kapellas, one of my older brothers, who was running his first marathon. We did our thing, Tiffany took a few pictures, we left and hopped on the Brown Line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZgpfZ5O7I/AAAAAAAABW4/J96S7a4hhy8/s1600/IMG_4471.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZgpfZ5O7I/AAAAAAAABW4/J96S7a4hhy8/s400/IMG_4471.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527711858564873138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZgpKDTwoI/AAAAAAAABWw/9vjjWQeWNGw/s1600/IMG_4469.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZgpKDTwoI/AAAAAAAABWw/9vjjWQeWNGw/s400/IMG_4469.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527711852832998018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Top: Michael and me&lt;br /&gt;Bottom: Me rocking the short shorts&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After waiting about 10 minutes, we finally took off and eventually reached the area near the start. We walked a few blocks and finally got to the seeded  corral gear check tent. I checked a bag and we headed over to the entrance to the seeded corral. It was a disaster. We packed in with hundreds of other runners trying to just get in the corral.  We finally made it in just after 7. The race started at 7:30. We both had to use the port-o-john so we get in that line. Luckily we picked a good line and got out of that area by 7:15. I happened to bump into Melissa Fanaro here too. Crazy! We walked up the stretch to get in the corrals, said good bye and good luck at the entrance to his C corral and I took off for the A Corral. I started picking up the pace as I heard someone say they are closing the corrals soon. Oh shit. Now I am jogging to make it through the B checkpoint and into the A corral. I made it and looked down at my watch. Time: 7:20. Heart rate:148. Not a good sign. However, I am letting everything roll off my back. It's my day, damn it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look for any familiar face as I am heading up closer to the front and to the left. Just as I am about to resign myself to not seeing or running with anyone I know, I see Jay T., Chad S. (who are both much faster than me) and then the living legend himself, Chad Gruett - who is already shirtless. We then see Chris H. and Nick P.,  more pals of mine.  Chad says he's not going for sub3,  but at least talking to him before the gun goes off helps me feel a little better after the clusterf*ck of getting there.  Keep in mind this is my 7th consecutive Chicago Marathon and have been in the corrals for 5 or 6 of them. It was never ever even close to this bad.  Oh - I take off my cap before the race starts sensing that the extra heat trapped on my head would be detrimental to the cause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Miles 1-3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6:55, 6:53, 6:58&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty much on my own here for 1 and 2. I can see Nick just ahead of me and pull even with him in the 3rd mile. Or was it the 2nd? Everything seems to be okay - not good, not bad. I don't feel like I am trying too hard. The hammy is a dull pain. I am having a hard time finding the sweet spot, but really want to make sure I don't go out too fast. I also meet Josh this mile, a really nice guy from Colorado Springs who is also shooting for a sub3. We'd be running next to each other for a good portion of the rest of the race.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mile 4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6:56&lt;br /&gt;See the awesome "Zab for Mayor" support crew at 3.5.  It's such a great feeling seeing them. I really think it gives all the runners around me a boost, because I always hear some laughs and see some smiles. I toss my hat to Tiffany and know I'll be seeing them again in about 8 miles.  Also, Chad appears in this mile. He says,  "Am I running fast or are you running slow?" I said I was in the mid 6:50's from the get go. He says "Uh-oh." I am taking at least one gatorade or water at every station, trying to stay ahead of the game.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZgpkj6PZI/AAAAAAAABXA/_Jb-LIFtU70/s1600/IMG_4479.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZgpkj6PZI/AAAAAAAABXA/_Jb-LIFtU70/s400/IMG_4479.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527711859949059474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isla and Tiffany&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZgp3rJ7oI/AAAAAAAABXI/dGj-n6xaeDM/s1600/IMG_4497.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZgp3rJ7oI/AAAAAAAABXI/dGj-n6xaeDM/s400/IMG_4497.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527711865079721602" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Approaching mile 3.5 and the Mayoral support crew&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZl3fpnEVI/AAAAAAAABYI/KImV3vWGq-M/s1600/093.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZl3fpnEVI/AAAAAAAABYI/KImV3vWGq-M/s400/093.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527717596707098962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At Mile 3.5,  L to R: Josh(shirtless in the visor), Nick (yellow and white top), me, and Chad (shirtless with the gatorade bottle)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZgqIkgeMI/AAAAAAAABXQ/pg9i8Qbq4qg/s1600/IMG_4498.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZgqIkgeMI/AAAAAAAABXQ/pg9i8Qbq4qg/s400/IMG_4498.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527711869615241410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Acknowledging the big group of supporters&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Miles 5- 9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6:51, 6:52, 6:53, 6:52, 6:53&lt;br /&gt;There we go. Pretty much right on here. We are about 15-17 seconds off of 3:00 pace, but we're laughing and joking around quite a bit.  I take my first Gu at mile 8. Chad falls off somewhere in there and as far as I can tell it's Nick, Josh and me. I left the house with two pace bands - a 3:00 band and a band with straight 6:47's. I knew the 6:47's were out of the question by mile 4. I just wasn't feeling that good. But was I feeling good enough? I manage to rip off the 6:47 band in mile 8. No sense in having that thing weighing me down. I also start dumping water on my head in mile 6. Also Start getting a ton of "Zab" and "Zab for Mayor" yells. The shirt is a hit. As if there was any doubt, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZcrWQ871I/AAAAAAAABWo/2FhhiCshg5k/s1600/Flex1.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 312px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZcrWQ871I/AAAAAAAABWo/2FhhiCshg5k/s400/Flex1.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527707492424675154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This could be the funniest race photo of me ever. I have no idea why I flexed, nor do I know why it appears that I have muscles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Miles 10-13&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;6:47, 6:49, 6:46, 6:50&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I make a bit of an effort to pick up the pace here. I see my friend Jim at mile 11 and he offers some words of encouragement. I also see the Mayoral support team at 11.5. What a great looking crew! I have said it before and I'll say it again. Seeing my supporters is the highlight of my races.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZijOFUY7I/AAAAAAAABXY/BlUoi895VSY/s1600/IMG_4503.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZijOFUY7I/AAAAAAAABXY/BlUoi895VSY/s400/IMG_4503.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527713949859210162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZl3z_gW1I/AAAAAAAABYQ/p68qBM6yyOQ/s1600/095.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZl3z_gW1I/AAAAAAAABYQ/p68qBM6yyOQ/s400/095.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527717602167642962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZijiSnT_I/AAAAAAAABXg/kHNy8tE8Rjw/s1600/IMG_4504.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZijiSnT_I/AAAAAAAABXg/kHNy8tE8Rjw/s400/IMG_4504.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527713955283685362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a nice shot of the marathon going over the Chicago River just past the Merchandise Mart and mile 12.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to be really close to 1:30 at the half and needed to pick up a few seconds per mile. I lost Nick and as I make the turn west out of the Loop, I get the crowd to make some noise. Josh is right next to me. It's pretty normal to chat with people throughout the race who have the same goal as you.  I start making some more conversation with Josh at this point, as it looks like he's in it for the long haul.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Half:  &lt;/span&gt;1:30:01. Alright. We're in business. Still not feeling good, but not feeling terrible. I'm thinking I am looking good. My hammy pain goes away somewhere in the last stretch. I also accidentally look at my HR on the Garmin here. I had made it a point to not look at it but I slipped up. The damaging news: 182 - 91% of max. Too high for the halfway point and 11bpm higher than last year at the half. Surely, it's mostly heat related, as the difference in temperature was about 40 degrees. I rationalize that I can still be okay if it goes up 1 beat per mile over the next 10 miles, putting me at 192 at mile 23. Pretty good and logical thinking, eh? I don't look at my HR again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't realize it at the time, but Josh started about 15 seconds behind me and in the B Corral, so he hits the half under 1:30. And he's working off a 3:15 PR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tell people the Chicago Marathon really begins at the halfway point. The first half is a party and there are people everywhere.  The second half has some good stretches - namely Chinatown and Pilsen - but combine fatigue along with the lack crowds and the going gets tough. The killer this past Sunday would prove to be the sun and heat beating down on us in the second half.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Miles 14-16&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6:48, 6:55, 6:55&lt;br /&gt;Good enough, I suppose. Starting to feel it in mile 16. Take the second Gu at Mile 14. Original plan was to take it at 15, but I am re-thinking everything at this point because I am still not feeling great. Take down the Roctane and motor on. In mile 16, I can see and hear a guy playing "Scotland the Brave" on bagpipes all by himself on the south side of the street. And right next to him is the first time I notice a yellow flag.  I think a little part of me died. He may as well have been playing "Taps." Things really start getting tougher. Now I just tell myself, just hold the pace until 25 and I'll figure out how to bring it home. Yes, I was telling myself to hold the pace for 9 more miles. The best part about me telling myself this is that I really believed this was possible. Honestly, I really did. I am downing gatorade and water as much as I can and have continued pouring it over my head quite liberally. Deep down, I am thinking I really have a chance to do this despite A) not feeling I am at my best and B) the frickin' weather. I am basically putting my balls on the table and trying to steal a sub3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miles 17-20&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;6:51, 6:55, 6:43, 6:54&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Still holding it&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt; A  spectator hands Josh a bottle of water. I ask him for a pull if he's not  going to drink it all.  He says sure and and the guy on my right also  asks for a pull. We play pass the bottle and I give it back to Josh.  I had originally planned to take the  3rd Roctane at 21. I opted to take the free Accelgel I grabbed at 19 and save the last Roctane for the 22 or so. It  was a hot vanilla mess. Holy Lord. It stung my throat. Gross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also pass my friend John King here. He was in front of me for the whole race, but things started going south for him a couple miles prior. I hated seeing that. I tried to pump him up a little bit, but he said his legs were "not good." I think I also told him I was going for it, even if I had to crap myself.  Thinking very soundly here, obviously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miles 21 and 22&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6:55, 6:52&lt;br /&gt;Inching ever so closer to that 25 mile mark, but I am not sure how much longer I can keep at it. At 21, I keep telling myself,  "You can do it, just get to 25." I reach the Zab for Mayor crew at 21.5 in Chinatown. I get a boost from them and tell myself, "It's there if you want it. How bad do you want it? Keep digging deep." I refuse to think that I can't get this sub3 even though I know I am running out of gas. I'll give up when my body gives out on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZij_3ipiI/AAAAAAAABXo/7xFxHhXGevo/s1600/IMG_4511.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZij_3ipiI/AAAAAAAABXo/7xFxHhXGevo/s400/IMG_4511.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527713963223197218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kameron, Jaime, Mike, Uncle Paul and Lynn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZikHW18fI/AAAAAAAABXw/zlbaIhwWsb4/s1600/IMG_4516.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZikHW18fI/AAAAAAAABXw/zlbaIhwWsb4/s400/IMG_4516.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527713965233533426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Making the turn at Chinatown (Josh is still on my left, in the top picture and on the right in the bottom picture)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZZyuEvD-I/AAAAAAAABWg/3ALQ6pr-mK8/s1600/Exiting+ChinatownR.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 312px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZZyuEvD-I/AAAAAAAABWg/3ALQ6pr-mK8/s400/Exiting+ChinatownR.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527704320540086242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mile 23  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7:11&lt;br /&gt;Damn. There we go. Gut check time. Josh pulls ahead of me for good. The gut is there, but the legs aren't. Hip flexors are feeling it, as are the quads. Try to dig down and get into the 6's on last time for mile 24, but...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mile 24&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7:40&lt;br /&gt;it's not happening. I feel like crap. Contemplating stopping for a walk. I don't give in though and keep my feet moving. I can feel blisters at the base of each big toe on the bottom of my foot. I have never had a blister there before, let alone on both feet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In my Boston race report, I referenced the point of the race when your  goal no longer becomes attainable. It's damage control, it's hard to  accept and it's a struggle.  And I knew there were tons of people out  there tracking me and pulling for me. I didn't get mad. Or sad. I didn't  have to fight back tears. I knew this was always a possibility and I now knew I wasn't going to do it, I just wanted it over. And in a moment of weakness and frustration, I tell myself I am done running marathons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also find myself behind a woman who has, um, messed herself. And it smells like it too. And it's all over her legs. But it's not stopping her. I do my best to get in front of her but can't. I am smelling the scent of her shit for the better part of the last three miles. I absolutely have no problem with someone crapping themselves.  I now know that I'd rather not run behind them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Miles 25 and 26&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8:04, 8:00&lt;br /&gt;Just shoot me. Not much else to say here. Not feeling good at all. Hot and not running very strong. Still dumping and drinking water and gatorade for the duration of the aid stations. Still considering walking. Even though I am drinking 2-3 cups of water at each station, I am feeling like I want more as soon as I depart the end of the aid station. My math skills are terrible at best and I don't care what my time is, I just want it over. And I tell myself a few more times that I am done running marathons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The last .22&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;1.29&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Somewhere at either the last 800 or 400 meters to go (I don't really remember), I try to get the legs going to still snatch a PR. It works - briefly.  I hit the gas over the Roosevelt Bridge and and hit the last left turn hard. With about 0.1 to go, I get my first ever race cramp, right where the hamstring goes into the butt in my left leg. I change my stride a bit to go with more of a glide, keeping my left foot much lower to the ground. It subsides the cramp and I use that technique for most of the rest of the way in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Final time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3:03:36, a PR by 5 seconds. 830th place overall. 1:30:01/1:33:35 split&lt;br /&gt;182 Average Heart Rate - numbers by mile (1-13):&lt;br /&gt;165/170/167/172/173/174/174/176/177/178/180/180/182&lt;br /&gt;(Miles 14-26)&lt;br /&gt;181/180/181/183/185/188/189/190/193/193/191/186/185&lt;br /&gt;The last .2 - 197AHR, peaking at 198.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZYIcm1DaI/AAAAAAAABWY/Sosn232LZdw/s1600/Finishing+shot150.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 312px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZYIcm1DaI/AAAAAAAABWY/Sosn232LZdw/s400/Finishing+shot150.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527702494785113506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Thoughts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's no question I went for it and hung on as long as I could. I think given the conditions and that I wasn't ever really feeling it, I gave it a hell of a shot. Balls on the Table? Abso-frickin-lutely. I don't regret this strategy for a second. I honestly didn't care about my time if it wasn't a 2:59:XX or better. The fact that I PRed is gravy. After looking at the numbers, I can see that needing to run 16 marathon-paced  miles at a HR of 90% of max or higher is pretty ridiculous. That's basically what I was attempting to do from mile 10 on.  For a reference point, my AHR last year during this race was 173.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't thank my wife Tiffany enough for all of the awesome things she did for me throughout training as I'd meet up with random friends to go running, run at odd times and I had her full support through the whole thing. It culminated with the amazing "Zab for Mayor" signs, buttons and perhaps best of all, Isla's shirt. I love you, TK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZmxyWbrtI/AAAAAAAABZA/hEC-7xkT8ck/s1600/IMG_4527.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZmxyWbrtI/AAAAAAAABZA/hEC-7xkT8ck/s400/IMG_4527.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527718598159347410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me, Tiffany and Isla&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZl4GnhGHI/AAAAAAAABYY/uJU2xB6vizY/s1600/105.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZl4GnhGHI/AAAAAAAABYY/uJU2xB6vizY/s400/105.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527717607167301746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isla and me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had an amazing support crew out there for me on race day. A big thank you goes out all of you (Tiffany, Isla, Uncle Paul, Christine, Elliot, Elaine, Phil, Geovana, Mike, Lynn, Jaime, Kameron, Jenna, Cadence, the Fanaros) for coming out and supporting both Michael and me.  I really appreciate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZl3H0z5PI/AAAAAAAABYA/CyP7W3vAph4/s1600/IMG_4529.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZl3H0z5PI/AAAAAAAABYA/CyP7W3vAph4/s400/IMG_4529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527717590311625970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The crew (minus Lynn, the photographer)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZikqBjanI/AAAAAAAABX4/ExFT3bfXzdg/s1600/IMG_4522.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZikqBjanI/AAAAAAAABX4/ExFT3bfXzdg/s400/IMG_4522.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527713974539479666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isla, Kameron and Cadence&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a big thanks goes out to my friends both of the running and non-running variety for your support, advice and insight in helping me try to reach my goal. It was great to get to see many of you again. There's never enough time around these race weekends to see everyone. I have made so many running friends over the last couple of years, it really makes for a great time.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'd also like to thank all of people who tracked me and were watching me try to bring home the sub3. I could feel you rooting me on as the miles ticked by. I also know the text alert system was again a bust for most people. The people at the Chicago Marathon should really try to fix that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As far as the future, I haven't decided what will be next. I had really hoped this was going to be the sub 3 so I could back it down for a bit. But since it wasn't, I am bouncing a few things off of Tiffany to see what makes the most sense for us...and if it's worth it to keep chasing the sub3 dream. Right now I am 0-2 in my attempts. We shall see. 1-3 is a .333 average and that pretty much puts you on the all-star team in baseball.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few side notes on the others involved in the race report: Michael finished his first marathon in 4:11, Josh incredibly brought home the bacon with a 2:59, Nick ran a 3:05, Chad finished in 3:09 and John in 3:10. All of them were very impressive efforts and I am very proud of all of them. I could keep listing my friends times but that would take another 3-4 paragraphs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for reading.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are a few pics from dinner after the marathon. I should note, I was absent from the group shot so you will not see it here. Thanks to the others: Chris, Chris, Stevi and Carl.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZl4cRGZpI/AAAAAAAABYg/gAMo8Vtch4E/s1600/IMG_4541.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZl4cRGZpI/AAAAAAAABYg/gAMo8Vtch4E/s400/IMG_4541.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527717612978857618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isla&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZmxuv3X-I/AAAAAAAABY4/m-QOFzAgzB8/s1600/IMG_4554.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZmxuv3X-I/AAAAAAAABY4/m-QOFzAgzB8/s400/IMG_4554.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527718597192277986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and Nick&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZmxd4JbkI/AAAAAAAABYw/qjbm70Q8I_8/s1600/IMG_4553.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZmxd4JbkI/AAAAAAAABYw/qjbm70Q8I_8/s400/IMG_4553.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527718592663612994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amy and me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZmwybM8VI/AAAAAAAABYo/pZsnE6Z1jwQ/s1600/IMG_4552.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZmwybM8VI/AAAAAAAABYo/pZsnE6Z1jwQ/s400/IMG_4552.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527718580999483730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ron, Matthew and me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5251799024759705199-3798721582421920956?l=ballsonthetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/feeds/3798721582421920956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/2010/10/2010-chicago-marathon-willing-to-beg.html#comment-form' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5251799024759705199/posts/default/3798721582421920956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5251799024759705199/posts/default/3798721582421920956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/2010/10/2010-chicago-marathon-willing-to-beg.html' title='2010 Chicago Marathon: Willing to Beg, Steal or Borrow'/><author><name>screaminzab</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08519702001471982826</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/SQsfDnmh_MI/AAAAAAAAARA/M61bxGBbiHk/S220/IMG_0223.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLZgpfZ5O7I/AAAAAAAABW4/J96S7a4hhy8/s72-c/IMG_4471.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251799024759705199.post-5670779084567324093</id><published>2010-10-09T22:20:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2010-10-09T22:57:22.609-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Need Your Vote!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLExD6mqhSI/AAAAAAAABVY/BekT9NNJii4/s1600/ZabforMayor.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLExD6mqhSI/AAAAAAAABVY/BekT9NNJii4/s400/ZabforMayor.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526252161101104418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLE3G9zhgyI/AAAAAAAABVw/PL1UHVgpHYw/s1600/IMG_4467.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLE3G9zhgyI/AAAAAAAABVw/PL1UHVgpHYw/s400/IMG_4467.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526258810569720610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLE3GbAUNAI/AAAAAAAABVo/kXQiK7TnB_s/s1600/IMG_4459.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLE3GbAUNAI/AAAAAAAABVo/kXQiK7TnB_s/s400/IMG_4459.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526258801228133378" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLExD6mqhSI/AAAAAAAABVY/BekT9NNJii4/s1600/ZabforMayor.JPG"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5251799024759705199-5670779084567324093?l=ballsonthetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/feeds/5670779084567324093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-need-your-vote.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5251799024759705199/posts/default/5670779084567324093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5251799024759705199/posts/default/5670779084567324093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-need-your-vote.html' title='I Need Your Vote!'/><author><name>screaminzab</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08519702001471982826</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/SQsfDnmh_MI/AAAAAAAAARA/M61bxGBbiHk/S220/IMG_0223.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TLExD6mqhSI/AAAAAAAABVY/BekT9NNJii4/s72-c/ZabforMayor.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251799024759705199.post-3765036369960076968</id><published>2010-09-24T22:45:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-24T22:51:21.544-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Shirt</title><content type='html'>Back in 2004, I ran my first marathon.  Someone told me to put my name on my shirt so the good people of Chicago could root for me as I ran by them.  Since then, I have put something on my shirt for the crowd to respond to in some form or fashion. Some funny, some not so much, some idiotic, some borderline vulgar and of course, the 2008 and 2009 Running for Cru logos.  Here's a look back at the shirts of yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2004 Chicago&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Front- Oregon, back - Zabfontaine&lt;br /&gt;The photo is taken from mile 22 or so, chugging my way through Chinatown. Note the Zab headband.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJpP107F7bI/AAAAAAAABTc/eJGtwhZszXw/s1600/pk2004Chinatown.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJpP107F7bI/AAAAAAAABTc/eJGtwhZszXw/s400/pk2004Chinatown.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519812079454121394" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2005 Green Bay&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Front- Chicago, Back- Ditka&lt;br /&gt;I had bib number 189. What better way to celebrate former Bear great and number 89 Da Coach, Mike Ditka.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1SKy1N-FI/AAAAAAAABTo/rZOHi3nwsnQ/s1600/GB.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 272px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1SKy1N-FI/AAAAAAAABTo/rZOHi3nwsnQ/s400/GB.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520659063623252050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(L to R: Nick, me, Michael)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2005 Chicago&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Front - Moustache Love,  Back - Zab&lt;br /&gt;I worked a pretty terrible moustache. Not that there is such a thing as a good moustache, even if you prefer to spell it mustache.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1S_AMykzI/AAAAAAAABTw/ZPlPfAEJalg/s1600/IMG_0019.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1S_AMykzI/AAAAAAAABTw/ZPlPfAEJalg/s400/IMG_0019.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520659960564978482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and Tiffany, with a Jerry Austin sighting in the rear&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2005 Las Vegas&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Front - RIP Mr. Miyagi, Back - Zab&lt;br /&gt;This may have been the biggest stretch of all the shirts. Miyagi was a Vegas native and died a day or two before the marathon. I'm including two pics because the second shot has always been one of my favorites. Tiffany took it in the last .2 miles of the marathon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1VY7Z0Y_I/AAAAAAAABT4/pYD0-3qNRTo/s1600/IMG_0216.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1VY7Z0Y_I/AAAAAAAABT4/pYD0-3qNRTo/s400/IMG_0216.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520662604977300466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1V8f_GQ6I/AAAAAAAABUA/YpBQb6kMsz0/s1600/IMG_0223.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1V8f_GQ6I/AAAAAAAABUA/YpBQb6kMsz0/s400/IMG_0223.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520663216092758946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2006 Chicago&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Front: Pants Party, Back: C. Monday&lt;br /&gt;Do I really need to explain what "Pants Party" means?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZKgurjb8TCs?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ZKgurjb8TCs?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for Carl Monday, click &lt;a href="http://deadspin.com/5632853/deadspin-classic-the-most-brilliant-thing-youll-see-all-day"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carl_Monday"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; to find out about him. This shirt also lead to &lt;a href="http://deadspin.com/210021/get-away-from-me-marathoners"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; story on Deadspin about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1XDzIoGqI/AAAAAAAABUI/F1NGugIE1Kk/s1600/IMG_1756.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1XDzIoGqI/AAAAAAAABUI/F1NGugIE1Kk/s400/IMG_1756.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520664441003711138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2007 Chicago&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Front: Cock of the Walk, Back: G. Frenkle&lt;br /&gt;This marathon sucked. It was damn hot. Damn. Hot. But this shirt was...awesome. For my money, this was one of the &lt;a href="http://www.ebaumsworld.com/video/watch/719364/"&gt;best SNL skits ever&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1bBsR9RMI/AAAAAAAABUQ/3bHCGr8AMPc/s1600/icepackcrop.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 355px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1bBsR9RMI/AAAAAAAABUQ/3bHCGr8AMPc/s400/icepackcrop.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520668802850571458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2008 Chicago&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Front: Running for Cru logo, Back: CURESMA.ORG&lt;br /&gt;Amazing. If you are newer to this blog or my previous blog, please check &lt;a href="http://runningforcru.blogspot.com/2009/07/story-behind-running-for-cru.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt; out. To make a long story short, my boss and friend lost his infant baby boy Cru to SMA in September of 2008. In about 4 months, we were able to raise over $33,000 for the Families of SMA organization.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1lukT9PRI/AAAAAAAABUo/V6mxjbTSH6U/s1600/10_12+031.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1lukT9PRI/AAAAAAAABUo/V6mxjbTSH6U/s400/10_12+031.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520680568921865490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1luPCuP9I/AAAAAAAABUg/HyQlTv7MHRM/s1600/10_12+034.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1luPCuP9I/AAAAAAAABUg/HyQlTv7MHRM/s400/10_12+034.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520680563212435410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2009 Chicago&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Front: Running for Cru logo, Back: Zab&lt;br /&gt;Same set up as 2008. We raised over $9,000 in 2009. And I ran a 3:05 and qualified for Boston. Greatest race of my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1ovjkxiJI/AAAAAAAABUw/NvD4Lv3RqGA/s1600/1+018.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1ovjkxiJI/AAAAAAAABUw/NvD4Lv3RqGA/s400/1+018.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520683884438718610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1owWu24mI/AAAAAAAABU4/6u6CKCaEiJQ/s1600/1+045.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1owWu24mI/AAAAAAAABU4/6u6CKCaEiJQ/s400/1+045.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520683898171220578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend Chad and me blazing through Chinatown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2010 Boston&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Front: Balls on the Table, Back: Zab&lt;br /&gt;Nothing like going for sub 3 at the historic Boston Marathon. Great shirt. Great arm warmers. Great effort, but it wasn't enough as I brought home a 3:03.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1tjr8AV6I/AAAAAAAABVA/ai0r0gvTN2E/s1600/IMG_2727.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1tjr8AV6I/AAAAAAAABVA/ai0r0gvTN2E/s400/IMG_2727.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520689178083350434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1uVkI2i0I/AAAAAAAABVQ/74gGd9FRiM4/s1600/IMG_2728.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1uVkI2i0I/AAAAAAAABVQ/74gGd9FRiM4/s400/IMG_2728.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520690034983209794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1uVCJ8rgI/AAAAAAAABVI/WKqAFxuV2-s/s1600/boston.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJ1uVCJ8rgI/AAAAAAAABVI/WKqAFxuV2-s/s400/boston.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520690025861000706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last shot is somewhere around mile 22 if I recall correctly. My mind and legs were both fried at that point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;2010 Chicago&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TBD&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a pretty good idea what this year's shirt will say, thanks to the brainstorming power duo of Tiffany and Mary Cantu.  It's not set in stone, but it's going to be pretty damn tough to beat.  I usually finalize and create the shirt a couple days before the race, so a dark horse candidate could still sneak in. Be sure to check back in regularly over the next two weeks. I'll do my best to get a few more posts up here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5251799024759705199-3765036369960076968?l=ballsonthetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/feeds/3765036369960076968/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/2010/09/shirt.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5251799024759705199/posts/default/3765036369960076968'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5251799024759705199/posts/default/3765036369960076968'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/2010/09/shirt.html' title='The Shirt'/><author><name>screaminzab</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08519702001471982826</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/SQsfDnmh_MI/AAAAAAAAARA/M61bxGBbiHk/S220/IMG_0223.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TJpP107F7bI/AAAAAAAABTc/eJGtwhZszXw/s72-c/pk2004Chinatown.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251799024759705199.post-3581073841656892268</id><published>2010-09-08T21:58:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-09-08T22:04:36.364-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Back In the Saddle Again</title><content type='html'>&lt;style&gt; &lt;!--  /* Style Definitions */  p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal  {mso-style-parent:"";  margin:0in;  margin-bottom:.0001pt;  mso-pagination:widow-orphan;  font-size:12.0pt;  font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} a:link, span.MsoHyperlink  {color:blue;  text-decoration:underline;  text-underline:single;} a:visited, span.MsoHyperlinkFollowed  {color:purple;  text-decoration:underline;  text-underline:single;} @page Section1  {size:8.5in 11.0in;  margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in;  mso-header-margin:.5in;  mso-footer-margin:.5in;  mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1  {page:Section1;} --&gt; &lt;/style&gt;&lt;!--[if gte mso 10]&gt; &lt;style&gt;  /* Style Definitions */  table.MsoNormalTable  {mso-style-name:"Table Normal";  mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;  mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;  mso-style-noshow:yes;  mso-style-parent:"";  mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;  mso-para-margin:0in;  mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt;  mso-pagination:widow-orphan;  font-size:10.0pt;  font-family:"Times New Roman";  mso-ansi-language:#0400;  mso-fareast-language:#0400;  mso-bidi-language:#0400;} &lt;/style&gt; &lt;![endif]--&gt;After the shit show that was the Champions 10K two weeks ago, I was more than ready to race again to see where I was and am at this past Sunday. I'd be lying if I said a little doubt hadn't crept into my head. I just wasn't sure if I had gotten much faster since &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Chicago&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; last October and then &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Boston&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; this past April.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--[endif]--&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;I've been working as hard and running my tempo runs at a faster pace, but until you actually get a chance to see some results, it's really hard to tell. And my bombing of the 10K (although some of it was out of my control) didn't leave me with a ton of confidence that I was going to smoke the Peapod Batavia Half Marathon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really needed to see a better time than when I ran the 1:26:57 in the Tom King Classic back in March. I thought I could run somewhere in the 1:25's. My strategy was to run in the mid 6:30's for mile 1 as there was a decent uphill right at the start. Then I'd go for low 6:30s for 2 and 3, pick up a little time in mile 4 as there was a sharp downhill stretch. Mile 5 was supposed to be in the low 6:30's. I'd give a little time back (6:40ish) in miles 6 and 7 as it was a steady climb of nearly 300 feet through mile 7.25 or so. After that, try to get as close to 6:30 as possible as I hammer the downhills and handle the rollers as best as I could. I also decided to not look at my HR monitor at all and just run. The night before, Tiffany told me she felt really good about my race and may have even mentioned a 1:24.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Michael, Jenna and I headed out west to &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Batavia&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; just after 5AM and met up with my friend Charlie, who was kind enough to pick up our packets on Saturday. It was somewhere in the 40's at the start of the race, so it couldn't have been much better. I even broke out the argyle arm warmers that I wore in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Boston&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt;.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TIhOjoMPz4I/AAAAAAAABTA/45gxgUaj0Uo/s1600/Charlie,+Paul,+Michael.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TIhOjoMPz4I/AAAAAAAABTA/45gxgUaj0Uo/s400/Charlie,+Paul,+Michael.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514744117706346370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;LtoR: Charlie, me, Michael before the race&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;We headed over to the start area shortly after putting our bibs and chips on. Michael and I got in a couple very easy warm-up miles and before you knew it, it was time to start the race. He had to make a quick run to the bathroom so I didn't see him again until he finished. Charlie found me in the corral and we wished each other luck and the horn went off a few seconds after that.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Mile 1: 6:38. Felt okay. I knew the hill right off the bat would be an interesting twist. I was fine with the time as I was trying to just get into a groove and find that sweet spot in the low 6:30's.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Mile 2: 6:38. Alright, I'm having trouble working the pace down to where I want it to be. The thought of a repeat of the Tom King Classic is now going through my head as I could never get out of the 6:38-6:40 range for most of the race. I was trying to find a guy to pace off and think I have one. He's wearing a long sleeve red shirt. I follow him.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Mile 3: 6:29. Nailed it. Feeling good and didn't feel like I had to work too much harder as I was hanging about 5 yards behind the guy in the red shirt. I also realize I need to start having fun when I'm racing. I was too tight and serious and loosened up with some waves and smiles to some of the crowd.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Mile 4: 6:38. Crap. Back at 6:38. I knew the upcoming mile featured a brief downhill screamer that I could try to have carry me through the mile.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Mile 5: 6:17. Giddy up. The downhill was steeper than I thought. I used that momentum for as long as I could. The red-shirted guy has pulled away and I latched onto another guy, this guy a little older and balding.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Mile 6: 6:29. (measured .98) I chat a little bit with the guy as we start the ascent up. We run into a couple other friends of his (one guy and a girl) and we all run part of 6 and all of 7 together. Take a GU here. Originally planned to take it at 5, but there wasn't water until 6.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Mile 7: 7:00 (measured 1.05) Oh boy. I knew it was a little slower as I could definitely feel it, but was really surprised to see the 7:00. I didn't feel gassed at this point, so I stayed positive and was ready to hit a solid mile 8 knowing the uphill climb was over.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Mile 8: 6:22. Nice. The girl drops off and the three of us start spacing out a bit, with the bald guy on my hip. A gentle descent here helps.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Mile 9: 6:28. There we go. Bald guy and the other dude are right with me and we're passing a few other runners.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Mile 10: 6:36. Damn. This featured another approximate 100 foot climb, followed by a 100 foot drop. Starting to feel it just a bit. Take the second GU, as I am starting to sense the water stops are every other mile and taking it at 12 would have been too late. Only took me 10 miles to figure it out. Bald guy passes me and I stay just a few yards behind him.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Mile 11: 6:28. There we go. Starting to try to do some math to see what my time could be. Definitely working harder. Bald guy opens up a 10 yard lead or so.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Mile 12: 6:27. Starting to run out of steam. Pass some guys fishing on the river. One of them is smoking. I yell to him, "Don't smoke right there!" as I run by. Nothing feels better than inhaling some second hand smoke in the 12th mile of a half marathon. Maybe mile 25 of a full?&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Mile 13: 6:30. Starting to have a hard time getting the legs to turnover and I'm breathing like a 300 pound man doing a stress test chasing a double cheeseburger on a string that's a foot out of reach. I focus on my breathing most of the mile and hold it together as best as I can.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;The last .12: 0:37. See the mile 13 marker and hit the gas, legs be damned. Pass the 3rd place female in this stretch.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Final time: 1:25:44, a new PR by 1:12, and most importantly, a well-executed race on a course much tougher than I am accustomed to racing. I hadn't executed a race plan since &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Chicago&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:city&gt; last October, a span of 5 races. I needed to see two things - improvement and execution, and I achieved both. I lost a few too many seconds in the first 4 miles and then again on the long inclined mile 7 to go in the low 1:25's, but I'm not concerned with that. I really find the half marathon to be the most difficult of all distances, as I feel like you're trying to hold lactate threshold pace for 13+ miles. I am not saying a marathon is easy by any stretch, but I always feel like I'm on the verge of disaster in a half. When you blow up in a marathon, you blow up. It's pretty common and has probably happened to everyone that's run a few of them.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TIhOj-ycM_I/AAAAAAAABTI/p2I3Mjly9J8/s1600/Zab+Finish.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TIhOj-ycM_I/AAAAAAAABTI/p2I3Mjly9J8/s400/Zab+Finish.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514744123772122098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Post race&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;Anyway, I'm feeling good about where I'm at and should be ready to take down sub 3 on October 10th, even if &lt;a href="http://www.mcmillanrunning.com/cgi-bin/calc.pl"&gt;McMillan&lt;/a&gt; says I'm not quite there, predicting a 3:00:49. I still have a few more weeks of heavy lifting before I cut back on the miles.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;For those interested in HR numbers it was an average of 183 with splits from mile 1 to mile 13.1 as such:&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;170/174/176/176/180/182/184/185/187/189/190/194/197 and 201, peaking at 202 in the last .1&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Michael finished his second half marathon in a time of 1:40:15 (a PR of 3 minutes) and Charlie sand-bagged his way to the finish line in 1:36 (nearly a 5 minute PR). Both of them did an outstanding job and look primed to run great marathons on the 10th.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5251799024759705199-3581073841656892268?l=ballsonthetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/feeds/3581073841656892268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/2010/09/back-in-saddle-again_2770.html#comment-form' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5251799024759705199/posts/default/3581073841656892268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5251799024759705199/posts/default/3581073841656892268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/2010/09/back-in-saddle-again_2770.html' title='Back In the Saddle Again'/><author><name>screaminzab</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08519702001471982826</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/SQsfDnmh_MI/AAAAAAAAARA/M61bxGBbiHk/S220/IMG_0223.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/TIhOjoMPz4I/AAAAAAAABTA/45gxgUaj0Uo/s72-c/Charlie,+Paul,+Michael.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251799024759705199.post-1193498164152215407</id><published>2010-08-27T23:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-08-27T23:35:08.368-05:00</updated><title type='text'>The Streak is Over, Sucker!</title><content type='html'>It was nice while it lasted. I'm no Cal Ripken, Lou Gehrig or even Brett Favre for that matter, but here was the streak:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8/08 - Windrunner 10K - 43:54&lt;br /&gt;9/08 - Chicago Half - 1:38:34&lt;br /&gt;10/8 - Chicago Marathon 3:29:54&lt;br /&gt;11/08 - Lincolnwood Turkey Trot 10K - 41:48&lt;br /&gt;3/09 - Shamrock Shuffle 8K- 33:30&lt;br /&gt;4/09 - Ravenswood Run 5K - 19:09&lt;br /&gt;8/09 - Windrunnner 10K - 39:07&lt;br /&gt;9/09 - Chicago Half - 1:28:25&lt;br /&gt;10/9 - Chicago Marathon - 3:05:14&lt;br /&gt;11/09 - Lincolnwood Turkey Trot 5K - 18:42&lt;br /&gt;3/10 - Tom King Half Marathon - 1:26:56&lt;br /&gt;4/10 - Boston Marathon - 3:03:41&lt;br /&gt;7/10 - Bastille Day 5K - 18:32&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was 13 PRs in a row. Wow. I wanted to get the streak up to 16 with a couple tune-up races before October 10th. Unfortunately, it came to an unceremonious end this past Saturday at the Champions 10K.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I posted a 39:58, 51 seconds off of my PR. I was hoping to come in around 38:15 or so by running a progressive 10K that had me starting at a 6:20 pace and ending at 6:00 even. Here's how it shook down.&lt;br /&gt;Mile 1- 6:20 Perfect. Felt effortless and I had to hold back a bit.&lt;br /&gt;Mile 2- 6:18 Pretty damn close. Still feeling strong.&lt;br /&gt;Mile 3- 6:50 - WTF? Somewhere around mile 2.4, I missed a turn and had to double back. It cost me a tenth of mile and broke my spirits. It was a poorly marked course that was open to the public at the same time the race was going on. I'm pretty sure some people did the same thing I did, but didn't go back and ran a short course.&lt;br /&gt;When I saw the 6:50 at the third mile marker, I couldn't get through it mentally. I tried to stick to the plan, but as I kept doing the math in my head and it wasn't making sense to me to have to work that hard to run a 39:00.&lt;br /&gt;Mile 4 - 6:16. I'm cutting corners on this crappy course, looking for any break I can get. But I'm still doing the math in my head and I am really pissed about the mishap back in mile 3. I basically mentally throw in the towel and run Miles 5 and 6 in 6:31 and 6:32. I see 38:50 on my watch as I hit the 6 mile marker and decide to try to give it all I have to come in under 40 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;I run the last .2 in 1:08 and come across the finish line in 42nd place (out of 435) with my 39:58.  My HR got up to a robust 206. What a shit show. My finish in the top 50 did net me a gift card for $45 at a suburban running store. Yippee!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't have my best stuff on Saturday as my HR was through the roof on my warm-up run to the race, but I'm pretty sure I could have muscled out a PR by 20 seconds or so if I hadn't blown the race by missing the turn. Oh well. I can't do anything about it now besides focus on my next race, which is in about a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;A couple of weeks ago, I was running a strange 18 miler when I ran 10 miles with 8 at GMP and then followed it up with 8 in the jogging stroller with Isla. I was about 2.5 miles from home when I was passing an old folks' living community. It's a pretty well-kept place, is right on the path near my house and sits pretty close to a Panera, Borders and Starbucks. Anyway, as I'm passing the building, I can see there's a woman going the same direction as me pushing some type of cart. It looked like one of those carts people in the city use to haul groceries around, but I can't really see what's in front of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I get closer and closer to her, I start to slow down a bit. There also happen to be some bikers coming towards us moving at a pretty good clip. They pass the old lady a couple seconds before me and wouldn't you know it, the lady has a little dog on a leash that starts chasing after these bikers. I immediately try to bring the stroller to a halt (I was running at about an 8:45 pace) so I don't run over this dog. I stop just short of it and push down hard on the handle to lift the front tire so the dog can run by. The old lady lets out a scream, as if someone just stabbed her in the back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"&lt;br /&gt;I am now even with her and am looking her in the eyes. "Are you okay?" I say.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You almost hit my dog! You need to be more careful," she angrily replies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I respond, "You need to get better control of your dog, lady. You're lucky I didn't hit him."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently calling her lady was the wrong thing to say because she's now livid.&lt;br /&gt;"You don't talk to me like that, SUCKER!" she shouts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoa. This 70 or 80 something year old bat just called me sucker. Kind of awesome, kind of ridiculous. I haven't heard someone called "sucker" in a long time (circa the 1989 VHS release of "I'm Gonna Git You Sucka.") Check that. I have never been called sucker. And I certainly have never heard it uttered by an angry 80 year old woman.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tell her she needs to pay closer attention to her dog and decide to keep going. At this point, I don't know what's going to happen next and I'm unsure of what this crazy lady might do or say. And I have a frickin' jogging stroller in front of me with my then 18 month old in it. As I am running away, she's still shouting at me saying something about an old lady. I give her a parting shout because I am now a little agitated as there are people in the parking lot watching this lady and me exchange pleasantries.&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Have a great day!" I yell. I am not going to swear at someone's grandma. Well, I probably would have if I had stuck around much longer because this woman was insisting I was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't seen her since, but I have tried to incorporate "sucker" into my everyday vocabulary.  It's harder than you think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5251799024759705199-1193498164152215407?l=ballsonthetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/feeds/1193498164152215407/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/2010/07/streak-is-over-sucker.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5251799024759705199/posts/default/1193498164152215407'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5251799024759705199/posts/default/1193498164152215407'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/2010/07/streak-is-over-sucker.html' title='The Streak is Over, Sucker!'/><author><name>screaminzab</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08519702001471982826</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/SQsfDnmh_MI/AAAAAAAAARA/M61bxGBbiHk/S220/IMG_0223.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251799024759705199.post-5627383915106956684</id><published>2010-05-16T22:01:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-05-19T22:53:59.595-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Boston. That's it, Boston.</title><content type='html'>Where to begin...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I loved Boston. Loved the town, loved the  people, I even started loving the Red Sox despite them sucking when we  were there. As a Cub fan, there's kind of a bond you can share with Red  Sox fans, minus the 2 World Series titles they have picked up in the  last 6 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love the Boston Marathon...not so much. That's a  little harsh. It's a great event. But it really kicked my ass.  Here's  how and why -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Background&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I  know there may be some newer folks reading this so here's a quick  recap. I ran a 3:05:18 in Chicago in October of 2009. You can read that  epic race report &lt;a href="http://runningforcru.blogspot.com/2009/10/2009-chicago-marathon.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.  It was a race that I'll fondly remember forever. Everything just seemed  to click that day. I signed up for Boston shortly there after and had  loosely set my sights on going sub 3 in Boston.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to just  keep the fitness and ran just enough through the holidays. I prepared to  start a 12 week training program at the end of January. I tried to get a  nice base of all easy running in the three weeks prior and hit 40,44  and 61 miles the week before training really started.  But those  following 12 weeks of training were the most inconsistent I've ever had.  Here are the miles by week: 51, 30, 60, 65, 70, 58, 36 (Half marathon  was this week), 56, 70, 49, 46 and then a pre-race week total of 25. It  seemed like things just kept popping up that made it really tough to get  the running in that I wanted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the 1:26:57 Half in  mid-March, I kind of let the sub 3 dream go. But the next couple weeks  (after taking it easy the immediate week after), I started making some  gains with my heart rate. I saw enough improvement in my heart rate and runs generally became easier, so  I figured I was close enough to  going sub 3 that I may as well go for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Trip&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am very lucky to have a  supportive wife and daughter. We made the trip together and had a great  time. Also joining us were my mom, brother Nick and sister-in-law Jaime.   I can't thank all of them enough for their love and support of my  marathoning. We went to the Red Sox game on Saturday night and just  tried to enjoy the city the other days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I  also got to see a bunch of my running friends - some new friends, some  old friends and some in between. There really is a special vibe in  Boston with all of these runners everywhere.  I don't know if it's like  that in Chicago or not, but I'd guess no. I have never stayed in any  place but my own home for Chicago. There's a certain quaintness about  Boston that's hard to put a finger on.  You also get that feeling that  the Boston Marathon is just as special to the people of Framingham,  Hopkinton, Wellesley, Boston etc. as it is to the people actually  running it.  Most places we would go, people would ask if I was running  the marathon. And every one of them would wish me good luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I  got a couple of runs in Boston in before the race. On Saturday morning I  met Steve, Brian, Kevin and Kevin's dad as we ran along the Charles  River. It was very cool and something I'll remember. On Sunday, I went  out for a short shake-out run and ran through Boston Common.  My legs  were feeling okay.  Not great, not terrible, but I have learned to never  put too much weight into those last couple runs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Race&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isla did great in Boston.  However, she didn't sleep really well the night before. I think I fell  asleep at 12:30 or so. Not really ideal, but I usually sleep like crap  the night before anyway. I think I slept pretty well for 3-4 hours or so  and my alarm was going off before I knew it. I showered and shaved down  to a mustache. I looked at myself in the mirror and shook my head. No  way. I looked like an asshole. One who liked to give candy to children  or possibly even impersonate a cop. I shaved everything off at that  point and proceeded to get ready. I said my good byes, grabbed my bag  and headed down to the buses. After waiting a bit, we got on and make  the long trip out to Hopkinton. Plenty of good, solid conversation on  the bus, a lot revolving around race strategy as my bus buddy Chris was  also shooting for sub 3. I also ate a half a bagel from my pal James. I  think he had like 30 bagels with him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-OfCcfdZFI/AAAAAAAABLU/7pIXW2VMvmw/s1600/IMG_2727.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-OfCcfdZFI/AAAAAAAABLU/7pIXW2VMvmw/s400/IMG_2727.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468389236914611282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-OfC2is09I/AAAAAAAABLc/cyx398b6RUI/s1600/IMG_2728.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-OfC2is09I/AAAAAAAABLc/cyx398b6RUI/s400/IMG_2728.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468389243907527634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We finally arrived in the  Athletes Village and made our way to the tarps that Ron and Steve had  laid out.  Everyone joked around a bit, helped each get ready (taping  pacebands, writing on arms, taking pictures) and before you knew it, it  was go time. I was walking to the bag buses with my buddy Walter, a  fellow Chicagoan. He was also shooting for a sub 3 and we were in the  same corral. Somehow I lost him and before I knew it I was making the  trek to the starting corral all alone. I struck up some conversation  with some dude before I finally came up on some people I knew. We shot  the breeze for a few and them it's off to Corral 3. I make my way up  there and am looking for some familiar faces and come up empty.  I  settle in and out of nowhere comes John King, wearing his Macho Man  sunglasses.  We talk for a bit as we're inching closer to the gun going  off.  I brought along my empty 32 ounce bottle of gatorade in case I'd  need to go to the bathroom. I get the urge, ask John for some coverage,  he obliges and I take care of business. I get done and about 20 seconds  after, some dude comes up to me and asks me if he can use my bottle. You  know, the one I just put about 20 ounces of urine in. I said, "Sure,  pal, it's all yours." John asks me if I knew the guy and I say, "Nope,  do you?" He said no. That wasn't weird at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a few minutes  before the race was supposed to start, Mike, another friend from  Runner's World comes up. We introduce ourselves (he saw me because I had  ZAB on the back of my shirt) and decided to give 2:59 a whirl together.  Very nice. I was hoping I could find someone to pal around with for the  next 3 hours.  Shortly after that, the gun sounds and we're off!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miles  1-3 7:07, 6:43, 6:45&lt;br /&gt;Everything I had heard was to not take the  first mile too fast. Mike and I were on the same page, but we actually  went a little too slow. It was pretty congested those first few miles.  Things felt pretty easy early on as the downhills helped keep the effort  level in check. Mike and I are just getting to know each other a bit  here and keeping each other loose. I'm hearing "Balls" and "Balls on the  Table" in some nice New England accents from the get go and it couldn't  be any more awesome. This continues the whole way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miles 4-6  6:50, 6:55, 6:41&lt;br /&gt;More of the same. It's not feeling super easy, but  it's not feeling tough.  I was feeling pretty good with where I was at.  Mike was wearing a Greg Maclin pace band (accounting for the terrain)  and we were pretty close to that throughout. Our Garmins seemed to be a  little off  as sometimes his would be reading in the 6:30's and mine  would be in the 6:50's. We'd just take the middle and go with it. Note  to self: Boston's water and Gatorade stops are much shorter than  Chicago's. Sometimes there were only a few people handing out Gatorade  and I'd end up with water when I wanted Gatorade.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miles 7-9  6:51, 6:50, 6:52&lt;br /&gt;There we go. Settling into a great pace. Took my  first Gu Roctane at mile 8. I'm feeling pretty good at this point, but  my heart rate is climbing a little higher than I'd like. I hit an AHR of  171 at mile 8, about 5 miles earlier than I was hoping to hit the 170  mark.  I tried not to think about it too much and from this point  forward, I think I will not look at my HR during marathons until the  last couple miles.  Mike and I are still having solid conversation and  we're bumping into a few other guys hoping to hit 2:59's. I am not sure  why, but they were asking us if we were on pace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-ojfygh-sI/AAAAAAAABMs/gc-xrL6UC8g/s1600/mfoto2.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-ojfygh-sI/AAAAAAAABMs/gc-xrL6UC8g/s400/mfoto2.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470223726436022978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miles 10-12   6:50, 6:51, 6:41&lt;br /&gt;Great miles, but I start to feel like I am working  too hard. AHR now in the mid 170's. If I was a little smarter, I may  have started to back it down a touch, knowing the Newton hills are  looming over me like an albatross. But, I don't. I think I can power  through it and use my mental toughness to hang on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miles 13-15   6:53, 6:46, 6:57&lt;br /&gt;Still hanging on, holding pretty steady. AHR was  178, 179, 179. That's just about 90% of max with 11+ miles still to go.   Oh boy. Here comes a downhill mile before the hills. I take my second  Gu at 15.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miles 16-18 6:37, 7:04, 7:00&lt;br /&gt;This actually wasn't  too bad - time wise, anyway. I saw my support team just before 17 and it  was a huge boost. I can't really say how awesome it is to see 5 people  there rooting me on in Boston. This was actually my first marathon that  wasn't in Chicago since December of 2005.  It's definitely a different  feeling not being familiar with every mile, where the mile markers are,  etc.  I knew my legs were pretty well trashed after the downhill on 16  followed by the first hill. But, I am thinking, you know what? If I can  get through 21, I still have a shot. I'm telling myself,  "Just...get...through...the...hills."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-OfDXzw3NI/AAAAAAAABLk/A7p2zL_iYAU/s1600/IMG_2750.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-OfDXzw3NI/AAAAAAAABLk/A7p2zL_iYAU/s400/IMG_2750.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468389252837465298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-OfD5bgf7I/AAAAAAAABLs/1avY-n6MKLs/s1600/IMG_2751.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-OfD5bgf7I/AAAAAAAABLs/1avY-n6MKLs/s400/IMG_2751.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468389261862535090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike (in the green) and me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-OfEYEHoeI/AAAAAAAABL0/wb4SpSX4DiM/s1600/IMG_2752.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-OfEYEHoeI/AAAAAAAABL0/wb4SpSX4DiM/s400/IMG_2752.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468389270085935586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miles 19-20 6:43, 7:03&lt;br /&gt;Solid.  The downhill-ish 19th mile was a nice break. Still feeling it in a bad  way, but pushing on. Just trying to mentally get through 21 and over  Heartbreak so I can run again. But 20 was a struggle. AHR was a 189,  94.5% of max.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mile 21  7:31&lt;br /&gt;I lose Mike in this mile. I can  feel him pulling away and my legs aren't working like I want them to. I  can see him looking over his shoulder for me and then yells, "Zab!" I  yell back, "Go!" He gives me a fist pump and pulls away. I finally crest  Heartbreak, see my split and know how my legs feel and know I'm toast.  I'm pretty much out of gas. Damn. It's been a long time since I have  felt like this in a race. I'm trying to mentally pull myself together  because I'm a mess physically. My legs are shot. The point in a race  where your goal slips through your fingers is tough to comes to terms  with.  In the back of my head, I am still thinking I'll get my legs  back, I just need a little bit of time. AHR was still at 189. Also took my last Gu here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mile  22 7:07&lt;br /&gt;Wow! Not bad, but I'm running on fumes. And I am having  fueling issues. I am starving. I'm grabbing anything and everything  spectators are handing out to runners, namely water bottles and slices  of oranges. Those oranges tasted amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miles 23-24 7:36, 7:44,&lt;br /&gt;I'm  pretty sure I saw both wheels fall off and roll right by me here. I'm  still grabbing all kinds of oranges and water bottles from the crowd.  I'm just focusing on finishing and looking over my shoulder, hoping to  see some of my pals that were shooting for sub3. I never saw them. Oh,  and I'm getting passed like a son of a bitch. The crowd is cheering me  on, but I'm just mustering thumbs up to them. In the back of my head,  I'm thinking, come on, you can still PR and give the finger to those  people who told you that you don't PR in Boston, let alone your first  Boston.  I'm also thinking how much I hate marathons and I'll never run  this course again because I just got my ass kicked like it has never  been kicked before. And I still have 2.2 miles to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-oc2nG7IYI/AAAAAAAABMc/n1ZdhX-Nn7A/s1600/25603_1396629083333_1460400228_31012777_5281811_n.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-oc2nG7IYI/AAAAAAAABMc/n1ZdhX-Nn7A/s400/25603_1396629083333_1460400228_31012777_5281811_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470216421931426178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-od1meu1jI/AAAAAAAABMk/RwO_NSo48RA/s1600/mfoto.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-od1meu1jI/AAAAAAAABMk/RwO_NSo48RA/s400/mfoto.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470217504094606898" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mile  25-25.2-26.2  7:38, 1:35, 7:19&lt;br /&gt;I get a boost in between 25 and 26  near Fenway. I get a second wind and decide to embrace the crowd and I  get them cheering like a bunch of drunks for me as I'm raising my arms  up and down. I'm yelling, "Come on, get up!"And they are loving my  shirt. I'm giving out high fives and feel like I am running freely for  about a quarter of a mile.  Oh, I see the one mile to go mark and I  retardedly hit the lap button. Yep, the 0.2 comes after mile 25 in my  race today. Anyway, I'm pretty much giving it all I have left (which is  not much) and realize I'll be coming in with a 3:03 something. The crowd  is really awesome here. I make the last couple turns and try to  position myself for a good finish line photo. Seriously, that's what I  am thinking about. I raise my arms,  hit the mat with a 3:03:41, a PR by  1:37. Thank you, God. It's over. Quick side note: the ironic thing is there is no finish line photo of me on marathonfoto.  Unbelievable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am actually moving pretty  well after I cross the line, unlike most of the people around me. I go  over to the spot where they're handing out medals and I make eye contact  with one of the volunteers. She tells me to come on "ovah." In her  Boston accent, she says to me, "I have been waiting for you. Great job  out there. You earned this medal." I am not sure why, but I almost  started crying when she said that. Again, the kindness of the volunteers  shining through. I told her thanks and I appreciated it very much as  she put the medal around my neck.  She said some more nice things and I  went on my way through the corral.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am walking faster than everyone, grab my Mylar blanket, bag of not-so  goodies and finally make it to the bag pick-up. I grab it and the the  end of the finishing corral is right in front of our hotel and I finally  see Tiffany, Isla and my mom. I give them all hugs and kisses and they  were all so happy and proud of me.  They also seemed to be concerned  that I was going to be upset that I didn't go sub 3. The truth was that I  wasn't at all. I was really happy to see them and I was just exhausted -  and the 2010 Boston Marathon was officially in the books.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Post-race Thoughts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am really proud of my time and I really did the best I could. I was  really on the fringe of going sub 3 and if I knew then what I know now  about the course, I would have called myself slightly crazy by going  for it. My training cycle was far from ideal and I definitely made a few  mistakes from fueling (how could I forget my breakfast staple- Peanut  Butter! and the later start messed with my eating schedule) to a lack of hill training (not that I can truly simulate that here  in Chicago). But if I would have run it a little more conservatively in  the first half, I maybe still could have ended up with a 3:01 or 3:02.  In my mind, who cares? I went for the 2:59 and ended up with a 3:03.  I'll put my balls on the table every time when that scenario comes up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Garmin total: 26.43 miles, 3:03:42, 6:57 pace, 169 AHR (although my HR  battery seemingly crapped out on me the last few miles, so I am guessing  that number is closer to 175.) Splits of 1:29:41/1:34:00.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Thoughts on the Rest of the trip&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I'm really lucky to have such a supportive and loving wife and  family. There weren't many other families from out of town that came to  support their runners.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Boston cabbies don't like it when you pay with your credit card.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;On the flight back home, we sat next to a guy that bandited the  marathon. He claims to have taken the green line(D) out to mile 16 and  cabbed it out to Hopkinton. He showed up 2 hours late and proceeded to  still run it in 5 hours from when he started. The best part is that he  was really impressed with my 3:03. He seemed to think I would have no  problem setting a new "PBR" in Chicago in the fall. Yes, that's right a  "PBR." The hybrid of a personal best and personal record is apparently a  Pabst Blue Ribbon, so PBR me ASAP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The "T" is pretty solid, although it does get a little crowded at  times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;If you like Dunkin' Donuts, you'll love Boston.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Congrats to Mike for bringing home a 2:59. Great job and thanks for keeping me company for 20 miles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Boston is kind of like a smaller, cleaner version of  Chicago...with awesome accents. Everyone was really nice. Tiffany and I  definitely want to go back for a visit sometime.   &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Here's a &lt;a href="http://kapellas.blogspot.com/2010/05/on-ya-mahkget-setgo-to-boston.html"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt; to our family blog that features more photos from our trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt; That's about it. Thanks for reading and for your athletic support.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-OgYtv2CqI/AAAAAAAABL8/Nmdiu-j8ono/s1600/IMG_2761.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-OgYtv2CqI/AAAAAAAABL8/Nmdiu-j8ono/s400/IMG_2761.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468390719015488162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-OgZPkHc6I/AAAAAAAABME/yzpoJBN6Rxg/s1600/IMG_2762.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-OgZPkHc6I/AAAAAAAABME/yzpoJBN6Rxg/s400/IMG_2762.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468390728093103010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-OgZh2tSPI/AAAAAAAABMM/mC56gAJ5I20/s1600/IMG_2763.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-OgZh2tSPI/AAAAAAAABMM/mC56gAJ5I20/s400/IMG_2763.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468390733002918130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-OgaeSiJ9I/AAAAAAAABMU/5qnY5Y5S7bs/s1600/IMG_2769.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-OgaeSiJ9I/AAAAAAAABMU/5qnY5Y5S7bs/s400/IMG_2769.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5468390749225756626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5251799024759705199-5627383915106956684?l=ballsonthetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/feeds/5627383915106956684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/2010/05/boston-thats-it-boston.html#comment-form' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5251799024759705199/posts/default/5627383915106956684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5251799024759705199/posts/default/5627383915106956684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/2010/05/boston-thats-it-boston.html' title='Boston. That&apos;s it, Boston.'/><author><name>screaminzab</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08519702001471982826</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/SQsfDnmh_MI/AAAAAAAAARA/M61bxGBbiHk/S220/IMG_0223.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/S-OfCcfdZFI/AAAAAAAABLU/7pIXW2VMvmw/s72-c/IMG_2727.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251799024759705199.post-9168552763351649047</id><published>2010-04-12T10:57:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-04-14T21:40:08.027-05:00</updated><title type='text'>All Systems Go!</title><content type='html'>We're now a week away from the big day and I have to say, I am feeling pretty good with where I'm at. I could continue to talk about how the training cycle didn't go exactly as planned, but I have decided to take my own advice and accept it. I can't change it, so I may as well embrace it for what it was/is and get ready to race.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had a pretty solid last couple of weeks training. I was able to get most of my planned miles in and was pretty close to where I needed to be for my key workouts.  I had been doing a lot of comparing of this cycle versus the last fall's Chicago over the last 12 weeks or so. Somewhere in the middle of those 12 weeks, I stopped doing it because I was just getting frustrated. Well, just for shits and giggles I looked at a few of my last runs and wouldn't you know it, it looks like I have actually made some gains. My HR the last three weeks has been slightly lower on comparable runs from last fall. And sometimes faster, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here are a couple comparisons:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;10/4/2009 - 46 degrees, 13.44 miles, 8:24 pace, 137AHR&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;4/11/2010 - 48  degrees, 13.07 miles, 8:24 pace, 132AHR&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Basically the same run a week before the marathon in nearly identical conditions and I wasn't working as hard to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;10/1/2009 - 45 degrees, 7+ miles with 3x1600 @ 6:00, 6:04, 6:07 with AHRs of 179,181,181&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;4/10/2010 - 56 degrees, 7+ miles with 3x1600 @ 5:54, 6:01, 6:02 with AHRs of 168,173,175&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Same run, with the more recent run being in warmer conditions, faster and a lower AHR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These are great signs. The biggest downfall in the last 12 or so weeks has been my inability to run as much as I wanted. My average miles/week is right around 56 versus 62 for Chicago. Not a huge difference, but I did have the luxury of an 18 week cycle last fall as compared to a 12 weeker this time.  Anyway, as I said in the opening, it's done and let's get this sucker on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have pretty much decided to give myself a shot at a sub 3 marathon in Boston, assuming the weather is agreeable.  That means running the first 16 or miles in the 6:45-6:48 pace range, toughing it out out through the hills (miles 16-21) and going for broke/hanging on after the hills are gone. I'm interested to find out what I have left after the hills...assuming they don't kill me. I kid, I kid. It's pretty interesting to hear people's take on the Boston hills. Some make them out to be mountains, while others say they aren't a big deal at all. There's really only one way to find out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If my attempt at a sub 3 comes up short, I'll set my sights on beating my best time of 3:05:18 from Chicago last fall.  And if for some reason it's really not my day and the shit really hits the fan for some unforeseen reason, Boston becomes a celebration of making it there. I am really excited to get out to Boston with Tiffany and Isla. Plus, I'll have a cheering section of my mom, Nick and Jaime (my bro and his wife), who are making the trip out to Beantown to enjoy the festivities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can remember just a couple years ago people asking me if my ultimate goal was to run Boston. I always told them that I thought that there was a chance that I could make it when I was old enough to be in the 35-39 age bracket and slowly chip away at my time and run a 3:15.  It's hard to believe that the fast forward button worked (along with lots of hard work) and I'll be toeing the line to run the Boston Marathon in one week from today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll try to get some pics of the race day gear on here before we leave for Beantown. I also weighed in yesterday at 159.  That's 2 pounds lighter than I weighed four days before Chicago last year. I'll step on one more time on Thursday before we leave to see what the final number is. Good stuff!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tracking info:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="MainText"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;TEXT&lt;/strong&gt; - Simply text the word &lt;strong&gt;RUNNER&lt;/strong&gt;  to 31901 using your US mobile phone. You will then receive an sms text  response with instructions on how to submit a runner’s bib number.  My bib is 3733&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5251799024759705199-9168552763351649047?l=ballsonthetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/feeds/9168552763351649047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/2010/04/all-systems-go.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5251799024759705199/posts/default/9168552763351649047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5251799024759705199/posts/default/9168552763351649047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/2010/04/all-systems-go.html' title='All Systems Go!'/><author><name>screaminzab</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08519702001471982826</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/SQsfDnmh_MI/AAAAAAAAARA/M61bxGBbiHk/S220/IMG_0223.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5251799024759705199.post-6602414751416559217</id><published>2010-03-21T21:35:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-03-28T13:23:23.707-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What's Up, Tom King?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span id="edc84b75-3581-4310-8bb6-a2fa145a37db"&gt;This is not what I had  in mind for my initial post on this blog. I had fully intended to  document my Boston Marathon training, but things have been a little  hectic the first part of the year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The title of the blog is a  saying I have kind of adopted as my running mantra over the past 9  months or so. It's about going for it. Having confidence in your  abilities, training and will power. Pushing yourself further when the shit is about to hit the fan. I could go on, but I am having a hard  time finding time to write this as it is, so we'll get back to the idea  behind balls on the table at a later date.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Trip&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two weekends ago, we  took a trip down to Jackson and Nashville, TN. The half marathon was on &lt;span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT40"&gt;Saturday&lt;/span&gt;. After a pretty  successful 8 and half hour drive down, we pulled into Jackson. Isla got a  little feisty the last hour to hour and a half, but all thing  considered, not bad for a 13 month old being strapped in car seat for all but a half hour &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="edc84b75-3581-4310-8bb6-a2fa145a37db"&gt;- when we stopped for lunch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="edc84b75-3581-4310-8bb6-a2fa145a37db"&gt;. Tiffany deserves all of the credit in  the world for pulling out all the stops to try to keep Isla sane in the  car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We basically relaxed &lt;span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT41"&gt;Friday&lt;/span&gt; night. Isla decided she wasn't going  to sleep in the Pack-N-Play, so she slept in Michael's bed with us. He was kind enough to sleep on the couch and give us his bed. She  actually slept in it by herself until we came to bed. She was a little  sick earlier in the week, so the sleep hadn't been good for much of the week  as it was. Fun times!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT42"&gt;Saturday&lt;/span&gt;,  I went out for 3 miles with some strides by myself and then Michael  joined me for another 2.25 with a few more strides. Jackson features  some nice rolling hills, which would be awesome for training. However,  the sidewalks and streets were a little rough, so you take the good with  the bad, I suppose.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left for Nashville a little after 1 and  got there in about 2 hours. We checked into the hotel. Our La Quinta  room, a mere 3 doors down from Michael's would been more appropriately  called La Crappa. I wouldn't have given Bosley a bath in that tub. His room was much nicer, complete with a microwave and  refrigerator. Then we headed to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="edc84b75-3581-4310-8bb6-a2fa145a37db"&gt; LP  Field (home of the  NFL Tennessee Titans) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="edc84b75-3581-4310-8bb6-a2fa145a37db"&gt;to pick up our race packets and spent a little time  downtown along with thousands of drunken SEC fans. The SEC Hoops Tourney  was in Nashville that weekend also. Great timing. After getting out of  downtown, the search for food for dinner became a bit of a challenge. We eventually found a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="edc84b75-3581-4310-8bb6-a2fa145a37db"&gt;suitable &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="edc84b75-3581-4310-8bb6-a2fa145a37db"&gt;place &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="edc84b75-3581-4310-8bb6-a2fa145a37db"&gt;after  some wayward  driving&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="edc84b75-3581-4310-8bb6-a2fa145a37db"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After  dinner, we headed back to the hotel and took care of a few things. This  was Michael's debut race. I had devised a training plan for him that  started in early January and peaked around&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="edc84b75-3581-4310-8bb6-a2fa145a37db"&gt; 32&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="edc84b75-3581-4310-8bb6-a2fa145a37db"&gt; miles two weeks out from the  Half. He was basically starting from scratch so it was slowly building a  mile or so every week, typically on the long run. Throw in a cutback week  every 3 weeks or so and hope for the best.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I checked in on his  race wardrobe selection and offered up a couple of spare items of mine I  brought along for the trip. He said sure and wore the running shirt and  shorts I gave him. Good move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The race started @ 8:30 on &lt;span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT43"&gt;Saturday&lt;/span&gt; morning, so we  headed downtown and got there in plenty of time. It was a little raw  outside. It had rained the night before and was a breezy 45 degrees. Not  great conditions, but not terrible. Shortly after that, we said goodbye  to Tiffany and Isla and I got in about a mile and half warm up run. Legs  felt fine and I made my way to the start line. I realized I forgot my  Gu at this point also. I could hear some bagpipes for some reason, so I  thought the race may turn out to be pretty good after all. Michael found  me in the corral and I offered up a few last minute tips to him: Don't  go out too fast, take it easy the first mile or two, and above all, have  fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;The Race&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gun sounded and we were off. I saw Tiffany and Isla  about a 1/4 mile in, gave them a wave and smile and began the trek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I  had to pass a decent amount of people early on as we started about 30  seconds back. It wasn't bad at all though, because I had a pretty clear  path on the left edge of the course. My idea of a goal for this race was  if things broke right, to be somewhere in 1:25's, which is close to the  6:30-6:35 pace range. I wasn't really sure I was in shape to run that  fast, but decided to see how the race was going to play out and just see  how I felt. If nothing else, I wanted to PR which would have meant  running better than 1:28:25.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miles 1-3&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to make sure  I didn't go out too fast, so I was pleased to hit the first mile marker  at 6:39. I felt fine as we headed into a gritty mile of Nashville  before hitting a path that ran along the river. Somewhere in this mile  was the first water stop. Some dude who had clearly gone out too fast -  arms were pumping quite a bit, cuts over from the right side of the  course and reaches out for a water in front of me. Ok, no big deal, I  can get around him. He proceeds to float back to right, slow down and  start drinking his water. I give him a nice shove to the right shoulder  and pushed him out of the way. I may have yelled "Heads Up!" to him also.  Pretty sure there were no profanities used.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a gradual  hill in mile 2, so when I hit "lap" at the 2nd mile marker and saw  6:38, I thought I was doing pretty good with the hill thrown in there. We  picked up the path/trail in the third or fourth mile. I hit mile 3 in  6:40. Okay. At least it's consistent. Maybe that's going to be &lt;span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT44"&gt;today&lt;/span&gt;'s pace, I thought to  myself. I thought I increased the effort a touch over the last mile.  Didn't translate into anything on the Garmin though. The path went over a  few wooden bridges. They were a little slick from the rain and a little  bouncy. Had a brief inner ear/vertigo-type feeling near the end of the  first one. More good times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miles 4-6&lt;br /&gt;I decide to try to pick it  up a little bit in the 4th mile. To my delight, there's some Vanilla Gu  being handed out there. Why not, Gu it up. I down the Gu and some water.  Shortly after that, I hit the mile marker and I see another 6:39. Damn.  Okay, let's try this again for mile 5 - 6:39. Hmmm. I guess this &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;is&lt;/span&gt; the  pace &lt;span class="Object" id="OBJ_PREFIX_DWT45"&gt;today&lt;/span&gt;. I am  passing people with regularity during these miles, so I guess pacing is  an issue for them. During mile 6, I can start to see some of the runners coming towards me after the turnaround. I yell a few  encouraging words to a few of them, including a couple dudes wearing  official Boston shirts. I hit mile 6 in 6:33. Better.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Miles 7-10&lt;br /&gt;I  was trying to count how many people were in front of me. I stopped at  50, thinking it would be too hard to keep track after that. I would  guess by the time I got to the turnaround around mile 6.5 or so, there  were 70. I hit the turnaround and tell the volunteer I was going to take  his Coors Light on the table. In his best Tennessee accent, he says "go  fer it!" Mile 7 is a 6:36. I see Michael looking pretty good in the  next mile and shout a little something to him. Mile 8 is a 6:37. Mile 9  is 6:35. I know I am working harder as my HR is now in the mid- 180's. I  am still continuing to pass a fair amount of people each mile. Among  them are two girls in mile 9, one with "Mudy" on her back. More on her  shortly. I know the path essentially ends around mile 10. There's also  more water, so the free Gu I grabbed back around mile 8 was calling my  name. I down the Gu, the water and am late hitting "lap" by about 5 or 10  seconds. Mile 10 says 6:48, but I know it should be a 6:38 - 6:43.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mile  11&lt;br /&gt;After the late lap button, I know 11 should be a good one. We hit the  same hill from the second mile. For some reason, I am not getting good  speed going down the other side. I was expecting to see 6:10's-6:20s on  the downhill, but much to my chagrin, it was staying in the 6:30's. The  wind had become a factor as we were now back in the open. That's not an  excuse though. I was starting to break down. Mile 11 was a 6:48. But I passed  a handful or more of people. They must have been slowing down more than  me. Crap. Right around there Mudy flies by me. Flies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mile 12&lt;br /&gt;I  try to pull it together, but the wind isn't helping and I am running  out of steam. And I have no one around me anymore. A guy 50 yards behind  me and a guy 100 yards in front of me. Damn. Mile 12 is a 6:38. With a good last 1.1 and just under 1:19:48 on my Garmin, I can still go sub  1:27.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The last 1.1 miles&lt;br /&gt;I decide to give it all I  have. I feel like I am working hard. The course makes a couple turns  outside the stadium before hitting the steep declined entrance. It was  really steep. My quads were on fire as I am trying to figure what the  hell I am supposed to be doing to make it hurt less. It goes away as it  eventually flattens out and I run onto the field. As I exit the tunnel  and hit the grass, I raise my left arm and point, as if I'm the guy  everyone was there to see. Pretty funny, I know. I hit the grass and  realize I am going to have to hit this pretty hard to come in under  1:27. The football field seems pretty small when you are running on it  like this. I make the second to last turn and am humping it. I make the  final turn (think - coming out of the end zone) and have 50 yards to go. I  see the camera man while I am taking the turn and give him a solid  point. With about 25 yards to go, I see Tiffany and Isla and give them a  wave and a smile. I hit the finish line strong (7:08 the last 1.1) and the Garmin reads  1:26:56. An overall pace of 6:38 and some change. 7th in the Age Group and 44th overall (of 1120 something)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Splits:6:39/6:38/6:40/6:39/6:39/6:33/6:36/6:37/6:35/6:48*/6:38/6:38/7:08(last1.1)&lt;br /&gt;AHR: 168 /174 / 173 / 176 / 177 / 181 / 182 /183 / 184/  184 / 184 / 187 / 191 (peaking at 197)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I meet up with Tiffany and Isla and we see Michael come in  shortly after that in 1:43:08, an awesome debut. He looked good making  his lap inside the stadium.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mudy finishes as the third overall female, beating me by exactly 2 minutes, so she snapped off a couple of 5:30 miles to close out the race.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;pre&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;span id="edc84b75-3581-4310-8bb6-a2fa145a37db"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Some Post-race Thoughts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know  what to think of my performance. It was a PR by 1:29, so that was solid.  The wind didn't help my abilities to turn it on the last 3 miles, as I  had hoped to do. It could be a pretty accurate reflection of where I am  at right now. My Boston training cycle has been very up and down and  very inconsistent, due to a variety of factors.  I didn't have a killer  "I need to run a 1:25" attitude, so I just ran it by feel and tried to  run the best race I could on that given day. I originally had intentions of cracking 3 hours in Boston, but I am not sure I have put in the work to do it.  Perhaps my lack of confidence in my training made me hold back a little bit, knowing that blowing up in this Half could be far more detrimental for me mentally than playing it safe and running 6:38's most every mile.  The irony is that in the first post of "Balls on the Table," I talk about a race in which I didn't put my balls on the table.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran an 8K last year at this time in iffy conditions that netted me a 6:44 overall pace. So, it's all relative. If you would have told me &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="edc84b75-3581-4310-8bb6-a2fa145a37db"&gt;last March &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="edc84b75-3581-4310-8bb6-a2fa145a37db"&gt;I would run a 1:26 half in 12 months, I would have laughed in your face. I know and realize I have improved a ton and I am grateful for that. McMillan says a 1:26:56 equals a 3:03:21 full, which is about 2 minutes faster than my Chicago time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am going to work my ass off these next couple of weeks before tapering 2 weeks for Boston.  I wouldn't put my chances of going sub 3 in Boston very high. 20% maybe?  I am not completely giving up hope on it, but at some point reality does call and you do have to pick up the phone. I am thinking of seeing how things go in Boston and if I am feeling good that day, than I'll give it a shot.  That would mean a half time of 1:29. Boston's hills in the second half most likely set you up for a slightly positive split. This would also possibly mean running a type of race there that people say to avoid - don't go out too fast or the hills will kill you in the second half. If you look at a bunch of people's splits from last year, the second half is much slower than the first. I always tell people that when you set a goal that possibly overreaches your abilities, you have to come to terms with yourself that the result could end up ugly. If you accept that then by all means, go for it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll do my best to post weekly from now until Boston.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To see more pictures from the trip, go &lt;a href="http://kapellas.blogspot.com/2010/03/road-trip.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5251799024759705199-6602414751416559217?l=ballsonthetable.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/feeds/6602414751416559217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/2010/03/whats-up-tom-king.html#comment-form' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5251799024759705199/posts/default/6602414751416559217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5251799024759705199/posts/default/6602414751416559217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://ballsonthetable.blogspot.com/2010/03/whats-up-tom-king.html' title='What&apos;s Up, Tom King?'/><author><name>screaminzab</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08519702001471982826</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6VCWbbzF678/SQsfDnmh_MI/AAAAAAAAARA/M61bxGBbiHk/S220/IMG_0223.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry></feed>
