Trip Note #1

First interesting trip note: the flight attendant just came to introduce herself to me because I'm "a special Privilege Club member," and then asked if I wanted a newspaper or anything else. She didn't do this with anyone else that I could see. I guess being a high mileage Silver member gets you a pseudo-personal flight attendant, but not an upgrade to First. Go figure.  

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Farewell, Steve

I found out today that a friend from many years ago died the other day. His name was Steve, and he was the bartender at Bayview Yacht Club in Detroit for over 30 years. When I was going to school in Michigan, I spent a lot of time at the club sailing and socializing, and he's a huge part of what made it such a great place to hang out. He had great stories to tell, greeted everyone with a smile, and when he saw you walk in the door, he had your favorite drink waiting for you by the time you reached the bar. He did me and my first wife a favor and gave up a Saturday afternoon and evening, the busiest time at the club, to be the bartender at our wedding reception and the party afterwards. He was a big reason we all had as much fun as we did. I haven't seen him in close to 20 years, but he'll always be one of my friends and my favorite guy behind the bar.

My favorite story about Steve is from the day that Jerry Garcia came to visit Bayview. He was a huge Deadhead and often wore a Stealie tie-pin at work, his way of livening up the black-tie outfits the Bayview bartenders had to wear. Jerry's wife had a friend who was a member, so he stopped in with them one afternoon before they played shows in Detroit the following two days. Steve couldn't believe Jerry was actually in the bar hanging out with us (there were only a handful of people there), and the three of us spent the better part of a hour or two talking about music, sailing, and diving. Before he left, Steve asked Jerry to sign an autograph for him, and Jerry told him he could do even better than that. He took one of the large white cloth bar napkins, drew a Stealie on it, and signed it for him. Steve was beyond excited, and that signed napkin artwork hung behind the bar for the rest of the summer.

Farewell, Steve. I'll have a Mt. Gay & ginger in your memory tonight.

Madrid Marathon 2012

I took the Metro over to the expo on Friday afternoon. I had no idea where I was going, just that the race info gave the name of the closest station. This didn't really help me much, and it took me quite a bit of wandering around before I found the entrance to the park, Casa de Campo, where the expo was being held. The park is huge and there were absolutely zero banners advertising the marathon or the expo. In hindsight, this was just the first of many signs of the tension between Competitor Group, who owns the Rock n Roll race series, and the local organizers. More on that later.

Inside, the expo looked a lot like one you'd see at a small or medium-size race in the US. There were a few dozen vendors selling shoes and gear, promoting upcoming events across Europe, and giving away free samples. One interesting thing I noticed is the lack of competition between the vendors. Each brand, be it Asics or Brooks or adidas, had only one seller. Even the few local equivalents of Fleet Feet made sure not to sell something someone else also had. The oddest thing, though, was the actual packet pickup. There were separate areas for the 10k and the marathon, and that's it. You could walk up to any one of the very friendly volunteers to get your envelope, no segregation by bib number at all. Since they didn't let you know your number in advance, they had to do it this way (or by last name), but it sure put a strain on the people handing the materials out. They had to go back and forth across the area constantly depending on each person's last name. Very inefficient for a race with ~15,000 runners. I'm guessing this is one thing Competitor will change next year.

The race goodies are pretty nice - adidas tech shirt, arm band for an iPhone or iPod, and a backpack. The 10k runners got a mug instead of the backpack; don't think they were too thrilled with that. I cruised around the expo a few times checking things out but didn't buy anything. Not much I needed coupled with high prices kept my wallet closed. If you want to make some quick cash, find a way to buy Vibrams in the States and sell them in Europe. The Bikilas I bought at Fleet Feet for $100 were €120. Ouch!

Hopping on the Metro on Sunday morning presented an interesting contrast of lifestyles. At 745am, 80% of the train was filled with runners on their way to the race. The other 20% were on their way home from their Friday night festivities. I'm not sure which group found the other to be wearing the most interesting attire. Dressed in my Qatar Airways pajamas, I certainly looked like I didn't belong to either group. If it wasn't for the gear check bag over my shoulder, I could easily have passed for one of the beggars or street performers found all over the city. The PJs may not be pretty, but they sure do make wonderful throwaway clothes.

We walked past the finish line to drop our bags off

Getting to the start was an adventure in itself. Bag check was beyond the finish line, so you had to walk 10-15 minutes from Metro to drop off your bag at one end of Retiro Park, and then another 15-20 minutes from the finish to the start line at the other end. I passed some people as I was leaving the park near the start who were on a dead sprint to bag check. I doubt they made it back up on time. In addition to all the walking around, the dearth of porta-potties was an even bigger problem. I had been tipped off by a Team in Training member the night before that there were only 50 at the start. I was pretty skeptical but got there and in line early just in case. Sure enough, there weren't even 50 at the finish/bag check area, and I didn't even bother to look for any at the start. The park's trees worked just fine for me and lots of other guys. Oddly, no women hit the bushes, something you see plenty of them doing at home. Side note: no one, guys or girls, dared use the bushes at the Dubai marathon.

The gun went off about a minute later

For all the walking around I had to do, I managed to time it pretty well. After a brief photo stop at the monument, I arrived at the corrals with just the right amount of time to shed my PJs, tighten the laces in my shoes, get a "before" picture taken, and listen for the gun to go off. Fortunately, the corrals weren't really corrals like at the typical RnR race. They were more like guidelines and weak ones at that. The 4:15 and 4:30 pacers and their huge balloons were lined up well in front of the corral 4 sign, almost to the sign for corral 3, which is strange because seed times slower than 4:00 were supposed to be in corral 5. I feel bad for anyone who wanted to run 4:15 and lined up where they were told to. I was able to just meander my way through some of the crowd and start a hundred feet or so behind the two pace groups. I didn't really have a goal time for the race because I planned on stopping to take pictures of the city along the way, but I figured running with pacers in sight would keep me moving steadily along.

As the masses moved forward, I was amazed to actually be up to speed as I crossed the line. That's when I realized that the stories about this being a pretty serious and fast marathon had some truth to them. I didn't have to weave or dodge a single person doing the Galloway program and walking 1/4 mile after the start. Everyone was off and running and running fast. A few kilometers into the race (I love how the numbers go by faster in non-American races), I became aware that my usual m.o. when running a race alone - find people to chat and run with - wasn't going to be an option. You'd think I would've realized this sooner, but I guess I assumed that a RnR event would draw plenty of non-Spanish speaking runners.  Nope. I was alone in the midst of 15,000 runners. Bleh.

To give myself at least some hope of having the same people around me to look at and feel like a pack with, I cruised up alongside the pace group and settled in for the long haul. Suddenly, I heard two voices in English asking me about my WISH shirt. I looked over my shoulder to find Amy, a TNT member from Colorado, and her coach Jennifer. They were as happy to see me as I was to see them because Jennifer wanted to leave Amy to go and help the other TNT runners at the race. And thus began a beautiful friendship. Ok, it was more like a temporary running partnership, but it worked. Amy and I had the best time together. We talked up a storm about past race experiences, the cool buildings and monuments we were passing (note: the Real Madrid stadium is not a very impressive place from the outside), and the dirt dished out by the head of Competitor Group at their TNT dinner the night before the race.

Running with Amy is how I found out about the biggest conflict between RnR and the local race people: when to start the sweeper for the 6-hour time limit. The locals wanted to start it immediately, making it more of a 5:45 time limit for the people who crossed the line last and really needed the extra 15 minutes the most. RnR, thankfully, won the argument and the sweepers didn't start until the last runners had crossed the line and gotten several kilometers up the course. Amy also told me they learned at their dinner that the race was 80% men, down from almost 90% the year before. That sure explains why we kept hearing "Vaya chica!" everywhere we went. The locals were surprised and pleased to see women out there running. Well, most of the locals were, anyway. I heard from another woman afterwards who was subjected to more than a few catcalls and insults during her race. Kind of sad there are assholes all over the world.

Back to the race...I barely glanced at my watch the entire first half. I was having too much fun taking in the sights and trying to keep track of where we were going. We ran past all kinds of parks, cool buildings, funky neighborhoods, and even down a few alleys barely big enough to get a car through. It's a good thing there were people in front of me because I never would have thought a race in a large city would leave the streets as many times as we did. The crowd support was decent most of the way and excellent in places like the Plaza del Sol, where we ran right through the square and thousands of people cheering. I was in the midst of one of the most effortless marathons I've ever run and was loving every minute of it. We hit the halfway mat in 2:04, and I didn't feel tired or under pressure at all.

Unfortunately, Amy wasn't feeling quite as good. I found myself a few yards in front of her more and more frequently as we made our way past the palace (absolutely stunning!) and down the hill to Casa de Campo (hooray for running in the shade). Each time, I slowed slightly to let her catch up, but eventually I had to go on. We had slowed to a 10 min/mile pace, which seemed way too slow for me given how good I was feeling. Finally, just after mile 17, I wished her luck and pushed ahead. I quickly settled back into my previous pace and did a quick check of how everything was doing. Feet, ankles, knees, and legs all felt fine; no need to do anything differently. I was in the groove and motoring right along. I even hit sub-9 several times going down the hills. I generally don't fly downhill, but I had the voice of David Hoffman, a running friend from Houston, in my head. The last time we had run together, he kept after me to just lean forward and let gravity do the work, to not try to trash my quads by intentionally slowing myself down. David, you'll be happy to know I followed your advice on all the hills in the race, and there were quite a few of them.

I finally began to slow down as the course left the park, crossed back over the river, and turned uphill towards the center of the city and the finish. The last four miles or so were one really long climb interrupted by a handful of flat spots. That's not exactly the terrain we can train for here in Doha, but I didn't really care. I kept my cadence the same and trucked on up that hill as best I could. When I finally reached the top, just 2k from the finish, I felt like I was in the middle of the Tour de France. The crowd was so big, cheering so loudly and wildly, and pressed into the course so much, I could barely run side-by-side when I had to pass someone. In one case, I actually had to body punch a guy on a bike who thought he could make it across the course and ended up stopped right in front of me. I know, violence has no place in the world, but it was either that or get my toes run over.

The crowds were thick and noisy the entire rest of the way to the finish. The barriers set up to give us a nice long finishing stretch didn't even keep them at bay. It wasn't until the last 400 or 500 meters that security managed to clear us a path wide enough to allow everyone to sprint for the finish without fear of tripping over fans or fellow runners.

Coming into the finish, I was trucking along pretty good, passing as many people as I could while trying to keep from getting passed. According to the fancy results that the Spanish provide online (much more interesting than the boring ones in the US), I picked off several hundred people in the last 2km. All these years of sprinting at the end of every run like my first coach told me to finally paid off. I came to a crashing halt after I crossed the line, literally. A woman in front and to the right of me decided she was going to just stop and start walking to her left. I didn't have any time to react and unfortunately plowed right into her. I ran her over with a pretty good head of steam on, and thankfully neither one of us was hurt. Bet that's the last time she finishes a race and stops suddenly instead of slowing down gradually like everyone else.

4:12! Done!

The finishing chute was nice and long, with the various stations spread out well to keep crowding and standing around to a minimum. Unlike Houston, which has the worst post-finish layout I've ever seen, this was very well planned. Water and PowerAde bottles were handed out first, just after the line, followed by mylar blankets, then medals, and finally two places to get food and snacks. There was little or no waiting at all, so my legs had a chance to keep moving and cool down slowly instead of setting up while standing still.

Approaching the bag check area, again, I noticed that two security guards were trying to prevent people from grabbing their bags and turning around to come back into the finisher's area. They wanted you to keep going and head out into the park where all the families and friends of the runners were waiting. I wasn't quite ready to fight my way through the crowd at the exit gate, but I really wanted to get my bag and change my shoes. Tough call. I ended up sitting down under a tree, loosening my laces, and munching on the bag of snack mix. Nice to have a race where you can relax on the grass instead of being in a parking lot.

Eventually, the snacks were gone and it was time for me to move on. I retrieved my bag, fought my way through the hordes at the exit, and started wandering through the park back to my hotel. I didn't get too far before I came across a small building surrounded by tables and chairs filled with people relaxing after the race or simply enjoying a beautiful day in the park with friends. Looked to be the perfect place to sit down and change my shoes. Besides, there aren't many better ways to celebrate the end of a really great race than in a park on a sunny day with a cold beer.

Perfect place to relax after the race

It really was a great race. The course was beautiful and very interesting with lots of monuments and other sights to see along the way, the weather was perfect for running, and I ran a pretty decent time without even working very hard. I felt comfortable and relaxed the whole time. Maybe that's due to running by feel because I was so busy talking and having fun, I barely glanced at my watch. Maybe it's the faster long runs on Friday mornings. Whatever made it happen, I'll take it.

Post race rehydration

Other races could learn a lot from this one, and not just the finish in a park with a café serving beer. They could also learn how to handle on-course medical assistance. There were several dozen medical people roller blading the course with the runners right from the start carrying Vaseline, spray cans of bio freeze, and backpacks loaded with all kinds of other things that runners might need during the race. If you wanted something, you just flagged them down and they handed you what you wanted while you were running. No stopping required. It was the most brilliant thing I've seen at a race, ever. Runners got assistance exactly when they needed it, the medical tents could focus on the runners with serious problems instead of minor ones, and the overall load on the volunteers was greatly reduced. If any race directors reading this want to know how to improve their races for everyone involved, this is one easy and effective way to deliver medical care.

RnR always has cool medals

Dive Pictures

The dive master gave me these great pictures from our dive yesterday morning. He's got some others of the manta, but this is a good first start. The eel was quite a good sport in posing with me like this. :)

Maldives, Day 3 (Our Anniversary)

The staff here went all out to help us celebrate our wedding anniversary. First they came and found us at dinner last night to let us know that they were going to set up a dinner for us on the beach in front of our bungalow. We had originally tried to schedule it for tonight only to be told we had to move it to Thursday because they had no openings, so having it moved back to today was really nice. The dinner turned out to be more than just a table on the sand. We got candles lighting a path from our porch to the table, white linens, and an arch made of palm fronds decorated with fresh flowers overhead.

To top it all off, this is what was waiting for us when we got back to the room. Wow!

Maldives, Day 1

Today is the first day of our Maldives vacation. We left this morning on a Qatar Airways flight that was supposed to depart at 815. We left closer to 9, but that's okay. As long as the dust and haze was in the rearview mirror, I was happy. Not the best flight I've ever been on. There were several open seats in first class, but not a single passenger was upgraded. What's the point of having 2nd-tier or 1st-tier elite status if the airline isn't going to upgrade anyone? They don't even let you check in and select seats in the bulkhead or exit row. Thankfully, the people who were supposed to be in the bulkhead row in front of us never showed up, so I was able to move up and give each of us our own row. The only downside was having to see the people across the aisle decide to change their toddler on the seat. Heading to the lavatory must've been too much trouble - 50 feet is obviously too far to walk - so they just took care of business on the seats. Lovely.

Anyway, once we arrived in Male, everything was smooth and easy. We were the first ones through immigration, our bags were the first ones out, and we walked across the arrivals area directly onto the dock where a boat awaited to zip us the 10 minutes across the water to our resort. The cool lemongrass-infused towels during the ride over just made things that much better. Ahhhhhh.

Leaving the airport

Once we arrived, we were taken into a little lounge area and given another cool towel and a small glass of coconut sorbet. I don't even like coconut and thought it was delicious. After some paperwork and an overview of the resort and the benefits of the package we had booked, we were on our way. I went to the dive shop to get set up for my diving for the week, and Heather went to the room to crack open the bottle of wine waiting for us. I think I got the better end of that arrangement. My dives are all set - the guys set me  up with a bin for all my gear, will have it assembled on the tank by the time I get there in the morning, and will wash, rinse, and hang it all to dry when we get back after each dive. Heather, meanwhile, got stuck drinking a lovely screwtop 2010 Sicilian syrah that would really be better served as vinegar several months from now.

During dinner, we got to watch five baby and juvenile blacktip reef sharks swimming in the water alongside the restaurant. Considering the water depth was only a foot or so, it was impressive to see the bigger ones in there meandering around. Hopefully I'll see a lot more of them out diving in the days to come.

Arriving at Kurumba

The Beach Bar

Dubai Marathon Race Report

I left Doha at 8am on Thursday morning, arriving in Dubai at 10. My plan was to go to the hotel, check in, and head to packet pickup before it got crowded in the afternoon. With 1500-2000 people in the full and another 12-14,000 in the 10k and 3k, I figured the expo would be of decent size. Boy, was I wrong. There was only one other person getting their bib while I was getting mine, and only one store selling anything. A local running/tri store set up a table of GU, a few racks of compression clothing, and a couple of fuel belts, bottles, and hats. For a race with this many entrants, it was quite disappointing. Sure made it easy to get in and out of there, though.

I spent the rest of the afternoon shopping for lamps at IKEA. As an aside, no, our brand-new, fully furnished townhomes do not come with lamps. All the lighting is industrial strength bright fluorescent white. It's like living in a hospital.

Moving right along…I had a delicious pre-run dinner at the Japanese restaurant in the hotel. The fish was nice and fresh, and the chef managed to avoid giving me the typical standard five boring kinds like many other sushi places do. Afterwards, I went back up to my room to get everything set for race day. I will say it's kind of nice running a marathon where you know the weather will be sunny and warm at the end of the race. It made packing my drop bag that much easier – flip flops, money for a cab, and a Clif bar. The poor huge orange bag looked kind of sad and empty without the jacket, pants, and hat that I lugged to DC for Marine Corps. With the bag done, my bib pinned on, and my race belt stuffed with goo, bloks, and beans, I climbed into bed to relax before going to sleep.

530am (430 on the body clock) came pretty early, though that's not far off of when I get up for my weekly Friday long runs. Besides, compared to the 330am wake-ups for Goofy, it's nothing. I got dressed, grabbed my gear bag, threw on a long-sleeve top to protect against the cool breeze, and went to the lobby to find myself a cab. Even though I chose a hotel within walking distance of the start and finish, I wanted to try a cab first to save the 20-minute walk if I could. I really wanted to take the Metro, as I'm sure did thousands of other people, but the city didn't want to open it early. They opened the stations near the race so you could walk from one side of the highway to the other through the stations, but the trains were on their normal Friday schedule and wouldn't start operating until 2pm.

Much to my surprise, the cab had no problems in getting me close to the start. They hadn't fully closed the roads yet, so we were able to head straight to the designated drop-off area. They did this part of the race-day transportation puzzle really well. Three lanes of traffic come in, make a U-turn, drop off participants by the Burj sign, and three lanes heading out. Very efficient considering the number of people coming to the race. The organizers also set out plenty of restroom facilities, most of which were segregated for Men or Ladies. These weren't just simple plastic porta-potties either. They were small buildings similar to the VIP ones that the Rock n Roll group tries to get you to sign up for by spending ungodly amounts of cash on Brooks' apparel. Still nowhere near as quick and convenient as the porta-urinals that the Brits used at Sonisphere, but since those have barely made an appearance in the US, I'd be shocked to see them in a more modest country like Dubai.

While waiting for the race to begin, I sat down next to a tree and did some people watching. From serious runners like you'd find at any American marathon to a group of 30-40 Malaysians in matching head scarves and long-sleeve shirts, there was a really refreshing mix of people milling around. I didn't see any women getting ready to run in burqas or abayas, but I did see some expat women in jog bras and running skirts. Scandalous!

The start was in Downtown Dubai next to the Dubai Mall and the Burj Khalifa. From there we wound around the mall, going past some gorgeous hotels. By the time we left the mall area and turned left onto the city streets, the sun was rising, the spectators had vanished from the roadside, and the runners were spread out enough that I was already up to my planned pace. My strategy for the day was to run nice and steady 9:30 miles, stop and take some pictures of interesting things along the way if I found any, and just enjoy being out there for the day. I didn't really have a time goal other than wanting to be in under 4:30, so I was perfectly content to cruise along and take in the sights.

The first part of the course took us by the financial district and the Dubai World Trade Center, and my hotel. I looked over it at knowing full well that 34km later, it'd be mocking me. That's the downside of staying in a hotel near the finish. The hotel I stay at in San Antonio is at mile 25, and it's no fun to run past that, either. Being passed by a pack of Kenyans and Ethiopians like I was standing still instantly brought my mind back to the race. The 15 minute head start the marathon had over the 10k wasn't quite enough to get me past their turn-around before they caught me. Damn, those guys are fast and so fun to watch. Even though their legs were churning a mile a minute, so to speak, they just seemed to be floating in the air as they went by. Unlike me, with my stride that starts out fairly smooth and gentle only to morph into cringe-inducing totally-over-pronating heel-striking by the end of a race. Nothing like seeing the entire sole of your shoe with your ankle rotated 30 degrees in a race picture to make you realize your mechanics are all fucked up. But I digress yet again.

In contrast to the deserted stretch past the hotel and WTC, the road leading out to the beach actually had some people standing around watching the race. Most were groups of workers waiting to cross the road or families out for breakfast, both with confused looks on their faces wondering what we were doing and why, but at least they were there. About halfway to the beach, I heard some women next to me laughing and joking and telling stories, so I decided to try to join in the fun. They were kind enough to let me run with them, a funny story of my own being the price of admission. Approaching the beach, you can't help but notice the giant flagpole looming behind the intersection. Kristin told me that no matter what year she's run this race, the flagpole is always an important landmark. Last year, when the race started in a different part of the city, it marked the 13-mile turn-around point for the out-and-back. This year, it would mean the end of our out-and-back along the beach and the right turn back towards the finish.

The four of us kept knocking off the miles at a steady pace, our conversation ranging from Kristin's upcoming relocation back to the US to the annoying rattle of the beads in Vera's hair to the massage parlor named Hooty Girls we ran by. I was tempted to stop and take a picture of it, but Kristin told me a better photo op lay ahead just after the turn-around near the Burj Al Arab, the Happy Ending salon. I don't remember seeing places with such great names when we were in Thailand. I can't believe they were really here in Dubai.

As we approached the halfway point, we saw Kristin's husband heading back on the other side of the road just in front of the 4-hour pace group. She shouted and waved at him, but he had his game face on and wasn't very responsive. I think this set off the competitor in her because a few minutes later, she asked me if I had any time goals for the race. I told her no, to which she replied by asking me if I wanted to pick up the pace and try to catch the pace group. Seeing as we had just finished the first half in 2:05, this would be no small undertaking. I mulled it over, trying to decide if putting the hammer down and trying for a 4 or 4:05 was worth giving up on what was shaping up to be a relatively easy 4:10. I hemmed and hawed a bit, thought of Ange and Mary and how they race, and I knew what they'd do. They'd tell me to man up and go for it, so that's what I did. Off we went, cranking up from our comfortable 9:30 miles to ones coming in between 8:45 and 9:05. It felt really strange to be winding up so much during the second half of a marathon, but we both figured "what the hell." Neither of us were after a specific time so why not push it and see what we could do. This caused me to miss the picture of Happy Ending, though. Bummer.

The return trip on the beach road was pure hell, and not because of the new speed we were running at. Rather, that damn flagpole just stood out in the distance beckoning us but cruelly never getting any bigger. I had flashbacks to the finish line and adjacent stage at the RnR Virginia Beach half marathon. That was my very first half, and the finish right on the beach. You run directly at it for over two miles at the end of the race, and it never seems to get any bigger or closer either. About the only good thing about that part of the course in Dubai is the fact that the numbers get ticked off much faster when the course in marked in kilometers. There were actually a few pockets of spectators along there too. Not many, but some clusters here and there cheering for their friends/relatives/family members and the rest of us too. No signs, though. I know a lot of the ones in the US are cheesy, but I really enjoy reading them and find them to be good entertainment.

Somewhere around mile 19, I blew up. I went from 8:50 pace to 9:40 pace almost instantly. I sent Kristin on her way and told her I'd see her at the finish. One of the highlights of the last few miles was making the final turn at the Mall and seeing three women in full burqas and abayas out there cheering us on. A very unique sight that you certainly won't find too many places. I got a great boost in the homestretch from my running club friends, too. They were a few hundred yards in front of the line yelling and screaming like crazy for the rest of us going by, just the motivation I needed to keep my finishing kick going to pass a few more people before crossing the line. I managed to cross the line in 4:17, not a bad time, but certainly not the way I thought I'd get it. I can't say I'm disappointed with my result because I didn't have a goal going in. Plus, I learned that it's okay to throw caution to the wind and just go for it. Might be smarter to have a plan to just go for it, but still fun to try.

With the race over, it was time for some picture taking and a nice walk to cool down before hopping in a taxi back to the hotel. A few Guinness and an ice bath later, I was good to go. Nick and Lesley, DBRC members who moved to Dubai back in November, invited us over for a party that afternoon. We had a great time swapping stories of new PRs (15 people set PRs, I think), eating great food, and rehydrating with beer, wine, and champagne. Celebrating with friends is always a great way to spend time after a race.