Monthly Archives: November 2011
Veterans Day, 11/11/11
As a young kid, I was fascinated by history. For some reason, World War II in particular became a focus for me and I read everything about it that I could get my hands on. I studied the battles of Guadalcanal, Midway, Normandy, and Arnhem. I watched movies like “A Bridge Too Far” over and over again. All the time wondering deep within what it must have been like to be there. What it took to go through something like that. Probably leaning a little too far to the idyllic notion of acting with bravery and doing a good job when the chips were down. Only to be brought back to the grim reality when reading about lives lost numbering in the tens or even hundreds of thousands. Along with the personal accounts of those that were there, tasting the defeat or victory.
Most people have regrets centered around something they have done. I certainly have plenty of those. One of my biggest regrets, though, has to do with something I did not do. I passed up my chance to serve in the military. No doubt my life would have turned out very differently had I gone down that path – and that is something I do not wish for at all. But… If I had one thing I could change, while leaving everything else the same, it would be to have served my country in some capacity. I know it can be an ugly, dirty business. And when it is not, then it can be mundane, seemingly pointless, and frustrating to the core. I think I would have been good for it, and it would have been good for me.
I guess what I am trying to say, on this one day above all, is that I recognize and appreciate the service and sacrifice of all those that have answered that particular call. In whatever fashion. Whether it be on the front lines, or behind a desk, it all matters.
I was privileged to attend a Veterans Day ceremony recently and listened to the stories of five people that served in World War II.
They were gray on top, and little bit shaky, but all had sharp minds and recalled past events with crystal clarity. They were humble, yet deeply proud. You didn’t get any sense of entitlement from them. They did things that needed doing. Simple as that.
Ginny was a woman that left home to pick cherries in Ohio, substituting for the men that had been called overseas. She earned $7 a week, 5 of which went to room and board. The Woman’s Land Army needed to fill 240,000 positions in order to save all of the crops that were left behind in the fields and orchards.
Robert was a radio operator in a B-17 bomber. In training, they all had to fly to 20,000 feet and strip a 50 caliber gun down to the tiniest 1/2″ spring while wearing gloves, coats, masks, and goggles. Blindfolded. Once in Europe, you had to fly 50 missions to complete your tour of duty. Incredible.
Ron volunteered for the army at 18 years of age, leaving college behind to go to war. He and his twin brother were both part of anti-tank and mine clearing squads that were made up of other 18 year old’s with leaders that were in their 20s. Their squads both suffered casualties resulting in the loss of their leaders, and they were each promoted to Staff Sergeant and led their respective squads in the same company for the duration of the war. Ron was trapped with 41 others at one point 15 miles behind the German lines. They had radio contact with their superiors and were directed to lay low and see if the situation would change. They hunkered down in the snow and mud for 13 days before making a push for friendly territory. They started at 1pm and finished at dawn the next day. All of them were hospitalized for 2-4 weeks to get over the trenchfoot issues that had developed due to the cold and wet conditions. After the war, Ron went to school day and night to complete his degree in chemical engineering. Going on to work 45 years for Shell Oil Company. His brother worked 45 years for Exxon.
Paul was an artillery officer stationed in the Philippines. He had a fascinating story to tell about his role in the surrender of the island commonwealth. The Japanese held 11,000 troops prisoner, but were referring to them as hostages. The implication being that they would be killed if the remaining soldiers did not surrender. There were different generals in charge of each island stronghold, and even though orders for surrender had been transmitted via radio, Paul had to travel by Japanese plane and boat to obtain confirmation of their compliance. He passed up a chance to sail to Australia with others and stayed behind in order to complete his mission. It took so long for him to return, that his general thought him long since dead. Implying that he could have gone to Australia after all. Instead, he was sent to a concentration camp for three years until the war ended. He went on to work at the Pentagon and retired as a Brigadier General.
Al struck me as the Private Ryan of the bunch. Volunteered at 17, only to be turned down because of his age. Then got in anyway during February of 1941 due to the mobilization of all reserves and National Guard. He was part of the 34th Infantry which saw action in North Africa, Salermo, and Anzio. There were approximately 100,000 casualties in and around the beaches of Anzio. The shelling was so intense at one point, Al said the British artillery soldiers were pouring sea water down the barrels of their guns to keep them from melting. They took fire from the German’s Anzio Express, which was a 380mm railway-mounted artillery monster.
While I primarily write about running, I wanted to spend some time reflecting on how blessed and fortunate I am to have my freedom. I can’t turn back the clock and enlist. However, I can raise good kids that are productive contributors to society, and ensure that they grow up mindful of the sacrifices that have been made. Thankful to have what they have, and to live where they live.
Maintaining a free country, and a largely-free world, is a flawed and often messy business. Decisions can be driven by the rich and powerful, or swayed by greed and special interests. Lives are needlessly taken, and needlessly given. There is no easy answer to the challenges we are faced with. I hope at the very least, we can be grateful for those that have served and are now serving with honor and good intentions.
Thank you, Veterans.
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Race Report: 2011 Moab Trail Marathon
When people hear that you ran a marathon over the weekend, this is what most of them will picture in their minds:
credit: Nathan Halicki
When you add the words ‘Moab’ and ‘Trail’ to the equation, you get a race that has almost nothing in common with a ‘marathon’. Yes, it is a race that is 26 miles long. That is where the similarities end.
The race website does a good job of describing what awaits:
Welcome! You’ve signed up for an incredible journey! This course highlights the spectacular scenic Moab area, an area unlike any other. The course is challenging, but mostly runable. There is a variety of scenery and terrain—everything from canyon rims, canyon bottoms, slickrock, road, single and double track, no-track, ropes, creeks, ups, downs, flats—all in very scenic country.
Along with some warnings to consider:
Hazard Sections: use your head to determine how safe it is for you. If you feel it’s best to walk, walk! Even scoot on your butt if you feel more comfortable. There are some sections with a lot of exposure and a slip and fall could mean death. Use your best judgment and be cautious and conservative—do not do anything risky!
This is going to be a story about my son’s first marathon. Malcolm is 17 years old and a senior in high school. He ran Cross Country for several years, but was never fighting for a top spot. He just likes to run and to be part of a team. Above all, he is consistent and tough. Perfect qualities for trail racing.
We dabbled in some races last year doing the 25k Sageburner and 25K at Goblin Valley.
This year, I knew he was ready for a bigger challenge. The timing of the Moab Trail Marathon was perfect, coming just a few weeks after the end of XC season. Malcolm was very fit, and stronger than I’d ever seen. He made it to every practice and every meet. The only thing lacking was some runs with double digit mileage. I didn’t worry about that too much, knowing that this type of race would play to his strength and that as long as I kept him fueled properly, we’d be able to keep on rolling.
We got in a solid week of training together while on vacation out in Utah a couple of weeks ago, finishing off with an 11+ miler over some tough terrain which would be his longest run this year. We wouldn’t be putting the leaders under any pressure, but with proper pacing we’d get the job done.
Race Day
After enjoying a beautiful afternoon doing a short hike and some shopping in town, the weather took a turn for the worse and it rained hard all night long. I seem to have a pretty good streak going with rain-soaked races in Moab. We drove out to the start area while it was still dark, and waited anxiously for daybreak. Wondering what kind of scene the dawn would reveal.
I was excited for our friend Andrew to get a taste of what it’s like to race on trails in Moab. You just can’t do it justice with words and pictures. It really needs to be experienced. I think he understands now…
Malcolm might have been a little nervous before the start, but didn’t show it. The vibe was one of excitement mixed with anticipation. I think I was the nervous one. Can he really do this? Are we in for a miserable death march while we freeze in the rain and end up hating each other never to run together again? There was only one way to find out. Trust in each other, and keep moving forward.
I was concerned about the shoe choice for the day, and in the week leading up to the race I tried to sway Malcolm into wearing a more substantial trail shoe instead of the very thin and lightweight Merrell Trail Gloves that he had been running in since July.
“It’s going to be rocky.”
“We’re going to be out there for a very long time.”
“I don’t want a foot issue slowing us down when things are otherwise going well.”
Uh huh. In true teenager style he acted like he was considering what his father with years of experience was telling him. All the while those words were fast-tracked down the ear canal shredder. Tossed like tree limbs being turned into wood chips. BZZZZzzzzT.
So I joined him.
The nut doesn’t fall far from the tree.
The race started a few minutes late, but soon enough we were in a long line of runners getting our feet wet and settling in for a long day.
The early miles were spent making our way up a long winding canyon. The worst of the rain had passed, leaving us with very muddy and slippery conditions. True to form, I shed my jacket at mile one and carried it for the next 25.
Soon we began to be caught by the fast half marathoners that started a few minutes after our race.
Andrew was clearly enjoying himself, and I was glad to see him go on ahead and have a great day on the trails.
Malcolm looked like a pro, running steadily and dealing with the conditions.
No lizards, but lots of leaping.
Things got steeper as we made our way closer to the top of the canyon.
We made it up and over without any problems. The rain settled in again and we ran along soaking in the scenery and talking about how cool it was to be doing this race.
Just before mile 6 we made it to the first aid station. We didn’t stay for long, just topped off the bottles, grabbed some pretzels, and headed out into the rain again.
Moab races have the coolest aid station vehicles on the planet.
While the rain made things challenging on several levels, it also enhanced the whole experience a great deal. Everywhere we looked there were waterfalls and torrents of water rushing down normally-dry washes.
The landscape, while dramatic in any conditions, took on a new dimension under the clouds and diffused lighting.
Through it all, Malcolm kept chugging along like a Swiss clock.
A nice lady offered to take our picture together. What a great way to remember the day.
Then it was back to the business of running along the tops of cliffs and checking out a cool waterfall (left of center).
We could see runners who were about a mile ahead of us down on the road below.
Along with an aid station that would take us another 30+ minutes to reach.
The half marathoners would soon split off and head back to the finish line up and over the pass.
We still had a ‘trail’ to ‘run’.
We finally made it to the road, and enjoyed running side-by-side for the first time in several miles.
That was short-lived, and soon we were taking a spur up a canyon to a turnaround point where we would do a 180 and head back down before continuing on with the big loop. There were several deep and very cold stream crossings in the canyon.
Then came a mile long stretch of sticky mud to work over our freshly-rinsed shoes. At several points on the course, there were small drainages that were tough to climb out of.
Our reward for thrashing through the mud and the brush was reaching the base of the biggest climb of the day.
It was long, but we made steady progress.
To say this course was well marked would be a huge understatement.
One last stretch of rocks and we made it through the notch in the seemingly impenetrable wall.
Tiime to reflect for a minute on what you are doing, and what you have done.
Next up was a great stretch of fast singletrack running.
Then things got interesting again.
How about that, we may actually do this.
A sketchy descent came between us and the next aid station.
At the aid station I tore open a bag of chips and dumped a couple of handfuls of M&Ms inside. That way he could carry the bag and eat lunch on the go. We had to make one quick stop to dump a rock out of a shoe, then it was back on the trail.
We had plenty of dramatic landscape to keep our senses fully occupied.
One more aid station, then it was time to head for the finish.
Only in this case, reaching the finish meant there was still another 5 mile loop to go. Hmmm.
More mud!
And a place to take a nap if you wanted.
Then we entered the chutes and ladders section of the course.
Rock wall? No problem.
Up and over we went.
Still running @ mile 23.
Wait your turn for the rope.
Lots of river stone in this section.
A final tunnel.
You smell that? Not that… The finish!
A final charge up the last slippery hill of the day.
He did it!
We did it!
And our feet survived just fine.
Six hours and fifty minutes.
Malcolm was the youngest finisher in the race at age 17. The oldest was 72. He can do this for at least 55 more years if he wants to. He is off to a great start.
I had a great time riding shotgun for the day and going a little crazy with the camera. It couldn’t have gone any better. Very proud of that kid.
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2011 Training Log – Week 43
Work and weather ruled the week, but both were conquered in the end.
Monday
Run – 10.2 miles
New Balance Minimus
Pushed a tempo right from the start. In cycling there is a saying that it felt like you were pedaling squares to describe days when things are not firing smoothly. That was me today. My feet were slapping the pavement, and I generally felt awkward and uncoordinated.
Tuesday
Run – 7.2 miles
Saucony Kinvara
That’s more like it. A decent easy run after a harder day. Shows that I am finally getting recovered.
Wednesday
3.7 miles
La Sportiva Crosslite
Got out at dusk in the cold and snow. School was closed for the kids and we had to cancel some travel plans due to the big storm. I felt surprisingly good on this run. Especially considering it came after pulling a 26 hour stint at work. Got called again and had to go back in until midnight as I was walking back in the door.
Fine cuisine is always the rule when working an all-nighter. I can't believe I really ate that...
Thursday
Run – 11.1 miles
Saucony Kinvara
Sunny and cold. It’s funny how music can affect your run. The Royal Scots Dragoon Guards Last of the Mohicans came on about halfway through the run. Something about those bagpipes and drums. Soon I was running with a little bit of a shoulder roll, and had my elbows slightly flared out. It felt like I was dodging rocks and hopping logs running through the woods with my shirt off, but I was on a city sidewalk south of Denver. Go figure.
Earlier in the run, I was going over some things in my head and I actually cracked myself up in the process. Literally laughed. Man, I have not been getting enough sleep these past few days…
Oh, Kinvaras SUCK on ice.
Friday
Hike – 3 miles
Spent the morning driving to Moab, then hiked to Corona Arch and hung out for the afternoon.
Saturday
Run – 26.2 miles
Merrell Trail Glove
C.R.E. Coolest Race Ever. AKA The Moab Trail Marathon. Ran with my son, Malcolm. He’s a senior in high school. Completely awesome day.
MB no longer = Malcolm Boyack. After today, it's Marathon Boy!
Sunday
Run – 5 miles
Nike Free
Treadmill. Took .5 mile to loosen up the heels, then I felt great.
Total: 66 miles / 13:15
Pic of the week – Trick or Treat!
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The Scene Begins 