What a great Gift for the runner in your life! Aiden and Isaac are selling these hand crafted, oak display racks for your race medals. Made with furniture quality wood, your rack will look beautiful in any room. At just $25 these are affordable gifts.
Want a customized message across the top? No problem! For just $5 more, the boys will stamp your favorite motivational phrase, your name or any thing you want that is about 25 letters.
The proceeds go to pay for them to attend Boy Scout Summer Camp and 90% of the work is done by Aiden and Isaac. Our neighbor, Russ helps with the power tools and they do the rest. They are also earning a woodworking Merit Badge and valuable business experience.
To order, private message me and we will get your Medal Rack done! We can ship it or deliver it locally. If we ship it, we will just charge whatever UPS charges us and zip it to you! Cash Check or PayPal is accepted.
The coaching clichés, “Let the Race Come to you.” and “Run your own race.” are common and repeated so many times they begin to sound like the teacher’s voice on a Charlie Brown cartoon. “Wha whaaa wha whaaa. Whaa wha wha whaaaa.” However, I was reminded the last few weeks just how true those little nuggets are. With the coaching cliché theme, here are two race reviews and lessons learned.
Run Your Own Race
This can be said for both races and training. When you are racing and you get sucked into a pace that is too fast early in the event, it can cause you to fade severely the last part of the race. Or getting lulled into a slow pace with speedsters in the pack can be just as devastating. Running with the leaders only to be out-sprinted with a fraction of a mile to go can be embarrassing and frustrating. Your coach will tell you to run your own race to give yourself the best opportunity at a fast time and eventual victory.
For training, if you have a target event that you’re preparing for, then stick to a plan for that event. Don’t get sucked into training with friends that doesn’t prepare you for the target race. If you’re preparing for a 50K, why would you race a 5K the week before?! Hmmmm. I don’t know.
Flatwoods 5K, April 11th, 2015
My sons wanted to race this one and I had a 50K to run on the 18th but why not hit a little speed? This is a beautiful course with good food and awesome pine cone trophies. I admit it; running a 5K the week before a 50K is not “Running your own race.” However, good times with my boys are important and I stayed true to the goal by not slacking on mileage the week of the 5K. Typically, I’ll take at least two days easy before a race to freshen up my legs and focus. Not this time. I logged a total of 85 miles on the week with 11 miles the day before the event. The race started fast. A few runners blazed out at under 5:20 pace. While I still went out a bit too fast, I held back and made strategic moves. The race went well and I was 3rd place overall, winning a cool pine cone trophy. There were spots where I challenged the 2nd place runner but he had some extra spring in his legs and ran hard. I also stayed on target with training by taking the next week easy, leading up to the 50K. Most importantly, I stayed true to important values; running with my sons and making running fun for them.
Anyone who has been competing for a fair amount of time knows that there are races where everything clicks perfectly into place. Perfect weather. Perfect group to race with. Getting “in the zone.” Effortless stride. The hard part is that this zone or peak performance is hard to capture. It just happens! If you train consistently, then you’re ready for that perfect race. It won’t happen every time but if you’re ready, it will come to you. Trying to force the perfect race to happen is foolish. You can force several great races in a row with training, solid mental toughness and good coaching but hitting that PERFECT race is something that you just have to wait for. Let it come to you. It is easy to burn up mental and physical energy by forcing a pace that is too hard. Getting flustered early in a race when things don’t go well can throw off your focus. Relax and let the race come to you. You’ve done the work, now let the race develop.
Sweet H2O 50K, April 18th, 2015
If you’re searching for an event that could give you that dreamy, “Perfect race” this was not the best option. The rain had been falling in Lithia Springs Georgia all week, the course includes about 8,000 ft of elevation change and weather was expected to be fairly warm with high humidity. The big creek crossing was eliminated from the course because the flow was just too dangerous and deep. Still, the wet trails and tributary streams provided ample opportunity to get wet.
I was running with my longtime friend and high school teammate, Steve Wilcox. We cruised into a comfortable pace early, knowing the challenges that lay ahead. We ran the event two years ago and for our first 50K ever, finished respectably; tied for 4th place in 5:13:22. Knowing that the course would be even more difficult with the mud, we ran conservatively. My friend, Bernd happened to be in Atlanta for work and made a last minute decision to show up at the race to get some training in. He planned to just run a few miles and then head back to his conference. Bernd was enjoying the technical trails along the creek and then sped ahead of us so he could pull out his phone and take pictures as we ran by. We were all having a fun, easy trail run. I talked to a runner wearing a singlet that said “Powered by Craft Beer.” I told him to find me after the race and I’d share my Swamphead brew with him. Fun times!
We went through two aid stations and dutifully drank some Gatorade and I slurped down one Accel Gel. We ran on past aid station #2 on pavement and knew we would be directed back onto trail shortly. We saw orange flagging around a corner and kept going, heading the obvious direction back onto the muddy trails. Then…… no orange flags. “I haven’t seen any flags in a while, Steve.” He acknowledged my concern and suggested getting around the next turn to look for flags. Nope. No flags. We started to back track and came across a group of 7 other runners who were also confused. I glanced at my watch and realized it had already been six minutes since we were at the aid station. Backtracking to where we saw the last flags, we found our way on course. I glanced at my watch again; ten minutes since we were at the aid station and we were almost back to it! My quick estimate was that we lost eight minutes. Crap!
Cruising on the trail, we began to hit some real hills. There were now about 20 runners ahead of us and as they hiked up the hills, we ran. Obviously some people figured out where to turn! This section of trail included the Gas Line hills and the slick Georgia clay on the steep inclines drained the energy from your legs as you slipped back a few inches every step. The declines were treacherous too. Short careful steps minimized the sliding but it was hard to stay in control of my stride. On the out-and-back leading to the aid station at the school, we saw the leaders heading back towards us. As the smiling, first place runner zipped by, offering encouraging words, I checked my watch. When we got to the aid station / turn around, I checked it again and told Steve, “The leader has twelve minutes on us.” Gulping Gatorade and slurping gel, I saved my conversation for the trail. On the trail, Steve and I estimated that we were twelve minutes behind first place and about eight behind fourth. “I wouldn’t worry about that right now….” Steve warned. He was right. We would be stupid to push the pace in the first half of the race. Heading away from the turn around, many of the runners cheered and I got a high five from Gainesvillian, Pat Gallagher, who was running with a friend on this course just one week after a 50 mile event. Beast!
The course continued through some beautiful trails and the bright green of fresh tree growth was everywhere we looked. So was the mud. A few different times on the course we startled deer and we had to hop over a small turtle at one point. Steve kept me disciplined and I focused on gulping Gatorade at each aid station to the point where I thought the sloshing in my stomach was going to make me puke. At one point, I waved Steve ahead saying, “Don’t run behind me, I might puke on you!” The sloshing always settled down after a few minutes and I could get back to relaxed running. We reached the turn at the bridge on the second loop and I asked the course volunteer how far ahead the leaders were. She told me a race number and said “Five minutes ahead of you.” Steve and I assumed it was the fourth place runner still that far ahead of us. A short time later we saw a racer ahead of us, walking up a steep incline. To our surprise, it was the runner we had seen in first place. He was still smiling and still saying encouraging words to us but he was clearly hurting.
We arrived at the next aid station and were surprised to find out we were the first two runners! Somehow, we covered the eight minutes we had lost and more. We were still running well and had taken the lead. I gulped Gatorade, shot down an Accel Gel and had new life in my legs. One of the volunteers looked at Steve and said, “You need salt.” She instructed him to take a banana chunk and dip it in a bowl of salt.
He did it and then said, “Oh! That’s GOOD!” I almost barfed at the thought since I was topped off with Gatorade and gel. Yuck. Back on the trail we ran together and talked about how we ended up in the lead. What happened to the other three runners that were ahead of us? How did we make up twelve minutes on the first place runner? Steve had a simple explanation, “That’s why you run the race. Who knows what’s going to happen.” He could have said, “Let the race come to you.”
Back on the gas line hills, Steve was struggling. We turned at the Sheriffs Truck at the top of a big hill and I hollered at Steve as he regained some spring in his step to catch up to me. I arrived at the next aid station alone. Steve was staying tough but the lack of salt had caught up to him. The friendly volunteers informed me that I was at 26.2 miles! I glanced at my watch and joked, “Dang it! Not a PR!” The volunteers laughed, knowing how challenging the conditions were. Steve arrived at the station as I was leaving and he had tunnel vision to get to the drinks. He barely acknowledged I was there as he headed to the drinks he had been dreaming about for the last two miles. Not far down the trail, I saw the third place runner. He waved and we exchanged looks of encouragement and cheering without saying a word. Talking would just take too much effort at this point. Several other runners I saw cheered waved and smiled as we crossed paths. On the downhill sections I tried to be polite and say something back. My right hamstring was tight at the Powerline hill and I could feel it tugging more and more on the descent. I started talking out loud to my hamstring. “I love you hamstring. Help me out here and don’t give up. We’re almost there!”
At the final aid station I again chugged Gatorade and slurped some Mountain Dew. Jack’s hill had kicked my butt and a salted banana was starting to sound good. With only about two miles to go, I still wanted to make sure everything held together. Feeling confident and refreshed, I started off. I ran strong but cautiously thinking I was more likely to mess things up but running too hard than by running too slow.
The finish was a welcome sight and I was toast. The race director brought me a finisher’s hat and a glass plaque for winning. What a race! The post-marathon leg ache was coming on so I got up to walk around some. A beer, some ibuprofen, and rinsing off with a water bottle got me feeling a lot better. The Bar-B-Q lunch provided for runners was just what I needed.
That was a long trip to get to the coaching cliché but here it is: “Let the race come to you.” Steve and I got off course, fell way behind and had difficult course conditions to deal with. By running smart, being tough and letting the race develop, we ended up first and second. The Florida boys in the Georgia mud on a hilly course came out ahead because we let the race come to us.
We were running races at track practice last night. I paired up kids so I’d have 2 kids of similar speed running together. The race was a slight downhill on grass of about 60M. I was at the bottom with my watch giving the starter’s commands. The kids know to stand tall, step up for “On your Mark!” crouch down for “Set!” and then start on “Go!”. With kids running from age 4 to 12, we had quite a range of times and skill levels.
After three rounds, I ran up to the start and gave two bits of coaching:
Run through the finish. Pretend the real finish line is 10 steps past where I’m standing.
Keep your knees high- just like we do in the High Knees drill.
I ran back down and began calling them up to the line again. Here’s the best part- Every kid ran a little faster than they did on the previous three rounds!
Now to hurdles. Same race course but with three hay bales turned on their side making hurdles that were knee high for me. I gave some brief instructions and this time we went one at a time since we only had one “lane” to run.
After three rounds, I gave one bit of coaching:
Remember your arms? How do you use your arms for sprints? It’s the same for hurdles. Practice your arm swing. We all stood there and practiced arm swing.
Back to the races! As each kid came to the line I’d yell, “Remember your arms! To your Mark!….” Again every kid ran faster.
So the lesson the kids taught me is that the little things really do matter. Of course, I’ve heard that many times from teachers, coaches, and other wise people over the years. But nothing proves it as clearly at the numbers on a watch and a smile on a runner’s face.
Maybe Al Oerter summed it up best:
I’ve thrown for forty-five years on an average of 10,000 throws a year. That’s 450,000 throws and not one of those throws has ever been perfect. There was always something else I could have done to make the prior throw just a little bit better. I think if we attack life in that same manner we can do some wonderful things on this earth.