Capital City Classic 10k Race Report (NC 10k Championships)

Executive Summary:
3rd overall in 31:30. The starting list was full of great guys, with the line-up including:

-Bobby Mack (USA Cross Country champion and 27:52 10k)
-Alex Varner (14:17 road 5k)
-Brock Baker (1:07 half and former UNC XC captain)
-Devin Swann (1:06 half)
-Marc Jeuland (Olympic Trials Marathoner)
-Paul Springer (8:15 3k)
-Reed Lyon (3:5x 1500m)

These guys are awesome. I mean, Bobby has calf veins that you could cruise down in a romantic paddleboat, Alex has boyish good looks that can be used to vaccinate against Bieber fever, and Brock's name alone conjures images of a lacrosse playing porn star. Crap...after that last sentence, a majority of North Carolinians just voted to amend the Constitution to include a provision that calls me "yucky." Also, just in case, I am no longer allowed to drink at community water fountains.

It's funny because 61% of the state is willfully on the wrong side of history.

(from here)

Pre-Race:
School's out for summer! That means it's championship season, so Duke traveled to Princeton for the Eastern Collegiate Athletic Conference Championship this weekend, where Megan finished 3rd in the 5k in 16:32 (All-East in her 3rd race!). She is amazing. (her blog is at this link, she is an awesome writer)

May also means it's graduation season, which is really sad when friends are leaving. It also reminds me of the time I was threatened with suspension in high school because of my graduation speech (in case you were wondering, I was President of the Dungeons and Dragons Elf Class 4).

You heard him!

The gist of my speech was that the only thing everyone can control is the type of person they are. Who you are is a daily, moment-to-moment decision. That decision is made with every interaction at the cash register, and every conversation with a friend. And you know what? It doesn't fucking matter who you were in high school. At the time, it feels so important--the nerds are nerds, the mean girls are popular, and the jocks get the attention on morning announcements. But in a year, no one will care about high school accomplishments; they will only care about whether you choose to smile at a stranger, or go out of your way for a friend.

So if you liked high school, that's great. Just know that no one will care about that touchdown you scored that one time against that one rival. If you didn't like high school, know that, starting tomorrow, those 4 years only mattered insofar as they shaped you as a human being. And for everyone reading, students and non-students alike, let's decide who we want to be every single morning we wake up, and let's be that person.

Tomorrow is such an exciting opportunity because character is a choice. When asked about the meaning of life, Kurt Vonnegut said, "We're here to help each other through this thing, whatever it is." If we make the daily decision to help, even in the smallest of ways, we can make the biggest difference.

While I was and always will be a huge nerd, I was more known as a football player back then.

While that is a rough paraphrase of a longer speech, the cuss word is an exact quote. That may be a mistake in a school system where one of my science teachers presented evolution as one of several theories. I imagine that guy got a kick out of Barack Obama's evolution on the issue of gay marriage.

Anyway, this is a race report dammit! (/record scratch) (//cut to montage of me making trips to porta-potties while the narration details my bowel movements) (///all set to Carly Rae Jepsen's "Call Me Maybe")

So I got in a good 30 min warm-up, which ended when I took off my shoes and ran through sprinklers at the NC Capitol Building. Unfortunately, I forgot that sprinklers move, and left me shoes directly in the spray zone. Subsequently, I went to the porta-potty. A good way to horrify people is to walk out of an overused porta-potty with squishy shoes.

From my all-time favorite Tumblr.

Race:
The gun sounded, and a group quickly formed with the aforementioned awesome runners. Somehow, I got a ticket to the stud parade, and bounded to the lead group of Bobby, Marc, and Brock. We stayed comfortable over the light rollers, with Bobby really backing off the pace we expected him to set. I actually think the presence of such an amazing runner threw the race for a loop--a lot of runners deferred, which left Brock and I going to the front. We traded the lead for the first few miles, going through 5k in 15:23.

I can't even stretch this to relate to the race.

Our 3-person group had a gap as the course turned onto the highway for a gradual uphill mile. Bobby went on and brushed his shoulders off, opening a sizable lead in a very short time. Brock stuck his move for a half mile, which left me in no-man's land in front of the chase pack. I feel like those long, straight, sunny sections favor group running, and I could feel myself slipping just a bit. At mile 4, we had a descent that let me regroup, and the ensuing uphill was steep enough so the group behind shattered.

Now the race was on for the 2nd through 5th prize money, with Bobby clearly setting the pace at the front. I kept the focus on Brock about 10 seconds ahead, though I knew that the low-14s road 5k'ers were likely chasing like mad up the hills. When I passed mile 5, the cheers behind seemed distressingly close, and I resolved to kick in to try to move up the podium. So I kicked like Bruce Lee on the next steep hill.

Sadly, my uphill kick was like Bruce Lee now, and not Bruce Lee in 1972. Brock and Bobby were too strong to catch, though I did have enough for one final acceleration to the line to hold off Devin. Bobby finished the rather hilly course in 30:46, Brock was next in 31:21, I hit 31:30, Devin was 31:34, and Marc/Alex finished sub-32.

3rd place netted $150! It was super humbling to run with those NC legends, and that company in the results really makes me want to try a faster road/track race soon. Now excuse me while I go make the daily decision, every morning I wake up, to help...

...myself to a nap.

Thank so much for reading, and for everything else! You guys are awesome :) 

Tar Heel 10 Mile Race Report

Executive Summary:
2nd overall out of 4200 in 51:56. There is 955 feet of elevation gain on the course, which was not particularly fun. But there are only 318 yards of uphill. And only 9.4 x 10^-16 parsecs on the z-axis! If it takes the Millennium Falcon less than 12 parsecs to make the Kessel Run, I assume that the Falcon would complete around a femto-Kessel over that distance/time measure. Therefore, I clearly have no excuses. NERD CALCULUS MOTIVATION.

From a recent charity kickball game. Explains a lot.

Pre-Race:
Life has been crazy. But it feels alright. Baby, thinking about you keeps me up all night? I cannot be sure, it is finals time at the law school so I really don't know what is real and what is a Britney-infused blackout.

Anyway, things have been awesome. I am going to resort to a list, because narratives are for people who understand basic grammar, syntax, conjunctions.

1. Megan ran a 34:11 10,000 meters at the ACC Track Championships, to finish 7th in the conference in her second track race. She is so amazing, and I am incredibly proud of everything she does. This is weird to think about, but as good as she is at running after just picking it up this past year, she is probably better at ten other things. Frozen-yogurt gullet capacity is one of those things.

Faster than shutter speeds and/or speeding bullets. Also, lane 4 is never a great place to run.

2. I was published in the Asheville Citizen-Times on Thursday, with an article on methane leakage from fracking. Unfortunately, editors decide the title, hence the current heading, "Methane Leakage from Fracking A Concern." I still don't know why they didn't accept "Hunger Games Justin Bieber Katniss NFL Kitten Video Boobs."

3. A company I co-founded won the Clean Energy Track of the Duke Start-Up Competition, and the comically oversized check that came with it. If this check was floating in the North Atlantic, there would be enough room for Jack and Rose. (side note: the idea is a fracking fluid tracer using well-specific inert DNA strands. It is pretty far along in testing and looking great! The company name is SafeTNA. Get it...Safety, and DNA. My main contribution to the company has been the name. The Asheville Citizen-Times IS MISSING OUT).

5. Never trust 4s. They look kinda like the battle droids from Star Wars.

NERD CALCULUS refuses to solve 2x2.

Moving on, training has been awesome, with some workouts indicating really good times on the horizon. On Tuesday, my foot began creaking at the first metatarsal. The medical term is creepitus. It sounds like a Greek Island where all the inhabitants spend the day sending text messages with pictures of their junk.

So I decided to use the forced rest as a taper, and emailed the awesome elite athlete coordinator at Tar Heel. A few days of rest, and I showed up to the start line with only a little bit of creeping in the foot. Woohoo! At the start was a Kenyan, Olympic Trials marathoner Marc Jeuland, and 1:07 half-marathoner Brock Baker. Woohoo? Time would tell on the tone of the squeal. AND THEY'RE OFF!

Race:
The stampede began in UNC's football stadium. If I was just a little bit more muscular, I probably would have had a bunch of UNC officials ask if I needed "help with finals."

Brock started quickly, and I bridged up to him around the mile mark (which came back down through the stadium). The foot doth protest, but not too much. Then, some hills began to sap my energy. It was so strange how bad I felt early on. Brock pulled away and I slowed to something approaching a crawl in miles 3-5, where Marc Jeuland came within a couple seconds.

Then, at the halfway point, I decided to drop out. I pulled off, removed my shoe, and yelled "F-WORD!" very loudly in the middle of Chapel Hill. I looked around, and realized I was being ridiculous. The Tina Fey quote about fashion is true about a bunch of things--"Who cares?" After a quick foot massage, I re-shoed and started the second half. Suddenly, I felt really good, and clicked off a 4:47 mile 6 to cut Brock's substantial lead (about a minute) in half.

Interminable blog post intermission.

He floated about 30 seconds away, until we came to the dreaded Laurel Hill. This is the "race within a race", with a timing mat on the bottom, and at the top, 200 vertical feet later. In retrospect, I think I gave the hill a bit too much respect, though had cut down Brock's lead to 15 seconds at the top. That gap held to the finish, where we crossed under the previous course record (the clock said 52:25, but the results tent said 51:56. My guess is the former, but I will stick with wishful thinking).

All-in-all, it was tons of fun, and the first time I have ever negative splitted anything (Not that I meant to, if I was trying to do that, I would have failed miserably). Also, I am a few hundred dollars richer! By my mental NERD CALCULUS, Megan and I can now make 50 extra trips to the local frozen yogurt place. Soooooo much better than whatever is at the end of a Kessel Run.

Thanks so much for reading, and for everything else! My foot currently looks like a bruised banana, which is okay because my dad says those are the best. Granted, my dad also often says that the smell in the car is not him, but we all know the truth. All I'm saying is that you better roll down the windows after the Roche house buys a discounted bag of brown bananas. 

Thanks again, hope things are amazing!!

30th Annual Run for the Oaks 5k Race Report

Executive Summary:
1st overall in 15:15. After the race, my bag was stolen from the start/finish area. Note to self: do not use a clear, plastic Target bag to conceal your wallet. Joke is on them, though, because I put my racing flats in there too. Unless the perpetrator has a WWI-style gas mask, all will be quiet on the western front after they take a whiff and experience complete nervous system failure. I use this method of defense for all my valuables. If anyone ever opens my safe deposit box, my senior-year football pads will destroy every living thing in a 20-mile radius.

"Also, I promise that you can all haz cheezburger. Unless you're on food stamps."

Pre-Race:
The last week was Spring Break! WOOOOOOO! Unfortunately, my partner-in-crime and all my law school friends skedaddled out of town, so I was left to work, to run, and to befriend beach-balls. It has been a full week, and the closest thing I now have to social interaction with other living organisms is when I vigorously scratch the lice in my stranded-island beard. Fortunately, I think they are about to gain sentience. Unfortunately, I have a feeling that head lice will vote for the Tea Party candidate.

Anyway, ran oodles of miles! Did frooples of work! Watched scazipoofles of online TV! Am currently unstoppable in Scrabble! Yeah, totally put scazipoofles on two triple word scores. NO. BIG. DEAL.


Anyway Part Two: Electric Bugaloo, decided to race so I could cash in some running store gift cards and once again experience the delight of Downtown Raleigh. Are the bars on the windows to keep you out, or to KEEP SOMETHING IN? (/ominous gong) (//fart noise)

I would have gone with "Puppy centipede".

Warmed-up, did dynamic drills (2 x squatting behind pawn shop), and toed the line. At my side was awesome guy and PA high school record holder in everything Paul Springer, along with past winner Brendan Howell. Also, there could have been dead people, but the little kid from Sixth Sense wasn't there to confirm. I think it's a safe bet. Though they were probably alive before they smelled my shoes.


Race:
The first mile was into the wind, then it did a loopty-loop with the wind, then went over a small river and through some sparse woods. On the way to Grandmother's house, Paul and I split the mile close together in 4:46. As the course turned, it began to do some climbing, and I got a gap. I feel as if I am getting much better at hills with some new training (go hard all the time, thanks Coach Megan!), and I had a nice lead as the lead police car turned down a side street. Suddenly, DISASTER STRUCK! 

Just kidding, it just felt like a dramatic lead in sentence. After another side-street climb, we turned back on the main drag towards mile 2. When suddenly, NOTHING EVENTFUL OCCURRED. MY CAPS LOCK WON'T STOP BELIEVIN. THIS IS HOW MY GRANDMOTHER TYPES. WOULD YOU LIKE SOME CHAMOMILE TEA BEFORE BEDTIME, DEAR?


Anyway Part Three: The Bad-Writing Empire Strikes Back, hit the uphill mile two a bit slower before careening back down toward the finish. Run for the Oaks is a pretty big, pretty old race, so it was really cool to hear the spectator support along the road. One person yelled, "Run! ZOMBIES!" which was my favorite thing ever. I imagine I would be to zombies what Limburger cheese is to humans. 


Crossed the line in 15:15, 15 seconds before Paul. Afterward, I was interviewed by two local TV affiliates. Hopefully it's not smellovision. 


Thanks so much for reading, and for everything else. And no worries on the wallet--losing it is really not a problem because my finances are so in the red that my bank automatically started a beef with the Crips. Hope your week was amazing!

UPDATE:

Video Interview below, from NBC 14, Carolina's News Leader:
http://triad.news14.com/content/local_news/654859/runners-try-to-keep-city-of-oaks-looking-beautiful
South Carolina beauty pageant contestants, HERE ME ROAR.

St. Patty's Run Green 8k Race Report

Executive Summary:
1st overall out of 2800 runners in 25:30. At the start line, a race official told the group at the front that the course was 5.12 miles due to a detour around road construction. The sound of a few hundred people audibly sighing in resignation is pretty disconcerting. I imagine that sound does not occur too often. Well, at least until next November 6th, in balloting locations with a few hundred Republicans. Romney/Rubio 201uuuhhhhhhhhhhgherghzzzzzzzzzzz.

First it was Salt-and-Pepper, now it is Just for Men: Handsomely Distinguished. FLIP FLOPPER!

Pre-Race:
North Carolina was beautiful this past week, with a bunch of itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot spandex days. On Monday, I didn't even have to wear tights for a 6:30 AM run! Which is good, because tights are pretty much just leg condoms, and Rush Limbaugh wouldn't stop saying that my knees were sluts.

This picture actually acts as contraception.

Anyway, things are going great, with a bunch of midterms in the books and a bunch of miles on the trails. With Spring Break here, Meg (fresh off running a 1:17 half-marathon at Myrtle Beach with the flu and a 102 degree fever!) and I drove down to Raleigh for their really big, really calendar-challenged St. Patrick's Day celebration. They may be 2 weeks early, but I like to think they are 50 weeks late.

The pre-race scene was a mad house, with a few thousand people milling about in kilts. Unfortunately, most were dudes, so the mirror on top of my racing flats just really made me crave tea. We got there late, so I did a 5-minute warm-up, some strides, and peed on a government building. Which one? Lets just say that "keep your enemies closer" isn't great advice for the Division of Waste Management.

My favorite joke when environmental interviewers ask:

"So three baby seals walk into a club..."

(/stare at them intently)

Race:
We started up a slight incline, and I decided to take it out easy. 8:15 3k'er Paul Springer pulled up next to me, and asked what time I planned to run. In the ultimate dick move, I told him I ran a 24:25 5-miler recently. While true, I was not planning on running anywhere near that on the hilly downtown Raleigh course, but I think the psychology of that statement made him unresponsive when I surged up the first hill. You've been dicked! Wait...no. OHGOSHNO!!!! /deletes furiously

The race had a couple hundred feet of elevation gain, which also means it had a couple hundred feet of elevation loss. And the last sentence means I was taught subtraction as a child. Thanks Mom! I tried to bound up the climbs, and fall down the descents. At times the downhills made me look like I was chasing the rolling cheese.



I was out of sight around mile 1.5 based on spectator cheers, so I really tried to push the pace until the big uphill at mile 4. The police escort was so cool! It was like the show Cops, but in reverse. Me and my copper pal reached mile 4 in 19:42, before the long grind to the finish. The course doubled back on itself, and some of the other racers had such amazing comments, and it really made me feel fortunate. Especially the guy who yelled to the cop, "I think he is going the wrong way!"

I am a dork.

About a quarter mile from the finish line, I could see Megan jumping up and down in the distance. It was super motivating, and I crossed the line in 25:30 for a two-minute win. But mostly I crossed the line for a sweaty hug. That is a pretty kick-ass prize purse.

Thanks so much for reading, and for everything else! A special thanks to the race director, and to the spectators--it was really cool to have so much support. And congrats to the Umstead Marathon runners! You guys are awesome :)

Green Hope 5k Race Report

Executive Summary:
1st overall in 15:23ish. It was extremely windy in North Carolina this morning, which was awesome when I was going in the general direction of Oz. When I wanted to go back towards Kansas, however, it was all I could do to tap my heels together and hope for the best. Unfortunately, I have never seen Wizard of Oz, and tapping my heels together was just the product of a disturbingly uncoordinated running form.

Completely relevant and necessary.

Pre-Race:
As many of my friends know, being imaginary doesn't mean you don't have feelings. Wait...no. Ummm...as many of my friends know, I have been MIA recently, especially if they have tried to contact me. To be honest, I have been kind of a bad friend over the last few weeks, and I need to work on that moving forward. My excuse is busyness, or business, depending on your feelings about whether there is an "i" in team.

That made no sense, but I am writing stream of consciousness. BANANA PANCAKES! Post-race recovery food or Jack Johnson song? Dorothy never tells.

If these had a swoosh on them, they would be in Alex Varner's closet.*

*(Inside joke about an awesome friend who runs a 14:17 5k and has a bit of a running shoe fetish)**

**(explaining jokes is always a good idea)

Anyway, there have been some great, humbling developments over the last few weeks. Earlier this month, I was elected Editor-in-Chief of the Duke Environmental Law and Policy Forum (Duke's Environmental Law Journal). I am taking the reins from some amazing people, and it is unbelievable humbling to hear the names of some of the EICs that came before me. Hopefully we can really make a difference over the next year! Or at least not run the train into the ground. Legal writing style tip #1: Mixing metaphors are good, because they keep the reader on his/her/their/gerund's toes.

Today's race was run on a whim, with an impromptu rest day yesterday after a great training week. Did I ride Amtrak every day, build a kick-ass model train set, or have some good runs? I don't know, I AM BUSY AND THERE IS NO TIME FOR DETAILS.

It was a local, certified 5k, and I was hoping to go out fast and see what happened. What happened? Did it happen? IS IT CURRENTLY HAPPENING?! Turn the page to find out...

In certain parts of West Virginia, this is softcore pornography.

Race:
It started up a short climb, which was an added section from the course map on the USATF website. That being said, the Garmin of the second place finisher said it was 3.17 miles, which sounds about right for a certified course. Anyway, after a quick acceleration into the wind, we turned for a long stretch with a cross-wind. Luckily for the guys behind, this means they were not downwind. When we turned into the wind, the smell of my racing flats would clear their sinuses.

I went through the mile in 4:41, before hanging a U-turn and being stopped cold by the wind. I was consoled by catching the lead bike for a second, which had trouble getting up to speed after the turnaround. He was awesome, and said something super nice, and I grunted in response. Fortunately, he understood the situation, and did not assume the skinny zombie wanted his brains. I mean, ewwww, soo much saturated fat.

Corgi interjections will be a big part of the Environmental Journal.

Slowed a ton over the 1/3 mile into the wind, and finally reached some protection around 1.75. The rest of the race was trying to make up lost time with the wind, and gritting through the teeth of the breeze when we made small turns. It finished with a lap on the track, where awesomely it felt like the wind kept shifting to my back, and I crossed somewhere around 15:23 (that is what I was told by the spectators) (spectators is code for "people who were dragged there by their lycra-clad significant other and/or Federal tax-code dependent"). Did some 400s a half hour after the race to capture the magic of the perpetual tailwind track, then called it a day with 7 gallons of hot chocolate. If this whole law thing works out, I am investing in a 2-person hot chocolate tub for post-race recovery.

Thanks so much for reading, and for everything else. Sorry if this is random and/or annoying and/or LINSANE. A special thanks to all the amazing people who stuck with me the last few weeks, even if you didn't hear from me. You guys are awesome!

Uwharrie Mountain Run 20-Mile Race Report

Long story short: 
If I were a salmon, I would probably spawn in a latrine. An outdoor latrine without plumbing. I am creative with directional ineptitude.

Warning: I probably taste like asparagus pee smells.

Short Story Longer:
Basically, took the Uwharrie 20-Miler (1st race in 2012 La Sportiva Mountain Cup) out pretty quickly, deciding to let the cards fall where they may. The card house quickly crumbled as I made a minor off-course detour in the first mile. But just as this city was built on rock and roll (Ed. clarification: roooooOOOOOLLLL), my Uwharrie card house was built on rocks and rolls, so I got back on track, bounded over some boulders, and fell a few times on my way to a 5ish minute lead, ahead of Ryan Woods and Patrick Reaves.

The 8-mile finish line passed in 53:48 (would have been a course record in that race, in the same way that I would be really sick right now if the post-race hot chocolate was actually runny poop). I really felt great going hard on the super technical trails--I feel as if a lot of things came together in those first 13 miles. Joy and suffering. Peanut butter and jelly. Ebony and Ivory. Etcetera and stop this rhetorical gimmick before I punch you in the freaking face.

This was especially frustrating because it fell on the same week when those "Free Boob Inspector" beach shirts gained, then lost, political relevance.

Medium story Mediumest:
So I'm running along, with a nice lead built up, when I suddenly wind up on a fire road. Then start seeing hunting signs. Then keep running, because my mom never denied having an extremely unreliable baby-grip. By the time I turned around and retraced my steps, somewhere between 4 minutes and an eternity had passed. Fortunately, the amazing runner Ryan Woods and the awesome^(handsome x athletic) Patrick Reaves came up on me just as I found the trail.

After, Ryan said he got varying time splits from 4:30 to 8 min, though the upper end of that spectrum is probably by spectators who are blog readers and are looking out for their homeboy. I tried to hang, but I was a pansy, and backed off after attempting one hard surge off the front. I proceeded to jalk/wog in to the finish, trying to save my legs for another day. Of course, my legs invested heavily in Freddie Mac in those first 13, so those savings currently look like a hot chocolate cup filled with poo.

Anyway, Ryan won and Patrick was second, both having awesome races. In fact, even with that lead, I am almost positive Ryan would have crushed my dreams on the final long climb. He looked great, and I could feel the fatigue creeping into my loins. Which, Fatigue, is a greatly appreciated place to creep. Just be more gentle next time.

First Google Image result for "loins". Probably for the best.

All in all, a super fun race put on by super fun/great people with a super fun amount of post-race lukewarm chocolate. Next up, training for an attempt (I should probably add emphasis to that word) at a 4-min mile (or whatever the Communists say the 1500 equivalent is). You make a right turn on the second and fourth laps, right?

P.S. You guys are awesome. Shannon and Karen made my freaking life out there on the course, with the absolute best cheers I have ever heard. Guys, if your 40-mile times were equivalent to your amazingness, you would run negative one gagillion minutes. 


P.P.S. I don't mean that you are really bad, negative people, just that negative one gagillion is an amazing time. 


P.P.P.S. Getting off-trail was totally my fault, and the race directors did an incredible job putting on such an epic event.

Little River Trail 10-Miler Race Report

Executive Summary:
1st overall in 1:00:57 (7:34 margin on 15:30 5k'er Mitch McLeod). The course wound around so tightly that the race map looked like a constricted small intestine. Fortunately, I was the quickest undigested corn kernel on the day, finishing a couple minutes up on my intestinal course record from last year. Unfortunately, the all-time digestive tract record is still held by The Magic Schoolbus.

Magic Schoolbus unions are ruining this country.

Pre-Race:
Things have been great since my last blog post about a month-and-a-half ago. Law school winter break came and went, I got in a bunch of training/adventures with a perfect girl over the holidays, and was endlessly entertained by the possibility of President Gingrich. Alas, law school is back in session, the holidays are over, and a resurrection of Newt's candidacy would require a phoenix-like rise from the ashes of his anti-charisma. Unfortunately for the Speaker, upon rising from the ashes, he would be charred to a golden brown. When Newt sees his new color, he will either eat himself with gravy, or write himself off as a lazy welfare recipient.

Another candidate is in a similar situation, but no one wants to deal with golden brown Santorum.

Anyway, training has really taken off over the last month. January marked 15 months since I stopped biking seriously, and I feel like the running base is really taking hold. The hope is to run close to a 4-minute mile this spring, so the goal has been to taste pennies twice a week. This usually requires a super hard workout, though watching a Republican debate or Tebow's throwing motion also works.

Unrelated, but always relevant.

After a few hill workouts to get ready for the trails, I traveled to Little River for the biggest trail race in the region. Megan was on the trails early to get in a workout, and I am very happy she wasn't racing, because it would be embarrassing to get trounced by someone who wears size 6 shoes. Seriously, she is the best athlete I have ever seen (better right now than I will ever be), and it was so motivating to know I would be following over her footsteps. Her extremely small footsteps. Walking a mile in her shoes would be a difficult task for a Barbie.

At 9 AM, the 500 10-milers toed the line (a group that included the awesome Scott, Alicia, Shannon, and Anthony). AND THEY'RE OFF!

Trail shoes are essential.

Race:
One of the most important parts of any race is having a good, motivational song stuck in your head. Because that song will repeat. And repeat. And peat-re. And rat pee. Until you go crazy and purposely run into a sharp object. Sadly for myself and for sharp objects' peace of mind, my brain usually makes a beeline straight towards Miley Cyrus, or a particularly catchy jingle used by a local car dealer. At Little River, without ample warning or good reason, it was the following:



You can tell that law school has started because I just whipped out a colon. However/Whereas/Therewith/May it please Honorable Judge Judy, I hadn't heard Weird Al's White and Nerdy for a few years, but my brain still saw fit to completely eliminate any chance I had of taking myself seriously. That slim chance was further microfied by a big, fancy-pants law school event earlier in the week, where a friend saw that I had tucked my dress shirt into my boxers. As any friend would, he reminded me of my wardrobe malfunction by giving me an atomic wedgie. So perhaps my subconscious was giving me a signal with the song choice. If only Weird Al had made "Pooping in the USA", things would have been perfect.

The fact that this guy is on the receiving end of a wedgie makes more sense now, doesn't it?

The first mile was all downhill on roads and bridle trails, and I hit the split in just under 4:30. The plan was to go hard until the super technical stuff began, so I focused on pumping my arms and pushing to the edge for the first 4 miles. As the trail began to get ridiculous, thoughts of speed were replaced with thoughts of urgency. I attempted to sprint out of every 180 degree turn, while resisting the urge to do sweet ollies off of the mountain bike jumps.

To be honest, most of the race is a blur. The sun was shining beautifully through the bare trees, the forest was still and placid, and the thoughts were White and Nerdy. What I do remember, though, is seeing footprints in the few muddy sections, and seeing pine needles scattered softly up the trail. Knowing that there was only one other runner up ahead made each of those sights so inspiring. It gave everything perspective.

Sometimes, whether sitting at a desk, or doing another mile on the treadmill, or eating the same boring breakfast, it can be easy to feel trapped, or lost. Life can be constricting, the world can feel small, and deep thoughts can become choking curses. The flip side to introspection can be asphyxiation, the answer to Why can be tears. I never really talked about it, but at times, I felt that way in New York City. My perspective was through a soot-stained tailpipe. My response to why was to cry--inside tears, the manly way, but the feeling was just as real. Crossing the finish line at Little River, I felt lost, but a different type of lost, and just for a moment. My eyes darted side-to-side, suddenly finding a beautiful smile a couple feet away. Ducking under the caution tape to hug that other runner who had blazed the trail before me...well, that put everything in perspective.

Perspective is powerful. Hugging that other runner, anything is possible. Why? Why not.

And we run off into the sunset at 4 minute pace.

Run at the Rock 14 Mile Race Report

Executive Summary:
1st overall in 1:20:13. Around the 10-mile mark, the trail was winding over rocks and roots and streams, back in the middle-of-nowhere in the forest. It was peaceful...serene even. Just as I began to lose focus, I turn a sharp corner, and the trail straightens out for 50 yards. At the end of the corridor was a man, in a baseball catcher's crouch, waiting for me as if I was a screwball. He is stoically silent, until I get within a few feet, when suddenly he yells, "GOOOOOOOO GET EM, CAT DAAAADDDAY!"

So I went, attempting to go get someone. Because one thing I know is that when someone asks if you are a God, you say yes. A new corollary to that is when someone calls you Cat Daddy and conveys his guttural urges very loudly, you attempt to heed his wishes.

Duck Daddy.

Pre-Race:
Law school finals studying is a great taper. I curl up with a nice book on environmental regulations, and before I know it, my legs feel alive. Primarily because, after reading environmental regulations, it is impossible not to repeatedly stab your legs with a ballpoint pen. The gushing blood makes me feel like a kid again!

Environmental Law makes exactly this much sense.

After a perfect Thanksgiving with Megan, I came back to campus refreshed. A few hard workouts, an easy day, a bunch of stab wounds, and it was suddenly race day! Run at the Rock was the last race on the NC Half-Marathon Series, which I somehow was in position to win. With the pride, the glory, and the groupies, comes 300 bucks for the winner. I told them that I thought that was a lot of deer for one person, but they insisted. (grrrooooan)

Jogged around, said hi to some awesome people at the race (WoooHOOO Karen!), and toed the line. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I left my shirt on. For the first time in as long as I can remember, spectators did not puke in my general direction. Haha, spectators, joke is on you. I had lots of fiber for dinner, and wiping with leaves after a forest pit-stop just acts to spread the fecal matter.

For those playing blog bingo at home, you can check off the box for "Poo Joke." I actually think that is Free Space.

AND THEY'RE OFF!

POOOOOOdle.

Race:
Based on my dancing, extremely Caucasian.

Anyway, great, handsome (single? with a spare lock of hair?) guy Ben Godfrey took off in well under 5-minute pace. Why so fast? I asked as I came up to him, breathing heavily. Why not? he replied easily. EXISTENTIAL DREAM CRUSHING.

After he took a two-step wrong turn, I slipped by and began to push a bit on the single track. A mile in, his breathing vanished, most likely as he vigorously earmarked Kierkegaard. In the interest of full disclosure, I looked up Existentialism to make that reference. Though I did wear a Columbia beanie to the start line, so the misplaced intellectual pretentiousness was still dripping from my forehead.

I give a fuck about an Oxford comma.

Or that may have been fecal matter! Leaves are very inefficient. Aside from being rough on sensitive areas, leaves covered up obstacles on the trail. I use a controlled falling descending style, which was like playing ankle Russian Roulette on the rocky sections. I got lucky repetitively, especially on the creek crossings. Early on, I still felt spry and sprightly, avoiding sprains while spraying spralliteration. Crap, think I messed that up. Sprorry!

The course was really up and down, with lots of mud and rocks. At first, I tried to delicately prance over the trail, until, on one creek crossing, I delicately pranced right into some quickmud. When the mud eventually released the shoe, the laces were undone. My foot and ankle pores, however, were totally exfoliated. After that, each creek crossing resulted in one of those Rex Ryan mud baths. It was super fun to splash through the woods on a beautiful day, and I came through the 7 mile halfway point in 38:58.

My condolences to awesome photographer/person Shannon. This angle probably left her permanently scarred.

The only problem with the race was that their choice of start line music left "Party Rock Anthem" by LMFAO stuck in my head. By lap 2, the chorus had continually looped in my cerebellum about 6,000 times, and I would have become a puppy serial killer to make it stop. New rule: the song played right before the start cannot be anything that would best be introduced by Ryan Seacrest.

Anyway, felt really good on the second loop, with Cat Daddy Man spurring a new urgency around mile 10. The technical sections became a good bit slower, so I attempted to drop the pace to 4:40 or so on the flats. Although the pace on the second 7 miles seemed glacial at times, the time was a few minute course record over a former US Trail Marathon champ. And I popped a little blood vessel in my eye! That could be from exertion. Or it could be from Party Rock Anthem.

Thanks so much, for everything. It was so amazing to spend time at the race with Karen, Ronnie, Kim, and Shannon. They are awesome, and the type of people I strive to be. That last sentence, and most of this post, was non-sensically awkward, and I apologize if reading it caused you to pop a blood vessel in your eye :) Hope things are absolutely perfect, you guys rock!

Fairmount Park 5 Mile Race Report

Executive Summary:
1st overall in 24:25. They told me it was a course record, though I have been eating lots of Luna Bars and applying lots of Secret, so perhaps I should have asked whether they thought I sat down to pee. (Answer: Yes, because urinal cakes leave my backside feeling fresh). It is such an honor to have that distinction at a pretty well-known Philadelphia race! After getting the winner's turkey, I took a nibble of my Luna Bar and lactated in the air in celebration.

Women's nutrition bars turn my nipples into AK-47s.

Pre-Race:
I am going for two degrees in grad school (Environmental Science and Law), because that puts me 1/49th of the way to my favorite 90s band. A side effect of the Nick Lachey poster hanging above my bed is that I take a bunch of credits compared to some other people. Other people include Rick Perry and Snooki, along with many grad students. Those credits entail a good number of assignments. Like 8. I think 8 is a really good number. So my writing time is usually spent analyzing case law, or, like, thinking about the environment, man.

In conclusion:

90s pop music + Snooki + Rick Perry + Numbers and stuff = Less blog writing. Also, that is the first time Snooki and Rick Perry have been that close to a math problem. BURN! Like Snooki's skin and Rick Perry's state!

/bludgeons self with keyboard

Scientific Fact: Galileo discovered that Rick Perry's smile causes global warming. 

Anyway, things have been awesome, and the few responsibilities of student life are a blast. Well, except for basic hygiene. I am a soap minimalist, like the cavemen. Speaking of rapidly spreading virulent bacteria, I passed the time driving home for Thanksgiving listening to Rush Limbaugh. Just so you know, global warming is a hoax, green energy is for pansies, and Herman Cain is one of the good ones.

One of the bad ones. You're in America, pizza man, and we will call you Daddy John.

Seeing my amazing family is always so great. After a Scrabble game where my number of points only exceeded my number of brain cells, Dad and I went to sleep in the same bed for the first time since I was a little kid. It was awesome, except for the fact that, with my eyes closed, my sensitivity to smell and sound was strengthened. It was like sleeping with a leaf blower that continually fans dysenteric horse manure. By treaty, Hans Blix is required to inspect his dutch ovens.

Waking up on Thanksgiving morning, we traveled to Philly for the 29th annual Fairmount Park 5-Mile. Fairmount attracts a crowd, which included my cousin and uncle! It was so inspiring to see them, and I actually felt a bit nervous warming up. After relieving those nerves in the bushes, the racers lined up, aiming towards the beautiful sunrise.

Thinking of family and friends, it was a truly spiritual, warm-and-fuzzy experience. I owe my family the world. My friends are some of the best people in the world. And thinking of the perfect adventure girl I was going to see over a mound of turkey and stuffing that evening, knowing that I found the absolute best of both worlds in one person....well, it was impossible to suppress a smile.

Our I-95 rest-stop guide from yesterday's post-Thanksgiving commute: punch in route to Google Maps, zoom out, look for green spots.

Try to aim your disgusted vomit away from the keyboard! I think that voids the warranty. Anyway, took off the shirt (promulgating even more vomit), toed the line, and peed myself, just a little. Maybe that explains the warm and fuzzy feeling I was talking about.

AND THEY'RE OFF! /pee splatters

Mhhhhmmmmm.....breasts.

Race:
After a frustrating race last Saturday (losing to newly-minted 14:17 road 5k-er Alex Varner), it felt so amazing to get out there and open up the legs on a day I felt great. 2 awesome-looking runners started with me, but the footsteps faded as I began a bit too fast. Out of courtesy, I should probably let other racers know that I have no conception of pace. That was reinforced as the digital mile-sign passed in 4:36, and we turned to have the sun at our backs.

Having the morning sun on my rear is great for a few reasons: (1) less brightness right in my eyes, and (2) that area probably needs to be disinfected. However, it is very bad when the sun displays my shadow in full contrast on the road. It looked like a person just beginning to fall down the stairs, or a plaster cast from Pompeii.

Kindred spirits.

Trying to catch that monstrosity in front of me on the road, I passed halfway (2-loop course) in 12:04. It felt super effortless, with only a bit of soreness in my calves and butt. I continued to lean forward, trying to stay smooth while cutting through the morning mist. It meant so much to have my brother Jesse at the race--I think part of the reason it felt so effortless was because I could hear his cheers. Also, it really made the start faster because getting away from his face is very motivating. Running-away-from-zombie speed.

Slaloming through some of the racers with a mile to go, everything felt perfect. After making a sharp left turn through some mud (though it was a two-loop course, so that might not have been mud), the finish line was in sight. High knees, pump arms, think about turkey, why is the sky blue?, oooh look a penny! SQUIRREL!

/darts off in wrong direction 

I am very easily distracted. Anyway, was just over a minute ahead of my time from last year, but what was really awesome was getting to go give Jesse a sweaty hug. Well, a sweaty one-hand bro-hug, which says, "Yeah, I'm hugging you. But with the other hand, I insist on slapping the crap out of you."

Thanks so much, for everything :) A friend passed away too young the other week, and thinking back to his awesomeness gives perspective on what is really important. You guys are so great, and I hope your Thanksgiving was perfect in every way.

Medoc Mountain Trail 10-Miler Race Report

Executive Summary:
1st overall in 57:38. This race is freaking awesome, a point embodied by the "trail names" on the bibs. I registered, so Dad was once again Nose Hair the Magnificent, while I went by my Native American name, Probably Smells like Poo. It turns out that I underestimated the olfactory presence of bodily fluids by 50%. Because there was vomit. Lots and lots of Green Rain Gatorade-flavored vomit. Of course, I'm an environmentalist so I recycled the Green Rain into dixie cups for the marathoners. No one could tell the difference.

I convinced my mom to use a shutter speed which would make turtles look fast.

Pre-Race:
I have been back for a bit over a week after injury, and feel awesome. Meanwhile, I look decidedly unawesome, like a three-legged baby deer with rickets. The coordination is slowly coming back, however, so I decided to thrust my delicate, fawn-like body at the oncoming shotgun shell of a 10-mile trail race. Mhhhmmm deer veal!

If you like this picture, Chris Hanson shows up in your living room.

The decision to enter was spurred by an amazing weekend at Megan's. Her great family, the Valley Forge Park trails, and enough ice cream to turn a baby cow (pre-veal!) lactose intolerant added up to a perfect weekend. Well, perfect except for my lactose-induced weakly disguised trips into the next room to fart discreetly. "Your living room is so beautiful, I need to go see it again!" "Still looking!" "Looked once, need to look again!" "Ummm...now I need to go look at your bathroom with a change of clothes."

That plus the early morning, pre-bathroom trail exploring is where my trail name comes from. Which is slightly related to Megan's, Tastes Better than She Smells. Limburger cheese is her pet name.

Seriously though, Megan is better than Barack Obama times Puppies to the power of all-you-can-eat Whole Foods salad bar. After a Tuesday interview, she traveled back to Duke. So on Wednesday, I traveled to Raleigh, (/drunken screaming) to see my BAAAABEEEE TONIIIIGHT (/Bluegrass crowdsurfing).

Things get hot when the fiddle comes out.

Just to clarify, that is not meant to be read as a metaphor.

Unfortunately, on I-95 outside Richmond, I hydroplaned into the median. It sucks, is frustrating, and I feel stupid, but the only thing I remember is doing vehicular pirouettes until impact, when, in slow motion, my Peanut Butter Panda Puffs flew through the air. At the peak of their flight, they paused as if we were on a Space Station with shag carpeting, before slamming into the windshield. Minor whiplash and a very sad car are unfortunate, sure, but that moment of doomed airborne children's cereal was the ultimate tragedy. RIP PBPP.

After two days of recovery, I felt up to running again, so me, my perfect Mom, and Nose Hair traveled to Medoc. To give you an idea of how awesome this race is, the race director offered free entries to anyone who would get tattoos of Medoc, the Speedo-clad Bigfoot roaming the forests. Two guys got HUGE tattoos, which was really cool, but a slippery slope. The same logic got me a tattoo of 106.6, North Carolina's rock leader. While the Hoobastank tickets were sweet, the confluence of a weak decimal and history-major friends makes me super tired of questions about my affinity for William the Conqueror.

I think the Magna Carta required William to introduce himself to every household in the neighborhood.

Anyway, we arrived at Medoc State Park, got our bibs from Michael Forrester and Scott Wingfield (the best race directors of all time), and warmed up along the rooty single-track. A quick visit to the woods to live up to my trail name, a strip down to underwear, AND THEY'RE OFF!

Race:
It began with a mile on park roads, and I decided to make up as much time as possible before my back acted up on the hills, hitting the checkpoint in 4:47. After a left turn onto the trails, I was alone, with just my hopes, dreams, and an anatomically correct blow-up doll of Barack Obama to keep me company. For full disclosure, those three things may all be the same.

The face that launched 1000 [horror-induced, race-spectator] shits.

(Unnecessary, totally skippable side note: Obama has been terrible with recent environmental decisions. Mr. President, industry ALWAYS claims the sky is falling, and that they can't run their business, with each new regulation. They always trot out massive cost projections, the likes of which could buy a year's supply of Mitt Romney's Just-For-Men. But, always, they prove to be wrong. There is a place and time for compromise, and that place is where there is an adversary motivated by rationality. Therefore, with the current scientific and social perspective of the Republican Party, the time for environmental compromise is anytime but now)

Based on that side-note, you can probably tell that I took detours along the course to hug particularly sexy trees. Oh cedars, you got a whole lotta bark, and just enough bite. Anyway, I got into a routine of trying to accelerate close to 4:40 on flats, while dropping back to a shuffle on climbs and descents. At mile 5, the back felt great, and the beautiful trails motivated me to just let go. It was so amazing to feel free again--free from pain, from worry, and from the ungodly smells I left on the trail.

This blog was briefly scratch-and-sniff.

There were no survivors.

Passing mile 7, I saw Mom and her awesomeness (and newly super thin body!) made me accelerate again. After a rough mile 9 (with lots of stairs, both up and down), the final windy single-track led me to the line with a 9-minute win. Hugging mom, seeing Dad cross the line, and talking to awesome friends Ash and Mike, it was hard to ignore how fortunate I am. Blah, blah, blah, boring sentimental stuff, poop joke.

Thanks so much for reading, and for everything else. You guys are really incredible, and whenever I meet people at races who happen to read the blog, they are almost always amazing human beings. You guys rock!