Tag Archives: D.C.

Rock and Roll Marathon: Homeward Bound

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Note: I’m late on the recap as this past few weeks have been swamped and I also spent a good chunk of time working on this piece for the Post. This is the last element on my list so I can say I have fully recovered.

I still remember when my good friend Greg asked me if I wanted to go running with him. He was picking it up, running from his house to the place where we both worked. He wanted to do a 5K and wanted to see if I would be interested.

I wasn’t. Not even close. He started running and continued when he and his then-pregnant wife moved to Missouri about three years ago.

Imagine our good fortune that he and I would run the D.C. Rock and Roll Marathon together. He stayed with me and my place and it was a wild and crazy weekend. If, of course, one defines wild and crazy by me making healthy food and he talking with his wife and two-year-old daughter.

gregandI

Me, on the left, and Greg. From his phone. Spoiler! We both finished the race.

Indeed.

This was his third marathon and my second. Our goals were to go a bit faster. I’ve focused my training this winter and speed and consistency and we had great weather to make it happen. My individual goal was to start at 9:30, and eventually get to 9:00 mile pace. With luck, that would get me to close to the 4:00 mark.

The second marathon is tougher than the first. The first is the experience: You run to run, aiming to finish but really to experience it. Of course, you want to do well but you have nothing to base it on, so just get going. Really, the point of the first marathon is to do it, then decide how serious you want to get about running or move on to the next item on the bucket list.

After Argentina, I was hooked and I wanted to become a better runner. Training through all the bitter cold was a bit of a crucible. Aside from using the training to help endure the season, it provided a backdrop on how seriously I would take the training.

When it was time for the marathon, I felt stronger and better. And I felt smarter about the course, perhaps a little too smart.

The tricky part with the Rock and Roll Marathon is that everyone runs the first 12 miles together, then splits off to their respective destinations. The first part of the race was well-known, as I run much of those streets often. It was a thrill, albeit a crowded thrill.

The second part was different. A good different but different. Crossing by the Capitol to the Expressway, getting to the Waterfront, going by Nats Park, then the long stretches in Anacostia and Minnesota Ave on the way.

I run the first stretch of the course often and since I ran the half in 2013, my confidence was high. I knew going into the marathon that this would be two different races: One with all the people and one without.

It’s great to see friends cheering for you, especially having charging Rock Creek Parkway up to Calvert St in Adams Morgan. By the time the half and full runners split, I was in good spirits.

Then at about mile 18, it got hot. Coming through Anacostia Park, it’s a long stretch of trails and grassy knolls. And no shade. No, none, nothing. The weather was all over the place that morning; Cold and windy, calm and serene, then hot.

I intentionally passed on the early water stations because I wanted to avoid the crowds. Even though I had my own water, I was struggling to get hydrated enough. My legs were hurting and I was losing energy, so I had to take some walking breaks.

My trick with walking breaks is pretty simple: Once I start walking, I count from 20 down. The point is to make the break finite, give myself enough time to catch my breath but not enough time to lose the rhythm and make it harder to start running again. There was a few times where 20 seconds was 30 seconds but that trick really helped.

Those hills on Minnesota Avenue toward the end of the race were a killer as well. It was the Wall, of sorts. Mostly hydration and energy and somewhat psychological. I knew this course because I live here. But yet, there was so much of the course that I didn’t know that I could have strategize a bit better.

At any rate, I caught my last wind and ran the last few miles full stride and made it to the end.

Times:
5k: 28:35
10k: 57:17
10 miles: 1:32:23
half: 2:01:05
20 miles: 3:07:52
chip time: 4:11:46
avg page: 9:37

As you can see, I started well and maintained about a 9:15 pace toward the half mark, then slowed to about 10:15 pace toward 20 miles. I finished about 10 slower from 20 to 26.2 than my first 10K, thus how I ended up at 4:11.

Me, finishing the race. Care of MarathonFoto.

Me, finishing the race. Care of MarathonFoto.

For my first marathon that I care about my time, this was a rousing success. I ended up nearly 40 minutes faster than my Buenos Aires time and more so, got to run the race with one of my closest friends in the city we both love.

Up next for me is the American Odyssey Relay at the end of April and then, we shall see what is next in the quest to join the Seven Continents Club.

Six years (The daily commute)

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Note: Six years ago today, I moved to the D.C. area. Six years!

Each day, I take the Metrobus to work. It is my best commute so far in my professional life, a near straight line to downtown.

I know the drill. Wait for people to come off, say hello and how are you to the bus driver, pay with the SmartCard quickly. If you need to put money on the card, have it out and ready to go. You have to press your card against the meter twice after activation.

Walk to the middle back. The seats up front are for those who need chairs and the mothers with crying children. Or the crying mothers with children.

Say hello to the Cuban, a nice fellow who lives near the Giant grocery store on Park Road. He hums a tune, unless he’s talking to someone about how the government is messed up. Everyone talks about how the government is messed up but from him, it sounds poetic.

People will move their legs from the aisle if you step over. Go to the back, find a seat, check your phone. Usually, it’s nice to listen to music or a podcast. Catch up on the news or check the newsfeed on Facebook once again. The goal is to drown out, not tune in. It’s a sad fact that drowning out is the default measure but you need to save energy for deadline.

Sometimes, the drunks come on board. The majority are nice drunks, happy as they can be in that moment. The worst are the lamenters because their goal is to have me join them in their current downward spiral.

All the change on 14th Street! Even in the few years I’ve lived in the District, I’ve seen the neighborhood come and go. That new condo is taking over where the old Salvadoran restaurant used to be. I went there once and it was okay. I can see why it’s gone.

The bus passes through Thomas Circle. I exit on L St. Stop for more coffee but I don’t really need it.

Work, then the shift is over.

MacPherson Square is the best place to wait for the bus because it provides options. The line up 16th Street is faster but more annoying. Besides, the 42 is better. Crazy happens on the 42 often but that’s why I ride it. It’s worth the price of admission. Just sit in the back and be amazed.

Traveling past the bars on Connecticut Avenue, it’s a constant wonder: Why the hell do people subject themselves to these places? I take pride in never clubbing on Connecticut Avenue, except that I remember I did go clubbing once or twice and really, it wasn’t that bad. Kinda fun, actually.

Working late means joining the fellow swing shift workers. We keep the world running. Cooks, dishwashers, waiters, designers. It’s grunt. It’s production.

Get off in Mount Pleasant, stop by 7-11 for water and the extra Clif bar. Man, those Clif bars have become the new Snickers. I haven’t decided whether that’s good or bad but I need all the protein I can get. So back off.

My friends give me a hard time about walking in my neighborhood late at night but that’s the best time to be out. It’s quiet. If anyone messes with me, I go to the middle of the street and stop and dare them to join me. Usually, they don’t care that much and move on.

I’m home. Check my mail, turn on the space heater because winter is still going on and put my stuff down.

Home. That’s the word you’re trying to remember. Home. How did this place, this space become your home?

Who’s idea was it? Yours? God? Neither or both? This is all Malcolm Gladwell’s fault. He was the one who said to blink.

The test, Gladwell says, is simple. Think of your dilemma or situation. Close your eyes and count to five. When you open your eyes, notice the first thing that comes to mind. Try for that.

You take his test. When you opened your eyes, you are on an Alaska Airlines flight, direct to Reagan National. Wearing shorts because it’s too uncomfortable to wear jeans on a plane, you lined up a possible sublet, vague job possibilities and enough cash for three months.

You blink again and you’re standing in front of the White House just after Obama’s election. It was quiet, just you and some kids playing soccer. In about 15 minutes, 3,000 people would fill this space. More will celebrate on U Street and H Street. You text Lys and tell her this is the most incredible moment ever. It was.

Earlier that day, you and Buck stood in a mass of folks, waiting to get in. A sly joke gets you into the Washington Post. Four years later, you’re working election night for them.

Another blink: Twenty-six inches of snow. Snowmeggedon 2010. You’ve never seen this much snow. Huddled in your apartment with episodes of Get Smart and no Internet, you realize this wasn’t the adventure you had in mind. No job, no prospects, just frozen pizza. The storm ends and you join others outside. The city is at peace and strangely, so are you.

You open your eyes to see your friends around you on your 30th birthday at Westminster Presbyterian’s Jazz Friday. 30. Yeah, you can see why people shit their pants over this age. But for now, you’re happy you made it.

One year later, you’re in a HOLE. Your best friends who threw you the party last year are gone. Many of your friends are gone. The calling is gone, the dreams are gone. You try to close your eyes and pretend like it’s not happening but your eyes and life are wide open. This isn’t fast. This is very, very slow.

Trying to stay awake, you strain to keep your eyes open. It’s 2012. Adrian is still reading. When you started, he was in the second grade and one of the best readers. Man, you lucked out. You blink again: It’s June 2013 and he’s off to junior high. You give him a copy of The Westing Game. That was your favorite book when you were his age. He says it’ll be his favorite book too.

You blink once more and you’re on 14th and Euclid in the dead of winter 2012, with the instruction that you’re going to run a marathon soon. Marathons, in fact.

You blink to get the sweat out of your eyes. Running in a D.C. summer is a pain in the ass. You stop at Meridian Hill Park. You just ran 20 miles for the first time in your life. This is the spot where you did your first run. That time, you barely made it through one lap around.

Thirty is now 33. According to the calendar of the Middle-Aged Young Adult, this is the last year you can claim your mistakes on being young and stupid. After this, you’re just dumb.

Lately, you’ve been trying to blink extra hard to see the future. Certain things show up: Athens, Capetown. More words. Family, wife, children. …blurry and abstract but very much there.

Otherwise, it’s the same image over and over again.

Open.

That’s it, just open.

But that’s what to come. And sheesh, haven’t you learned your lessons about knowing before leaping, yet? Pay attention. Stop with the sentimental. Work is to be done.

The District is home. Somehow, this foreign spot became my walking, my knowing. I know this place now.

I know where to go and what to do. That knowledge is automatic and routine but every so often, I will remember how painful it was to gain that knowledge. It almost didn’t happen.

All the thoughts about leaving, all the phone calls about staying, all of it. I remember.

I’m not a native and not establishment but I belong through hard elbows, perseverance and semi-dumb luck.

Every walk to get coffee, every time I went to church and every time I’ve longed for Church and Community but it just didn’t happen, I belong.

People like to say you’re either in or you’re out. That’s not true. That dichotomy is false and really a point of insecurity on that people’s parts. The truth is you’re in because you choose to be in and made your case of worthiness in a successful fashion.

Besides, this city was built on the premise that no one could belong here so that everyone belonged. It just worked out for some to build a house along the Potomac to keep their lack of belonging in an influential spot.

It still doesn’t answer the word: Home. No matter. It doesn’t need an answer now. All that matters is that the word isn’t a question or a resignation; it’s a sigh of wonder. And God.