Tokyo Marathon 2012

I'm not really a superstitious person. I don’t make a particular point of smashing mirrors while chasing black cats under ladders, but, as long as it’s not on a Friday the 13th, I don’t go out of my way to avoid these activities either. I am, however, very much a creature of habit (something that bears a mental image akin to an okapi, but compulsively functions more like an albatross), especially when it comes to race days. Though I may be quick on my feet, when things deviate from the expected routine, I have the capacity to go from placid casual to Chicken Little at the slightest sign of the falling sky. 

In the final weeks leading up to the marathon I was nursing a knee injury in the form of ITBS. I was forced to cut training days like a sushi chef surgically slicing away the poison pieces of a puffer fish (no fugus were harmed in the use of this metaphor). Unfortunately, even with the additional rest days, the rigid build up of miles that far along the intermediate I program path never gave me enough time to warm the bench long enough for full recovery. So, just when I started feeling up to the task of returning to the full running schedule once again, I'd be promptly put back in the corner like Baby without a Swayze to save me, only to repeat those ole dirty dance moves down recovery Road House road once more. I was certainly at a disadvantage going into the marathon in such a compromised condition, but after sinking so much effort into months of training, I wasn’t going to let the little fact my leg was out of whack keep me from crossing the starting line. Now crossing the finish line…that’s a different story. 

Oh wait, that’s this story. Seriously, keep reading…

Osaka Marathon 2011

Once upon a time in Osaka, Japan...

Osaka was my second marathon. After completing the Tokyo marathon back in February, I had decided to make the marathon an annual event in my life, but I suppose something in me grew too fond of that great distance, and I was drawn right back in to participate once again, by the one race that rules them all, far sooner than I had anticipated allowing myself to do. So, 8 months after Tokyo, I found myself crammed into a 9 hour midnight bus ride to Osaka, on my way to meet the source of the sweet siren song sung by such a seductive serpentine beast, in order to see if I still had enough charm left in my legs to flee free from harm once again, in a race renowned for killing the messenger.

Pre-marathon

I suppose race day actually starts on the eve of the event. I was certainly sure that sticking to the pasta carb-loading tradition was the way to go, as it had helped me immensely last time around, but being on the road made things a bit tricky. The residence apartment I was staying at for the week did have a kitchen, at the foot of the bed, which, as you might imagine, wasn't the ideal stage to attempt a culinary magic show on, but I sloughed the straightjacket, and went to work with the space I had, sawing my nutritional assistants in half. The stove was little more than a single hotplate with 3 setting: 1) off 2) two people 3) three people. If you find it odd that the heat of the hotplate is measured in silhouettes of people, that's probably because it was odd. I thought at first they represented matchsticks, but upon closer inspection, I had a hard time refuting the very nature of their people-esque appearance. Maybe this stove was purchased at a clearance sale after the Soylent Green factory shut down, when the economy sank, as if tethered to a stone, at the end of the Salem witch trials? Anyway, I did my best juggling routine, working between the one source of heat and a variety of cookware, to keep an array of pasta, bread, & veggies swirling around my plate, while remaining ever cautious in leaving just enough pasta leftover for the all important predawn recharge.

Sleep came as a pleasant surprise. I really wasn't expecting to get a wink, but ended up with nearly 5 hours rest. I'd occasionally wake up in "pounce mode", expecting to get a jump on the alarm, but after a bleary inspection of the room, I realized I still had a few hours to go. When the alarm did sound for real, I lurched right into the leftovers as if I were answering the door at the Adams family estate, flinging open the refrigerator with a bellowing "you rang?".

Unfortunately there was no marinara sauce left; nor veggies or seasonings of any kind. So I sat, shoulders slouched, with my spindly legs dangling over the foot of the bed, as if it were the curb in front of an empty little league field where my absent-minded professor of a father, once again, had forgotten to pick me up after practice, shoveling cold forkfuls of plain, semi-crusty, capellini into my half awake face. This was a mechanized maneuver born from rote memory of simply intaking fuel, rather than anything resembling enjoyment of the meal itself. The carbs were a necessity, and I was determined to take them in, flavor be damned! I also had a spread of supplements ranging from ginseng to B-12 that I slowly began downing with glass after glass of tap water over the course of the next hour and a half. This copious quenching of thirst by the dawn's early light would play a Francis Scott Key role in complicating matters once I arrived at the castle gates ready to run the marathon.

Vegan Marathon Runner Supplies

Next up...the weather check. I had been combing over reports from the night before and found that, at best, I could expect clouds, at worst, rain (Though I suppose this also means there would still be clouds...moving on). By morning I knew the predictions were on target, as I stepped out onto the phone booth of a balcony and felt, not only a surprising warmth for such an early morning hour, but an ominous curtain of grey shrouding the dawn sky. The temperature here in Japan is a lot warmer than I was used to back in the States, as the fall season began clasping its cold calculating hands around the supple neck of the Philly 'burbs. The predicted high was going to be 75°F, which didn't seem all that bad to me. It was dressing for the chance of rain that was throwing me off. Over the course of the past 18 weeks I kept thorough notes on temperature and weather patterns during my runs (something I never bothered with in my previous training circuit), so I simply browsed back through ical and found a few places where I dealt with similar conditions while training and suited up accordingly. No worries!

It was time to head out the door, and even though I had written down very detailed directions on how to get from the apartment to the marathon check in area, I knew it was most likely an unnecessary step—other than satisfying my predilection for being obsessed with minutia—because: 1) the starting point was at Oskaka castle. This is probably the easiest place to get to from anywhere in Osaka. The subway map for the city itself carves out a rather unique negative space around the existence of the castle, so finding it wasn't even going to enter the spectrum of challenges that day. 2) when you're one of 30,000 runners heading to the same event, at the same time, chances are you just need to follow the influx of running shoes and plastic bags. This is one instance where the crowd knows best, so I didn't even doubt for a moment that I was heading in the right direction.

Starting the marathon around the outer moat of the Osaka castle was a flash of genius on the part of the race coordinators. Even though the area was packed with peoples, I never felt too boxed in (other than leaving the platform at the train station), because there was an abundance of open space surrounding the area. The only obstacles I did run into at that point were time constraints for the bag check coupled with the ill-fated bathroom situation. After leaving the station, we were collected like trading cards into an open baseball field. Along the way, I hopped in the first bathroom line I saw, and started changing my running gear while waiting in a near standstill line. This went on for several minutes without more than an awkward step or two forward. My anxiety grew like a fresh tilled garden of good grief while watching the clock click closer to check in time with no foreseeable end to my current circumstance in sight. I knew these races are run by sticklers for punctuality, so I was worried if I missed the bag check deadline, I'd be shouldered to the back pack of the starting line.

A small band of cantankerous old timers fomented a revolt from the back of the bathroom line. A chain, 5 links strong, pushed past the rest of us young whipper-snappers, murmuring something about this taking too long, and they shouldn't have to wait. While I agree, in general, with most of what they said, I found it in poor character that they leaned on their age crutches and hobbled to the front of the line. Nobody said a single word to them. I suppose it's understandable, if you consider Japanese society is influenced, at its core, by hints of Confucianism, in the sense that deference is due to the elderly—plus, with such a display of brazen lunacy, nobody probably wanted to deal with the potential backlash of craziness these coots were capable of—but that's when I decided to ditch out of the line.

My new plan was bag check first, then circle back around to find a whiz palace on the outskirts of the castle, while doing my best to resist the hypnotic shimmer of the surrounding moat. This new plan went smoothly up to a point. The check-in lines were nearly non-existent (probably because everyone was busy waiting in the bathroom lines). I threw the rest of my belongings into the sack and headed back to find a new relief area to a greater degree of success.

The starting blocks were set up as a siege surrounding the castle, after which we were meant to take the city by storm. I liked the way they had laid out the line up area. We wound in and around the smaller outside moat area, with the green & yellow canopy of ginko trees linning the streets, then went through a series of small bridges & fancy gates on the way to our designated start areas. All the while Osaka castle perched upon the hill, like one of the many tigers that adorn its upper level facade, watching over the proceedings with a keen cautious eye.

There was a slight drizzle of droplets falling from the drab canopy of clouds lingering above, and with 20 minutes to kill until start time—which, from where I was, equates to at least 35 minutes of overall waiting to cross the starting line—I perused my ipod for something to settle my jittery nerves. I found the upbeat optimistic swing of Ella & Basie's On the Sunny Side of the Street was a fitting juxtaposition to the otherwise overwrought air of the pre-race atmosphere. The runners in my area (H) had space to spare, which was a luxury that afforded us some much welcomed last minute warm-up stretches to stay loose & limber for the task ahead. Right about then, it became clear that I was in need of another whiz break—damn that diuretic indulgence of caffeine!—but I bulldozed those thoughts to the back of my brainpan, because there wasn't enough time to risk getting to the lot & back again; I was stuck, unless I was ready to rekindle, and concede to, reconstructing the moat idea.

I was also getting hungry again. I guess I didn't recharge enough in the morning with those cold Capellini noodles. After all, breakfast was a dish best not served cold, but at 5am, all I had was the ever vengeful Wrath of Khan plate of refrigerated carbs to settle the score; now that it was 9am—and I had burnt up a lot of fuel walking to get here—I really wanted something more. I had meant to stop at a conbini to grab an onigiri (rice ball) and some orange juice along the way, but ended up with no time to spare, as I was Spirited Away in the migratory motion of the morning's marathon milieu. It was here that thoughts of bananas began prancing pirouettes in a perennial play throughout my head, and there they would stay, in a far off fantasy filled fog, for quite sometime.

THE RACE BEGINS...

Merrell Down & Dirty: National Mud Run Series 2011

The Starting Line

I didn't run this one. Every time I was asked to join in all the reindeer games, I sorta shrugged my shoulders and simply stated "eh, I'd rather not.", which was met with a disappointed look of bemused frustration. "You're a runner, right?" I could almost hear echoing through a megaphone of sheer telepathy that nearly had me recoiling in shame. I am a runner, but a 5k or 10k race with obstacles including mud, walls, pits, & potentially fire seems to invoke the flight instinct, on the fight or flight spectrum, whenever the idea tickled my medulla oblongata. Honestly though, besides the fact I don't enjoy getting dirty, I had one specific reason why I didn't want to run through a Double Dare-esque obstacle course, and it wasn't Marc Summers, it was the fact that I was worried about the risk of a game ending injury 3 weeks into my marathon training schedule. If not for my training mode mentality, I may very well have been more malleable in forming a participatory shape.

Unlike me, my friend Pete was more than eager to take on the mud run. I tagged along as a supportive force, even though that that meant forcing myself out of bed at 5:30am on Sunday morning. We arrived at Fairmount Park in good time, even including the quickie stop to grab coffee along the way. Though it was a sold out event, the registration line was basically non-existent. Pete had his packet of race supplies in his hand and ready to go in a measly matter of minutes. There was nothing left to do but wait...

Onto the race...

Race for Rylie 5K

Nockamixon Marina

I'm not a speedy guy. Aside from the occasional fartlek, I rarely do any speed work at all. I know this might sound counterintuitive, but when I focus on going fast, running starts to seem more of a bothersome chore, losing that pristine Martin Sheen glean, compared to those happy-go-lucky long distance runs that I thrive on. 

Today was my second race ever. The last one I ran was a bit longer, by about 38km, so I wasn't too worried about going into a 5k, somewhat, untrained. I have been running leisurely without a schedule for the past few months now, so I knew my base endurance was covered, it was the speed that was up in the air like a kite with a key waiting to discover electricity. As a bit of a strategic precaution, I opted not to wear my marathon hat, even though it is the most comfortable cap I own; I just didn't want to be singled out as the guy to beat (because I'm certainly not), nor did I want to face the chance of embarrassment incase I was unable to finish a 5k while parading around like a peacock in my precious Tokyo Marathon 2011 commemorative headgear. If it came to that, I probably would have cannonball ran into the lake to hide my tears in the wake of the sailboats drifting by like rippling reflections of the clouds above. 

The plan was to wake up at 6am to sip some coffee and eat bananas, blueberries, and maybe an apple. The plan changed when I woke up at 7am instead. Luckily, I had leftover green smoothie from the day before in the fridge. There was just enough for a full pint glass. Pete & his Pop came by to pick me up at 7:30am, for a race that was 40 minutes away and starting in about an hour.

Onto the race...

Tokyo Marathon 2011

The evening prior to the race Vin & I didn't really have much of a plan, more like a general inkling of when to get together and basically stuff ourselves full of carbs: this ultimately happened around 6pm on Saturday. In most every training schedule "carb loading" is renowned for its pre-race importance, and I can't argue with it otherwise. We both planned to call it an early night after watching Earth with the kids, and though I told Vin's oldest daughter that it was Darth Vader narrating, she refused to believe me on the basis of Darth Vader being just a character in a movie, and Earth was based in real life. That's solid logic, but the fact remains James Earl Jones is narrating that damn thing.

Before nighty-night time, Vin & I both opted to partake in pre-race お風呂 (ofuro), which is a wicked awesome Japanese style hot bath—OK, stop the snickering, the baths were at separate times—and that really went a long way to loosen the muscles, and just in general relax the mind the night before the big race. Though, I should comment on the two completely different attitudes that were taking place the night before: 1) Vin: yea, there's this thing we're doing tomorrow, maybe you heard of it, it's a marathon. No big deal. 2) Joe: Am I insane for even thinking about trying to attempt to take down this beast? Will I live only long enough to regret ever having tangoed with such a gigantic monster? Good-sweet-sweat-beaded-Christ beard, I'm doomed. And so, with those thoughts akin to visions of sugar plumbs dancing through our heads, we sought sleep.

5am, Vin wakes me up and we start "carb intaking", I want to be careful in the wording here since the night before we literally loaded our bellies with so much pasta & bread it was hard to move; cautious of how full we felt the night before, we didn't want to stuff ourselves past a humanly decent satiated threshold. Our departing time was 7am, so we had 2 hours to kill with nothing much beyond being awake that we needed to do. I think these 2 hours were very crucial to the mental state we left his apartment with. We played Minor Threat songs, joked around, debated the weather predictions from 5 different sources, and sipped on green tea. We basically did the same things we always do when we're together and get pumped up about doing something awesome: in an escalating fashion, we feed off of each others excitement until we're roaring juggernauts of kinetic energy. Perfect for a race day.

7am, we head for the station, which is conveniently on the backside of the apartment. Along the way other marathoners can be seen with their running shoes and clear plastic clothes bags that are sanctioned by the race officials to put your stuff in before the race starts. We picked up a friend along the way who followed us up until the Starbucks where we met people from Vin's running club, Namban Rengyo. We had a good hour or so to kill there, and the baggage despot was in sight across the street, so other than being crazy crowded with runners and an overflowing abundance of consternation from the usual patrons who just wanted latte, but instead were met with a packed parlor of people in various states of dress & undress, it was a perfect location to bide our time. I photo-bombed a few snapshots just for fun and sipped on a small cup of black coffee with faint images of Dale Cooper boasting "damn fine" in the back of my mind.

Twin Peaks Love

Minutes skipped by like Daniel Faraday's description of time travel physics by way of a needle playing on a scratched record, and the loudspeakers were threatening people that if they weren't on their starting blocks in 15 minutes they would be escorted to the end area behind all the runners. I still had to check my baggage, so this was the point I lost Vinnie. He was starting in block B and I was back in block E. We had a loose plan of staying on the left side, I would run fast and he would run slow, and at some point we would meet. It was a madhouse of people slowly shuffling to their starting positions. Though it was morning and cold, the good news was, with so many people around the bodies not only blocked the chilly breeze, but provided an adequate amount of heat. The bad news was, that black coffee I had back at Starbucks was ready to leave me. I followed an arrow that pointed in the general direction of sections C through K. When I got to the top of the ramp, the Freddy Krueger nightmare image of a person holding a sign designating the area I had spent so long shuffling towards as K slapped me in the face like razor fingers. I caught sight of another guy with an E on his number tag that was pushing up the sidelines, and immediately followed behind him. I know it seems like a lot to risk, putting my faith in the fact he knew where he was going, but I also had an ace up my sleeve in the chance he was wrong: since arriving in Japan I have had the good fortune of getting my way in various situations simply because I am gaijin. If, say, we ended up in the wrong block, I was just going to simply say, "I don't understand" repeatedly, and sooner or later they would either let me be, or escort me to the front of the line, which are consistently the only two outcomes that seem to happen in those scenarios: win-win!

Can say I finished a marathon, but can't say I ran one

So today was what Joe and I have been building up to: the Tokyo Marathon.

To recap how I've come into this race, runner's knee knocked me out of my running schedule around Christmas. At that point, I decided to take off from running to recover and ordered a stationary bike, just in case taking off didn't do it. A day or so before the bike arrived, I gave running a go, and things still weren't better.

So that forced me to choose between the lesser of two evils. The longer I stayed on the bike, the more likely my knee would be better, but the worse prepared I'd be for actually running in the marathon. On the other hand, if I tried to run before and screwed up my knee, that could have put me out of the marathon completely. So I ultimately decided that I would just stay on the bike until the marathon, while doing exercises and stretches the help with the runner's knee.

That also changed my whole perspective on the marathon. While training through December, I'd been watching my pace go down and down. Things were progressing so smoothly, I was getting hopeful for a 3:30:00 time or so. That inclination went out the window with my injury.

The plan became survival. I would just go out at a nice and easy pace and focus on getting through the race, rather than worrying about my time. Joe's plan was to run with me for the first half, chatting while running, but then pick it up on the second half. I figured I'd try to pick it up a bit for the last 10km if I was feeling good, but I didn't want to push my luck.

And that brings us right up to the marathon.

10-K race as a hard training run

Tokyo, Week 2, Day 7; 6.2 miles, 8:33/mile.

As today's a day off, I'll write about my race yesterday.

I ran a 10-K race along the Ara River. My goal wasn't to go out and kill it like a race I'm well prepared for; I wanted to just get out there at a kind of hard pace that I could hold up for the entire race. And, judging by the fact that today is the first day I've been sore since I started training, I must have succeeded in that.

I'm still not completely sure what I ran. First, my Nike+ iPod told me I reached the 5-K point a while after I reached the midpoint of the out-and-back run, meaning one of them was off. I think I might try to calibrate my Nike+ sensor on a track during the Namban Rengo's Wednesday night interval workout. Second, when I finished the race, I was too focused on getting a drink to bother to pay attention to my time, which I would have had to get off of the paper on to which they had noted it down. So that left me pretty much in the dark as to what I actually ran.

Still, the Nike+ iPod had my pace at something sub-8:00/mile for the first half and going as low as maybe 8:30/mile for the second half. I'd venture that I averaged about 8:15/mile, which would make put me at something over 50 minutes for the race. I hope they post the results soon so I can see how I really did. Update: The results have been posted here in the comments. My results were a little slower than I thought: 51:24, or about 8:33/mile.

Oh, and the women's race was won by the only other vegan in the group (go Meg!).

After the race, most of the participants went to a Japanese bath house. A nice dip in a Japanese bath after a race sure makes your legs hurt a lot less. I spent most of my time in the rotenburo, or outside bath, which is, as you might guess, outside. It was just cold enough to give you a nice chill when you got out of the hot water.

Then it was back to the river for the post-race barbeque, kids race and awards ceremony. In addition to us two vegans, there were a number of vegetarians with whom we set up a little vegetarian powwow. There was plenty of vegan food to go around; there was salsa, tortilla chips, potato chips, salad, and veggie skewers. Another vegetarian brought some tofu to cook up on the barbeque while I brought hummus, pita, and baby carrots. After eating some of all of that, I was pretty much completely stuffed.

All in all, a fun day and a decent run for just two weeks of training. That said, here's looking forward to lots of improvement...