2022 Race Reports – Mark Kaufman

Philadelphia Marathon – November 20, 2022

Spoiler alert: this was not my fastest marathon, but it was my best one. In control the whole race, an unbelievably constant pace, and after failing by 1 minute to BQ (that is, Qualify for the Boston Marathon) at New Jersey, the first of four prior marathons, in THIS race, I qualified.

After a week in Miami for the International Trademark Association (INTA) Leadership Conference (including a late night with The Opposition, a rock band of very talented lawyers from around the world), I flew into Philly on Friday before the Sunday race.

Other than rehearsing until midnight Monday and playing until midnight (rather than 1 a.m.!) Tuesday, the INTA conference had been a study in moderation – e.g., napping for an hour Thursday afternoon, because I was Doing a Marathon on Sunday.

Flew into Philly, registered late afternoon at the Convention Center, got a Beyond Burger instead of waiting until 8:30 pm for a table at the nicer Italian restaurant (crowded with the next day’s half marathoners). On Saturday, had lunch with our nephew Josh at a Korean hot pot restaurant which was AMAZING.

Korean Hot Pot at the Chubby Cattle. (Josh ate the shrimp, thank you.)

Leaving Chinatown, I saw a group of 6 African men, slight and mostly short, with one of them peering into his cell phone for directions to wherever they were going to eat — The Professionals! OMG, this was the closest I would ever get to such greatness. I said to the guy with the cell phone, “Good luck! I’ll be watching your backs…”.

Had to have a FaceTime call with Coach Steve to determine what to wear, because on race day the temperature was dropping to 26 degrees and 21 with the wind chill, so dressed on the warmer side: tights, long sleeve tech shirt, heavyweight tech shirt over that — and two more layers of old clothing I’d take off and leave by the roadside as the race began.

Saturday night pasta dinner with Hastings’ own Dan Fingleton (who ended up running an extraordinary 3:10, a 7-minute PR!) and his friend Elana.

Tried to get to the starting area by 6:00, pleased to get there at 6:09. But waited a dangerously long time for security, rushing to find the line of UPS trucks to store dry clothes for after the race, and getting through the portable toilet line (alas, I cheated, pretending to know someone near the head of the line for the toilets) — just in time to rush through the corrals to my assigned section a few minutes before the horn went off at 7:00 a.m. Tight, but sufficient!

I found myself next to two pacers shooting to finish in 3:50, and we could tag along if we wished. I struggled with a range of goals: I had trained to finish in 3 hours, 45 minutes, just to come within spitting distance of the 3:31 I had done in my first marathon. I wanted to look back and not feel that even though the next three races over the years — two in NYC, another in NJ — had been 40 minutes slower, and I had completed two Ironman triathlons, the Marathon was not going to be the distance that kicked my ass. But 3:50 was BQ time for 60-64, and I had backup goals: finishing without losing steam or walking would be achievements as well…

I stuck with those two pacers. My watch said we were doing 8:35-8:40 min/miles, suggesting they were much faster than the 8:50 we should be doing — but they kept saying we were on target, and as the ever patient and generous running buddy Zander knows, my watch can be wildly inaccurate. When the stick broke in half in the wind and the shorter guy carried it, they were hard to see, but the bigger guy talked a lot and loudly so I followed pretty closely. In the early miles, got acquainted with the group and settled in through Miles 1-7, with great, enthusiastic crowds on Walnut Street, wind at our back as we crossed the Schuykill (“SKOO-gill”) River, feeling ready for the first hill approaching Drexel (having visited Josh 4-5 weeks ago and run 18 miles of the course).

Felt solid but anxious that an old injury would flare up or I wouldn’t get past the 14-mile wall I had run into in the past; ready to back off the hubris of trying to reach my prime goals so I wouldn’t crash and burn like the Brazilian pro in the NYC Marathon, two weeks ago (who took a 2-minute lead but fell apart at Mile 20).

Failed nutrition was why I had bonked in 2016 and 2017, so I felt crazy but happy to wear a water belt throughout the race: taking 4 gulps of UCAN “superstarch” at 0:45, 1:45 and 2:45, giving it 35 minutes to kick in and last for an hour, with SALTSTICK tablets and HUMA gels on the hour to supplement (and caffeine to give me super powers at 3 hours); and Precision Hydration in the other 10 oz. bottle, sipping it for two hours before I had to fill it at an aid station and pop in another half-tablet (because plain water tasted dissatisfying). Miles 8-12 were the hills going into and around the Zoo’s park, and the pacers were great (“shorten your stride!”) so I picked up my cadence and felt solid but worried, wondering whether the pace was too fast.

Ted, retired from the military, talked too much around Mile 13 and made me anxious, so I pulled away as we crossed the bridge back to the east side of the river, and I could feel my heart rate was kicking up a the fateful Mile 14 (“feel” because Iwasn’t wearing my heart rate monitor, it had crapped out from a low battery on my last run on Friday in Miami; Miami was so, so long ago…) but I stayed calm (an achievement in itself) and got to Mile 16 feeling strong so I decided to kick it up a little and at Mile 18 thought I would leave the pacers.

We’re facing into the wind as I go up the hill towards Manatuck, a hip little street area where we’ll turnaround, and at Mile 20 I was in virgin territory (having only run as far as 18 when I trained) and still feeling solid but cautious. Whenever my attention wandered, I focused on keeping my cadence up as I got fatigued, and on Gratitude as my mantra.

Even when I thought I was surging ahead, I stuck with the 3:50 Pacers…

In Manatuck I thought I was wearing sunglasses because it was a little dim and I realized my eyelashes had frozen, and approaching and rounding the turnaround there were cheering crowds, and a kid with a sign “To Pee or Not to Pee?” to which I said, “Put that sign away!” because I hadn’t thought about it until then, and folks offering cups of beer on the roadside, so close that I could SMELL it. The home stretch of the last 10K, I can handle 10K, wind is in our faces again and thought I was picking up the pace but annoyed to hear people cheering “3:50 Pacers!” Dammit, they were right behind me.

But this was my race, and I poured on what I had, 5k left, I had gas in the tank, tried to get faster and panting but not as badly as some folks grunting around me, needed to get ahead of them because their pain made me too aware of my own, passing folks who were walking and had obviously started much faster, I’m focusing on form and a mile to go and OMG the wind as we approach the boathouse and there’s the Museum and the finish line is surprisingly near and the crowds are screaming, and I MADE IT, arms raised, feeling blessed, eyes tearing up.

Bottom line: 3:48:21 and unbelievably consistent pace throughout the entire race: 8:42 min/mile at 10k, 8:43 at 13.1 miles, 8:43 at 30K, 8:43 at finish. Not the 8:36 pace I had wanted for a 3:45 finish, but still fast enough for the 3:50 that qualifies for Boston (in 2024, maybe, depending on the “discount” they impose to limit the race to 25,000). And the fastest since my first marathon in 2014, a vast 25-minute improvement over the last three marathons. 24/147 AG; 2,811/8,377 OA.

More importantly, I had been in control the whole race; I hadn’t bonked; I hadn’t walked; and my legs seized up AFTER the race, not during it. Everything hurts, nothing is injured. The pain cave wasn’t too dark, and I kind of enjoyed the whole race.

Coach Steve Redwood at www.TriEndeavors.com had been amazing and patient: after a season of triathlons, we focused on running and building mileage; did strength and cycling once a week, skipping the swims; and he helped me get through mild injuries and regroup with This Race as the goal. I was never more ready for a marathon.

I’m not sure why I do endurance races, but I know I found meaning in this one, and success, not just because of the numeric result and BQ’ing but also because I owned it. Big thanks to Rachel, my long-suffering wife, for being the most supportive person on the planet.

Rachel prepared my breakfast for race day and left it at Dan’s house…

Atlantic City 70.3 – September 10, 2022

Atlantic City, New Jersey is an interesting place. The glitz of the casinos is within sight but largely apart from the working class, kind of dirty streets with neighborhood restaurants where I stayed the night before the race. (The Tropicana Hotel, where I was going to stay with Kevin and Zander before they bailed out for various unfortunate reasons, was shining its neon through the window of my AirBNB.)

This was my 10th Half Ironman distance. But after a shin-splint injury and getting over a sore throat had broken up the training, I had only started to feel ready the week before race day.

Set alarm for 3:45 a.m. to pack up, fuel up and leave before 5. Seemed crazy early for a 6:45 start, but the race director accurately predicted a 30-minute delay to park (everyone funneling down one narrow road to Bader Field). It was a full moon, and I thought, Lon Chaney (the Wolfman) might have cried out, “Oh, no! I must race again!”

Transition area – post load-in, pre-race…

Lots of new athletes, enthusiasm and jitters all around. Lucked out: with my assigned spot almost at the end of the bike rack, I could store my big tri bag between a rack and a garbage can. Slapped on sunscreen for what it would be worth, ate and drank the rest of my morning fuel, and waited in a relatively short line for the portable toilets.

Despite the race director’s attempt to get athletes to self-seed for the swim, and my dutifully trying to line up with others who expected to do the 1.2 miles in 37 minutes, it didn’t work: we all lined up in one direction behind our estimated time placards, then turned 90 degrees to right and became a disorganized mass walking to the pier. Chatted with strangers, then jumped, waded, swam HARD for the start and tried to find my rhythm.

Conditions were terrific: no wind, 73.5 degrees F water (perfect for a full length wetsuit), and unusually frequent sight buoys (every 100 meters!). But… the water was crowded with swimmers the whole way, in part because of the failed self-seeding; also, the sharp turns at the end of the out-and-back snarled up a lot of people around those big red buoys. And there seemed to be some head current as we crossed the channel, first at the turnaround and then to cross over to the finish line. I later learned (because Coach Steve wisely told me to ignore my swim time until after the race) that I finished 42:30, a dismal 2:12 minute/100 meter pace, but 10/43 for my age group (AG).

T1 went great: found my row (#3) and my area (almost the end of the rack, across from the Iroman tent), and wetsuit slipped off as if it were lubricated (that spray-on worked!). BUT it took 5:12 minutes because we all had to ride a full mile, across the tarmac of this former airport, to get out of transition. And the bike route didn’t officially start until the road!

Ride was thankfully uneventful and manageable. The course was so flat, they didn’t even bother to provide an elevation map. Two and ½ weird loops (the charismatic race director told us at orientation, “It’s only two laps. But one of you, I promise, will miss the finish line turn and instead go back into Atlantic City a third time…”; and I swore to myself, “it won’t be me. I’ve paid my dues by missing turns at OTHER races…”).

The Bike Course was pretty confusing on paper… not so bad live.

No wind to speak of, despite being along the ocean shore, and kind of cool to zoom along the Atlantic City Expressway in a lane closed to traffic. (“Thank you, officer!”). Started racking up 5-mile laps on the watch in around 15 minutes. So I was tempted to make that personal breakthrough of averaging 20 mph, and also tried to keep within the 165-watt goal Coach Steve had suggested. But the power meter really didn’t work: now that I developed a light, even cadence, the pedals felt less pressure and so recorded ridiculously low wattage (125? 144?). So I had to go by RPE (relative perceived exertion), and I dared not exceed a 7 or 8 on a scale of 10 for fear of Bonking on the Run. So by Mile 45, I realized I’d either have to push harder to make the 20 mph goal, or Stick to the Plan and survive the run.

I made the more boring but safer choice. Finished the ride in 2:49:55 (=19:78 mph), 16/43 AG. And then, of course, the extra mile ride back to transition. (This was really a 72.3 mile triathlon…). T2 went well (again, a lucky and easy to find spot at almost the end of a rack) and completed in exactly the same time as T1: 5:12 minutes.

Ah, the run: by midway through, at noon, it was only 73 degrees and 74% humidity. Not bad at all. The wooden boardwalk initially was thrilling because there was a bounce to it, but everything started to feel less exciting as the race wore on. Almost entirely without shade for 13.1 miles.

The plan had been to start at 9:00-9:15 minute/mile pace for the first 8 to 10 miles, then pour it on. I did it in reverse: first four miles ranged from 8:35 to 8:58, and it didn’t feel sustainable; in fact, I was ready to quit at Mile 4. So I settled into vowing not to go slower than 9:15, checking my watch, ignoring my heart rate, willing myself not to walk because I’d never start up again. And at that relatively slow pace, I kept plugging at it, taking mild pleasure at counting those I passed (37, I think), but cheating because I didn’t count how many people passed me.

Mostly it was digging deep, trying to just hold on, pretty certain I couldn’t push faster, maybe I was fighting for 5th place, maybe that guy I’m chasing is in my age group, there’s Paul from my last race who took second place to my first, I gotta beat him, working my way one mile at a time, nothing felt injured but everything hurt, only 3 miles left, 27 minutes isn’t very long; actually, 27 minutes is VERY long, does this route REALLY go up hill a mile before the finish? At least I was ready for the last 50 yards running on the sand and they announced my name and hometown and OMG I finished.

Stumbled to the surf and stood there knee deep for fear if I sat down I’d not be able to stand and I’d drown there. My heart rate dropped eventually but it felt like I was panting for 45 minutes after the race had ended.

Eventually got the results: 1:58:44 run (= 9:07 minute/mile), not my fastest by a long shot but 7/43 AG (picking up 9 slots!). Race total: 5:42:51. 8/43 AG, 440/1692 overall. (Turns out, Paul beat me, even though my swim, run and transition times were faster — he smoked the bike at 21.5 mph!)

So, what’s the takeaway? The results are fine, not as dramatic as the podium but a solid performance in a tough crowd. I mean, those of us who are still racing at 60-64 years are pretty serious about racing. I wish I could dig deep without digging into so much discomfort; the memory of this race is not pleasant; but I guess that’s ridiculous, I came to race, and that was everything I owned that day.

Regardless of the relatively slow pace (relative to what I’ve done in the past), it might be the deepest I’ve gone into the pain cave. I left behind nothing on the race course — except the heels of my running shoes.

Hudson Valley Olympic Triathlon, 6/25/2022

I had to downgrade this race in Kingston, NY from a 70.3 to an Olympic distance. Too much fitness lost to … well, to the demands of work and family.

The 1 hour 40 drive the day before the race for registration was surprisingly refreshing, the world rolling over country roads, and when I warmed up for 20 minutes each of swim, bike, run, I realized I was on vacation for a day. Not a lot of people at this “Alpha Wins” brand race, so I could have come up on race day, but I’d been burnt before by the wait wait wait and rush rush rush. Drove back south for 40 minutes to stay with Richard (whom I’ve known for 28 years, when we lived in the same building in Brooklyn Heights) and the wonderful Stephanie in Newburgh, where we had a simple but just stunning meal of grilled salmon, lots of brown rice and roasted broccoli. And, well, a bit of wine (to which Richard later attributed my success on race day).

The wonderful Richard Gary and Stephanie Brown

The 40 minute drive back to Kingston wasn’t terrible, because it wasn’t too early: they started the half and full “Ironman” distance racesbefore the sprint and Olympic, so a 9:15 start enabled me to sleep in to 5:30 a.m. Still, disappointed that I got there just before the 7 a.m. cutoff to the parking lot, only to find the lot was full and I had to turn around and park a mile away, Met the talkative Paul (fellow age grouper: Old Men), and realized, I used to be anxious like that. But not today.

The swim was gorgeous: 73.5 degree water, perfect for a sleeveless wetsuit, in a lake surrounded by forest. I had warmed up the day before with one loop around the two-loop course, and felt relaxed, perhaps overly so: my watch vibrated at 500 yards and I checked to make sure it was working after bumping a guy as we rounded the second buoy, only to learn that I was very, very slow. Oh, well, I’d had very little time in the pool the last 5 weeks, and I’d have to work a little harder. Was tempting to quit after one loop, but I hadn’t come this far for a DNF, and I might as well just tough it out. Bottom line: 32:06 for 0.9 miles, perhaps my slowest ever, but 25/96 OA (over all) on the swim, not too bad.

A quarter-mile barefoot run over gravel and grass to T1, but surprisingly painless; adrenaline is a beautiful thing.

The bike was two out and backs, each leg the same 6.2 miles, and I dug into it: from the very beginning a guy with gray hair and a black shirt passed me and I thought I’d never catch that fellow age grouper, but I’m just going as hard as I can on THIS day, averaging close to 200 watts with surges over 250 watts up those long rolling hills and tucking into aero to catch up on the downhills. Beautiful scenery, mostly good roads. I later learned it was a hot day in the upper 80s but I really didn’t notice. Last leg of the ride, I leap-frogged with a younger guy in red and the Man in Black (I caught up!) and learned as we got off the bike at T2, “Hey, you’re not anywhere NEAR my age group, are you?” Still, I’d prefer to be chasing a bunny than running from a monster. Bottom line: 1:22:43 finish over the 25 miles, avg. 18.2 mph, and 24/96 overall on the bike.

Ah, the run: on the one hand, almost entirely shaded on a former rail trail into the woods, so that again, I didn’t notice the heat. In fact, twice we passed an area where it was suddenly COLD; probably some ice caves; I felt like I was in some elvish glen….

On the other hand, having pushed hard for the relatively short ride, it was tough work from the very beginning; I really felt I was forced to earn each, individual mile. But I counted everyone I passed, each of them younger (by definition!); I couldn’t tell who was on the 70.3, sprint, or my race, but I netted 15 runners (passed by someone who must have taken first place for woman, doing close to 6:00 minute/miles, furious that she’d been stuck behind a pickup truck on the ride). And here comes Paul, the actual age group competition, running towards me a half-mile after I’d done the turnaround, so unless he’s really really fast he’s not going to catch me. Which leaves me with the harder task of running as hard as I can, anyway, even though whatever place I have on the podium is already determined. I try to push harder, pick up cadence, get this DONE, and it’s uncomfortable, even unpleasant, but reach that last mile and am grateful to see and run beneath the big FINISH sign. Bottom line: 50:44 for the 10k, avg. of 8:09 min/mile, and 17/96 OA. Total race time: 2:52:55.

The participation medal (given to everyone who crosses the finish line…

Which translates to first place for my age group! Not only 1st out of 4 for the 60-64 men, but fast enough for 1st for men’s 55-59, 3rd for 50-55, 3rd for 45-49 and 3rd for 40-45. Take THAT, gravity!

Ironman Texas 70.3 — April 3, 2022

For the Hastings Runners Group, and others with little time and/or short attention spans here is the short version: one of my best Half Ironman races, at least in terms of attitude, control and execution, came in 8/54 AG, and my best finishing time since 2016 (when I was, well, 6 years younger).

For the rest of you, read on!

A Half Ironman in Galveston, Texas had seemed like a good idea two years ago, before I opted to defer it three times because of COVID. Winter training hadn’t just been about maintaining because starting in October I had to build from zero (recovering from treating an injury that had prevented me from running). As the day approached, I had some cold feet about schlepping all the way to Houston. (Galveston turns out to be a little over an hour from Houston and a a weekend vacation destination for a folks from there).

Houses on stilts…

Everywhere…

But like the athletes I met from Boston, Montana and Wisconsin, we all wanted to start racing before May or June, when the water might warm up in our regions.

Travel was challenging — my flight was canceled, so I hung out at La Guardia Airport for 6 hours. But I had my laptop and got a lot of work done, and staying zen at the airport actually set the tone for the weekend and the race. Even after the plane landed at 6:30 pm (a lot later than planned), I had a 40-minute wait for a pre-arranged car rental, but again, it didn’t bother me (and I enjoyed chatting with some folks driving another 5 hours to New Orleans to watch college basketball). The AirBnb host gave a recommendation for a Tex-Mex restaurant and I got there an hour before it closed. What’s there to worry about?

Nice cafe for breakfast, checked into the race next morning, picked up my beastie from TriBike Transport. Race evening: got into taking out all gear and clothing arranging my suitcase and tri bag, so I could make a quick getaway straight to the airport if I had to, and my Outrageous Commitment to Detail didn’t bother anyone.

Morning of the race: I intended to set my alarm for 3:45, but mistakenly set it for 4:45 — so I was not going to get to transition by 5 am…. But, found I could really get all my nutrition together and get out of the house in an hour. Got to the race site only 45 minutes before transition closed. Didn’t have the time to stress, just set up my area and be the last person out of the portable outhouses.

The water was unusually calm (last year, I learned, there had been white caps), with a gentle headwind for a short leg out, then 1500 meters with a slight crosswind current (as opposed to the rough n’ tumble Gulf of Mexico, where I declined to swim the day before; I couldn’t cram for this test; whatever training I had completed would have to be enough). The water was also 71 degrees – perfect for a full length wetsuit. Just before the swim, though, part of my wetsuit ripped as i was putting it on.

I wasn’t sure what I’d do if the whole left arm unraveled. I lucked out, the untorn portion stayed intact. And what could I do about it, anyway?

The race director said we would self-select to start swimming with others who expected to finish the 1.2 mile course at approximately the same time. But by the time I came out of my late morning start, the line of athletes waiting to jump off the dock stretched back for blocks along the bay facing the mainland. So the water was pretty crowded the whole way with much slower swimmers. (I later learned — from a woman at the airport who had driven the support “sag wagon” — that spreading out and delaying the swim was on purpose! Slowing down when athletes entered and finished the swim would in turn slow down the rate of athletes getting on their bicycles after the swim and make the bike route less congested; and sure enough, there were only two, self-inflicted accidents, instead of the pile ups of past years).

When we finally started, I was relaxed, almost bored from the waiting, rather than my normal jittery “what am I DOING here?” Instead of starting with all-out sprinting as planned (because I hadn’t warmed up in water; indeed, no one was allowed to do so), I cranked it up comfortably so my heart rate wasn’t out of control. Swim felt solid – got into a good rhythm, mostly looking left (my stronger side), passed a lot of people. Which was challenging in terms of swimming around them but frankly gave me a psychological boost.

Finished in 36:52, a 1:55 min./100m pace (which translates to 1:45 min./100 yds). One of my better swim results for this distance race — and it felt great. Ran up the exit ramp and legs didn’t cramp up (in contrast with my prior two races). 13/58 for my age group… Self-stripped the wetsuit by the exit while it was wet – a vast improvement in transition time. T1 in 4:10.

The 56-mile bike ride was a challenging exercise in self-restraint: Coach Steve (at www.TriEndevors.com) had made me agree to ride at around 165 watts, and not to exceed 180 watts, and THIS race I was going to Do the Best I Could Today rather than bonking on the run from trying to take the bike too fast. He predicted I’d average 19.9 mph (what is this magic algorithm, Steve?). With the wind behind us the first half (on a very straight out and back mostly along the water – very pretty), I was comfortably flying at 23-24 mph.

The shore was pretty but nothing to block the wind…

Ah, but the ride back of course was into the wind, so by mile 30, I was doing 17 or 18 mph. My heart rate was steady in the low 120s (an indicator of not bonking), but my legs ached from the effort of staying on top of the aero bars: first my left hip (dammit, I had promised myself I would do clamshell exercises every day to build up those muscles and avoid this particular pain), then my quads, then my glutes. But I had to stay aero the whole time, because whenever I got up briefly to get nutrition or re-fill my water torpedo, my wattage (and therefore effort) jumped up 10-15 watts, just from taking on the wind resistance. So, suffer. The 3-hour indoor sessions on the trainer all winter actually prepared me for this type of race: flat and straight. (But no Netflix when riding on the road, of course). Bottom line: 2:52:46, average of 19.37 mph. (Well done, Steve. How are you at handicapping horses and the stock market?) 17/58 for my AG. T2 in 2:14. (My transitions were only 5 seconds slower than the AG winner – who finished in a blistering 4:50 hours.)

The run (13.1 miles) was another victory over my desire to Go. Fast. Now. The plan was to run 9:30 to 10 minutes per mile, or keep my heart rate below 143 bpm, whichever was faster. (If that makes any sense.). But running off the bike, with my Fast Shoes and their springy carbon-plate inserts (am I overcompensating? You betcha), and my adductors aching from riding that horse for almost 3 hours, I stumbled into 9:00 minute miles. Again and again. And I’m trying to slow down when I peak over 143 bpm, honestly, because I want this to be the Best I Could Do Today, and I don’t want the run to collapse like I experienced during Ironman Florida 70.3 in April 2019 or the New England 70.3 in August 2021. But the 9-minute pace just felt like I was jogging, and if I tried to go any slower I’d be walking, and I was NOT going to join all those people who were walking this extraordinarily intricate, but well-marked, three-loop course.

This is the run course. Are you kidding me?

Steve and I had discussed my starting to get faster at mile 8 or 10, and I didn’t feel ready at 8, but at the 10 mile marker I took off, ignoring the watch and a coach (total stranger, giving encouragement to whoever would listen) said, “There you go! Now he’s racing.” And another coach shouted out a mile later, “Look at that stride.” Man, all those runs with Zander and Dietmar, pushing the envelope, really paid off. And my pace dropped from 9:01 at Mile 9, to 8:51 at Mile 10, 8:38 at Mile 11, 8:43 at mile 12, and 8:36 at Mile 13, and the last 1/10th of a mile at an 8:08 pace. I was flat out. Everything hurt but nothing was injured and I was in the moment, working as hard as I could.

Finished the half marathon in 1:58:22, at an 8:53 min/mile average pace— a solid 10 minutes faster than predicted. (Like an old-fashioned elementary school report card: “Exceeds expectations.”). And finished the race in 5:34:21 hours. And came in 8/54 for my age group (yes, a jump of 9 slots from the ride!), 535/1,518 for men, 638/2,122 overall.

The participation medal. But very glad to have participated.

The bottom line: it was the Best I Could Do Today, and attained in a relaxed, zen-like attitude. (With an extra hour’s sleep.). I could get used to this lifestyle.