Bolder Boulder

My brother ran the Bolder Boulder 10K race today, and I invited him to guest blog about his experience. A brief bio of Little Brother: He teaches middle school at a charter school in Boulder, CO; lives in Boulder County with his wife and two children; is an avid outdoorsman who is training for his second triathalon; is a sculptor, a painter, a flyfisherman, a hunter, a poet.  The older we get, the more I love him, and one day he and I will run the NYC Marathon together. Without further ado, Little Brother reports, live on the scene in Boulder, CO.

Sea Level Is For Sissies

What is a race report?  I’ve never written one, and my lovely pigtailed sis invites me to be a guest blogger!  It all sounds so official.  Who am I?  How do I receive such invites?  I am a beginner triathlete, father of aforementioned two-year-old cheerleader Miss T (Muchas Mamás), and a sufferer of a treatable, but incurable, disease.

I’m in good shape, and have coached a number of kids this spring in preparation for the third-largest road race in the world: the Bolder Boulder. This year, over 50,000 have registered.  I’ve never run this race, nor have I ever run this far (10K) in my life, so I’m not exactly sure how I was qualified to “coach,” but I saw at least six of my middle schoolers looking strong on their way to the finish line.  Yeah me! [And Yeah Them!--PF]
              
I did everything I was supposed to.  Trained, cross-trained, used my heart rate monitor, rested, had a pasta dinner last night and went to bed early.  However, the shadow that lives in the back of my mind had been pushing itself into the edges of my sight larger despite my trying to look the other way.  Over the past few weeks, my personal burden, that incurable disease Ulcerative Colitis (autoimmune system attacks my colon and leaves it with bloody ulcers, and body with swollen knees, elbows, sores in mouth, red eyes, and general fatigue) was hinting at a flare up from the stress of the end of the school year (this coming Thursday).   Lo and behold, blood in the port-a-potty 400 yards from the start this AM.  Crap-ola. [No pun intended.-PF]

Whatever.  I’m feeling good, my body is doing great.  I decide to just ignore it for the race and go to the acupuncturist this week.  Line up with everyone, small talk with parent and child from my school (race officials have the coach run with the students) and wait for the gun.  Davis Phinney, cycling GOD who was recently cured of early onset Parkinsons via sketchy brain surgery, pulled the trigger.  There’s motivation for me.  Off we go, or off I go, as I didn’t really care about the students, just my goal of besting one hour.
              
Throughout the race, I felt like I was tumbling toward the finish.  Never winded, loving the spectators: bands, belly dancers, Ms. Tutu who’s been at the race every year since ’79, Jake and Elwood impersonators (yes, they were smoking), and two Slip and Slides set up on front lawns.  Unfortunately, it was 54 and drizzly, so the bands were all under tents, and a hypothermic Slip and Slide was not an option for skinny-ass me.  The morning’s blood flitted through my mind, but I just kept shutting it out.  Not going to let this ruin my tri season, just keep running.
              
Dad was there, cheering me on at the start and then the end, where we all hung a right into CU’s Folsom field for the finish.  Feeling strong, I kicked to the end.  1:00:44.  My splits actually became shorter – Mile 2 was 10:23 and Mile 6 was 9:18.  Yeah me again!  Being cold and wet, dad and I left before the pro races and Memorial Day festivities.  Apologies to all you elite-watcher nerds, no name dropping today. [We're not nerds.-PF]
              
This being my first race report and all, I hope I didn’t bore you, go on to long, or gross you out.  While I was running I was thinking about what I would write, and what kept coming back to me was encouragement.  I have to deal with this disease the best I can.  Maybe your burden is weight, time, motivation, bad joints, finances, or a simple lousy hair day.  Shut the voices out and just go.  Do what you can.  The time is, as always, now.

Way to go Little Brother on a great race!  Sounds like you had fun, battled your demons, and set an important benchmark for your next 10K. The fact that you ran negative splits says a lot about your fitness. Congratulations, and thanks for sharing your race with Pigtails Flying. Congrats to Matt at Dump Runners Club who also ran the race today.

Here are some other race reports from around the blogosphere:

• What’s New in Twizzler-land?
• Bolder in Boulder
• Run Oregon
• The Real World Bloomfield
• The Silver Fern
• One Mile to Go
• The Great Lake