Garry Bjorklund Half Marathon: Race Recap

Garry Bjorklund Half Marathon

I went into this race with a lot of unknowns. I had never run a race this long on the roads. Heck, I had never run more than 8 miles on pavement. I haven’t run a race longer than a 5k on pavement in 10 years. With the knee I sprained in the Lost in the Woods 50k (my PT decided it was a strain or a sprain, not something more serious), I lost most of my May training period. It wasn’t until the week before that I ran a full 13 miles in training, proving that I could actually run the distance. 

When I originally signed up for this race, I thought I might be able to hit between a 6:15 and a 6:30 with a solid training block. With only two solid weeks of speed training plus a taper week leading up to this race, I gave my family split estimates ranging from 6:30 (which I figured would only be to give them enough leeway to see me), to 7:00 minute pace (what I figured I could pull off), to 7:30 (just run and finish pace). 

Pre-Race 

We made the drive to Duluth Friday afternoon. As expected, the construction on 35 led to a long delay (an hour or so?). When we did (finally) get to Duluth, there was a line down the freeway to get off at the DECC parking lot, and the Fitgers 5k was going on as well, so we opted to head to my parents’ house for dinner (chicken stir fry, pre-race meal of not-quite-front-of-the-pack runners). 

After dinner, we headed down to the DECC, wandered past the spaghetti dinner (ugh, definitely not my thing pre-race), through the expo, and picked up my race packet and bib. Then we wandered through Canal Park, to stay loose and relax a bit. In a departure from earlier pre-race traditions, we stopped by Endion Station (now one of many Rod Raymond establishments), and I had a (session) beer. 

At one time, I detoxed for three full days before races. As I got more experienced, though, I realized that it was being relaxed, rather than focussing and over-preparing, that has led to my best race experiences and my fastest times. So these days, I will occasionally have a beer the day before a race. 

Back to my parents’, and I laid out everything i would need in the morning (running kit, bread and peanut butter, and most importantly coffee makings) before heading for an early bed. The 4:15 alarm was staring me in the face, and I knew I would not sleep well. 

Sure enough, 6 hours of time and 5 hours of sleep later, the alarm went off, and for once I didn’t hit the snooze. Within half an hour I was fed, caffeinated, and wandering down the hill to the Edgewater, where the buses left from. 

Now, as you know, my last race had 25 people and started from a guy’s garage. This race had 7,300 starters and had a big production of a starting line. I have to put a word in here: this race has its routine down. The pace groups are clearly labeled in the corral (if not exactly adhered to), the bag drop is well organized, and they had plenty of port-a-potties. 

Feeling relaxed, and having put zero pressure on myself, I chatted with a number of people at the starting line. I got a lot of mileage out of my line that “this race is only about 300 times bigger than my last one.”  I also got a lot of mileage out of adding “and it should be over about four hours more quickly.”

The Race: 

I think this race can fairly be divided into three sections: Pre-Duluth (miles 1-6, roughly), London Road (miles 7-10), and Downtown. 

Pre-Duluth: 

My goal was to be conservative out of the gate, so when the flag dropped (no gun for this race) I ran the first mile with the 1:30 pace setter. This kept me from blowing the first mile too quickly, but proved a little too slow. Even though I was still blasting by runners who had started too close to the front, I was still breathing easily in a 4-3 pattern when I passed the first mile in 6:50.  I dropped the pace a little bit, and settled into the upper end of my 4-3 pattern, which at this point was about 6:35. 

The first five miles of the course follow the north shore scenic highway, and are in my opinion the most beautiful of the course. It is also somewhat discouraging, as you can see the lift bridge, near the finish, from several points on the road. Coming from trails where you’re lucky to see a hundred yards in front of you, this is quite a change. 

Even so, I took in the views of the lake and the wildlife. Around mile two or three, there were three loons taking off at the same time, paralleling our course and almost precisely pacing us, with their comically huge feet trailing behind them in the water. This is my hometown race, one I’ve meant to do since I started running, and I intended to take it in and enjoy it. 

I was surprised at how many spectators there were, given that it was still well before 7AM. Some residents had set up showers (they had clearly done this before) at the side of the road. I availed myself, as even at 60 degrees, the 90% humidity was getting to me.

Still ticking off the 6:35 miles, I drew even with another runner, and we struck up a bit of a conversation. Neither of us had trained as well as we’d liked, me coming off injury, and him coming of a collegiate track season of much shorter races (he was a 1500m specialist). I found out his name was Nate, and we ran through mile 6 together in 6:25, my fastest mile of the course. 

Around 6 miles, the course passes the Lester river, and runs right by my sister’s house. 

Apparently, I was outrunning my error bars on the running tracker app, so my sister and brother-in-law were not expecting me yet. Not to worry, for I let out a loud “seeeeeester!” followed by a “This is Nate! Cheer for Nate!” as we went by, and passed into the Duluth section of the course on London Road. 

London Road: 

This may have been the hardest portion of the race for me. Driving down London Road always seems interminable, with North Shore traffic and a 30 mph speed limit for the 3 miles between I-35 and the expressway. Running along it is not much better. 

Up until this point I had been pretty comfortable, but the race caught up to me here, and of all things it was my quads that started to hurt. My calves and hamstrings were somewhat sore before I started, so I anticipated that those might be my weak points. But I was 6 miles in, and this was not unexpected. I ratcheted my breathing up to a 3-2 in/out pattern, and the pace slipped to about 6:40, but I continued down the never-ending road. 

A left turn, and there, a full mile away, you can see the only significant hill on the course: Lemon Drop Hill (I miss the Lemon Drop, but that’s another story). I’m not sure what’s more cruel, standing at the starting line of the Pikes Peak Marathon looking up 8000’ at the mountain, or staring down a mile of flat road looking at that minor hill. 

Right at the base of the hill, though, I got an unexpected boost: somebody started blasting “Just What I Needed” by The Cars right as I got to the bottom of the hill. A woman to the right gasped “I love this song!” I said “I was just thinking the same thing.” We high-fives, leaned forward, into, and over the hill, where I knew I had a secret weapon. 

Just what I needed indeed. 

Downtown: 

The top of Lemon Drop Hill, right at 25th Avenue East, is my family’s traditional cheering spot. My parents had indicated that they’d be down there cheering for me, and sure enough they were. Not only that, I spied my their friend Clyde and his son Grant (my friend and a 1:07 half marathoner. He’s far faster than me) with them. In need of a mental boost, I ran over and high-fived my parents, and tackled Grant. 

Grant was a bit flustered, yelling at me to keep going because I was at a good pace. I don’t know if he knew my theory of happy running. 

I can see them!

Swerving over to say hi (this may be my favorite picture of me running, ever)

Zeroing in.

And the tackle!

I knew, though, that I could keep the current pace to the finish. Four miles doesn’t seem like that much when it’s through your home town, where you hear the occasional random shout of “Go Jamie!” and you’ve already finished 9 miles. I was cramping a bit, though, so took a salt tab (without water. Never, ever take a salt tab without water.)

This section is where the spectators really start to pack in, lining both sides of the road in a continuous crowd. Turning up and onto Superior Street, I cruised by Duluth Running Company, getting a high five from the owner, and a friend from forever, Clint.  

The only unpleasant experience (I mean, other than the growing pain and fatigue of racing 10 miles) on the entire course happened by Fitgers. The runner just in front of me purposefully knocked every cup of water out of the aid station workers’ hands, just as I was reaching for them. It turns out that the station was manned by his Boy Scout troop, but still: Not Cool!

(I may have called him a “douche canoe.”)

But now I was a 5k from the finish. Just over 20 minutes, at the pace I was going. 

The stretch through downtown was fun. Lake Avenue was packed with people (probably waiting to see runners, then dash down to the finish line to see them again). It was harder, now, to hold the pace, and I let it slip a bit on the ramp over I-35. Down, around the DECC, and alongside the Ervin. 

It was like running through my childhood. 

The last mile, there was a young woman ahead of me who kept having to stop, clearly with stomach issues. Rounding the last corner into the home stretch, I slowed briefly to try and encourage her, and it may have helped. She finished just a couple seconds behind me.

This is probably the first time I have ever had tunnel vision at the end of a race. All I was focused on was the finish line and getting across it. The race timer would later say that I was passed by 25 people in the last mile, but I don’t know how that could be. There simply weren’t that many people that close to me.

I crossed the line in 1:27:14, a 21 second PR. Despite only two weeks of speed work, and a May largely devoid of training of any sort, I hit all of my goals: I finished, I ran sub-1:30, and I ran a PR. 

The Aftermath: 

Initially, after the race, I didn’t feel bad at all. My dad had biked down the Lakewalk to the finish line, and I chatted with him a bit. Then I wandered down the Lakewalk to wade for a little bit and soak my calves. I had a giant blood blister on each of my little toes, which stung when I tried to get my toe socks back on. 

Then, since I had some time and no other way to get home, I ran back along the Lakewalk towards my house. 

Another shout of “Hey mate!” and I looked over my shoulder to see none other than Lee Troop, four-time Olympic marathoner and head coach of the Boulder Track Coach. He was in town pacing one of his athletes (she ran a 1:14:51 for 4th place and a chance at the Israeli national team!). Turns out he will again be in town for the Twin Cities Marathon this year. 

I stopped by the DRC to say hi to Clint on the way home, then it was back to 25th, and up the hill to home. 

The day of, I barely felt sore at a all, despite what was well over 16 miles by the end (and a “Strava” PR for my half marathon, 20k, 10 mile, 15k, and 10k). The real soreness did not hit me until Sunday, and today (Monday) I feel far more sore than I ever have after a race. 

This was a fun event, and I am glad I ran it, but in the future, I think I’ll stick to the trails. 

Roads are brutal.  

Lost in the Woods 50k: DNF

Despite being my first DNF at a race longer than 5k, I would consider this race a success. 

I went into it with the mentality of using this as a test event. I wanted to try out fuels, pacing, and strategies I might use on my hoped-for run on the Border Route Trail later this year. I also wanted to see how well my training was going. And to truly do all of that, I needed a bit of a unique event. 

This “race” is formatted much like the Barkley Marathons, though it is much less intense on the whole. It consists of three approximately 10-mile laps in Seven Mile Creek park in Mankato, Minnesota. Each lap, there are 11 books you have to find and take a page from, and one hole punch, to prove you went in the proper order. There was an aid station at the start and finish, and one in the middle of each lap. All told, a very intriguing format, and something I was very much looking forward to. 

First Campfire of the Year

I headed down to Mankato the night before, planning to stay the night in Minneopa State Park. 

I learned quickly that my idea of camping is different than many other people’s. As far as I could tell, there was exactly one other tent in the campground, the rest being approximately a third full of RVs of various stages of ridiculousness The nearest to me, unfortunately, was running a generator Nonetheless, I set my tent up for the first time this year, got a fire going, and after some ukulele in front of said campfire, turned in at around 9:45. 

The generator droned on. 

Alpine Start: Complete with red headlamp

Despite myself, I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I woke up only twice in the night, before my alarm went off at the (you must be joking) hour of 4:15. 

With a true Alpine start, I had my coffee brewed, tent stowed, and running gear on by 4:45 and, with a quick stop by the vault toilet (the restrooms, despite what the website had claimed, were not yet open for the season) I was off and out of the campground. 

Race Start:

Being me, I was the first one to the race start. Granted, there were only 25 people in the race all told, but still. 

Scott, the local Doctor who puts the race on, met me with his wife Rita in his garage. Turns out, he has officially registered the race with the USATF in order to get insurance for the race. That made me much more comfortable with the ordeal, as it was clear he had gone about things the right way, and was not just throwing a race out of his garage (even though he technically was). 

The Bell

I got the race map, and description (insert picture below), and a written description of the course. I quickly realized that I was not likely to gain much from studying it, but would have to learn as I went. The added fact that the course was flagged (for the most part) helped that decision. 

The Start in the Garage

So, until the race started, I drank my coffee, chatted with Scott and Rita, and made friends with the other victims, or runners. Whichever you prefer. The race wasn’t slated to start until 7:00 so I had plenty of time to arrange, and rearrange, my vest and my drop bag. 

Lap 1:

The race started promptly at 7:00, and the 25 or so runners who had shown up and paid the fee took off down the road together. I found myself running with the front group rather quickly. This was fortunate, as several in the group knew the park significantly better than I did (which is to say at all). About a mile on gravel roads and trails, and then we saw the first pink flag and trekked off up the hill into the woods. 

Off the trail, to the books. 

As you might be able to see from the map above, most books were at the top of a hill, off the trail and into the woods a ways. Most were semi out-and-back sections on deer trails, though some were on marked “trails,” often little more than game trails themselves. 

I ran and trekked well within myself in these sections, trying at the same time to conserve my energy, get a mental image of the course for the remainder of the race, and talk with the runners around me. For the moment, I was more than content to just sit with a group of five men, including myself, who were rapidly separating themselves from the rest of the field. We would remain more or less together for lap one and part of lap two. 

Halfway through each lap, we hit an aid station, where we had to do a short loop down into a gully, then climb out and check back in with the folks manning the aid station. They were incredibly friendly and generous, to be sitting out there on a Saturday in their own backyard letting a bunch of, let’s face it, wackos wander through and eat food. 

First lap, I took a few cookies and some gummi bears. I had filled my reservoir, the way it would be on the BRT trip, so didn’t need to refill until after lap two. This let me jump ahead with the leader, John, and follow him on the aid station loop. 

Fortunately, the only muddy spot on the course. 

We found out quickly on loop two, at book 6, that some had missed the aid station loop and gone right back on course. I believe that was corrected on loop two, by doing two aid station loops instead of one. The remainder of loop one went well, the five of us working together, in general, to find the books as we could.

There was one small navigation error on loop two, where, having gotten split up, three of us ran right past the cutoff for book eight. 

Around book eight, I started to notice a theme to the books. Getting separated from the other leaders, I started looking at the covers of the books we were tearing pages from and noticed their titles: “Desolation,” “Black and Blue,” “Too Far to Go,” and other cheery thoughts. 

Our race director, it seemed, has a sense of humor. 

Somehow, despite the separation that occurred in this lap, we still entered the aid station at the start and finish of the race a group of four. 

Lap 2:

We left a group of four as well, along with one “fun runner,” who basically just showed up and realized what was going on and decided to tag along for a while. Lap two was run in the opposite direction, so we started with book 11 and worked our way back to book one. 

As happens, the group of four split up quickly. I stopped to answer the call of nature briefly (when we had passed all the runners still on their first loop. I have some modesty still.), and the other three quickly gapped me. I caught up to another, John, after book 9, who said the two leaders had “been shot out of a cannon” down the hill and we likely wouldn’t see them again. 

That proved half true. We caught up to Austin, a senior in college who’s off to Colorado for the summer, shortly before the aid station. TJ, the race leader, was nowhere to be seen. That was even more remarkable since he had left his map and course description at the start/finish, and was running the course from memory. Given my two small navigational errors, I was quite impressed by him. 

At the aid station, I once again needed very little, as I was still good for water. I took some more gummy bears, and decided to make a move for second place. I left the aid station alone, took off down the hill, and pushed it on a long trail section that led to the turnoff for book five. 

I must have gained time quickly here, as by the end of the loop they were a good two minutes back, and I was not pushing myself hard on the off-trail portions. I later found out from my GPS data, that I was, relatively easily, hitting sub-7 minute pace on this trail section. 

Unfortunately, I also started to notice something creeping up on me: on the off trail, off camber downhill from each book in this section, my left knee started giving me trouble. It felt like a tendon right at the tibia-fibula-femur junction was irritated. It only got more so as the loop went on, and by the aid station, I was worried enough that I grabbed my trekking poles to see if I could ease the stress on it. 

Lap 3:

Trekking poles in hand, I started off on my third loop in second place. 

I knocked off book one quickly, but on the descent, despite the poles, my knee was still bothering me. I tried book two as well, but the descent made me realize that I could not keep going. Muscle issues I can run through. Joint pains are another matter, and I chose to stop rather than risk further injury. 

Turns out, something around 50% of the participants dropped, so I can’t feel too badly about it. And the DNF allowed me to get back to my friend’s novel launch party in the Twin Cities. 

That’s it for the race. I learned a lot. But I will put that in another post. 

Times

Lap 1: 2:12:17

Break 1: 6:16

Lap 2: 2:13:07

Break 2: 6:37

Partial Lap 3: 40:46

Total time: 5:18:58

Total distance:23.5

A Surprisingly Zen Run

To be honest, when I woke up yesterday, I did not feel like running. I creaked out of bed, and found out just how tight my calves were as I walked to the bathroom. I found out how sore my hamstrings were on the way up and down the stairs of my three story one bedroom apartment. 

Sometimes I love my apartment. Sometimes not so much. 

But, I had a 15 mile run on the docket for the day, and if I want to be ready for a 50k in three weeks, this was my real shot at a longer run. I downed one cup of coffee while eating my breakfast (Ezekiel 4:9 toast with peanut butter and avocado), made another cup to drink while prepping, and changed into my running clothes that I had, for a wonder, laid out the night before. 

On the drive out, I thought about my approach for the day. For this particular run, a Twin Cities Classic out at Afton State Park, I usually have a point where I try to pick up the pace a little. Often that’s either the uphills or the flat sections, but sometimes I up the pace and effort level at the end as well. Feeling as I did this day, though, I knew that was a recipe for a slow time and even more soreness the next day. 

I decided on three rules: 

1. No looking at the pace on my watch (a bad habit I have).
2. No pushing the pace, but no letting up either. 
3. Take whatever the trail gives me. 

As I thought about it, this fit with a book I have: “Zen and the Art of Running.” I have never read it through, but there are a lot of little pieces of advice in there (such as taking what comes without judgment). 

With these three rules/goals in mind, what had promised to be a difficult, mental challenge of a run turned out to be unexpectedly enjoyable. My legs never felt great, but they never felt that bad or that tired. Despite constant temptation, I never looked at the pace (average or current) through the whole run. And taking what the trail and my body gave me turned out to be an enjoyable experience. 

There are downsides. I was so contained within myself that I didn’t take any pictures. I didn’t stop, either, so that would have been a challenge. I may have been less congenial than I often am on the trails. If you saw me, please don’t take offense, I was just inside my own head. 

But in the end, I finished the run in a surprisingly decent time (my third fastest pace for this loop), and as I write this, after a brief run on Sunday, my legs feel solid despite adding four miles to my weekly mileage this past week. 

Now I just have to contemplate the equivalent of four of those loops in a row. 

A Moment of Stillness in a Long Run

Yesterday, with my Achilles again feeling better, I went for my first long run of the year. For me, a long run is anything that lasts longer than 1.5 hours, regardless of distance traveled. This time, I headed down to the Mississippi River Gorge, in the middle of the Twin Cities, to get my dose of wildness for the weekend.

I have avoided the trails for the last two weeks. With the disturbingly warm weather, the trails have been either ice sheets or mud patches, or both. I don't trust my Achilles on ice yet, and I don't like to run in mud because it tears up the trail. So it was with great excitement that I woke to 15 degree weather and frozen dirt trails.

The promised snowpocalypse missed us entirely.

I usually run without pausing on my long runs. That is, after all, the point of the run.

Yesterday, though, I paused. I came to a spot where a small side stream joins the Mississippi, a place where I often see fresh signs that there are beavers living nearby.

Today, with the sudden temperature drop, the stream's mouth was covered in a thin layer of pancake ice.

And it was talking.

As I stopped to look, the ice made cracking, popping noises. Surprisingly, despite being in the middle of a metro area, I couldn't hear anything other than the ice, and a plane passing overhead.

Looking and listening longer, I noticed to my dismay a piece of trash under the ice. But that trash drew my attention to movement under the ice: thousands of minnows were circling in the shallows, their dark, streamlined shapes highlighted by the bright sunlight shining through the ice.

Without the trash, I would not have noticed the life under the ice.

And somehow, after a week of despair about the state of our world, I realized things might just be ok.

Run the Year 2017

A new year, a new, giant challenge for myself.

Somewhat on a whim, I decided to try to run the year: 2017 miles in 2017. Breaking that down, that's around 5.5 miles per day, every day, or 38 miles per week, every week.

Realistically, I'm not going to run every day. Nor am I going to average 38 miles every week. Heck, I hit 30 this past week, and am only hoping for 30-34 this next week. So there is going to be a little bit of long-term planning involved.

At the same time, I can't really think about the whole year, or I get completely overwhelmed. I think I can do this. It's going to take some serious mental focus and more than a little motivation, but I think it's possible.

At the same, I have some other goals for this year. Some I've had before, but I'm approaching with new vigor this year. So here are my goals for 2017:

1. Run 2017 miles. 
2. Run from Lake Superior to Eagle Mountain (I have a route now)
3. Become a certified running coach (RRCA is the plan)
4. "Run" the BRT. 

I think #1 and #4 are the "reach" goals for this year. The others are more in line with past goals and possibilities. 

It should be another good year.