Riverbound Race Series - Charlotte

     I learned a little about myself last weekend.  Mostly that I was slow. Also, though, I learned that I was at least a little more resilient than I had feared I was.  Given that I really only ran last weekend because I have a Spartan Beast coming up in mid-October, I thought it might be a good idea to get at lest one more training run in prior to said beat down.  Why train when you can race?  I pulled out my trusty phone on the car ride home from Asheville and started looking for another race. The RiverBound Race Series Charlotte endeavor the next weekend seemed to fit the bill perfectly.  Half Marathon? Check! Close by? Check! Trail Run. Hmmm. This, I had not considered, but given that the Spartan is a trail run, it seemed to be a bonus.  I signed up immediately.    Thus, I found myself cruising up I-77 in the wee hours of a Saturday morning, simultaneously excited about running some trails and kind of nervous that I was still sore from my mid-week training session (tabata squats always require some recovery).

The Charlotte flavor of the Riverbound Race series (there's also an Asheville variety) is located on the campus of the US National Whitewater Center, and I honestly don't know if there is a better outdoor venue in all of the South.  The place is gorgeous, clean, innovative, and literally made for this kind of race.  I'd previously been up here for the Spartan Sprint in the spring, and immediately found myself lamenting the fact that I hadn't come back since to try the ropes course, zip lines, or whitewater offerings.  Race check-in was quick and painless. This event was the ultimate of four spread over the year.  Each event features a 5k plus a race of increasing length.  The first event also included an 8k, the second a 10k, the third a 15k.  I just happened to hit upon the fourth, which featured a half. 

I timed my trip well, and had just enough time to wonder around for a few minutes, trying in vane to understand the physics and mechanics behind the man-made rapids of the Whitewater center, before I had to line up for the 8AM start.  The race directors made a decision to start the 5K prior to the half, and as a result those of us running the longer distance ended up standing around for a while, waiting for the course to clear.  After about 15 minutes we were off.  We ran around the edge of the whitewater channel for about half a mile, and then hit the woods.  And slowed to a crawl.  I think this is the same as every event I've run that had any trail in it. Hit the single track, and walk.  Soon enough, though, people began to spread out, and one could at least trot.  I fell in behind a big guy wearing orange shoes who paced like a metronome.  I'm horrible at pacing, so if I can find another person who is good at it running the speed I need to be going, hey, great.  This guy never varied his pace - up hill, down hill, roots, rocks - it didn't matter. That was a really good thing, because I didn't have any mental energy to devote to figuring out if I was going the right speed.  I was too busy trying to avoid killing myself. 

The vast majority of this race was single track, literally crawling with roots, vines, boulders, stones, wet clay, and every other bit of nature you can think of that could trip, stab, catch, twist, or pull one's ankle, foot, leg, or knee. I have never had to concentrate so much on placing my feet in the right spot for miles at a time.  I know I ran through some really pretty areas, but to be honest, I was looking at the trail five to ten feet in front of me most of the time.  Every once in a while, I'd look up for a second, and realize that I had been running by, say, the Catawba River, and wonder how long it had been there.  I saw a lot, looking straight down.  Sand. Clay. Dirt. Holes.  Much later, a broken toilet swam into view (likely coinciding with the area pithily marked "toilet bowl" on the race map).  Once, a random snake slithering into an drainage culvert (oddly placed in the middle of the woods) eased into view. Occasionally, I'd note some part of a ropes course or zip line.  I'm not saying this wasn't a pretty race or, in its own way, maybe even a stunning race, but the scenery was taken in very, very locally rather than by gazing out over distant vistas the way one can run a race on asphalt.  In the early going, the trail was well marked, but I hadn't paid any attention as to whether the orange or the yellow signs depicted the rout for the half (the other being the 5k).  I was really glad that they had started my group separately, and I could confidently follow the folks ahead of me. My Garmin seems to have had a similar problem with not being able to figure out where I was going.  With all the hills and switch backs, it seemed to get the idea I was on an elevator at some points and not give me credit for any forward motion despite fairly impressive changes. 

I followed orange-shoe guy until about mile 7, when he abruptly slowed his pace.  In fact, a lot of people started slowing down about that point.  There was one really long hill about the middle of the race that seemed to be the Bette noir of many folks.  Since I'm out of shape, I intentionally started in the back third of the pack.  From this hill (perhaps Goat Hill from the map?) onward, I started passing a lot of people.  Not that I was going fast.  A lot of other people just slowed. A lot.  I probably had a 10 to one ratio of passing people versus being passed over the last 6 miles of the race.  I usually wouldn't have any idea what that ratio was, but on this race, you had to plan to pass or move over to be passed, so it required some degree of thought to do either.  Also, about this time, I started to see a lot of people fall. Spectacular wipe outs.  I fairly good at predicting it.  I'd see a runner start dragging his feet.  Soon he'd bounce over a root or two.  A minute or so later - full fledged tumble. Almost all of us did it at some point.  Everybody I saw popped right back up laughing.  My time came around mile 11 when I caught my left foot on something and started falling straight forward like a log.  Probably because my trainers tend to go nuts with them, I instinctively threw the same leg out in front of me, executed a stuttered forward lunge, recovered with my right leg, and barely broke stride.  I'm sure it looked as graceful as a Japanese Beetle courting a bug zapper, but at least I didn't fall.

As I mentioned before, I didn't see a lot of the race course, but other things were profound.  Given all the effort involved, very few people were talking. Birds chirped happily.  Water lapped at river banks.  High voltage wires occasionally hummed overhead.  The first half of the race smelled like river.  The second like trees and dirt.  A latter portion of the race had three different widely spaced segments of the course pass through the same meadow.  Each time, I was overwhelmed by some flower that smelled like melted butter (not sure what they were, perhaps buttercups, but I'd always assumed they were named for their looks, not their smell).  I enjoyed it immensely.

I have to admit, I was glad to see the finish line.  I had enough left in the tank to speed up a little bit at the end, but was pretty spent by the time I finished. This race was one of the most enjoyable I've ever run.  Well run, plenty of water stops and volunteers, great venue.  By my usual grading criteria, it was only missing two things - beer and a medal at the end.  It's no secret that I run for T-shirts and participant medals, but if more races were like this one, I might start waiving the latter requirement.

The Asheville Citizen-Times Half Marathon

My time on this particular half reminded me a lot of my brief foray into golf. The foray during which people would tell my score wasn't bad for a beginner, and then find out it was for 9 rather than 18. I haven't run longer than 4 miles since March, and I've averaged probably 1.5 runs a month over the same time period. I frequently don't train for races, but it's usually during a stretch where I'm racing a lot - 3 half marathons in 4 or 5 weeks kind of stuff.  I don't advocate this training style, if you can call it that, but it actually works for me as long as I don't try to PR. That said, I've never gone 6 months without running and then tried to roll out the door and hit 13. I haven't been a slug - I've weight and hiit/kettle bell/personal trainered religiously- but those ain't distance running, and I had no idea how they'd translate into a mountainous half.

I've described this race before in great detail and my 2010 and 2011 posts go into great detail about it. In a nutshell, it's pretty, mountainous, hard, and well run. The weather this year was cool and foggy, which I like, and while it detracts from the views adds to the experience. I was honestly nervous about basically running this one cold, especially given its challenging nature. I have a Spartan Beast coming up in a few weeks, though, so I figured I needed to do something. I'm glad I did. I didn't light the world on fire, but I also wasn't in any danger of being press ganged by the sag wagon. Mrs. Running Quack took pity on me, and kept me company for the entirety of the race. Only once did she roll her eyes.  I learned something, too. I missed racing.

Not infrequently, when I've crawled out of bed at an ungodly hour to go stand in the pouring rain in 30 degree weather, I've wondered why I race. Why I put myself through it, when I could just as easily be sleeping in, and then having breakfast. Having an excuse to have a beer at 9 am wasn't enough for me to run anymore. I started listening to the little voice that said "this sucks".  Only shear terror at the thought of being dragged down at the Beast, not by some obstacle, but by the distance made me jump back into the fray. And it was fun. I liked it. So much that I signed up for a trail half next weekend on the way home. 

The fall

Starting to really love obstacle races. Definitely doing the Spartan Beast in the fall, and following it up with the fire fighter themed Hero Rush the next weekend. The question is, so I then follow that up with a Tough Mudder the next weekend? 

Carolinas Spartan Sprint

I really love obstacle races.  I like mud. I like climbing over stuff.  I like being asked to crawl, wade, and slog through place I would never think of going otherwise. It gives me a sense of accomplishment and wipes me out physically.  Both of those things are feelings I love. 

Mrs. RQ and I participated in the Carolinas Spartan Sprint at the National Whitewater Center in Charlotte.  The last Spartan we did was a Super Spartan that clocked in somewhere around 8 miles.  This one was technically only four, but I honestly really didn’t have any idea how far we had gone at any given time.  The trail was convoluted, ran up and down hill, over hill and dale, doubled back on itself, wove in and out of swamps and rivers, and finally ended up back at the start.  Some dozen or so obstacles thrown in made it even more difficult to gage the distance.   I’m also going to give a disclaimer right now.  I’m pretty sure of the order of the first couple of obstacles, and a sure of the last 5 or so, but prior to that, I’ve really lost the order.  I’m going to try to get them all in, but I have no idea the correct order.  The basic gist was run single track for a while, come out of woods, do obstacle, more single track. I’ve kind of noticed that the obstacles can be divided into endurance, strength, skill, combo, and “hey we need an obstacle here” categories (easy obstacles children could do) that I’m going to call filler, and I’ll try to label them as I go.

The race started next to the NWC’s whitewater facility (which is awesome, by the way), and went fairly flat for about a quarter of a mile.  We then hit a filler obstacle that required one to crawl under some mesh and then over a short (3ish foot) wall.  I think it was really designed to stretch the crowd a little bit out, because we hit fairly tight single track immediately afterward.  We actually slowed to a walk for a while because of the log jam, which isn’t uncommon in this type of race.  This particular stretch was very similar to the course of the one we did last summer. Lots of slippery red clay, switchbacks, and fairly steep ravine sides you had to climb up.  Sometime after that we hit a clearing and another filler obstacle, the old over the wall, under the wall, through the wall times two. More single track led us to a mud bog easily thirty inches deep, and the first real obstacle of the day, a knotted rope with a bell near the top that one had to climb.  I’d but this one in the strength and skill category.  Not too hard in usual circumstances, but you had mud all over your hands and feet, the ropes were already slippery, and the bell was fifteen or so feet off the ground (which you were actually starting below given the several feet of mud).  I managed this one, but I am extremely proud of myself for doing so and it could have gone either way.  Probably 80% of people at least were doing burpees on this one.  After that, a little more single track led to a river, which we then had to slog through for probably another quarter of a mile. I say slog because it also had a foot or so of mud on its bottom and was more like walking through marsh that anything else.  It was slow going, partially because in random intervals, one would hit a 4 foot deep hole, or a tree, or a submerged rock.  Finally, we climbed out on a point of land… only to run 15 feet and hop into another inlet.  This one was too deep to wade, and had to be swum.  After climbing out of that, obstacle order become very murky, so I’m just going to list.  Likewise, the trail between obstacles can be considered anything from moderately challenging to super challenging single track. 

I think what showed up next was the infamous barbed wire crawl.  This time it was on a boulder strewn clay road and we had to crawl thirty yards, make a 180 degree turn and crawl back through ditches and little hillocks. The wire was also too low for somebody of my thickness, so I had to low crawl on my back for a while and hold it up with my hands.  That one is more of an endurance obstacle than anything else.  Over the next several miles, we had:

Strength Obstacles:  drag a 45 lb concrete block around a course via a chain (not allowed to carry), carry a sand bag up and down a hill, pull a five gallon bucket full on concrete up twenty feet off the ground via a slimy rope and pulley (not that hard dry, but coated with mud and having a wet rope…)

Strength and Skill obstacles: A series of 7 foot walls, a series of 8 foot walls, and new to the race for me, a series of walls I had to jump to reach the top of (9 foot?), and then pull myself over (a guy in front of me ran to jump on this one and lost his footing in the red clay, sliding face first full speed into it.  He was ok, so it was hilarious), long monkey bars (which Mrs. RQ rocked- it was a bête noir

Filler Obstacles:  A claustrophobic trip through a 36 inch drainage pipe (just part of the landscape, not brought in for the race, a climb over hay bales onto an open shipping container (this container actually formed a tunnel allowing folks back and forth to the parking lot, despite the fact that the race course crossed the path)

Both Spartan Races I have done have, in contrast to say, the Warrior Dash, done a nice job of blurring the line between obstacle and just general part of the race course.  That said, both franchises also do a nice job of stacking obstacles at the end of the race, such that the crowd can watch them.  This race was no different.  Emerging from the woods back near the start, we hit what turned out to be the hardest obstacle of the day – the strength and skill laden wall traverse.  It’s basically a 20 foot long wall with 6 inch long, canted, zig-zagging pieces of 2x4 attached at eye and foot level.   One has to hold on, traverse the distance without hitting the ground, and ring a bell at the end.  I got within two feet of the bell and fell off.  I was too tired to do rapid burpees from my effort, and in retrospect it would have been better to fall off earlier.  Next we had a filler obstacle that seemed really out of place – a 200 meter standing row complete with cybex-type machines and a digital counter.  Then my other burpee-bringing obstacle, the spear throw.  I need to practice this one.  After those burpees, we hit a curious filler obstacle that turned out to be psychologically difficult.  It was a simple cargo net climb, but it was strung between two cargo containers over the NWC’s man made white water river.  While there was no way to fall in, the rushing water cause a lot of people to do burpees.  I have to admit, it was strange to see boats full of people whitewater rafting sailing beneath me as I climbed over. What then followed was a short strip of single track.

Emerging again from the woods for a final time, we hit our final series of obstacles – an A-frame plywood triangle covered with dishwashing soap one used a rope to get to the top of,  the famous American Gladiator-style Spartans wielding quarter staff, who pummel you, and a very, very pleasant swim through a portion of the NWC’s man made river.  I frankly didn’t want to get out. 

Frankly, I was wrecked after this race.  I didn’t have the horrible compartment syndrome like calf paint that I had after the first one, but I still knew I had worked hard. Some races, you get a medal and a T-shirt for doing very little.  This one, you earn.  Can’t wait for the next one.  

Shamrock 2012

The Shamrock Marathon and Half Marathons are, to my thinking, some if the best organized, most professionally run races in the country. I've previously described the course in great detail. It's flat, fast, scenic and has pretty good crowd support. 

I've not been running much recently, largely because I've been doing other stuff like dead lifts and kettle bell work outs. I won't say this one snuck up on me, but the truth of the matter is I hadn't run in 10 to 12 weeks prior to this race (and even then it was just the Disney Half - I hadn't run for a month or so prior to that one either).  So there you have my preparation- about 13 total miles, run all at once, in the preceding 4ish months. What could go wrong?

Truthfully? Remarkably little. I mean, it was very slow (about 20 minutes off my PR) and it hurt, but Mrs. RQ and I still had a great time doing it.  I got weird shin splint type pains for the first several miles, accompanied by what I can only describe as calf fatigue, but it went away.  A little after that, my left iliotibial band needed stretching. No big deal. I was really tired around mile 11. Shot an extra gel and went on.

    Not my fastest, far from my prettiest race, but the weather was great, Mrs. RQ kept me company, and the beer and Irish stew tasted just as good at the end.  All in all, a pretty good day.

Just a quick pic from the Disney cruise..

Disney Cruise review: coming soon!

I know it's off topic, but I thought I'd review it anyway!

The Disney Half

     The Disney Races are favorites of both Mrs. RQ and mine, and we always feel like the holidays aren't actually over until were back from our annual trip to the mouse.  The last two years, we've run the Goofy, and while that was a great experience, we both decided that it took way too much out of us early in the racing season.  I dropped back to just running the half, and Mrs. RQ decided to follow my lead.  Our rationale was basically that it would allow us to run the half, and then not worry about what we had to eat or drink for the rest of the weekend. I have to say it was a great tactic. 
     I have to explain something here. I've run the Goofy the last two years.  I ran the half the year before that.  The full the year before that.  In all that time, the half marathon shirts and full marathon shirts have been white (one year, the full shirt did branch out to grey...).  The goofy shirt was always a cool dark blue.  This year, the one year I don't run the full, they switch to a cool red shirt for the full marathon.  My other six or seven non-Goofy shirts are effectively interchangeable, and the one year they change it, I don't run it.  The irony...  I did console myself with the fact that the half shirt was a good looking royal blue. 
     The race itself, as usual, was great.  Disney does large crowds well, and their races are no exception.  The now-classic course is littered with Disney characters who are only too happy to take their picture with you.  Crowd support is unparalleled.  I realize that this is not one of the "Big 5" Marathons, but it, along with Marine Corps, have to be 6 and 7. 
     As for the tactic of running the half, and then eating and drinking out way through the rest of the trip.  What a great idea.  We were relaxed, ate anything we wanted, and stayed out late for fireworks.  Next year we may go back to the Goofy, but this year, it was the right thing to do.

The fall races...

    Last fall, Mrs. RQ and I hit a number of races - most good.  Some bad. The basic gist of it was a four half marathon blitz in about six weeks running from late September until early November.  We started with the Asheville Citizen Times half marathon, followed up with the Athens, GA half, moved on to the RNR Savannah Half Marathon, and finally our old favorite, the Outerbanks Half. 

    The Asheville Half is rapidly becoming a favorite. It is well run, the course is pretty, the air clean, and the post race beer cold.  It starts downtown, meanders through some neighborhoods full of varied, and, sometimes very interesting, homes, flirts with running by the famous Grove Park Inn, swoops around Beaver Lake, back through the campus of UNC Asheville, and then over a final mountain before venturing back downtown.  Last year it was so foggy, I never saw the lake, though we were only a few dozen feet away from it.  This year, we ran most of the way in rain or at least drizzle, but it was the type that just cools you off a bit.  It added to the race.  I highly recommend this one.

      The Athens Half Marathon was another smaller race that is worth seeking out.  I'm a University of South Carolina fan, but I have to admit, I enjoyed running through the University of Georgia Campus.  The stadium is nice, the fraternity houses and sorority houses impressive, and the rest of the little city of Athens is pretty as well.  Particularly nice was a several mile stretch near the end of the race through some dedicated greenspace that Athens is justifiably proud of showing off. I really liked this race, and would highly recommend it.  By the way, Athens also has a number of very impressive restaurants not to far from the race end, most of whom did not seem to mind catering to smelly runners on a Sunday Morning.

     And then there was the RNR Half in Savannah.  Let me say this first.  The actual run was fine. The Tech Shirts were good.  As usual, the medal was great.  The after party was quite an affair.  In other words, the event itself was really well done.  The logistics getting to and from the race were the absolute worst of any race I have ever encountered.  Ever.  Getting to packet pick up was an ordeal.  It was located in a convention center with a single road in and out.  It took forever sitting in a basically parked traffic to get there.  When you got there, their wasn't enough parking.  The actual expo was a fair clone of the Virginia Beach Half, and pretty impressive.  What was not at all impressive, and the reason why I will never run this race again, was the plan for getting 20,000 runner plus an equal number of race fans into downtown Savannah. 
     I thought this might be an issue when I tried to figure out where to park on the RNR website and was told to visit the City of Savannah's website.  That website touted several thousand downtown Savannah Parking places.  Several thousand. 20,000 runners.  Plus hangers on.  Not a good ratio.  Apparently the RNR folks figured out the same thing a week or so before race day, and came up with the idea of having all the runners not staying downtown park at the Savannah Mall and then transporting them in on buses and trolleys. In fairness, this was probably the only option, but it was awful.  Awful.  Huge lines.  Angry runners.  People missing the start of the race.  Awful.  And then they had to transport all of those people back to the mall after the race.  Lines long enough to be measured in furlongs resulted. Unless they severely limit how many people can run this race, never again.

   The weekend after Savannah, it was very nice to fall back on an old standard, the Outerbanks Half.  A smaller race, but it has great logistics, a scenic course, tremendous community support, and a great after party.  Plus, it's pirate themed, so what else can you ask for in a race?  The race course itself hasn't changed from the last several years, but no one cares, because everyone is so friendly, and it's a great run anyway.  If you haven't done this one, you should. 

Warrior Dash

I have to admit, I've developed an affinity for obstacle races.  Jumping over stuff and crawling under things appeals to me on some level I didn't realize I had.  I loved the Super Spartan, and was really looking forward to the Carolinas Warrior Dash I ran this weekend.

This one's run in stages 30 minutes apart over the course of 2 days. Mrs. RQ and I were signed up for the 10:30 Saturday heat, and I think that was probably ideal - not so early that we had to get up ridiculously early, but not so late that the parking lot was overcrowded, etc.  We had a little cloud cover and a bit of wind from one of the way, way outer bands of hurricane Irene, but other than that couldn't have had better weather.

    This one's effectively a 5k with about 10 obstacles thrown in in several clusters throughout the race.  The course itself was slightly rolling grass and dirt road with an occasional short hill thrown in - nothing too challenging. 

    We hit the first obstacle about a mile or so in - a series of four foot walls you had to hop over followed by barbed wite you had to crawl under. No issues. Immediately following that was a series of football-practice type tires to run through followed by a bunch of industrial, contractor-sized dumpsters you had to climb through (the type you throw sheet rock and  plywood in, rather than garbage).  They would have been fairly hard to traverse, but there was a piece of rebar welded to each one about four feet up the side, making a step that helped out a lot. After that, we hit the woods for a while - really pretty forested trail next to a pond.

   We emerged into a clearing just in time to see our next obstacle - a series of planks set at odd angles that you had to walk across.   Next up was a fifteen or so foot wall (with 1x4 ever 2 feet or so) you had to climb over with a rope.  Then it was back to the woods for a short time.

     Coming out of the woods this time, we hit what was apparently the hardest task of the day for a lot of people.  It simply consisted of a 50ish foot long tent of black plastic about 2 feet off the ground.  Your task? Get to the other side.  I ran up to it, dropped to all fours, a bear crawled straight through (well, I actually ran straight into somebody in the pitch black darkness under it, but promptly went around them) and popped out on the other side. And waited. And waited.  I realized at that point that their were people coming out who had been waaaayyy ahead of me.  Apparently, I was the only idiot who didn't mind blasting straight through. Everyone else was a good bit more cautious.  Mrs. RQ later said that was the worst obstacle of the day for her, and she wasn't alone. 

    In rapid succession after that, we hit a climb across a cargo net suspended about 8 feet off the ground and what the Warrior people refer to as an Assassin's Pole - kind of a series of platforms you climb up to reach a fire pole you then slide down.  We then hit a waist deep farm pond we had to slog through - hopping over 4 or 5 floating logs suspended in the muck at the same time. There's a clause in the Warrior Dash release that mentions you might go through water that hasn't been tested for parasites, bacteria, fungus, or anything else. This was, without question, that water. 

   In sight of the finish line, we had to climb the obligatory cargo net A-frame and the go over something reminiscent of a playground jungle gym.  We then got to jump over a few rows of burning hard wood.  I was very proud of Mrs. RQ - this really bothered her at the Spartan, but she sailed right on over this time.  Lastly, we hit the mud pit, which was filled with a very familiar Carolina red clay.  To quote Shakespeare, it was not as wide as a barn door, and not as deep as a well, but sufficed.

     I had a great time with this race, and I'll definitely do it again, but it was orders of magnitude easier than the Spartan.  Cool, enjoyable, and messy, but not hard.  It's one that can easily be done by folks who aren't in tremendous shape, which is part of it's charm. And oh yeah, everyone gets a fuzzy Viking hat.

Spartan Race

Forgot to mention that Mrs. RQ and I are off to the Warrior Challenge next Saturday, and also forgot a pic of the Spartan Bling.

What I've been up to...

So it appears that it's been a long time since I posted anything about anything I've done. I realize that I've been remiss in my blogging duties, and I thought I'd do some catch up. Since my last post, I've run the Gulf Coast Half Marathon, the Palmetto Half, the Charity Chase Half and the Carolinas Super Spartan Race.

The Gulf Coast Half is in Pensacola. Great race, though it was absurdly foggy and hot. One of the more interesting aspect was the fact that the post-race party was outside of a local restaurant/bar called "Flounders" (which I highly recommend). It's kind of an inside/outside establishment in that the interior of the restaurant flows into a courtyard that backs up to the sound. As Mrs. RQ and I sat outside at the post race party eating beans and rice and drinking a beer, we realized that there was an entirely different kind of party going on "inside" - apparently a local church meets in Flounders, and the members did not seem to have been informed that there were going to be a few thousand sweaty, smelly, beer-swilling runners outside...

The Palmetto Half and Charity Chase are both well run smaller events. I really enjoy both of them - they have a real community feel. I almost did make it to the Palmetto Half - I thought I was staying home with a sick child. Mrs. RQ and our other kid had a function that day, and I was pulling dad duty. At the last minute, our other child got sick, too. I dashed out the door, flew to the start, and sprinted to the corral just in time to hear "GO". The Charity Chase was a bit less dramatic.

I have say, the coolest and hardest race I've run in a long time was the Carolinas Super Spartan Race. The Spartan Folks tout their races as the toughest of the obstacle races, and having done one now, I don't doubt it. The course itself was mostly single track running through the rolling hills of Fairfield County, SC. Lots of running through foot wide gullies and up ridiculously steep hills. Two separate half mile or so sections were even run in the bed of a small river (in, not near or next to it, in). We slogged through waist deep water more times than I could count and even took a detour down a side ditch that I could be describe as Dagoba-like. That particular gully had what looked like about six inches of water in it, but unpredictably, that six inches would hide a hole three feet deep. You'd be stumbling along and all of a sudden find yourself up to your waist in muck. And those weren't even technically the obstacles.
In rough sequence, though it's been a while, so I may have forgotten something or gotten them out of order, we went through some twenty obstacles. I managed to only have to do burpees (the penalty for not completing an obstacle) twice. Some of the obstacles were back to back, some had a few miles of the above mentioned insane running between them. We started off jumping over the obligatory flaming line of wood, then crashed into a mud pit about the size of two tennis courts the middle of which we had to duck under suspended barrels. After running a while, we then had to climb over a 6 foot wall, crawl under another, crawl though a wall of tires, and then repeat. At some point after that, we had to carry a tire through the woods, and then hop over an eight foot wooden wall. A short run later, we had to climb an A-frame of cargo nets (the middle was about 20 feet high, but still probably the easiest task of the day). Shortly after that, we encountered a forest of miniature tree stumps and had to hop from 4 inch stump to stump across a designated distance. I fell off an had to do burpees on that one.

Soon after, we got to one of the hardest obstacles of the day - a low barbed wire crawl some hundred yards long. I actually got my shorts hung up on a barb and had to have a volunteer untwist me. Pretty soon after that, we had to do a long Monkey Bar type affair and then lift couple of cinder blocks a few times with a rope and pulley apparatus. Not much later, we came to a clearing with a deep mud pit below a 6 foot or so wall we had to climb with ropes. A six foot wall of wet red clay. I boosted my wife up and two guys were kind enough to pull her on out of that one. I got myself most of the way up, and they pulled me the last little bit, too. Burpees avoided. Most likely the most physically demanding single obstacle of the day. Thanks, fellas.
Around that time, in rapid succession, we had to swim across a short lake and then Tyrolean Traverse back across the same. Both were pretty easy, and frankly a welcome respite from the South Carolina heat. Next came a combo obstacle that was probably the most psychologically taxing of the day. We had to carry a sandbag down a hill into a gully (not too bad). Then we had to climb up the other side of the gully to a place where the race organizers had used a backhoe to carve out the hill and make a pool of bright red clay-water at its base. You had to jump off a cliff the height of a one story house's roof peak into a pit of which you couldn't see the bottom. The guy next to me looked me in the eye, said "screw it" (except he didn't say "screw" it), and ran off the hill. Seemed like a good strategy to me, and I followed a moment later. Mrs. RQ took a few more minutes, but eventually jumped off, too. Afterward, somewhat anticlimactically, we had to carry the sand bag back up the hill.

At this point, I realized that I hadn't had enough electrolytes that morning. My calves were starting to cramp. Every time I tried to extend my foot, I had searing pain. Which was really poor timing, because we hit a series of 6 or so steep hills with deep mud pits between them. The sequence for me went like this. Try to climb up slick hill of clay without dorsiflexing foot. Fail. Cramp. Curse. Pull out cramp. Tumble down back side of hill into mud pit, hoping that it wasn't so deep that I couldn't push my head above water level with my hands if I hit it wrong and cramped up. Cross to next hill. Repeat. Somehow, I made it through that one, and barely noticed the five foot and six foot wall hops that followed it. Next was a fire jump, followed by a spear throw. I failed to make my thrown spear stick in a hay bale, and had my second burpees of the day.
The last obstacle was pulling oneself up a 45 degree angled plywood hill and sliding down the other side. There appeared to be the standard deep mud pit on the other side of the hill. There was not. Rather than a cushioning mud pit, there was about three inches of water over hard clay. Let's just say I bounced at the end. Mrs. RQ and I ran past the "Spartans" guarding the finish line, and collected our medals, showered off in a hose, gorged ourselves on Docs Barbecue, and went home.

My calves swelled up to the size of balloons over the next two days - I actually ended up sleeping in compression bandages because I was afraid I was going to develop a compartment syndrome. I full recovered in about three days, though. And I can't wait to do it next year.

Quick Update

Gulf Coast Half in the AM. It's supposed to be 60 degrees at the start. Doubt this one will be a PR.

Argument with my scale

So I've embarked on a relatively successful fitness program in the time since Christmas. I've lost a 15 lbs, and, by the exceedingly inaccurate impedence method used by my bathroom scale, gained 3lbs of muscle, lost 16 lbs of fat, dropped my body fat percentage to the low teens and increased my percent muscle mass to the low teens.  I'm 36, weigh 184 pounds, and I'm 6'2" tall.  Yet, for reasons that escape me, per my scale, my relative body age is 48.  Really? I ran the Goofy 3 months ago, and I've run two half Marathon since. I work out 3 times a week on a bad week, but my scale thinks I'm pushing 50? My wife, on the otherhand, it says is 19 despite the fact that we're the same age...

A quick test

Trying out the new Blogger Android app.

There's Nothing Like a Fall Run at the Beach

Some time ago, Mrs. RQ decided that she wanted to try her hand at an Ultramarathon. After much deliberation, I finally convinced her that it would be wise to start with a 50K, as opposed to a 40 or 50 miler, or even a timed race. We also generally like to drive to races, so we needed one close to home. Months passed, and we really couldn't find a race that matched these two criteria. Then one day, we happened upon the inaugural Mad Marsh Race in Beaufort, SC. 50K? Check! Easy driving distance? Check! Mrs. RQ immediately signed up. There was also a 22.5 mile race. I figured I might as well sign up for that one. Only a few days later did I realize that the Outer banks Half was the week before. Thus did the RQ family run a half one weekend followed by a 22.5 mile and 31.5 mile (actually 32, but more on that later) race back to back. And we're glad we did it.

OBX Half Marathon

The Outer Banks Marathon/Half Marathon is consistently one of the friendliest, best organized, and well run races that we attend. The 2010 version was no different. Both Mrs. RQ and I ran the half this year. The marathon is varied in terrain and takes you through maritime forest, quaint communities, and by the Wright Brother's Memorial. The half consists of the second half of the marathon. While it's still a nice course - flat as a pancake with the exception of the Washington-Baum Bridge- there's more to see on the first half of the course, and I found myself missing it this year. It's probably my own fault, because I spent half the race trying to figure out why my Garmin was beeping incessantly - more on that later.

The first couple of miles of the half take you by Jockey's Ridge, the largest sand dunes on the east coast. They're huge, and you're awfully glad that the road you're running down was built around them rather than running over them. I usually really enjoy this part of the race, but I spent the majority of the first 4 miles or so trying to figure out why my Garmin was beeping like a dump truck in reverse. I ultimately turned it off and then back on, but it continued to beep. Finally, around mile 3, I stopped on the side of the road for a good 3 minutes and turned off every alarm, bell, whistle, etc I could find. It still beeped. I gave up and turned the device off. That should have been the end of it, but my inability to make it work properly meant grated on my and my failure was gnawing on me like an ulcer.

Miles 4 through 9 are largely run through residential neighborhoods, with occasional views of salt marsh and the Washington-Baum Bridge. Local folks really turn out to cheer you on, and this is a fun part of the race. I did experience something I've never had to deal with at this point in a race. Somewhere around mile 4.5, I came upon about 7 women running shoulder to shoulder at a clip that was probably about a minute per mile slower than the race traffic around them. They were clearly a group - they all had their nicknames printed on duct tape they were wearing across they're shoulders. A fairly large group of disgruntled runners was massed behind them, trying to get around them on the shoulders of the road, but they rudely continued to block everyone. I was in the middle of the road and simply slipped between two of them. One yelled at me and asked me why I couldn't just go around them. I'm still shaking my head about it. Really, you didn't realize that you were rude ones? Horrible race etiquette.

About mile 7, my techie ocd need for race data took over and I turned my Garmin back on. It still alarmed. After much machination, I figured out that I'd set an interval for 4 seconds. Meaning it was alarming literally every four seconds. I turned it off, and, not surprisingly, no more alarm.

Around mile 10 one reaches the bridge. It ain't fun, and it's long. It also tires you out so much that you really can't take advantage of the downhill on the other side. The last two miles take you in to Manteo, NC - a pretty little town which puts a lot into the race finish. I cruised in about 5 minutes slower than my usual pace, but then I spent the first three miles of the race running with my face in my GPS. The post race party was great as usual - free clam chowder and Coors Light. I highly recommend this race.

Mad Marsh

The next weekend, Mrs. RQ and I made the reasonable trip down to Beaufort, SC for the Mad Marsh Ultra. Though small, this race was really well done. It consists of multiple laps of a 4.5 mile course that wraps around a now-defunct golf course with a few road crossings. You basically run the cart path - which gives you highly varied running surfaces and different terrain. Sometimes we were running on dirt, sometimes on soft sand, crushed gravel, or grass. Every once in a while there was even some asphalt thrown in for good measure.

Like most races, this one started before sun up. Everything went well for the first mile. We then hit a road. A guy up front took a left, and about 10 of us followed like good little lemming. After a little while, we realized that we didn't see any more course markings. A few seconds later, we figured out that we made a wrong turn and had to back track about a quarter of a mile. There was the cart path, marked clearly with red glow sticks. We're just all so conditioned to follow the leader in races that none of us noticed it. The rest of the first lap was really cool. There was just a little bit of hazy fog coming off the ground, which coupled with the orange-gold sunrise and the Spanish moss on the live oaks made for a surreal first time around the course.

Mrs. RQ and I ran together for about the first 3 laps, but then she got the better of me and I told her to run on without me. It turned out to be a good move. Since I didn't have a time goal, I turned off my GPS and I ran the next two laps with a number of different folks. I was really just killing time while my wife ran the longer race. After I completed my last two laps, I walked to my truck, grabbed a lawn chair and a book, and sat there watching others cross the finish line. A few minutes later, I pulled off my shoes and socks and realized that I was absolutely coated from the knee down with a layer of microscopic sand. Pursuant to that, this dirt coating started to really itch. Turns out it wasn't the sand, I was being eaten alive by sand gnats. An hour or so later, Mrs. RQ crossed the finish line - as the first female. Given that this was the inaugural event, she also set the course record for women despite having run a half mile out of the way - quite an accomplishment for her first Ultra.

I can't say enough good things about this race. The course was great, the volunteers were excellent, the atmosphere was festive. It was, like a lot of Ultras, very low key and no frills, but that really made the experience. No expo, no medal, no port-a-potties (though plenty of woods), but one small, steep hill, a dead squirrel, a physicist from Australia, a few barefoot runners, a cool race shirt, and a lot of fun. We'll definitely be back next year. With bug spray.

From Mountains to Epcot...

In the last two weeks, I've had the pleasure of running two very different, but equally challenging half marathons. One of them was all hills, the other was flat as a pancake. One of them was a very pleasant experience, the other one nearly killed me. Which one was which may be surprising.

The first of the two was the Ashville Citizen-Times Half Marathon in Asheville, NC. This one got off to a somewhat inauspicious start as they had somehow managed to run out of every size tech shirt but extra-large and 2X by the time Mrs. RQ and I picked up our packets. Normally, I see this kind of error as being indicative of an overall shoddy race. I'm pleased to say in this instance, it was not. We arrived in downtown Asheville the next morning to find a small, but enthusiastic, crowd of volunteers, adequate portapotties and other accouterments, and somewhat fewer than 1000 runners. Knowing that we had another race in two weeks, Mrs. RQ and I decided to take this one easy and use it as a training run. We figured it would give us some nice hill work, and we were right.

This race was very, very seldom flat. It was, for nearly the entire course, however, beautiful. We ran through pretty neighborhoods, past golf courses, by the fabled Grove Park Inn, past a very foggy Beaver Lake (you could barely make out rushes and the water through the early morning mist) and finally back to downtown Asheville (interestingly enough, running right past Zelda Fitzgerald's place of death - she apparently died in a hospital fire). The course was great, and was meant to be experienced rather than just run. At the end of the race, we recieved very unique green glass medals - I'm guessing they were made of recycled material, though I can't swear to it. I also ran into a friend whom I literally have known almost since birth, but haven't seen in about ten years. There was plenty of good beer from a local microbrewery and also Duncan Donuts. Overall, a thoroughly successful race.



The second of the two races was by contrast very large, very flat, and very much the worst race I've had since the Myrtle Beach Half in 2009 (in that race my calves cramped up so bad that I couldn't run more than a few feet without cramping painfully). I thought it might give me a great opportunity to PR. Boy was I wrong.

Disney has had fall races for a few years now. For a while they had a 10k called the Race for the Taste, and they also had a fairly unique, night race they called the Tower of Terror 13k - sort of a Halloween theme. Mrs. RQ ran the former, and enjoyed it. We both had a great time running the 2008 Tower of Terror 13k (and had dinner the next night at Victoria and Albert's, which is unbelievably good!) This year, Disney decided to combine elements of both into the Wine and Dine Half marathon. A night time half marathon that ends in the Food and Wine Festival? Sign me up!

I was on call Thursday night, so Mrs. RQ and I left mid-day Friday for Disney, arriving about 6 pm. We had a quick dinner and hit the sack fairly early. We made a conscious decision to not really do much Saturday, and other than a quick trip to Epcot for lunch, mostly spent the day in our room at All-Star Music watching TV (in case you are wondering, Soap Net runs a Beverly Hills 90210 marathon on Saturday afternoon, and we saw two or three episodes back to back and waxed nostalgic). We ate dinner in the food court, and then boarded the bus for the Wide World of Sports. Like all Disney Races, one had to be there ridiculously early. We got to the starting gate about 7pm for a 10pm race, and spent the next couple of hours standing around. The weather was great, though, and nobody seemed to mind. We met up with my medical partner, and a friend of Mrs. RQ's, and sat around talking for a while. About 30 minutes prior to the start, everyone made their way to their respective corrals - a short walk by Disney Race standards.

Before long, we were off. I actually felt quite good at first, and hit my goal pace quite easily. I was in Corral A, and runners settled in to their respective speeds within the first mile - I barely had to dodge and weave at all. The beginning miles took one out of the Wide World of Sports and towards Animal Kingdom. Along the way, there was the trademark Disney entertainment, but most of the folks around me seemed more enamored with maintaining their pace then taking their picture with Goofy, which was my mindset as well. I did notice a guy playing a didgeridoo right outside the parking lot for Animal Kingdom, which I thought was very cool. About mile 3.5 one entered AK. The course wove around the Tree of Life, through Africa and Asia, by Expedition Everest, and back through Dinoland USA somewhere around mile 5. At this point, I was easily maintaining my pace, and felt great.

The 5 miles or so were over Disney road way, and looked very much like miles 18 to 23 of the Disney Marathon, including the nasty little out and back that everyone loves to hate. I was still feeling good until about mile 9. At that point, in a very sudden occurrence, everything I had eaten for the last 2 days suddenly became a brick in my stomach. By the time I got to Hollywood Studios, I had slowed majorly. Not because I was tired, not because I was winded, but because my GI tract felt like it was on fire. I willed myself to keep going, I ran by bathrooms near the Tower of Terror, ditto on Hollywood and Vine, about the time I hit the Back Stage Tour, and knew I was going to have to stop, all my chances to find a restroom disappeared. I slowed to a walk out of necessity. Then, shining out of the darkness like Mount Olympus, I saw them. A bank of Porta Potties placed there for wayward souls just like me! I sprinted toward them, and leaving out the details, lets just say I felt much relieved afterward. My stomach was still upset as I ran out of Hollywood Studios, around to the Yacht Club, and finally to the finish line, but I managed to run the whole way. I was a good 9 minutes off my PR, and my stomach was still killing me.

Ordinarily, this would be basically the end of my race commentary. For this one, it isn't. I finished the race fairly quickly, but be the time I got to EPCOT, it was already packed. I don't really understand this - I'm sure I beat the vast majority of the runners there (I'll explain how I know this later). There seemed to be a 3 or 4 to one ratio of supporters to racers. I claimed my checked bag and pushed my way through the throng of people waiting around Great Britain for their racer to finish. Correctly surmising that the further I got away from the finish line, the easier a time I would have finding a bathroom, I made my way over to Morocco's bathrooms and changed into my dry clothes. At that point, despite feeling like I might have ischemic bowel, I decided to make use of the food and beverage vouchers we had been given and got a Tiger beer and a shrimp cake from the Singapore kiosk. I then wandered around for a while waiting for Mrs. RQ and our friends to finish the race.

I'll spare you the details, but the bottom line was that, with the exception of Mrs. RQ, who ran probably 45 minutes off her normal race time to keep her friend company, all of us felt awful after this race. We were all having some sort of gastrointestinal distress - my partner and my wife's friend felt worse than I did, and didn't even use their food vouchers, so it can't be blamed on exotic food or wine. On top of that, I usually have a beer after a race with no ill effects. We didn't seem to be alone either - I've never seen so many people vomiting after a race. I felt really bad for the crews cleaning the restrooms at EPCOT before the crowds showed up the next morning.

I think something weird must have gone on that night. My wife wondered if there might have been some bad poweraide (which I doubt), my brother-in-law suggested that the ozone level might have been high, I wondered if it was just hotter than we all thought it was, and we didn't realize it given the fact that it was dark. Regardless of the cause, Mrs. RQ and I both still feel awful, 2 days after this race. Our muscles and joints feel fine, but we feel terrible. Adding credence to the idea that there was some weird environmental issue going on is this fact: when I run a half well, and get what I consider a good time, I'm usually in the top 25% of finishers. I got, by my standards, a very poor time, yet I finished in the top 10% of finishers. Huh? Granted, it could be a statistical anomaly, but strange.

It's well organized, and the concept is awesome, but unlike any other Disney race I've run before, I have no desire to do this one again. I was ready to sign up for the Goofy again practically right after I finished it, this one, not so much. But it has a cool medal. And I'll probably feel different about it by Thursday. Mu.

My Next Two Races...

For the record, South Carolina is hot in the summer. After spending several months running either so early in the morning that I was leaving for my AM run before some of my college age neighbors were getting home from going out the night before or starting my runs so late at night that they actually stretched over two calender dates, the temperatures have finally dropped enough that I actually feel like I can run in daylight. Southern race directors seem to have had the same idea about running in summer, and as a result there are fairly slim pickings for any road races longer than a 10k in my neck of the woods during that season(ultras and trailruns oddly being the exception). With the advent of fall, I suddenly have a lot of races to pick from, however. Mrs. RQ and I have elected to run two decidedly different races to start off this season. One of them presents a very real opportunity for a speedy race, the other I'm just hoping to get through.
The latter race is actually the first one on our plate - The Asheville Citizen-Times Half Marathon. This particular race, set in the mountains of North Carolina, should prove to be a great experience, but to be frank, I'm going to be using it as a training run and going rather slow. Why you ask? Because I pulled the elevation profile, and it truly may be the first race I have ever seen that has no flat portion at all - you're either running up hill or down. The profile looks like the blade of a tree saw. I have a feeling it will be a great experience, but I'm not looking to do anything spectacular.
The next race is the Disney Wine and Dine Half Marathon. This one promises to be flat and fast, like all the Disney races. Unlike the Goofy, however, I won't have to run a full the next day. It's also being run in the middle of the night (starts at 10PM). It's a different course than the Disney Half - it takes you through 3 of the parks in 13.1 miles - there should be plenty to look at. Disney knows how to throw a race, and it's during the middle of the Food and Wine Festival. It should be fun.
There was a time when two half marathons in two weeks would have scared me to death. I'm really looking forward to these two, though. Mu.

10 people you will see at any race.

Forget malls, hotel lobbies, and airports, races are great places to people watch. You'll see folks of all shapes, sizes, colors, creeds, education levels, blood types, food preferences, and political affiliations. Over the years, I've also noticed that, while the majority of runners are, well, just runners, you can also find a lot of personality types. During the few hours of a marathon or half, they can be a welcome distraction. If you look closely enough before. during, and after an event, you can find every type here. Without further ado, and with tongue firmly in cheek, here are the RunningQuack's 10 people you will see at any race (yes, it's probably been done, but I don't remember seeing a list like this). See if you can figure out if you fall into one of these categories, and keep in mind that they aren't necessarily mutually exclusive.

1. The Professional - This is the no nonsense, here to PR- not make any friends - race runner. These are the serious, confident looking, individuals who are mostly keep to themselves. They seem to have their emotions in check, have some sort of prerace routine, and look like they know what they are doing. They will speak when spoken to, and are generally polite. They'll answer questions when asked, and are generally friendly, but you get the picture that they're just focused on the task at hand. They offer good advice (usually only when you want it), have valuable tips about the race course, and are quite likely to offer encouragement when you need it most. Most people who win races or even their age groups fall into this category, but they permeate all levels of ability. This category has the unique distinction of being the category that most other runners on this list actually think they belong to, but don't.

2. The Techy - This is the runner who runs with every piece of conceivable equipment known to the free world - they may even have some stuff illegally smuggled from North Korea or former Soviet Republics hidden somewhere on their person. GPS? Of course, perhaps even redundant systems. MP3 Player? Yep! Heart rate monitor? Can't run without it. These folks frequently have some sort of hydration pack or belt on as well. They probably have some sort of energy formula you've never heard of that contains the next great supplement in trace, homeopathic, quantities. They have the latest in technical fabrics shorts, socks, shirts etc. They can't wait to race so that they can use their new titanium nipple guards. They're also really interested in telling you about the stuff - usually not because they want to one-up you, but because they're excited about their gear. You'll hear things like "Like my new compression neck wrap? It forces blood out of my head back into my legs - I can run 3% further, and I only lose a few brain cells each race" or "You need to try UberGel - it's from Kazakhstan. It has Cobalt 60 in it. The FDA hasn't approved it yet, but it works!" They're usually eager to share their discoveries "Here, I have an extra UberGel - try it! It's just a little radioactive, so don't break the foil before you ingest it." All in all, these folks are harmless, and, I have to admit, it's probably the category I fall in to most of the time.

3. The Messiah - This particular runner has been to more races than you have, for more years than you have, and knows more than you do. They also know exactly what you should do to have your best race. Just ask them. Some of them have lots of experience, some of them have a whole lot less experience than they think they have. Both varieties of the messiah tend to sit high on a mountain top and preach to whomever will listen. While occasionally messiahs make good points, for the most part they speak a whole lot and don't say much. They tend to name drop both races and people "I ran 45 feet away from Amby Burfoot for like 6 minutes in the 2000 Tokyo Marathon, so I've known him forever. I think he was talking about me in an article one time". They tend to have their own ideas about how you should train, and tout their own prior successes as a reason to follow their bizarre strategy - "I taper two months before the race, and then only run in the pool for the last month, and I've set PRs every race this year." Strangely enough, despite being annoying, Messiahs tend to attract followers, which brings us to the next category of folks...

4. The Newbie - Everybody has been in this category at one point or another. They're usually really easy to pick out. They're wearing this year's tech shirt from the race they happen to be presently running. They line up for the race two hours in advance. They alternate between running a few steps, stretching, and trying not to move so they can conserve energy. They are tormented by inner demons - "Where do I line up? Do I want to be up front and beat the crowd, or will people yell at me if they have to run around me? Do I need to go to the porta-potty again? Why did I do this? Can I run that far? Why did I eat a bagel this morning, it's going straight through me?" They look like they are going to vomit at any second. These folks are paradoxically the folks who can be most helped by a few words of encouragement, but also the folks who can be harmed the most if they fall prey to an unscrupulous (or really, more often, simply clueless) messiah. If you make eye contact with the Newbie, he will either spill his guts about how he trained, why he is running, what he ate for breakfast, etc or look down and quickly move away. Newbie's are also one of the most visible racers after the race. They tend to wear there medals. For days. While it sounds like I'm making fun of Newbies, I also think that it is really important to look out for them. They're usually at the point in their running career where one bad experience can turn them off forever, and that's never a good thing.

5. The Aggressive Walker - These are the individuals who line up with the first wave, elbow themselves to the front of the pack, loudly complain about other runners crowding them, and then, with the gun, walk boldly across the starting line at a 16 minute mile pace. The aggressive walker can exist as a solitary animal, but often belongs to a pack. It isn't uncommon to see lines of four, five, or even ten aggressive walkers marching in lock step down the road, particularly at bigger races. Like dolphins in a tuna net, other runners are caught behind the aggressive walkers and, like the Mongols of old, have to expend massive amounts of energy running laterally around the Great Wall of striding folks in order to get to their goal. Aggressive walkers are usually encountered early in a race, but sometimes, inexplicably, they show up many miles into a marathon. It's unclear how they get there, but navigating around them is still an issue. In this regard, they mimic another closely related group - the annoyingly close knit and cheerful pace group. I've actually dropped back in races to avoid these folks. Understand that the annoying pace group and the aggressive walker are distinctly different from the normal pace group and the usual racer who elects to walk the event - but there's one in every crowd.

6. The Noble Savage - These folks are the polar opposite of the techy. They tend to run in a pair of shorts only, if they are male, and if they are female, tend to lament that they can't really run in only a pair of shorts. Both sexes would really prefer to run in a loin cloth, or, better yet, completely naked, and they would if those damn obscenity laws allowed it. Most of them wear shoes, but this is ironically because barefoot running, minimalist shoes, and huaraches are actually the in the scientific realm of the techy. Secretly, the noble savage would prefer not to have any first aid stations, water stops, or even directional markers on the race course. They'd prefer to carry two empty milk jugs full of water lashed to their bodies with Liana and carry a frog gig with them, hunting their own race food on the course. While they tend to look wild (long hair and full beards are common among this group), the Noble savage is usually well educated and has a normal, mundane vocation (the last one I talked to was an accountant). This particular type of runner may be present at any event, but the more obscure the event, and the longer the event, the better. Show up at an Ultra in the middle of the Gobi Desert and you'll see droves of them.

7. That guy/gal who... - This is something of a catch-all category. When I was in undergrad, I distinctly remember an article in the school newspaper giving advice to freshmen. The advice? - you don't ever want to be that guy who... (fill in the blank). In races, this isn't necessarily true. It can be an amusing thing - "Did you see that guy who was wearing a Papa Smurf costume?" An inspiring thing - "Did you see that woman who was running the marathon in full military fatigues carrying a 50 pound backpack?" An unintentional thing - "Did you see that guy who was in the Papa Smurf Costume puking at mile three?" Or a really, really annoying thing. I once ran most of a marathon within hearing distance of a woman who barked like a small, yappy, dog with every single exhalation. The first thing I said to Mrs. RQ after we crossed the finish line "Did you hear that woman who..." Hopefully if you are that guy/gal, it's because you want to be.

8. The Local Legend - These tend to be folks at the extremes of age. Everybody knows them because they are 90 years old and still running, or because they are 3 years old and just finished their first half marathon. These folks tend to be great, and tend to have no idea why anybody is making a fuss over them. They go out, and do their thing, and instantly become crowd favorites. Occasionally, local celebrities can be placed into this category, too. In this situation, there tends to be an associated entourage. Sometimes this category also extends to local running shop owners or race directors. From what I can tell of these folks tend to be recognized by a lot more people then they actually know. As a result, they seem to spend a lot of their time pre and post race politely talking to people they don't think they've ever seen before, but who know intimate details about their lives. The Local Legend is usually quite pleasant to be around, but you feel a bit like you've wandered into someone else's family reunion when you spend too much time around them.

9. The Race Tim - When I was in medical school, one of the guys in my class - we'll call him "Tim" - was phenomenally skilled at remembering peoples names as well as the names of all their family members. It was a great skill to have, but it also took him forever to get anywhere. Walking down the hall in the hospital, he'd literally stop and talk to everyone he passed - and not just a casual greeting, but "Hey Bob, how are you, and how's your wife Brenda, and your mother Bertha? Did your sister have her twins yet? Didn't your son Billy graduate from college this year?" He was, and still is, a great guy, but sometimes you'd just have to laugh and shake your head when it took you 15 minutes to walk down one flight of stairs with him. I don't know if Tim runs, but their are certainly Tim-like individuals who run. Most of the time, they are a welcome distraction - they fall in with you in the boring middle stretches of a race and provide some much needed entertainment. Then you run into them out of context the next day in the grocery store and have no idea who they are. In the middle of the night you remember - that guy was a Race Tim.

10. The Bankhead - This one will require some explanation. In the mid 2000s there was a little known sitcom called "The Jake Effect" It stared Jason Bateman as a lawyer who felt like he had lost his soul and subsequently quit his law firm to become a high school teacher (incidentally, Mrs. RQ found this show on The Bravo Network's "Brilliant But Cancelled" block one night and I literally spent the next 3 hours watching all 7 episodes back to back. I can't find them anywhere now.) One of the recurring characters on the show was a guy named Bankhead, who was a phenomenally self important, pompous, tool of an attorney at Jason Bateman's former firm (One episode featured a "Bankhead Party - a series of soirees in which Bateman competed with his best friend to try to either keep Bankhead from getting to the party, or make sure he got there. Absolutely hilarious). While the Bankhead is a rare category of runner, unfortunately, they are also very vocal ones and hard to avoid. These individuals are similar to the messiah in advice and irritation factor, with the key difference being that the messiah actually has the intention of doing good and thinks that his advice is helpful. The Bankhead doesn't care whether what he says helps or not, he just wants to hear himself talk.

I've seen these types at literally almost every race I've ever run, and to some extent, I think we're all capable of being all of them to one degree or another (with the exception of the local legend). I think the majority of runners probably fit into an undescribed "normal people" category, and that's a great thing. The cool thing about this sport, though, is that there is room for all of us. Let me know who I forgot. Mu.

The Quack's take on the Newton Gravitas vs. the Saucony Kinvara

About 6 months ago, I made the decision to switch from my old, lumbering, heel-strike to a more forefoot/midfoot style of running. In the process of doing that, I not only switched my gait, but switched my shoes as well. I started off with Newton Gravitas and recently also acquired a pair of Saucony Kinvara. What follows, in no particular order, is my brief, non-scientific comparison of the two based on a good number of runs and a lot of races in the Newtons and somewhat fewer in the Saucony.

Upper: One thing I have to say about both of these shoes is it takes a fair amount of what would have been referred to in the 1930s as moxie to wear either one of them. My Newtons are a bright red-orange (the new ones are a bright aqua). Mrs. RQ laughed at me the first half dozen times I put on the Newtons. That said, I now find the usual drab-white-and-some-other-random-color running shoes pedestrian (no pun intended), and as a result elected to go with bright red soled Kinvara. The Newtons have a very open mesh upper - in fact, if you look just right, you can see our friend Sir Isaac (who is printed on the insole) staring back at you. They feel like you are putting on a slipper and let all sorts of breezes blow through while your running - or slush and grime if you happen to run in such things. Personally, I think it is worth the trade off.

The Kinavara are a little different, and to describe the structure, I'll have to progress from the inside out. The inner most layer is about the same diameter mesh as the Gravitas, it, in turn, is surrounded by some sort of stability webbing. This webbing is then covered, for some reason, with a sort of light weight, open-weave cloth that feels like it's almost made out of really thin monofilament line. The shoe comes off light, but a bit more closed in. It will still breath, but it offers more protection. Both the Gravitas and the Kinvara fit well and are quite comfortable. My feet tend to run hot, so I prefer the Gravitas mesh to the more closed weave Kinvara. I've honestly been tempted to cut the monofilament mesh off of the Kinvara, but more because it seems extraneous than because it is something I really notice. Edge: Gravitas, but not by much.

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Sole: This is where the shoes diverge quite a bit. The Gravitas have a full rubber outersole and incorporate Newton's famous lugs in the forefoot. In theory, these lugs return energy as you run (Newton calls this Action/Reaction Technology). In practice, they probably do, but what they also do is provide great feedback on how you are running. When you are correctly running in a midfoot manner, there's a certain feel to every step. It was invaluable to me when I first started midfoot running, and it still tells me when my gait is off. There's a learning curve associated with it, but not a huge one. I've read reviews in which folks have complained about the lugs hurting their feet. I've never experienced this - my suspicion is that either these folks are not engaging in a good midfoot/forefoot strike or are too light to fully deform the lungs. I run about 190lbs, so I haven't had an issue with the latter. The shoes seem to wear well. I've got several hundred miles on mine, and they're still in great working order. The heel is a bit of an after thought on the Gravitas, but it doesn't really matter - it won't bear the brunt of the impact. I've also read that it's been beefed up a bit recently. The Saucony, on the other hand, doesn't really claim to be a midfoot/forefoot shoe. It claims more to be a minimalist shoe - which I think most people interpret to mean something like barefoot running and therefore midfoot/forefoot running. It still has a bit thicker heel than forefoot - that said it's only a few millimeters. It really feels like a flat shoe. That said, it incorporates Saucony's Progrid into the heel - which is odd unless the company intends for people to heel strike in it. I have no trouble with a midfoot strike in it, though. The Kinvara saves weight by only placing carbon rubber in strategic places on the sole. The first run I did caused some wear in the EVA portion of the sole, but a good number of subsequent runs hasn't seemed to put more on the shoe. It provides good cushioning on asphalt and concrete. I like it, but I like the Newton better. Edge: Gravitas

Weight: Technically, the Newtons weigh 9.4 oz. The Kinvara weigh 7.7 oz. I really can't tell a difference on my feet. Edge: Kinvara (but if you can tell a difference in less than 2 oz with your feet, I'm sure that pea under your mattress was awful)

Off Road Running: The Newton's lugs don't really lend themselves to running on dirt or sand. I find myself sliding all around. That said, Newton's supposed to have a trail shoe out this fall. The Kinvara have neither the traction nor the cushioning to be successful off road. Even running briefly on the side of the road last weekend I could feel every stick and rock. Which has led to me to this conclusion- for trail stuff use another shoe. Edge: New Balance N100

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Random Stuff: This is going to sound a bit odd, and it isn't a big deal, but I don't always take my shoes off immediately after a race. I've also gotten into the habit of making my old, used up, running shoes my casual shoes I use for walking around, lifting weights, ultimately mowing the lawn, etc. The Gravitas is, without question, a single use shoe. You run in them, period. They feel odd walking around after a race (my perception is that I'm leaning backward, not really sure if I am, or if this even makes sense), and I'd never consider a day in Disney in them. For lack of a better way of putting it, the Kinvara can have a life after you can't run in them anymore. If this is important to you... Edge: Kinvara

Cost: No comparison here. Kinvara $90. Gravitas $175 Edge: Kinvara

Bottom line: I like both shoes a lot. That said, I prefer the Gravitas. I think both shoes are comfortable. Both are conducive to midfoot/forefoot running. Both are well made. The Gravitas run better. That said, they're quite expensive, and for training runs, I'm not sure they run $85 dollars better. For now, I'm going to continue to use both. I put the Kinvara through the paces and they're great shoes. I'm very comfortable using them for long runs and speed work - and pruning my hedges when their no good for running anymore. But I'll be racing mostly in Newtons - be they red, teal, chartreuse, purple or fuchsia. Mu.