We will be starting up our Pub runs again soon.  Watch the message board for these runs, which can be done at any pace and with a group.  We normally run between 4-6 miles and then have something to eat and drink afterwards. So come out and enjoy some running and food while you talk running with your friends.

     I have this burning desire to know who is running what and how fast they are doing it.  My wife thinks I’m obsessed with running and with the internet.  I enjoy looking at race results from around the country and keeping an eye on guys in my age group.  I spend many hours on Saturday and Sunday looking at results.  Knowing these results helps me keep an eye on my competition. It also lets me see if guys I ran against in high school or college are still at it.  Here are some of my favorite sites to visit for such results. www.onlineraceresults.com , www.trackshark.com and for high school results www.dyestat.com

     Another great site to find running routes in Evansville and other areas of the country is www.usatf.org/routes.  With this tool you can plot your own courses or look up others and use them for training runs. 

     Since I’m a running coach I have my clients use www.coolrunning.com to keep a running log for me to view and plan workouts.  This running log will track your workouts, shoe miles, weekly, monthly and yearly miles.  It’s a great tool in your daily training. 

     We will again have the summer track program starting in June and scheduled for every other week for two months.  I would like to thank Mike Boatman from Tri-State Runner for his donation to help finance these meets.  You can find all the info for these meets at: www.gerwc.com and www.tristaterunner.com

     If you have any concerns or comments about your club please let me know.  We are making big strides so that you will be proud to say you’re a member of GERWC!  You can contact me at:  msurunner@sbcglobal.net

Power On,
Gordon

Iliotibial band (ITB) syndrome is an overuse problem that is often seen in bicyclists, runners, and long-distance walkers. It causes pain on the outside of the knee just above the joint. It rarely gets so bad that it requires surgery, but it can be very bothersome. The discomfort may keep athletes and other active people from participating in the activities they enjoy. 

The ITB is actually a long tendon. (Tendons connect muscles to bone.) It attaches to a short muscle at the top of the pelvis called the tensor fascia lata. The ITB runs down the outside of the thigh and connects to the outside edge of the tibia (shinbone) just below the middle of the knee joint. You can feel the tendon on the outside of your thigh when you tighten your leg muscles. The ITB crosses over the side of the knee joint, giving added stability to the knee.      The lower end of the ITB passes over the outer edge of the lateral femoral condyle, the area where the lower part of the femur (thighbone) bulges out above the knee joint. When the knee is bent and straightened, the tendon glides across the edge of the femoral condyle.

     The ITB glides back and forth over the lateral femoral condyle as the knee bends and straightens. Normally, this isn't a problem. But the bursa between the lateral femoral condyle and the ITB can become irritated and inflamed if the ITB starts to snap over the condyle with repeated knee motions such as those from walking, running, or biking.

     People often end up with ITB syndrome from overdoing their activity. They try to push themselves too far, too fast, and they end up running, walking, or biking more than their body can handle. The repeated strain causes the bursa on the side of the knee to become inflamed.

Some experts believe that the problem happens when the knee bows outward. This can happen in runners if their shoes are worn on the outside edge, or if they run on slanted terrain. Others feel that certain foot abnormalities, such as foot pronation, cause ITB syndrome. (Pronation of the foot occurs when the arch flattens.)      This is why I advocate running in the middle of the road when possible. Running on the down slope will cause this problem, or running too many laps one way on a banked indoor track. Power On Coach B

     It’s hard to believe how much has happened in just four days: the flight to Boston on Saturday, the nor’easter storm slamming Boston on Sunday, the 26.2 mile race on Monday, and the flight home on Tuesday (as I compose this story).  Runners tend to remember moments throughout their running lives; this weekend is not one I will forget.

     In order to participate in this journey, I first had to qualify for Boston by running a 3:04 marathon in Huntsville, Alabama in mid-December, 2006.  That gave me several months to train, arrange for plane tickets, select a hotel, and (of course) work to pay for the trip.  My wife agreed to watch our two children, Kyle (5) and Alex (3), so that I could run off (pun intended) and have a good time.  As with each of my previous seven marathons, I grew more anxious with each passing day leading up to April 16.  My previous Boston marathon in 2000 had been a disappointing (3:18), and I was hoping to do better (perhaps even break the elusive three hour marathon barrier).

     In watching weather reports leading up to the big day, I was upset to see rain in the forecast.  When I arrived at the hotel, everyone was discussing the nor’easter – a storm front that would bring sleet, snow, and heavy rain on Sunday and Monday.  True to the forecast, the day before the race was an ugly one.  I walked four blocks to the marathon expo and got completely drenched from head-to-toe.  However, I quickly forgot this condition when I was immersed within the 100+ running booths, discussions from featured guest speakers, and the free goodies that were to be found at the expo.  With my sightseeing plans dashed, I rested in the hotel and hydrated much of the day. 
 

Early Monday morning (race day), brought new hope as increased temperatures (low 40s), slowed wind gusts (10-20 mph), and a possible break in the rain were predicted.  Race organizers allow one bag to be taken to the start; I packed mine with extra shoes and socks (I wanted to at least start with dry fee), trash bags, bagels, water, my MP3 player, and my chip.  As Boston is a point-to-point course, it took forty-five minutes to reach the race start line. I arrive in Hopkinton, and still the rain had not ceased.  The local school has made its gym and cafeteria available for our use, large tents were erected to shield runners from the rain and everyone has donned either ponchos or trash bags.

     The cold wind and dark skies may have discouraged some, but the crowd of runners in my area was ecstatic, talking about past races, future plans, and the thrill of undertaking the greatest marathon in the world.  Foreign cultures and nationalities were represented, and those around me smiled as they spoke in different languages.  The first wave of runners was called at 9:15 am and we walked (in the rain) to the start.  As the race began, clothes were tossed to the left and right.  Television cameras (including ESPN) greeted runners as we began our journey.

     I am happy to report that the rain wasn’t much of a factor.  It pelted me the first two miles and again around mile fourteen.  The wind was cold and strong in some locations, but not nearly as detrimental as I had feared.  Heartbreak Hill, located near mile twenty, was a true challenge, but my miles following this climb were quite comfortable.  There is truly nothing like turning the corner on Boylston and seeing the blue Boston Marathon Finish Line.  “Congratulations!  You just finished Boston,” rang out over the loud speakers.  The crowd cheered us on as runners flashed victory smiles to the cameras at the finish.

Things that went well:
 

1.  I was very prepared for the wait in Hopkinton.  Having taken little with me in my previous Boston, I took more than the essentials I listed above.  For one, I took an ‘emergency blanket’, a large piece of aluminum foil that reflects body heat.  It also served as a tarp to lie on the ground and stake out my area as we waited.  Also, I took earplugs to keep out the noise as I tried to rest for the two hours leading up to our walk to the start.  Lastly, I had lots of spare clothes – layers that would keep me warm in the coldest temperatures. 2.  I chose to fly out of Boston the following day.  I didn’t have to worry about getting a shower or catching a flight immediately after the marathon.  Although I was slow moving after the race, there was no need for concern. 3.  I soaked up all that the Expo had to offer.  I had refrained from purchasing items and listening to speakers back in 2000.  Perhaps age has made me wiser – I have much to learn from experienced athletes.  Perhaps too, I might not qualify for Boston for years to come.

Things that didn’t go as well, and words of advice:
 

1.  I had a rental car (good idea).  Many might recommend the mass transit system, but I still like the freedom of driving to sightsee and selecting areas to eat and shop based upon my personal tastes.  I will warn you about Boston drivers and their attitude that comes with driving.  First, lanes of traffic abruptly merge and separate without warning.  Second, everyone assumes you know when this will happen.  Third, everyone is in a hurry all the time.  I received many car honks when I braked at an intersection to let an ambulance (with lights and sirens) pass though.  If you drive while there, be cautious. 2.  Take someone with you.  Having two small children, I was eager to get away from it all.  Trust me – it’s only fun to get away from it all if you take someone with you.  Plus your traveling companion can help you read a map, find correct airport gates, and laugh at all the oddities that are ‘part and parcel’ to our running hobby. 3.  Flying is not something I do everyday.  Be prepared to stand in line to wait for something again and again in the multi-layered security system in this post-911 world.  You and your luggage will be checked several times – by hand and by x-ray.  While the procedures took time, I felt very safe on each flight.

Was it worth it?

      My 3:06 finish will allow me to participate in this race again next year.  It’s funny how the mind works; as sore as I am today, I look forward to doing the whole thing all over again.  If you have never done Boston, I encourage you wholeheartedly to accept the challenge.  You won’t regret it – nor will you forget the experience.

Appalachian Hike Proves To Be A Rewarding Physical Challenge  (08/09/04) Reprinted with the  permission of Lisa Bell

This is the question I asked Gayle Sheets, Julie Prinsen, Janet Gilles, and Connie Macer after they returned from their 23-mile 3-day hike on the Appalachian Trail. The women, ranging in age from 44 to 55 years, were barely acquaintances before they packed their SUV, kissed their families goodbye, and headed toward Shenandoah National Park in Virginia. Their simple desire was to challenge themselves physically, and  to experience the outdoors in an extreme and “outside the box” manner, using equipment acquired through years of family scouting involvement.      They had no idea what to expect. Julie thought the Shenandoah would be flat meadowland, and instead found that the trails between Browns Gap and Rockfish Gap were very hilly. The roughly 16,000 steps they took each day were either climbing up or scaling down wooded mountains carrying 40 pounds on their backs.       This made their first five minutes on the trail the most difficult of all. “You would not believe how far a mile is under these conditions, “ Julie explained. After a group prayer and an agreement to stop every hour to take their packs off, they began to enjoy the journey in a new way.

     Trekking poles helped them maintain their balance under the strain of heavy packs and to negotiate the loose rocks on the trail. Critical items like food, water, and supplies were carefully distributed amongst the four and packed to minimize unnecessary weight, the most important factor for a hiker. There were times when water stations were spaced miles apart, forcing them to “camel up” (meaning drink until they could hold no more) before hiking on. “Even though the weather was fairly cool, water never tasted so good,” said Gayle, the informal team leader. 

The entire Appalachian Trail extends approximately 2,200 miles from Georgia all the way through Maine. Completing the entire trek would require 6 months, traveling 15 to 20 miles per day. People who intend to complete the entire trail without stopping are called “through hikers.” Occasionally, the women crossed paths with these brave souls and found them a tremendous source of education, entertainment, and inspiration.       The body’s response to such an endurance event is largely determined by the type and amount of physical training one does beforehand. Julie had actually walked a half-marathon earlier in the spring, and knew that she could cover about 26,000 steps (13.1 miles) in 4 hours. She and Gayle had also lifted weights for leg and upper body strength and cross-trained with indoor cycling. Several days before the hike, Gayle did a 5-mile test hike with a 30-pound pack on hilly trails at Audubon Park. This level of training helped them face the demands of the trail and recover quickly afterward.       All four women agreed that it was an experience to repeat, perhaps with a longer hike and even more physical training beforehand. Why subject themselves to more strenuous hiking goals? Simply, to remain healthy. The volume of training required for success will motivate them to continue incorporating fitness habits into their daily lives. Gayle, a renal nurse in her 50’s, said, “Many of my dialysis patients [in renal failure] are my own age. This is what I can do to remain strong.”

     The teamwork required on the journey turned mere acquaintances into close friends. Combining camaraderie, healthy exercise, and spectacular scenery without the strain of feeling responsible for others’ enjoyment (as moms often do) made the experience particularly significant. Julie summed it up with a chuckle and said, “I believe in women vacations now!”

Tanzania, Africa 2007
February 28 to March 13
www.kilimanjaromarathon.com
www.kathyloperevents.com

Feb 28:   This is the beginning of 1-½ days of travel and it entails a 1-½ hour flight to Detroit (1 time zone), a 3-hour layover, and an 8-hour trans-Atlantic flight to Amsterdam, Netherlands (6 time zones).

Mar  1:   After a 1-½ hour layover I board yet another plane for an 8-½ hour flight (2 time zones) to Moshi, Tanzania. Gee, I left my house at noon on Wednesday and a mere 33 hours later I find myself in the heart of Africa!

Mar  2:   Things are off to a grand start as my 55-pound duffel bag (no wheels) is waiting for me at the airport luggage carousel. I’ve also carried a 23-pound backpack filled with my key essentials. Hey, that’s more than ½ of my body weight. Anyhow, today is a day of rest that I’ve purposely built into my itinerary in an attempt to recover from any jetlag that may be at play. For now, I’m off for a walk-about; I have all day tomorrow to organize my stuff for race day.
     Oh, Oh. After training in temperatures ranging from the mid 20’s to the mid 30’s for the last month, I find that Moshi (3 degrees south of the equator) seems to be a tad hot and humid! Or, could it be just me? After 3 separate strolls in 3 different directions, I shower, shave and then make my way towards the dinning room. Kathy Loper, our intrepid leader is back from safari, along with a huge contingent of our adventurers and we all get to meet one another at a ‘get-together’ dinner. We are spread out amongst 3 hotels and there seems to be no rhyme or reason to these logistics (to me). Anyhow, dinner turns out to be a dynamic affair as one might expect when 27 adventurers are brought together.
     I’m back in my room now and I’m trying to sleep but I find myself as alert as a Cape buffalo that’s being stalked by a pride of lions. Not quite sure if this is due to the 9-hour time shift I just suffered through; or, the high level of excitement that has taken hold of me.

Mar  3:   Dang, I was wide awake until 3:30 am when Peter, my roommate, started snoring, and he kept it going until 4:30 am. In spite of getting very little sleep I forced my feet onto the floor at 7:00 am in hopes of resetting my circadian clock. 
     We’re meeting in the lobby at 10:00 am for a side trip to the ‘Amani House’. This is a home for orphaned children and the goal is to rehabilitate these children and try to place them with their relatives. Tanzania is too poor a country to expect people to take in strangers when they are struggling to feed their own children.  Here we disperse the many gifts that we had brought along for just this occasion. Wendy, an employee of Nike in the San Diego area, has brought many t-shirts, and many pairs of new shoes, soccer balls, air pumps and a large check from her employer. The famed runner, Joanie Benoit Samualson (she’ll be climbing the same route up Kili as I) is among us, and she too has brought a large check from Nike, her sponsor. 

     The guiding light here is Elaina, a 26-year old Minnesotan who has taught here, on and off, for 6 years. She speaks Swahili quite well and manages all the translation duties as well as addresses all of our inquiries as she provides us with a guided tour. The Amani House does an outstanding job of feeding, educating, and finding homes for these children. Unfortunately conditions here leave much to be desired. The kitchen consists of 1 outdoor grill (fireplace). The restrooms are ……..not nice. And, I noticed that 1 of the boys bedrooms housed 12 bunk beds. The kids sleep 3 to a mattress. (We didn’t give enough) In gratitude, the children put on a show for us and they sing and dance with drums beating in the background. These children, like most people in Tanzania, are both friendly and outgoing. At times they will approach you and begin a conversation just to practice their English. They are quick to smile and laugh, these poorest of the poor, and they provide a sense of reality to those of us who are far more fortunate.
     After a short walk we arrive at the stadium that will serve as the staging area, start/finish line, and site of the post-race party for race day. We’ll be walking from the hotel to the stadium in tomorrows’ early morning darkness so it’s nice to get the lay of the land. It’s only noon and already the sun is exacting a steep toll on me!
     After a little reading and a quick shower, I head downstairs for a 4:00 pm race briefing held by ‘Wild Frontiers’. This is the first time that all 28 of us are present and accounted for. Hey look, there’s Clyde. I met him in Antarctica back in 2005 as we both had berths on the Vavilov, one of the 2 ships we chartered for the trip across the Drake Passage, and in-and-around King George Island. It’s always nice to run into old friends. He tells me he has just finished ‘The North Pole’ marathon. Hey, I’d much rather be running in that cold than in this heat.

Mar  4:   I’ve been wide-awake since 1:30 am and out of bed since 4:00 am. I get to enjoy some peaceful moments of solitude here in the dinning room which has opened early just for us racers. The race is comprised of a marathon, a half-marathon, and a 5K, but it’s difficult to get a handle on the total number of entrants for each event. Best guess is 200 in the full, 300 to 500 in the half, and roughly 1000 in the 5K; most of whom are children who run their hearts out for that prized t-shirt. Oh well, I better get race-ready.
     Almost unheard of in Africa, the race starts on time (6:30 am) and it’s almost light enough to run safely. Here, some of the roads look like minefields because the potholes are so huge. Also, there are speed bumps across the roads in places and you must look for them because they are the same color as the streets. As if to illustrate this point, less than 1/4 mile into the race a French woman thuds to the ground and needs to be helped to her feet. She appears to be ‘shaken, not stirred’. 
     The first ½ of the race is a series of ‘long pulls’ with no huge hills in the offing; nevertheless, these ups have an effect as does the debilitating diesel fumes that envelop us. It’s hot, sunny, and humid as I make my way downhill while on the opposite side of the road the lead pack of 30-some Kenyans and Tanzanians glide effortlessly up the hill. They run with such grace that one is tempted to stop and admire what true running should be rather than what I perpetrate on the running community. They’re simply beautiful to watch.
     I know that the 2nd half of the race is appreciably more difficult than is the 1st ½ half, and that the temps will be significantly higher, adding yet another degree of difficulty so I’m trying to put miles in the bank, which is normally a no-no in a marathon, but every case is different so I’m going with this plan.
     The locals line the course and serve as an encouraging force, but I can’t help but spend time kidding and laughing with them along the way as I practice my (lack of) Swahili on them. Everywhere you look you see individual marathoners surrounded by 5 or 6 kids who simply jump in whenever they choose. They cannot help but run! One gentleman runs with me for 4 or 5K. He is attired in dress shoes, dress socks, dress pants and a dress shirt. Suddenly he stops, I’m going too slowly and it’s driving him crazy.
     I swear the sun is different here in Africa than it is in the states. Here, it attacks you and the ½-way point (2:26:XX) seems a tad too early to be surrendering to this ‘vile enemy of runners’. Now the course turns ugly and from 21K to 31K (6.2 miles) we encounter a series of ups’, which in reality is one long climb that gets progressively steeper. My walk/jog strategy is history as I power-walk upward and onward. Still, this effort allows me to pass a few fellow ‘runners’. Another bend in the road produces another long, drawn-out hill; but if you possess the energy required to raise your head you will see Kilimanjaro growing nearer and nearer as we approach the Mweka Gate. Kili is capped in snow and ice and it’s a chilling experience; but not literally, for we are not so ‘capped’. Down here the heat is having its’ way with us mortal beings. You see people stretching and/or retching on the side of the road and worse yet we are walking...downhill. 

     I meet up with Jack Chelem from the Lone Star state and together we make our way through the aid stations, the roadside showers, and the sponge stations but nothing can bring us back to life; so, ever so slowly, we make our way back to the stadium content with just finishing. (5:24:12)
     After a lengthy stay in the medical tent where I sought treatment for blisters and 2 severely cramped calf muscles, I now am gingerly making my way back the Keys Hotel. If you could see me pre-ambulating along the pocked-marked road, you would surely laugh at such a pathetic site.
     Following a shower and a nap (go figure), I make my way to the pool area where ‘Wild Frontiers’ gives us a briefing on what to expect on our upcoming climb of Kilimanjaro in 2 days. Next, we enjoy a huge barbeque outside on the veranda. I then take my leave and climb the steps to my room.

                         Learn as if you were to live forever,
                               Live as if you were to die tomorrow.           Gandhi

Mar  5:   Today is a day of rest. At first it was my plan to carry as much as possible on my back during the climb and give the remainder of my gear to the porters. Plan B: after running the marathon I think I’ll give as much to the porters as possible and carry as little as possible. However, the porter’ load is limited to 12 kg (26-½ lbs) and this means I’ll be carrying more than 25 pounds up the mountain. I’m actually carrying some of my roomies stuff. It’s amusing to watch as everyone adjust and re-adjust their 2 loads before the weigh-in. 
     After a short break on the back patio, 6 of us are on our way to Moshi for some shopping. Nothing catches my eye as the most intriguing part of the day is spent going through ‘markets’ and in less than 1 hour we are on the way back to the hotel. Let’s eat! I follow a delicious lunch with a much-needed nap in my room. I feel completely knackered and am delighted that we are not starting the climb today because it’s doubtful I could handle a 6-7 hour trek with such a heavy pack in this heat. I’m hopeful that I will do a good job of recovering because it is my wish to enjoy the climb rather than suffer through it. We shall see. I’ve committed myself to spending the remainder of the day drinking, eating and resting -------that sounds easy enough.

Mar  6:   Everyone is up bright and early in anticipation of the start of our climb. I pack, I go down for breakfast, and then I pack some more. I store my money and passport in the hotel safe and 1 duffel bag in the hotel storage room. I’ve thrown the ‘porter duffel’ on a 4 x 4, and jump on board the bus with my oversized backpack. We arrive at the Umbwe Gate, which is 1 of 6 routes up the mountain. The Mweka Route is only used for exiting the park. The Gate sits at 5200 ft and our first campsite is at 9375 ft. So, with 4175 ft of climbing along a 5-½ mile long trail in front of us, it’s time to get underway.

(Editors note: According to the Mountain Madness and Alpine Institute web sites “Umbwe is the shortest and the most difficult of all the Routes on Kilimanjaro”.  It should also be noted that 5 different climbers had altimeters and so we are always provided with 5 differing opinions on how high we are at any given time. Therefore, I resorted to the info that was provided in our itineraries. This data is also suspect.)

     Our first day takes use through the ‘rainforest climate zone’ on the mountain and I brought enough wet weather gear to survive a hurricane and a flood. Fortunately, there is no rain to be had but we do encounter mucky, slimy, footing over trails and boulders they served as our, rather steep, pathway to the Umbwe Caves, our first campsite. At long last (approx 7 hours) we stride into our campsite where one can’t help but notice that our tents are pitched on the side of the mountain. (Throughout the night I found myself wedge against the exit flaps of our tent.) There are about 20 of us taking advantage of the Umbwe Route. There’s another 7 or so coming up the easier (?) Machame Route. We are to rendezvous at Barafu. 
     Our duffels are lying on the ground and we all immediately begin the ‘daily ritual’ of getting our duffels and backpacks into our tents, setting up these high-end sleeping quarters, cleaning ourselves, hydrating, and refueling, plus all the other things that are best done before nightfall.
     Life in tents is always a curious affair, especially the mess tent, which provokes much angst within me as I find so few foods even the least bit palatable. (It should be noted that the food was well received by all and there was something at every meal that appealed to me.) Sleepwise; I have been averaging about 3 hours per night since departing the states, and although I am rather tired this evening, I manage only snippets of sleep as I spend the majority of my time sliding to the bottom of the tent and then rearranging my thermorest pad, and my sleeping bag, and myself to higher ground. Also, my bag (-30 deg’s) is much too warm for these lower elevations and in spite of sleeping in shorts and a coolmax t-shirt, I was literally sweating inside my unzipped bag. Ugh!

                             He who climbs the highest mountains,
                             Laughs at all tragedies, real or imagined.       Nietzsche

Mar  7:   Today we exit the rainforest and trek up through the ’heather climate zone’, and into the ‘moorland climate zone’.  This entails some fairly steep walking and not-so-safe ridges to negotiate. Our next campsite is situated at the base of the Barranco Wall at 12,800 ft. Thus we climb 3,500 ft along another 5-½ mile-long trail. (Ed’s note: All of the elevations listed are from the campsite to campsite of each days travel and this does not take into consideration all the ups and downs we traverse as we trek in and out of valley after valley.)
     I had managed only 3 hours of sleep last night as Peter, my tentmate, slept on my left and Carly, in the neighboring tent was positioned on my right, provided me with stereo snoring. Also, with such a large group the sound of tent zippers RANG OUT throughout the night. As usual, sleeping on a hillside presents some minor obstacles to a good nights’ sleep. I’m up at 6:00 am and into the trek by 7:30 am. After dealing with a mildly upset stomach for the last 24 hours, I’m forced to ‘runs’ (ha) to the restroom (bushes). My pills are packed in the porters bag so I must wait for DRUGS. How dumb am I? Davis, one of our 8 guides, myself, and Wendy form a small group who share no sense of urgency during todays’ effort. Wendy stops to photograph every bird, tree, flower and shrub in the park and this provides me with ample opportunities to rest. Wendys’ wish is to create a book of photos as a reminder of her time on the Dark Continent. Hey, there’s Mt. Meru.

     Todays’ effort exacts quite a toll on me and it appears that, once again, I am the least capable of the group. I am always mystified by the danger of these treks as I negotiate a huge rock-face by utilizing a variety of nubs and crannies. Maybe it’s me! At long last we arrive at camp and begin the ’daily ritual’ although for me this ritual will vary just a tad. I had purposely carried a heavier than necessary load (25 to 30 lbs) the first 2 days of our trek forcing my body to adapt to working at altitude. Now I divest myself of all unnecessary gear and put the onus on my porter. (My duffel still weighs less than 25 lbs as I work my way through ‘consumables’ and I’ve given away ‘just in case’ items and other things I deem useless.) I’ve considerably lightened my load thus removing yet another possible excuse for any sub-par performance that may await me.  Think I’ll go eat!

Mar  8:   I’ve been suffering some nausea for the last 2 days, and diarrhea for 1 day. Consequently, I’ve put myself on Chipro and Imodium and they both are providing the necessary relief that keeps me on the trails. However, this does necessitate my taking in ‘more fluids’ on top the ‘more fluids’ required when one is dealing with altitude. On paper we are only going from 12,800 ft to 13,000 ft today all within the ‘moorland climate zone’, but within minutes of starting out we are confronted with the Barranco Wall. The consensus is this is a 1,000 ft climb, and the term Wall is certainly apropos. This Wall proves to be both a dangerous and formidable challenge where one is required to place his trust in handholds more so than in footholds. The Barranco campsite serves as the juncture of the Umbwe Route and the Machame Route and after 2 days of having the trails to ourselves we are now joined by other climbers. This only presents a problem at the beginning of the day when all the porters are required to pass us on the wall so that they could get to camp before we clients. (The guide/porter to client ratio for our group is 4 to 1) No problemo, as I make good use of these many opportunities to take in some much needed oxygen and ready myself for the next push. The overall distance today proves to be a mere 3-½ miles and it delivers us to the Karanga campsite. After 5-½ hours I’ve slogged into camp, dealt with the ‘daily ritual’, and made my way to the mess tent where I gorged myself with copious amounts of food and drink. I’m always struck by the amount of food that goes uneaten and then I remember the guides and porters eat our leftovers! Think I’ll lounge about in my tent and sleep perchance to dream-----as if I have a choice.
Dinner has come and gone and I’m shutting it down for the night.
 

Mar  9:   I spent a lot of time in the tent last night and the total number of hours of sleep that I amassed is the most I enjoyed since I launched myself into this adventure. There’s no need to rush today because this is a short day; however, the sooner we get into camp the more rest we can store up for the midnight assault on the summit. This is an acclimatization day spent ascending sections of scree and rock and then down into and up out of a main valley. We’re heading for Barafu Camp at 15,100 ft. We spend the day entirely in the ‘alpine desert climate zone’, but don’t be mislead by this nomenclature. The definition of an alpine desert is “Intense radiation, high evaporation rate & huge temperature fluctuations. Prepare for a scarcity of water and the thinning out of soil which produces unfavorable conditions for plants, mosses, lichens and everlasting flowers.” It takes approximately 3-½ hours to negotiate the 2-½ miles to Barafu where I collect my duffel and dump both it and my backpack into my tent. This signals the weather gods to have some fun at our expense as we get to enjoy sleet, snow and hail. My roomie has told me the game plan is to lunch at 2:00 pm and to dine at 5:00 pm. We’re to rest in our tents and be prepared to depart for the summit at 12:00 am. I need to ready my equipment.

     Lunch is huge and delicious; there are french fries with tons of salt. It had started to snow at noon and now everything is blanketed in white. Dinner is also huge but most everyone is being very, very selective. We’re still bloated from lunch. We now have some serious accumulation going on outside.

Mar 10:   I’m up, we’re ready, we wait…..then go. There’s another group immediately in front of us as well as a private party of 2. I’m last in line as we make progress through the freshly fallen snow, and up over the boulder-strew route. From the outset I don’t feel in the game and when I stand erect to catch my breath, I espy a small sampling of what lies in wait for me. The first section of the climb up to Stella Point, which sits atop the crater, is projected to take 6 to 6-½ hours with another hour allocated for the grade up to Uhuru, the summit. Then, without any warning, I have decided “I don’t want to do this anymore”.

(Ed note: when asked later what happened and I explained this notion of “I don’t want to do this anymore”, everyone said they understood. They didn’t. This feeling does not apply to just Kili. I have crossed from my list Mt. Elbrus in July of 2007, and a return trip to Aconcagua in January of 2008. No more mountains for me. Of course I must now define mountain so I’m choosing some arbitrary number such as 16,000 ft. If it’s higher than that, it ain’t for me. The plan is to concentrate on my running. My main goal has always been to marathon on all 7 continents (I’m lacking Australia) and to marathon in all 50 states & D.C. At my age this is ambitious enough.)

     So I pass the word to Rasin, the sweeper guide, and despite his protestations, and an offer to carry my pack (no way), I make a hasty retreat back down the mountain. It’s amazing the 2 distinctly different emotions that overcome me after making such a heart-wrenching decision. First and foremost is complete and utter shame; it actually has a weight to it. The second emotion is relief, and this catches me completely off-guard. How can one sense relief in quitting after putting so much time and effort into such an erstwhile endeavor: but in retrospect, I guess this is (somewhat) understandable.  Back in my tent, I quickly fall into a deep, 7-hour sleep; the best rest I experienced the entire trip.
     From early morning until just past noon, I stand on the trail and welcome all the climbers back into camp. First comes those that the mountain has turned back, and then comes the summiteers. “Hello to the camp. Let’s hear it for …..”, I scream and it never fails to bring the slightest of smiles to the tiredest of faces, as those already in camp hoot and whistle from inside their tents. Hey look, there’s Dawn arriving last in 12-½ hours as she closes the book on this chapter of our adventure. At 23, Dawn is the youngest of the group and she hails from the Sunshine State.

I’ve met them all, and cheered them all and later when back in town more that a few climbers approached me to say how much they appreciated my ‘cheerleading, i.e. “It lifted me up” said Diane. “I didn’t know I had the strength to smile”, said Beryl. “It was so cool to hear my name called out as I re-entered camp”, said Wendy, etc, etc.

     Camp is in chaos. People are either washing up, changing clothes, falling asleep or seeking minor medical attention. Lunch is at 1:00 pm but no one can muster the strength to partake so we begin the descent to Millennium Camp. It ‘s a steep, steady 2,300 ft drop down 4 miles to our ‘final’ resting place on the mountain. I can see a change in most peoples’ color and cadence as we go lower into the oxygen-rich air. Camp is setup in the most beautiful of locations and this only adds to the ‘good vibes’ that are reverberating throughout the camp. Dinner is at 7:00 pm and we are warned to be prepared for an early morning start for another long day of pounding downhill.

Mar 11:   Breakfast is at 6:30 am and departure time is 7:30 am. A full nights’ sleep has certainly had a healing affect on our troops and it’s great to see the smiles painted on so many faces. It has taken only 4-½
hours and 6 miles of trekking to drop another 7,400 ft to the Mweka Gate where we are able to begin the cleansing process, and enjoy some food and cold beverages. All of us sign the log-out book and some of us sign the summit book before boarding the bus back to the hotel. We travel via the bumpiest of roads and then find ourselves on the hilly section of the marathon course; so, many of us relive that excoriating final leg of the run.
     Back at the hotel now and everyone is in the shower fighting for hot water, cold water or, at the very least, wet water. For now, I’m relaxing in the dining room while enjoying a grilled ham-and-cheese sandwich with tomatoes. Surely this must be what heaven is like. 

1) Tim had gotten to Stella Point when he feared that he was suffering some severe effects of high altitude. He stopped and retraced his steps back down the 4,000 ft to the safety of base camp. He then accompanied us down to Millennium camp later in the day. Upon waking in the morning, Tim was rather put off by his not summitting so with the approval of Eric, our lead guide, he hired a guide and a porter to assist him in a 2nd attempt. At 7:30 am Tim headed skyward some 6,540 ft, straight through base camp, past Stella Point and onto Uhuru! At 2:00 pm, while enjoying the bus ride back to the hotel, the guide seated next to me received a call from the summit. Tim had arrived! No time for photos, Tim immediately headed down. All the way down! 14,000 ft down! At 8:00 pm that night, as we dined on the back patio, Tim walked out to join us. He looked fresher than I!

2) Phil, on the other hand, served as Tim’s counterpoint. A genial gentleman, and a grand storyteller, 74-year old Phil is vastly overweight, thus opting for the easier Machame Route.  Phil struggled mightily for 2 days, often arriving in camp at 11:00 or 11:30 pm, well after the others in his party. The decision was made for him to go down for the Barranco Wall presented an insurmountable obstacle to him. One guide and 5 porters accompanied Phil down the Umbwe Route and Phil required assistance every step of the way. Phil’s descent of 4 days took much longer than all estimates and the party ran out of food! At 7:30 pm, Phil hobbled out onto the veranda and was greeted by a huge ovation.  Everyone was concerned for Phil’s safety and his appearance at the party caused a flood of relief from each and every one of us.

Mar 12:   Today is a day of rest and people are splintering into many different groups and heading off in many different directions. It amazes me to see the relief in the faces of all those around me. The pressure to perform is off and it’s time to party.
     Once again I come face to face with the nightmare that is loooong-distance travel. We leave the hotel en-masse at 6:00 pm, and I catch an 11-½ hour flight to Amsterdam via Dar es Salaam. 

Mar 13:   Following a 3-hour layover, I board the plane for an 8-½ trans-Atlantic flight to Detroit. Here I enjoy a 2-½ layover before the 1-½ hour flight to Evansville that makes for the final leg of my journey. Pete collects me at the airport and delivers me to my house.

Mount Kilimanjaro is actually made up of 3 extinct volcanoes:
Kibo         19,340 ft
Mawenzi  16,896 ft
Shira         13,000 ft

There are 6 routes up Kili:

Rongai Marangu Machame Lemosko & Shira Umbwe Mweka

a northern approach an eastern approach a southern approach western approaches a western approach western descent

     I’m here to tell you that there aren’t too many marathons held in D.C. We are all well aware of the Marine Corps Marathon but good luck getting into that one; so, when I saw this event listed in the calendar of MarathonGuide.com, I jumped at the opportunity to go east. Also, this is more than enough of an excuse to visit my folks in Pgh, Pa. Hope you enjoy my rantings.

Mar 22  It’s less than 750 miles to D.C., but I’ve opted to spread these miles over 2 days of hassle-free driving. Things are going rather smoothly until I reach the mid-way point through West Virginia, where I am met with pouring rain and dour predictions for race day. So, after 550 miles, and just inside the Maryland border, I shut it down for the night at 7:00 pm and climb into the back of my van for a much-needed rest.

Mar 23  I’ve been arguing with myself for a ½-hour to climb out from under my sleeping bag when a ‘call-of-nature’ superimposes its’ will upon me and I’m forced to saunter on over to the rest room; it’s 7:00 am. (That’s the best nights’ sleep I’ve enjoyed since before my trip to Africa.)

     In short time, I find myself taking in the expo, which is held at the D.C. Armory. The armory sits in the shadow of the R.F.K Memorial Stadium, home to the Washington Redskins. It’s noon and the temp’s are hovering in the low 80’s, but there remains a 50% chance of rain in the morning. I’m going to spend the remainder of the day ‘mellowing out’, see ya.

Mar 24  It starts raining at 5:00 am but stops at 5:30 am, as I start preparing my race-day paraphernalia, and my breakfast. The rain starts to fall once more as I exit a port-a-john at 6:30 am, so I make a dash for the comfort of my van.
     The race starts promptly at 7:00 am. It’s severely overcast but it’s not raining (now). After approximately 3 minutes, I come upon the start line, but with a crowd of 3500 marathoners and half-marathoners, things have not thinned out to any noticeable degree. The upside is this makes for a fun, raucous send-off.

     Here at mile 1, I have made the decision to ‘push it’ this race and let the chips fall where they may. I’m sure this phrase confounds ‘real runners’ when they see my finishing time, but I can assure one and all that I’ll be working hard every step of the way. When I walk, I walk hard, and when I run, I boogie. It never really rains during the run but the skies douse us with a relentless mist that renders my eyeglasses useless. At times, as I look forward, the Capitol is directly in front of me (finally, something I can catch up to) and at other times the Washington Monument, shrouded in an eerie mist, lies directly in my path. To me, running in D.C. is every bit as historic and romantic as running in St. Petersburg, Russia. We are routed past many more notable structures, as well as over bridges, through parks, along the river, and up one huge hill at the 19-mile mark. Ugh!

     For the last half of the race I’ve really ‘hunkered down’ in an effort to make up for the 3 minutes I lost trying to catch up to the start line at the onset of the race. And, at days end, I’m quite pleased with my (5) very even, 5-mile splits, as well as my 3 minute negative split on my overall ‘clock time’.
     After grabbing some bagels and bananas, I bathe in the van and then begin a 250-mile drive to Pittsburgh. Hope your weekend went as well as mine.

COURSE  This is an outstanding course and not only because of all the sites one takes in along the way but also for it’s run-ability. (Except the hill at 19)

WEATHER   Although it was in the 50’s, dark, overcast, and the rain misted for most of the race, I was ecstatic with NOT having to deal with heat, and this played a huge part in my early-in-the-race decision to ‘go for it’.

VOLUNTEERS  I have to believe that volunteers who must man their workstations for 5 to 6 hours (and longer) in all types of weather are a true gift to running.

TRAFFIC CONTROL  Simply outstanding. I still can’t believe how many officers and police cars were manning the intersections.

CROWD SUPPORT  In spite of the traffic flow problems a race of this size brings to bear on a major city like D.C., the crowd proved to be most enthusiastic.

ORGANIZATION  It’s difficult for me to believe that, in only the second year of their existence, this group did so many things so right while dealing with an event of this magnitude.
 
 

April 12  I’ve started this journey with 500 uneventful miles of driving and have located an acceptable parking place for the night here on the ‘Will Rodgers Turnpike’ in Oklahoma.

April 13  Man, it started raining yesterday at 9:00 pm and it has continued unabated throughout the night. After 12 hours in my sleeping bag (I must have been more tired than I thought) I force myself up from my horizontal ‘state of repose’ and ready myself for the remaining 150 miles of this southwesterly journey. It’s pouring!
     I found a Perkins Restaurant here in Stillwater (where I’ll spend the night) and spend some time reading, and getting my bearings so there will be no surprises during tomorrows’ early morning, stress-free drive to the race site. 
     I am now at the start/finish line, seated in my van attending to my journal as the race director and some of his volunteers arrive.  He tells me I am the only person from Indiana to run his event in all of its 10 years. It’s a deluge out there! I don’t know if it is going to rain tomorrow but I already know the trails will not be in pristine conditions; whatever that is.
     Hours later it’s still raining and I’ve rethought tomorrows’ wardrobe a number of times. I tend to overdress and if it is cold, dark, and windy I’ll be looking for an overcoat.

*There are quite a few roots on the trail and they will not move no matter how hard you kick them.
*There are a few rocks on this course, kicking them has no affect whatsoever.
*There are several species of poisonous snakes in this area but only Copperheads and Eastern Timber Rattlesnakes need concern you. Bites are seldom fatal.
*Remove all ticks from your body after the race.
*Poison Ivy is not much of a problem but some folks have gotten sores.
*On a positive note, mountain lions hardly ever kill people.

April 14  It’s 1:00 am and as I respond to the call… 2 things are readily apparent to me: the storms that have been raging all of yesterday have been reduced to a drizzle; and, there are no lights on inside of Perkins. I had my heart set on a bowl of fruit and a cup of Joe in the morning. Oh well, I have a bagel, and a peanut butter sandwich already made up, it’ll all work out
     At 5:30 am it’s 35 degrees, windy, and you guessed it, it’s raining. I have learned through experience that there’s one kind of ‘cold’ when it’s 35, windy, and dark: and there’s an altogether different kind of ‘cold’ when one adds ‘wet’ into the mix. I plan on wearing shorts but I’m trading in my short-sleeve coolmax t-shirt for the long-sleeve version: that should suffice. Think I’ll go back to sleep. 
     In spite of sleeping in an extra ½-hour I still am able to join in with 2 other early risers (slow runners) in the 1-hour early start. I’ve opted to wear my single layer running outfit: the thought being I’ll have my drop-bag here at the start/finish line and we are routed by this shelter house about ever 7-¾ miles so opportunities abound for me to make any necessary clothing adjustments. This is a good place to describe the course: it is laid out like a figure-8 with a 7.7-mile north loop and a 7.9-mile south loop. The start/finish line lies where the 2 loops intersect. The (58) ½-marathoners run the course once, while the (26) full marathoners run it twice.

     We’re underway and things are somewhat mucky and slimy but I expected much worse. Things are going well on the north loop, as I am in and out of the aid stations in a timely fashion and all my pre-race preparations have proven to be faultless. However, I am somewhat disappointed in my time as I arrive at the start/finish line. I’ve run 90% of the time (or more) as compared to 60% of the time in a marathon and yet I’m 3 minutes slower per mile!!!! I guess that’s the nature of the beast. I do shed my lightweight running outfit.
     The 2nd loop is going fine as I keep ‘pushing’ the pace. I’m now at the start/finish and it  ‘does not compute’ how this shorter loop (I was wrong thinking this) has taken more time to complete than the north loop with is the longer loop (wrong again). Anyhow, it’s here where I make the decision to change my socks and shoes. It’s not what you think! Yes, my footwear is destroyed but I’m more concerned with developing blisters and come May I must be in top form, so I take this time-consuming precaution.
    As I start the north loop for the 2nd time, I perform a quick body scan and I’m quite pleased with how well I’m holding up and have no problem maintaining both my form and my effort. Now I’m ½-way around this loop and I’m really bookin’ when I come upon the Peninsula Aid Station for the 3rd time --- Oh, Oh. I should only pass by this place twice and this means I am off course, seriously off course. I shouldn’t be anywhere near this place.
     Just then Ken, who is about 4 miles behind me, rounds the bend and that means he too has gone astray. I show him my map and he agrees with my assessment of the ‘error of his ways’ and he performs an about-face and heads off in the opposite directions. Ken lost a mere 5 minutes. Next, Mike appears out of a field that is not part of the course at all. Mike had started 1 hour after I did and yet he passed me about 2 miles back. This guy is really lost. Together, we figure out where we went wrong and ‘walk’ back up to the correct trail. In all, I lost less than ½-hour but Mike has lost some serious miles and crucial minutes in an effort to PR. I’m telling you, something like this really takes the wind out of your sails. At long last we complete the loop and Mike cannot bring himself to continue whereas I plow onward. The thought process being, there’s no way I’m returning to Oklahoma just to complete a race. 
     The problem this presents is there remains no sense of urgency, no competitive edge, no ‘see how well I can do’. I try every trick I’ve learnt about ‘creating’ a challenge but it’s an uphill fight (get it). But, if one just keeps moving forward he will be rewarded, and there’s my reward, the finish line ---
8:03:xx.  Still not bad for the oldest person in the 50K.
     In retrospect, this was a good course with no major climbs and, had it not been for the rain, this is a fast course (if you manage to stay on it). I would highly recommend this event for any first timer, and for speed merchants looking for a PR.
     Right now I’m sure of 2 things. The first is how pleased I am with myself for not quitting. The second is how sore I am. Now I have run 2 marathons and this 31.2 miler in just 6 weeks but this level of pain calls into question both my ability to recover, and my sanity (ha, ha). I’m so very tired that my first thought is to just head home; but, I have instead opted to detour over to Arkansas to visit Magazine Mountain, the states’ highpoint and then make my way up to Taum Sauk Mountain, the highpoint in Missouri.

Ps I was fortunate enough to ‘stumble’ upon rocks in Oklahoma and Arkansas for my yard.