Kill Kuato

Woke up at 7am for the Wenatchee Half Marathon today. The gun goes off at 8, so I peel out of bed and seen it snowing. Visions of slipping down a hill and compound ankle fracture bone sticking out with drops of snow melting upon its hot surface. Arrival to race start area around 745. Light snow, yet only wet streets. I headed to the back of the line, not wanting to get ran over. There were about 100 people. I started following this hippie looking dude that looked that looked straight out of a Grizzly Adams Nike advertisement.

On Grizz's ass near the end.

I ended up sprinting past him about 100 yards from the finish.

Off we went down Wenatchee Avenue. We even ran red lights. We turned right at about 1 mile to head onto the loop. My pace was semi slow steady. I felt alright. @ Mile 3 the group was thinning out and I was behind with about 10 others. One was a 40 someting guy I semi know from the UK. He had a thick sweater on. There were three sets of 2 girls running together. I tried to keep up with them. I held sturdy yet strong behind the UK and a set of girls I called Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. Kinda fancy girl runners with their little baseball running caps, running tights and pony tails bouncin.

We crossed the south Wenatchee bridge and hit the 5 mile marker. I unzipped my wind breaker a bit. Sweaty. I felt ok. I felt stronger on some of the small hills and past some peeps, yet UK and Tweedle Dee/Dum were still ahead. I passed my IronMan friend Brian at about Mile 5.5, he was about 1.5 miles ahead of me. I half shouted to him that I felt like my perriwinkle had novacaine in it. I couldn’t feel anything due to the cold. Tingly. The turn around was mile seven. Full Marathoners cruised passed me and shot on through the “GU” water area.

At mile 8 I heard steps upon my head (that’s what it sounds like with one ear) possibly coming up behind me. A guy was running off the pavement in the gravel and the sound was driving me nuts.

sham sham sham sham. Across the bridge @ mile 10 I decided to check my watch. 1:10 WOOT! I was cruising!

Thinking back to the beginning, there was this symbiotic couple with there friends making it all look easy too, they would take breaks, cracking jokes and talk about the latest Dr. Phill episode. I barely passed them at the end when the dude was tying his shoe, yet they took breaks along the way and passed me like five times. I don’t think I was enjoying it as much as they were. Their cackles were annoying to my one ear.

Couple goofin' round'

I decided to push it a little more to catch Tweeddee n dum. All of a sudden I saw my chance to pass UK! I saw him hopping through the sagebrush towards a stack of apple crates. Yes! Saved by the bladder!@

Tweeddee dum though were still ahead, with a steady cheerleader squad pace. We crossed back over the bridge. Sham sham sham sham still in my head, “DAMN Dude, pass me already”, I was thinking.

Tweedle Dee and Dum trotting along making it look easy

He zoomed past me on my right. Gravel crunching. I didn’t bother to look back for UK, hoping he didn’t have to use sagebrush for number 2. At mile 11 or so, I decided to push upon Tweeddee dum. They were trotting hard and it was pissing me off. A sudden vision of Disney movie WE ARE SIAMESE IF YOU PLEASE, cats strutting around all snobby like. I decided to check my watch, 1:10 WOOT! WTF! My watch had stopped working somewhere back probably at mile 5 8(

@ Mile 12 I felt someone behind me, a skinny guy w/ tattoos on the calves, passed me. He even passed Tweeddee dum. After mile 11 I decided to stretch out my stride to catch Tweeddee dum, but at mile 12 I had lost them; only a blurry vision in the distance of two baseball caps with bouncing pony tails. I stretched it out at the end-semi nausea setting in. Strong finish at the end. Time. 2:07.53 -was kinda dizzy.

About 200 yards to the finish!

Photos: John Brunk

Found on the net this beautiful photo of the “Marathon of the Drunks” Held every year in Apopa, San Salvador in December. After the marathon, they are registered for alcohol treatment centers. In some colonias of San Salvador, it is common to have the typical friendly drunk roam around acting as garbage collector, car security, or even mariachi singer to entertain the neighbors. Everybody knows their names and respects them. To give back to the “bolos”, the marathon acts as a place to build self esteem and hope for the future. I was encouraged by this image since I am attempting my first half marathon this Sunday. I’m not running it drunk though!

Participantes en la Cuarta Carrera de Borrachos en Apopa, unos 12 kilómetros al norte de San Salvador, El Salvador, el martes 12 de diciembre de 2006. Después de la carrera, fueron inscritos en proyectos para ayudarles a dejar de beber —Associated Press

Participantes en la Cuarta Carrera de Borrachos en Apopa, unos 12 kilómetros al norte de San Salvador, El Salvador, el martes 12 de diciembre de 2006. Después de la carrera, fueron inscritos en proyectos para ayudarles a dejar de beber —Associated Press

Here is my bro in Law Jese Obed Martinez attempting his second 10 k Race in Downtown San Salvador. I hope to join him near the end of 2008 to do a Triathlon Salvadoran Style!

Watch out for the cars!

Aqui mi cunyado partcipando como concursante en su primer 10k Maraton.

Cuidado de los autos!

I ran the Wenatchee loop today for the third time and shaved about 12 minutes off my time.

Ate a cliff bar along the way and about a liter of gatorade without stopping. I plan to do the half marathon the 19th.

The Marathon is on the loop trail down by riverfront park. Great map here.

About 2 months ago, my IronMan friend Brian, loaned me a book called Ultramarathon Man. The author is fucking insane. It was a humbling experience reading about his first 100 mile mountain race called the Western States Endurance Run.

I mean, -how far can a human being push themselves.Hoy corrí los diez millas del “loop” de Wenatchee 12 minutos mas rápido que antes. Comí un energy bar y un litro de Gatorade mientras corría. Voy a competir en el media Maratón de Wenatchee. Mapa aquí.

Hace 2 meses, un amigo IronMan Brian me presto un libro se llama Hombre Ultramaratón. El Autor debe ser loco porque corre como cien millas sin pararse. Hasta come pizza corriendo! Fue una experiencia humilde de leer los capítulos del cien milla maratón del montaña. Cuan lejos puede empujarse el ser humano.

Today, in my first Duathlon ever,-the Wenatchee “du”-I won last place. My goal was x2 to not stop and to finish.
It was a 3 mile run, 18 mile bike, 3 mile run. Took me about 2.8 hrs ( I think).
From the start I puttered in last place, behind one of the females. There were a total of about only 50 competitors.

I was the only amateur. @ 1.5 miles into the run, I was about 5 yds behind 2nd to last place. At the last 200 yards I was able to pass him-a tall stuffed gentleman that looked like me about a year ago.=meatball on a stick. I entered the bike area and fumbled to my bike, put on my helmet and off I went. I was somewhat dizzy (with one ear due to the Acoustic Neuroma removed)-yet PeeWee Hermaned it up the first hill of the 18 mile course while meatball on a stick cruised past me on a nice roadbike. Mine was a big clunky GT mountain bike from the year 2000.

The bike was a struggle. Most of it was hilly and a very killer hill at the half turn around point. I thought I was lost, heading off course until I noticed a sherrif behind me escorting me through the turnback point. It was all down hill from there and I cruised back-expecting the whole way for racers to be already packing up and driving back home. I did see 3 cars with bikes on them pass and wave me on, “Keep it up!” one shouted. Near the end of the course, a police car was in front of me, and one in back, joining me for my last few miles. Felt like I was in a parade. I arrived safely and noticed most were done yet a few runners were fumbling into the finish line. I still had a 1.5 mile run to go.

An old coworker named Penny belted out my name like a trumpeting elephant. “way TO GO MARCO”-the soundwaves ricocheting off my one ear drum (deaf on left) and almost knocking me off my bike. I parked, and with stroke like motions-took off my helmet, mumbled something like “yeaah”-and bowlegged “ran walked” again-another 3 miles.

I passed others coming back from the run 1.5 mile marker, wishing that I was just about to finish like them-and yes there was ol meatball on a stick-probably about 2 miles ahead of me. Near the end I decided to save some energy for a lame sprint limp to the end until I turned a corner-knowing that people would be line of sight with me. I could not hear any cheering until I got to the finish line.-Yet I found out that they were cheering for the awards ceremony-not for me. about three people accidentally saw me, and let out a whoop-the awards crowd turned and applauded as I crossed the finish line panting.

I did not stop during the race. I finished.

Take all the 50 something racers vestibular balance away and hearing in one ear-give them a mountain bike-and I would have placed first!

FOTOS:

Me there running at the start; already in last place. I was trailing a 4 foot obese female.
Those are not muscles. Wind is filling my jacket.

This is the second leg, probably into the 2^nd mile of the 18 mile bike race. I had to use my clunky mountain bike and “Peewee Hermaned” it all the way.

The Bike, @ the third mile marker the lead racer passed me as he was almost finished with his 18 miles. Near mile fifteen, race workers were taking down the arrow direction signs. They thought I was a casual biker out on a spring ride. They saw my race number on my back and apologized. Near the end, two police officers, one in front, one in back escorted me through the few stop lights so I would not get run over. I felt like an elderly lady being escorted across the street by some helpful boy scouts. I was almost to the finish line. Again, that is wind in my jacket. I felt as if I were a kite ready to be blown into the sea, lost forever.

The Finish:

Again, As I mentioned before, I thought the small crowd was giving me a victory HURRAH! My blurred vision focused on the group near the awards stage, their backs to me, applauding and cheering the winners with medals instead.

I think the lady on my left there was about to break out the defibrillator. She looks as if she worked as a coroner at a crime scene. A coworker mentioned that I had “grown boob” at the end of the race. Near the last two miles of the run, I took off a windbreaker and stuffed it into a chest pocket. That explains the left boob, the right one is caused by the goofy camera angle, I hope…

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