Whole Lotta Racing Going On

As I mentioned in yesterday's post, I've been doing a fair amount of racing lately. Here are quick summaries of each, just in case you are curious:

March 24, 2012: MDRA Lake Johanna 4 mile road race, Arden Hills, MN

Only one week after the brain-melting heat of the Human Race, I tried to get a shot at redemption by doing a low-key four miler on a cool, humid morning. Despite feeling a bit better and thinking I was running faster, I still only managed a 24:21 (6:05 pace), and faced the reality of having some guy pushing a baby stroller beat me in a race. While I would say hats off to him, I do note that the course was *not* closed to traffic, and I'm not sure I would have risked pushing any of my sons that fast under those conditions. Not my place to judge, of course. I finished 9th overall, and 3rd in the 50-59 age group.

April 1, 2012: Urban Environmental Challenge 10k Trail Race, Van Cortlandt Park, Bronx, NY

During a short visit to my old stomping grounds, my old pal Matt Rosetti talked me into a reunion race: it was 10 years ago that I dragged him to this race, which he ended up winning back then by an inch after a long, hard kick. I took fourth on that day. Now, ten years later, Matt won again, but I managed only 7th overall on the day - I guess those ten years took more of a toll on me than on him! The course has a few technical bits, and I managed to run 42:34 for the 10k-ish distance. I was happy to win my age group, and thus earn a delicious Lloyd's Carrot Cake, which I've praised lovingly before in a post about this race last year.

April 21, 2012: Trail Mix 25k, Hyland Lake Park Preserve, Bloomington, MN

The first race of the UMTR Trail Race Series didn't go too well for me. I guess I had one of those days when you just don't have it. I felt tired and lethargic throughout the race, and struggled to maintain pace and form the entire way. Could it have been some kind of reaction to the Tetanus booster shot that I received a couple days earlier during my annual physical exam? I suppose I'll never know. At any rate, I stumbled through the race, got passed by no fewer than six runners in the final two miles (embarrassing) to finish in 1:48:12, good for 22nd place and 3rd in the 50-54 age group. The course itself is very easy, with wide grassy trails, no single track and no technical sections at all, not exactly my forte, but at least it wasn't just another road race.

April 28, 2012: Get in Gear 10k, Minnehaha Park, Minneapolis, MN

Feeling tired from so much racing, and thinking I would be more focused on the UMTR Grand Prix Series race the following weekend, I approached this race as a hard tempo run. On a cool, drizzly, breezy morning, I was very pleasantly surprised to feel pretty strong, so I just went with the flow. I ran the first 5k in 18:47, and finished the race in 37:33 (easing up during the final mile to save something for the following week). My 6:03 pace was my fastest 10k in a few years, so I really could not complain. I just missed cracking the top 100 overall in this race, which to my understanding is one of the area's most-competitive events, coming home in 101st and ending up 8th in my age group. Nothing to brag about, but at least a fairly solid performance for my current state of fitness. 

May 5, 2012: Runnin' in the Ruff 10k trail race (see yesterday's post)

Next up:

May 12, 2012: New Prague Half-marathon, New Prague, MN. Back to the roads and back to the MDRA Grand Prix series. Fourth race weekend in a row, probably not too smart. I wish the organizers of these Grand Prix things would not load up on races in bunches, and I also wish that the distances did not vary so much ... but if wishes were dollars, we'd all be rich, right?

Confused at Confusion Corner

I've been racing frequently lately, probably too frequently to be honest. I admit that I'm a bit compulsive about racing - perhaps impulsive too. I enjoy exploring new places, running new courses, and trying to meet people. It's especially true this year, having relocated to the great north and (at least so far) not having really connected with the running community. I know it takes time, but I'm trying to add frequency to the mix in the hopes of making friends and potentially finding a team with which to train and race.

I've been aiming toward two Grand Prix series, one on the roads via MDRA, and the other on the trails via UMTR. What better way to meet folks than to make at least a little splash in my age division in both?  Each series will base its final standings on the "best x races out of y", so the early scoring is a bit hard to fathom. I've missed one race in each series already, so I'm behind in the standings on current total points, but a bit better on average points per race. It will all come out by the end of the year, of course.

My most-recent adventure took me about 70 miles north of the Twin Cities to Milaca, MN - home of the Runnin' in the Ruff 10k trail race. Touted as technical and muddy (hooray), it is the third race in the UMTR Trail Race Series for 2012.

I truly enjoyed the race. It had a classic small-town, small-budget vibe. People were generally friendly and enthused. The race director spent nearly 10 minutes going over both the two mile and 10k courses in painstaking detail, making many of us chuckle (how on earth would we remember all of that information?). My ears did perk up when he was discussing "Confusion Corner" - a spot on the course where a number of trails came to an intersection. However, he promised that there would be a person at that spot who could be trusted to make sure everyone headed in the right direction. I believed in that trust - and that was my first mistake.

After walking across a footbridge over the Rum River, we took up starting positions and hammered off at the sound of the gun, with 10kers heading one way and two milers another. Some young fella (or do they all look young to me now?) took off like a bat out of hell, and sprinted into the single-track with a substantial lead after only perhaps 400 meters. I was sitting 2nd, and probably running way too fast, but didn't want to get stuck in the narrow trails early in the race if I could avoid it. Another runner was right on my heels, and it was less than one mile in when I moved right to let him go by. Shortly thereafter, another runner pulled up behind me, and I let him go too. I was definitely gasping for air way too hard for this early in the race, so I decided to settle in and enjoy some mud, let the top three run away from me. Not to mention, I had a slight side-stitch, an indication of being tired (too much racing, this was my third weekend in a row).

I was able to keep third place in sight as we dove and wove the trails. Gaps would open up to about 50 meters at times, but when it got technical or flat, I would get back to only 10 meters behind. There was some mud, nothing too deep, and some water, just enough to make it fun. No stream crossings, too bad. by about 2.5 miles, I was starting to pull right up on the heels of third place on the downhills, but he'd pull away on the uphills, so he was clearly stronger than me. He did seem to be breathing pretty hard though, and I've long-employed this bit of race strategy: let 'em go a bit on the uphills, then glide down the other side to close the gap. This approach works in a number of ways, but the most important are: (1) the runner in front of you senses that you are dropping back on the uphills, which encourages him to push harder - thus using more of his energy - you are wearing him out by baiting him, (2) it's much easier to run downhill, so if you crest the top of the hill a bit fresher and think "quick feet, quick feet", you can make up 20-30 meters on a runner rather quickly, because he is likely to be easing off the gas a bit to recover from the climb, (3) it's a bit demoralizing for the runner in front, he's worked hard to drop you on a hill only to have you right back on his heels when the trail turns downhill. If you keep the pattern going for a couple of miles, it can really get in the head of that runner in front of you. Try it, see if it works for you. Oh, also recognize it when someone is trying it on you, so that it doesn't work on you.

At about 4 miles, I was feeling better (breathing deep finally relaxed the stitch), and I could tell that number 3 was laboring a bit, so I made a quick move - this time on an uphill/downhill combination. It only took about a minute to get a decent gap, and with the trails twisting and turning part of my goal was to get out of sight in order to discourage any chasing. I was actually feeling better than I had the entire race, and suddenly I could see 2nd place up ahead, and he looked a bit knackered. I had a shot at 2nd, if things went well. They didn't.

Next up: Confusion Corner

So, this is how it played out:
I came running up to Confusion Corner at full-on race pace. The main trails form a T intersection, so I could turn 90 degrees left or 90 degrees right. There was a tiny little gray sign in the ground, very hard to read, but I did see an arrow pointing right. The course marshall was standing to the left, so if I were to try a left turn, I would have had to dodge him a bit to do so. This gave me two visual cues to turn right, so I did. Then I hear:

Course Marshall: "Which race are you in?"

Me, still running away: "10k!"

Course Marshall: "mumble mumble"

Me (now 20 meters up the trail, slowing way down and glancing back over my shoulder): "What? Which way is 10k?!"

Course Marshall: "mumble mumble" and no hand gestures at all.

Me (now at full stop, turned around, palms turned skyward): "Which way is the 10k??"

Course Marshall: "mumble-mumble" something that sounded like "this" or "yes" and again no pointing motion, in fact he's sort of staring at his own shoes.

Me: (giving up, I turn back around and continue running hard on the trail I've taken. I assume if I'm heading the wrong way he'll start shouting at me - and he doesn't - so I assume I'm right on track and accelerate to try to catch 2nd place).

So, let's count: that's mistakes two, three, and possibly four all in the space of about 15 seconds.

At the next corner, the trail is marked with orange flags so I assume I'm on the right path. I keep hammering as hard as I can, still hoping to catch 2nd place. I head up a couple of steep hills, and eventually emerge from the woods onto a gravel road. I recognize the footbridge leading to the finish. I'm at the top of a hill, and I've got maybe 600 meters to go and there is nobody anywhere in sight. I think to myself, "That guy in 2nd must have really been flying the last mile, and buried me." Oh, well.

I kick it in home and cross the line, assuming I've gotten third place, and assuming I'm the first old geezer to finish. Because I had to leave almost immediately to head to a business lunch back in the Twin Cities, I started a slow cool down jog right away, heading back along the course. First thing I notice is that the runner who had been third is finishing very close behind me. Right behind him is Joe, the runner my wife and I had met back in February. I saw him at the start, and he assured me that I'd be way ahead of him. I figured he just had a great race, and cheered him in.

Then I looked up and saw runner after runner coming to that footbridge, but NOT from the same direction I'd come. Uh oh. I tracked down Joe, who said that I'd definitely blown it, I was supposed to turn left at Confusion Corner, and come in along the river. Clearly, I'd gone the wrong way at the aptly-named intersection. Argh!! I guess I followed the second half of the two mile course, by mistake.

Let me make one thing clear: I blame myself, at least mostly. I have very little sympathy for trail runners, myself included, who go off course and then whine about it. Take responsibility for your own actions, I say. In retrospect, as soon as I knew there was a "Confusion Corner", I should have taken it upon myself to memorize which way I would be turning. My fault, period. Of course, I also trusted the course marshall, and I do think that he should have been shouting and pointing for me, which would have saved me from my own foibles. He was probably the most low-key course marshall I've ever witnessed. Darn. But, like I said, I have only myself to truly blame for this one - that guy was a well-meaning volunteer and he may have actually told me TWICE that I was going the wrong way, I just didn't hear him or understand him. He probably thought I was an idiot! (and he's probably right).

Next year: Maybe I should make them a really big, bright, day-glo sign indicating that the 10k and 2 mile turn different directions at Confusion Corner.

As I said, I had to depart the race site to head back to Minneapolis right away, so I had no time to find out the final standings and whether I'd held third despite running a longer race than everyone else and having to go uphill and back down when everyone else just ran along the flats by the river. I feel pretty dumb, but I take some solace in that I ran a pretty good race even though I wasn't feeling great early on. I made a good strong move, and I was making up ground before I decided to add a bit more distance. Yeesh.

As far as going off course: I should have known better. I'm not a stumbling rookie here. Duh. Live and learn?  Hope so!

I'll post a link to results here when they are up (assuming they even will be, I can find absolutely nothing online yet).

In sum, I really enjoyed the race and hope to make it an annual event now that I'm a Minnesotan. I also hope I can stick around next year to get to know more runners, which is one of my main goals anyway.

Note: Nice blog post including some photos here:
http://shannonssummations.blogspot.com/2012/05/runnin-in-ruff.html
I actually took the shot of the three runners at the starting line - she handed me the camera and I obliged. Cheese!

Soundly Thrashed

Ran a race today, ran poorly. To mix in a boxing metaphor: I got knocked down and dragged out of the ring.

The race was the 2012 St. Pat's Human Race 8k, a road race in St. Paul, MN starting at the campus of the University of St. Thomas (which was very nice).

I'm a runner, so I can list excuses with the best of them. My complaints today:
1. After training in the cold weather all winter long, today's race was run in the burning sun at about 80F. Really, in mid-March? Truly awful.
2. I run at my best in the morning, this race started at 1:25pm. Ugh.
3. I am not doing any speed work of any kind, and I haven't run a race this short in several months.
4. I probably let it get into my head a bit too.

End result: I ran a terrible race, so much so that I feel embarrassed even writing about it. According to the results, I finished in 97th place (it felt more like 970th), and I managed only 9th in the 50-54 age group. Ouch. I ran slower and slower every mile, as the heat overwhelmed me. I know everyone is different, and a lot of folks love the sun and the warm weather. For me, I feel as if I can barely stay focused on the ground just in front of me. I can feel the heat radiating through me and out of me, and I sweat like a broken hose. I cross the finish line and feel woozy and nauseated. It's no fun.

My performance on the day was barely managing 6:08 pace for a 30:36 final chip time. I really stunk out there. Figuratively, and probably literally too!

Ah,well, even in my last post I was acknowledging that I am not really in tip top shape right now. Running today against some real competition, I got creamed. I can't say it wasn't fair. I got what I deserved.

Back to the drawing board.

History Repeats Itself?

I seem to be caught in some kind of eerie version of Groundhog Day. Ran a race this morning - we'll get to that later - and once again ended up in the results as 2nd place to some mystery guy who is 58 years old, and who totally kicked by proverbial butt. The difference this time: it was an out-and-back course, and I led the 10 mile race the entire way, so it was even more of a shock to see the results post-race and learn that I somehow came 2nd.

It was pretty obvious that it was some kind of error, to everyone who was standing around looking at the printout. First of all, this 58 year old was running what would be a world-class age group time, almost 5:00 pace for 10 miles. Heck, his time would have beaten my all-time personal best by over two minutes! Hmm.

To be honest, it was probably a bit of a bear to time this event, because they had a 10 mile, 10k, and 5k, race all out on the same roads at the same time, with finishers streaming in and no obvious way to know which race anyone was in. It's possible that the 58 year old was actually in the 10k and got mis-scored, or of course it's possible that he cut the course by turning around before the actual spot to do so. Anyway, as we mulled about chatting, they started the awards ceremony and sure enough, announced me as second place. I hate this experience: now I had to walk up to receive my award and applause, only to bring everything to a pause as I chatted with the organizer, "Um, I think there might be a little error in your results". I feel like I'm being selfish, but, you know, truth is truth. Luckily, the guy who actually got 2nd place came up too, to say so. Luckily for us, the jolly race director accepted our story immediately at face value and made the announcement for all to hear.

The Sweetheart 10 mile race was held in Mahtomedi, Minnesota, which to my recently-moved-here eyes looks to be a suburb of St. Paul. The course had some rolling hills, but the two notable details were the dirt roads (maybe 30% of the race, with no mention of this on the race website) and the 800 meters (or maybe more) of packed snow and ice out on the course (rather slippery!).

The turn-around spot was particularly slick, and I decided not to fall down (some others weren't so lucky) by simply slowing to a complete stop, turning 180 degrees around in place like a dancer in pirouette (I wish), and then resuming my running. Funny.

I'll be honest: there wasn't a lot of competition. I don't want that to sound insulting to anyone. I've said many times over the years: It's a race, and the other people were racing too, it's not like they all forfeited the victory. We all did our best. On this day, I managed to win. But if any young hot shots had shown up, I'd have been soundly thrashed.

Friendly folks, not a big race, but a nice event and a nice venue. I'd do it again. The results now up on the web seem to be corrected (thank you). I'm not sure if the course was exactly 10 miles, and I'm not sure why the time on my watch was about 51 seconds faster than the time they gave me ... but whatever.

The big question: when will this odd string of losses to phantom runners of 58 years of age ever end? It is some sort of odd curse?

Icy Trails and New Friends

This past Saturday, my wife Monika and I headed south of Minneapolis to meet up with a few fellow trail runners at Lebanon Hills Regional Park. Since our arrival in the great north-upper-midwest (or whatever you want to call this location), I've been digging around the internet looking for a group or team or some folks who we might connect with around off-road running. Finally, on meetup.com, I found a local group who might fit the bill. Organized by John, they were offering an introductory run at this park of about 7 miles, staying off of the ski trails. 

After working out some babysitting details so that we could both join in the fun, Monika and I found our way to the parking lot and met John, Joe, and John. Yes, it was a little confusing, but probably only to us. Nice guys, and primed to show off a park they loved to run. Admittedly, the unusually mild winter this year made this possible, as John #1 admitted that he'd much rather be on XC skis this time of year. Ah, well, to our advantage I guess.

After quick introductions and a bit of shivering in the brisk air, we headed downhill to the trails and immediately faced our first section of sheer ice. The light snow cover has been melting and re-freezing night after night for the past week or so, and back in the woods this made for some slippery going. It would be a theme all day, and we often ran along the very edges of the paths, seeking just a little traction in the remaining snow or even tip-toeing through the brambly underbrush on either side of the trail. I realize those who love to run on roads will never quite understand this, but there is a kind of primal joy in picking your way along a trail in this way. It's a combination of testing your agility, practicing careful balance, focusing your concentration, and just plain proving you are tough enough to do this that make the action more rewarding than yet another plodding slog around on cold asphalt. At least in my opinion. And well worth the little scratches on your ankles and the effort to pick the burrs off of your socks.

We must have hit just about every possible hiking-only trail in that park. Along the way, we heard about the Upper Midwest Trail Runners, enough to convince us to join soon. That group organizes three different Grand-Prix-style racing series, using area trail races. That's exactly the kind of connection we are looking for, and we hope to join them for as many races as we can over the coming months.

The run, despite the slipping and sliding and waiting for each other, seemed to go by very quickly.  Before we knew it, we were back in the parking lot, being handed chocolate chip cookies and basking in the after-glow of running in the woods. To my knowledge, no one fell down, although I think we all came close repeatedly. 

Unfortunately we had to bolt out of there to get back to our son and the babysitter, because it would have been fun to stay and chat. Maybe next time. I'll say this: nice guys, clearly loved the park we ran, full of facts and opinions about the place and area races, and obviously eager to have more of these kind of casual, let's-go-run-a-trail kind of mini-events. Count us in!

Patience is a virtue

I have plenty of stories to tell about dozens of races in which I tore out from the start, hell bent for leather, only to crumble well before the finish line. One would hope to learn from such experiences, but I suppose mistakes are part of being human - including repeated ones. In fact, prior to last weekend my most-recent race was the Surly Trail-Loppet Half-marathon in Wirth Park here in Minneapolis. It was a hot September day, I over-estimated my fitness and started too fast. By the final three miles, the heat and exhaustion had overwhelmed me - I was walking about half of the time, and being passed left and right. Finished in 24th, after having been top ten early in the race. Went home really embarrassed and disappointed. Only found out later in that week that I'd actually won my age group. I guess getting older can have a few benefits, because I ran a terrible race and sort of felt like I didn't deserve the age group win.

That might be an odd introductory paragraph for this post, because in this case - a trail race I completed last weekend - I was able to practice real patience and self-restraint, recognizing the distance and difficulty of the course and understanding that every step was included in the final result. And it paid off.

The race: It's called Surf the Murph, and it was actually three separate races rolled into one event: 50 miles, 50 kilometers, and 25 kilometers. The actual loop in Murphy-Hanrehan Park (Savage, MN) was 16.7 miles in length, so while three of those loops would hit 50 miles nearly exactly, you can do the math to see that the other races were more like 54 and 27 kilometers each. Well, that's trail racing. You want accuracy, go run on the roads or the track.

My current fitness ruled out the two longer races, so I entered the 27k. I arrived, after getting lost just once while driving in unfamiliar territory in the morning darkness, about an hour after the 50 mile racers had started, just in time to see the 54k racers take to the course. The 27k would be the final start, one hour later. It was brisk, about 30F with a clear sky but no real winds. Shivering in the bathroom line was a common denominator for all of us. Of course, if you know me you know I like to race in the cold, so this was good news for me.

Having never run in this park before, I didn't know quite what to expect. I'd been fore-warned by a couple of friends that there would be some sharp ups and downs, and the "Surf" in the title was an easy clue to the way the hills just kept coming, like ocean waves. I was determined NOT to repeat my fiasco at the Surly Trail-Loppet. No fast starts today.

As the starter sent us off, I tried to focus all of my attention on myself, how I felt, and ignore the runners around me - not always easy, this race taking place on Halloween weekend, and having several costumed competitors, including a sandal-wearing Neanderthal running just in front of me. Of course, it's still a race, so as we sloped down and around the first corner, I quickly tabulated thirteen bobbing heads on the trail ahead of me - putting me in 14th place.

The first 3 miles or so included some relentless ups and downs. None were more than maybe 100 feet, but they were steep and frequent. Running up is just guts, but running down is about form and efficiency. Downhills have never been my forte, but I stayed relaxed and tried to allow gravity to help.

Without trying at all, I slowly wove past three runners, and hit the first aid station just before 3 miles sitting in 11th place. I was happy with that, figuring that I was probably doing just fine in my age group, and knowing that I'd been holding back a lot - so hoping for a stronger run in the final miles of the race.

The second aid station was said to be at about 5.5 miles, and I'd moved to 9th place by then - again, not trying to run anyone down, just staying relaxed and doing my thing. I didn't have any more runners in sight ahead of me, so figured it was unlikely I'd catch anyone else on the day. At that point, I was averaging over 9 minutes per mile (I told you it was hilly - we did some walking on the uphills).

During the next 30 minutes, we began to catch the tail end of the 54k racers. This surprised me - they had a 1 hour head start, and I was about an hour into this loop. If I was running 9:00 miles, this meant that they had taken about 2 hours to "run" the first 7 miles of their race - something like 18:00 mile pace. Ouch. Those guys were in for a very long day. they still had 25 miles to go!

Things started getting more confusing after this. I was catching and passing people, but which race were they running? I tried to use logic: if I saw someone, then caught and passed them within a minute or less, I assumed they were in the 54k. If I saw someone, but had to run them down over a few minutes before going by, then they must be in my race. But what about the guy walking and stretching his hamstrings? And what about the three guys standing at the aid station at 12.4 miles - which race were they in? Hmm.

Making some assumptions (playing games in my head), I figured I could be anywhere from 5th place all the way up to 2nd, but there was no way to tell for sure. The final 4.3 miles to the finish flew by, and I had finally opened up the throttle and gone into full-on race mode, running as hard as I could to pass as many people as I could. I had to thrash through the underbrush a couple of times, as some 54kers - at least I THINK they were 54kers - refused to move to the side - sigh. To be honest, most of them were totally cool and polite and encouraging, it was just two dunderheads who refused to yield the trail to me, despite my asking politely more than once. Yeesh.

I pushed through to the finish, a very casual set up, with a table of friendly volunteers. No idea what place I'd garnered, I asked a volunteer, who said, "I don't know, second maybe? I think some guys are in already". All right, but what does that mean, and what if runners in the 54k had dropped out at the end of their first loop? Hard to tell.

I decided that it didn't really matter. I'd run a MUCH better race than last time, finished very strong, and felt like I could have gone another mile or two if I'd had to do so. I grabbed some snacks, made sure to thank the volunteers, congratulated the race director for a great event, then headed home.

Waited for several days for results to be posted, which was a bit frustrating. Finally, they were up, and I saw myself listed as 2nd place - okay, that was more-or-less what I expected. What I didn't expect was that the winner was a 58 year old from St. Paul. Fifty-eight?? Dude, I want to know what you have for breakfast! Beat me by 11 minutes too, stomped me. I was curious - this guy had to be an outstanding age-grouper around these parts - so I searched the internet for the name and race results. Nothing, except one of those Mud-Warrior events from last summer, showing a mid-pack finish. Wow, this 58 year old guy came out of nowhere and won a 27k trail race? Then I finally found some links to the name - and the right age - but it was related to some guy who lost almost 100 pounds using some special intense training regimen - didn't look like a runner. Hmm. Weird. Well, kudos to you buddy. Nice run.

The next day, just out of curiosity, I took another look at the results. Lo and behold, I was listed as first place! I guess it was a scoring error or something, but that other guy was now way down the standings, and there I was in first. Hey, I'm an old codger now, I don't WIN races! Or, do I? If I'm patient enough, run to my strengths, build momentum and come flying home in the last miles ... maybe I do!

I last won a race back in 2008, and I was convinced it would be the very last race I would ever win. I was wrong. To say I'm on cloud nine right now would probably be an understatement. Let me bask in this one just a little while, I'm sure I'll be shot back down to earth the next time I toe the line. But I'll enjoy this feeling while it lasts.

Do cats always land on their feet?

It's been MONTHS since I posted. And a busy-stressful-intense-changing few months at that.

In late June, a rug was pulled from beneath my feet, and my 14 year career came to an abrupt point of change. Like so many others in this stumbling economy, I was looking for work. Not an easy prospect.

In these situations, one can tumble headfirst and go splat, or one can be the proverbial cat, and land on one's feet. I suppose ultimately the choice is up to each of us. I'm not claiming any special powers or dexterity, just a doggedness. Can I claim that this attitude was developed over 30+ years of running, or is it a chicken-and-egg problem ... did my determination make me become and sustain myself as a runner? It's likely I'll never really know.

The deepest truth is that I have a supportive and helpful network of friends and colleagues who jumped into action at my call for assistance. If I was trying to be the cat - land on my feet - then I was a cat with many helping hands on my way down to the ground.

Those who helped - and I mean helped in so many different ways, from job leads to compassionate words and everything in between - have my eternal gratitude.

The end result? Well, I'll just say that I'm in a new city in a new time zone, and this morning I was running in the dark frosty pre-dawn, considering how lucky I am. New job (best one I've ever had, and for the best boss I've ever had), new house, new friends, new start, loving wife, great sons. I think it's safe to say I've landed on my feet.

Now I just need my feet to keep me running along. I've ambled past my 50th birthday, and now take aim at a new age group. Hmm, better get in shape again.

I will do my best to get back to posting more regularly. Have a 16.7 mile trail race coming up in just over a week, that should provide some grist for the mill. Good running to all.