Arizona Archives

In Events January 28, 2018

The Good, The Bad, And Rock ‘n’ Roll Arizona

Disclosure: I was fortunate enough to be selected for the 2018 Rock ‘n’ Blog Team. Members of the Rock ‘n’ Blog Team receive free entry to up to ten Rock ‘n’ Roll races and one VIP, and other surprise perks. All of the opinions in this review are my own, there is no sponsored content. Per usual, I’ve got plenty to say on my own.

The times, they are a changin’, since Ironman bought Competitor Group and is now entering its first year solo as the owner and producer of the Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon Series. While some of the bigger changes were already phased in—such as the much-anticipated price increase for Tour Pass and the elimination of the unlimited Tour Pass option (bringing the cost per Tour Pass race to $70) and the transition of the Competitor staff who accepted offers to move to Tampa into their new Ironman roles—many were waiting for the first race of the year to see what the new series owner has in store for Rock ‘n’ Roll.

New Brooks hat and new goodr sunglasses on course at Rock ‘n’ Roll Arizona 2018

General Communication. Or lack thereof. The complaint I have heard most frequently is that it is currently impossible to get ahold of anyone at Rock ‘n’ Roll to fix problems. I’m not sure if none of the customer care people from Competitor wanted to move over to Ironman, or if Ironman was unprepared for the volume of email, but there are a lot of unhappy runners out there on social media. Currently the fastest way to get a response is to contact Rock ‘n’ Roll through their Facebook page, which seems really inefficient especially when many of the inquiries could be handled with the exact same response. (I’ll share it here: Yes, the Rock ‘n’ Roll team are aware that many people are still waiting on Heavy Medals they earned in 2017. Sources say there’s a meeting soon to get to the root of the problem and get medals in hands ASAP. If you’re missing a medal, hang in there!)

Personally, I’m disappointed the new team wasn’t proactive in communicating the cancellations of the Brooklyn and St. Louis races—basically people found out about it after they were removed from the website. This is a huge missed marketing opportunity for Ironman, especially since there are semi-credible rumors that new Rock ‘n’ Roll destinations are on the way. When Rock ‘n’ Roll and the Vancouver races parted ways, everyone who had run Vancouver got an email about the change. This was a great way to help set runner expectations—oh, the races are going forward, they just won’t be part of the Rock ‘n’ Roll series—without having to field a dozen email inquiries about what if you pre-registered, etc.

Pre-season general communications could also have been used to communicate some of the series-wide changes in advance of the races and prevent them from becoming fodder for Facebook page complaints, as well as to put a more positive spin on some of the unpopular changes. Unfortunately, it wasn’t from Ironman but from social media (or at the Expo!) that most people learned the marathon jackets have been discontinued, as have the physical Tour Pass credentials (and the Tour Pass priority check-out line for the Brooks/Rock ‘n’ Roll merchandise area), and the Tour Pass vanity bibs/back bibs.

Registration. Ironman decided to kill Competitor Group’s RaceIt registration system and use Active.com instead. From a financial standpoint, this probably makes the most sense for the company (and may have been contractually required—I don’t have any inside information, but I know a little about business and it is at least a possibility). While some runners have chafed at the increased fees and Tour Pass now has fees added to it, members of the Active Advantage program may wind up ahead…but still pay $40 in fees for the Tour Pass 10-pack. (Active Advantage is the premium subscription for Active. Members save up to $10 in fees per registration, among other perks. If you register for a race and the fees are $5, you don’t pay the $5. The Tour Pass 10-pack fees are about $50, so Advantage members pay $40.)

Confirmations. In years past, each participant got an email to print out a waiver. You’d go to the Rock ‘n’ Roll website, enter your full name and birth date, and (assuming you were registered!) a .pdf document would pop up, pre-populated with your name, address, bib number, and other details. This year I got my email, and went to the website to print the waiver. It only required my last name, and when I pulled up the confirmation page to print, it was blank—I had to hand-write all of the information in myself. While that last part is definitely a #firstworldproblem, I’m a little concerned about only needing my last name to pull up my bib number. If you don’t need to know anything else, it’s pretty easy to print up a confirmation sheet and pretend to be me. Sure, the volunteers at packet pickup are trained to look at each ID before issuing a bib, but the same is true at runDisney races and there are at least two known documented instances of bib theft at the Disneyland races.

Mugs sporting the finisher medal design.

Pre-Race Communications. I’ve run the Rock ‘n’ Roll Arizona marathon once, and the half marathon twice, in addition to a few rounds of the 5k (and that sweet remix medal). Though I opted out of the 5k this year—the December sale price was still a bit higher than I’m willing to pay for anything but a charity 5k—I had initially set my expectations based on my past experiences, all of which were good. (See my review for last year.) The pre-race email from Rock ‘n’ Roll completely changed my expectations. These all communicated that the new Rock ‘n’ Roll experience would be focused on the on-course experience: a band every mile, more food on course, new signage, and other enhancements to the actual race. I also got several emails about the all-new, improved series app with live runner tracking, which I downloaded immediately. Boarding the plane to Phoenix, I was excited to see what the new race experience would be like.

Expo: Entry. My race roommates and I basically went from our planes to the race expo at the convention center downtown. Arizona confuses me a little, as it seems like all the cites overlap each other and are smushed together, yet nothing seems to be near anything else. (If you’re headed to this race, I highly recommend being prepared to Uber and Lyft.) Anyway, we got to the expo safely and strolled right past the “look up my bib” stations because we were prepared. Walking into the expo, the first thing I noticed was the Hall of Fame banner, because it wasn’t there. I usually start my expo by taking selfies with my Hall of Fame friends who aren’t going to the race, so that was a bummer. I hope the Hall of Fame banner debuts at Rock ‘n’ Roll New Orleans.

One great addition: a station where you can scan your bib to check the timing chip and make sure your information is correct.

Expo: bibs, shirts, and Brooks. It was a quick few minutes and I had my bib in hand. The bibs are basically the same design as last year, with one major improvement: no more shoe timing tags. If you’ve run Rock ‘n’ Roll in the past, you know the routine: pull the plastic strip off of the bib, tear it in half, attach the correct half to a shoe by making a loop. No more. Finally the timing tag is ON the bib, so you don’t have to do anything about it, it’s there. Another improvement? The back of the bib has a pre-printed label with your emergency contact’s name and phone number. This is a great idea. The only complaint I heard is that you cannot fold the bib—which is large—without wrecking the timing chip. This isn’t a problem for me, since I’m tall and I generally put my bib on a race belt or use Race Dots. My shorter and smaller friends have less available real estate for the giant bib would love smaller bibs or a different timing tag. I’m confident that in a race or two they will craft a hack that takes care of this. Yay, bibs!

All of the 2018 shirts revealed so far feature this graphic with a very slight variation.

The shirts? That’s another story. While I didn’t immediately notice, I overheard several runners complaining about the shirt fabric; on further inspection, it does appear thicker, less soft, and less wicking than the shirts from last year. I don’t know if Ironman fired all of their graphic designers or what, but the shirt is pretty awful. This was an issue with Rock ‘n’ Roll shirts a few years ago—they were all poorly designed and a crazy percentage of them were grey–it was one of the major gripes of the season. For starters, the Arizona shirt is grey. The graphic appears to be the stock image for all of the series shirts this year—the rectangular-shaped object over the bottom that has the race name on it is the only variation. (For New Orleans, it is a street car.) In Arizona, this design would have looked better in colors of the state flag– red, blue, and yellow. I heard quite a few complaints about the shirts, which is unfortunate as it’s a huge missed opportunity for the race. From the race’s standpoint, the shirt functions as free advertising (as other people will see it, assuming the participants wear it), and it can also serve as a reminder to keep the race in the runner’s memory throughout the year (assuming they wear it) and perhaps plant the seed of running the race again the next year. Hopefully Ironman is listening to runner feedback, since that has always been one of the main reasons the Rock ‘n’ Roll series was beloved by repeat participants, and will make a mid-year course-correction.

In another random twist, the samples inside the gear check bag? A sleep aid and a laxative. Strange combo. (I tossed both. I wish there had been a “no thank you” box for them instead.)

My favorite of the Brooks shirts–great design!

The gear produced by Brooks, in contrast to the official race shirt, was adorable. Brooks had several great designs and colors. Since one of the two things I had forgotten to pack was a hat, I treated myself to a new one—turquoise/teal with embroidered race name on the side. Brooks also had the snazzy new Rock ‘n’ Roll design shoes, a tie-dye print that just made me happy looking at it. The Brooks area also featured an expanded line of Rock ‘n’ Roll race-specific merchandise, from pint glasses and coffee cups to a stuffed animal. The only bummer in this area is that the express lane for Tour Pass holders was gone, again making me think the Tour Pass may not be on the tour next year.

As you walk into the expo, crossing a timing mat with your bib returns a cheer!

Expo: main expo. Since I had forgotten to pack only two things—the aforementioned had and my sunglasses—my agenda at the expo was to get a hat and a pair of goodr sunglasses. (Sadly, I lost my favorite Maui Jim’s at Disney World, and Maui Jim wasn’t at the expo.) The Arizona expo was small compared to the expo at each of the prior Rock ‘n’ Roll Arizona races I attended. Curiously, there were several booths that had nothing to do with running or tourism in Arizona, which are the things I expect to see at a race expo. There was a booth doing some kind of hair extensions, for example. There were two or three booths selling anti-wrinkle creams which was a huge disappointment. I’m hoping this isn’t a trend—there were also aggressive anti-wrinkle cream peddlers at the IDEA World fitness convention in Las Vegas last year, but I attributed that to Las Vegas. I don’t go to a race expo to have some booth assault me with a “no more Botox” theme. Thanks, I don’t do Botox, I take good care of my skin, and wrinkles are a natural part of aging. Whatever. It was a weird expo, with many of the main race sponsors not there, and several of the regular exhibitors also absent. Overall, the expo was somewhat disappointing, but I assume this was a function of (1) the newly increased booth prices for exhibitors, and (2) the series’ new focus on the on-course experience.

The parts I liked best about the expo were seeing my friends and trying Tailwind for the first time. One of my friends is now a head honcho with the Spartan Race series expo booths, and we got to catch up. (Look for big things coming from Spartan this year—more races, more stadium sprints, more in-expo experiences.) A bunch of the Rock ‘n’ Roll regulars tend to eventually congregate in the Rock ‘n’ Roll booth to catch up, make plans, and take pictures. Finally, at the Hot Chocolate booth I also had a “hey! I follow you on Instagram!” moment, which is always fun. For me, the best part of running races is all the great runners, and I’m always thrilled to meet people in person who I’ve only seen online.

Tailwind, if you haven’t tried it, is AMAZING. I’ve been wanting to try it for quite awhile, but I hesitate to buy any running fuel that I haven’t taste-tested first. If you’ve tried enough running fuels, you know that not all of them agree with all digestive systems and that you really want to know if one is going to fight you before you buy a bunch of it. The Tailwind booth had four different flavors of fuel to taste, and two of their recovery drinks (which I skipped for now). Tailwind is a powder you mix with water, and it serves as both fuel and hydration. When mixed as directed it has a thin consistency like water, a very light flavor, and almost no color (Tailwind doesn’t have any artificial colors in it). To my great surprise, not only did I like all of the types of Tailwind I sampled, the orange (yes, orange!) was my favorite. Usually I’m a berry or fruit punch flavor type of runner, and I avoid orange popsicles, orange soda, orange drinks, and orange desserts. Tailwind orange is pretty delicious though. I bought a bag of orange (orange!) at the expo special price, and also some samples (single-serving size) of other flavors. In my mind, this was a major expo win—but more on Tailwind later.

Race Day Preparations and the Starting Line. My crew selected their hotel based on proximity to the finish line at the park. Turns out it was also quite close to the starting line for the half marathon. (The marathon has a smaller field, and a separate start.) The morning of the race I got dressed, mixed up a packet of Tailwind (which dissolved immediately, without extensive mixing/shaking, and without any gritty undissolved bits at all), and headed over to the starting line. Unfortunately, I relied on the app to tell me where the starting line was—and it was wrong. I learned this when I arrived at what I thought was the starting line, only to join about 20 other runners walking over to where the starting line actually was. Bummer.

This would be MUCH easier to read if the entire square had the number. I’m already in the corral area, it’s pretty easy to figure out what the number is.

The starting line did feature new corral markers, which were inflatables instead of cardboard signs. While they were easy to spot, they were difficult to read. The markers are thick material like a bounce house, and they wasted spaced with “corral” and the number sign. To my over-40 eyes, they were actually harder to read from far away than the old sign-on-a-stick (I ended up in the wrong corral initially).

On the bright side, the starting line had pumping music and a ton of energy. We all missed Ann, the usual Rock ‘n’ Roll announcer, who is sidelined with an injury for the time being. The stand-in did a great job of keeping the crowd pumped up though, and there was a lot of fun and fanfare.

The On-Course Experience. Had I stuck to my expectations based on my prior experience running this race, they would all have been met. But as I mentioned earlier, I had received a bunch of email hyping the new focus on the experience during the race and so I was excited to check out the new race experience, so I was looking out for the specific items mentioned in the email.

One of the things mentioned in the emails was new signs at the corrals and on the course. The signs on the course were color-coded aid station signs that let runners know what would be offered at the aid station. I definitely appreciated that I could see the signs before I got to the aid station. At the same time, signs are a depreciable asset and need to be replaced every now and then; while I liked the new signs, I see them as more of an ordinary business expense and less of an enhancement for the runners.
Food on course. Half marathoners did not get food on the course. (I believe the marathon runners were offered bananas on the course.) Based on the emails, I thought there would be some actual food at the half marathon aid stations.
Note the lack of gel at the gel station

Gel stations. In past years, the half marathon course had one aid station with gel; last year the official gel was Glukos, and prior to that it was Gu. This year, Science in Sport (SiS) is the official gel. Some people love it, others don’t. Since I was experimenting with Tailwind, I didn’t eat gel on the course. It’s good that I wasn’t relying on it, as the pre-race emails all promised me two gel stations on course, but there was NO gel at the first gel aid station. I saw the signs, and they were followed by an empty table and empty boxes. This is a course with a 4-hour time limit. I finished well in advance of the time limit, and was nowhere near the end of the pack. I’m disappointed there wasn’t enough gel for the slower runners at the aid station.
Bands Every Mile. The pre-race emails also promised a band every mile. For the first 8 miles, the race delivered: a band every mile! Then the bands dropped off. There is an out-and-back portion of the course (which really needs a timing mat—it’s a known cheat-point as I documented last year) which I get would have been difficult to band-up, but there weren’t any bands for the last several miles. (There was a DJ station, but the DJ left before the course closed.) I’m not sure I need a band every mile, but if you promise me a band every mile and don’t deliver, that’s not good.
“On Course Activations.” The pre-race emails promised more of these. When I read them, I thought “wow, this is a badly-worded email” because “activation” is a jargony-PR term that basically means something interactive with a brand. (So, for example, the opportunity to take a test-drive in a Toyota at the expo is an activation.) Historically, the on-course activations have been things like the inspiration zone with encouraging quotes put up by Alaska Airlines in Seattle. The only one I noticed at this race was the Toyota zone DJ.

Overall, I had a good experience on the course. Post-Dopey I was walking, and I didn’t stop at Bosa Donuts this year, but the weather was gorgeous and the course has some scenic spots. I figured this out around mile 11, when I was thinking I’d never run this race again but then realized it was because the race wasn’t meeting my expectations—ALL expectations set up by the pre-race emails.

Tailwind. Side note, remember how I tried Tailwind at the expo? I mixed some up for the race and carried it with me. Instead of taking Powerade during the race, I sipped on Tailwind throughout the course. (I did take a few cups of water at some of the aid stations, but no extra fuel.) I only carried one bottle (size: Camelbak podium, Nuun bottle) and it lasted the entire course. I never got sick of the taste, which is very light. My tummy stayed happy the entire time, and even after the race I wasn’t starving and ready to hoover all of the foods. I’m so excited to have found Tailwind! If you haven’t tried it, you really should!

Finish line. The finish line was just like it has always been, with some adjustments to the post-race snacks. I grabbed a bottle of water and a post-race chocolate milk as I usually do (though Gatorade was also available). I took a banana. Snacks consisted of a granola bar (the plain hard granola kind), pretzels, and Pringles. Personally, I really miss when the granola bar was a Power Bar (the thicker ones with the cake-like consistency); everyone who knows anything about sports nutrition knows you’re supposed to put some protein in the tank within the first 30 minutes after an endurance event. (This made me extra thankful for the chocolate milk!) I also miss the Del Monte fruit cups, though they were logistically a bit of a pain.

Finisher Festival. Rock ‘n’ Roll Arizona has one of the best finisher festivals of the series! We had a great band, per usual, and a series of food trucks from the Maine lobster guys who were on Shark Tank to a truck that served really great pretzels shaped like giant moustaches. It’s a great atmosphere, and a ton of people come to watch the band. We had great weather, though it was very, very sunny. Normal for Arizona, but kind of brutal after running a race.

Bling. The medal is cute, and features a cactus and bright colors. Unlike the generic design for the race shirts, the race medals this year are more race-themed, though to date every medal revealed is a guitar-pick shape with brightly-colored and cartoony artwork. The ribbon is a wide, satin-y ribbon with a colorful design and the race information, and I expect these will continue to be the standard (especially after the strong runner feedback several years back requesting them).

Marathon Zone. As I mentioned, I didn’t run the marathon this year (though the year I did run the marathon, I would have loved to have a marathon zone!). The Marathon Zone was one of several special perks just for marathoners. This was part of the focus on the race experience (and, I assume, added to assuage the hurt feelings of the marathoners who signed up to run Arizona last January and thought they were getting a marathon finisher jacket). Other marathon specials were the bananas on the course, and a red carpet (literally) at the finish line. Back to the Marathon Zone, which was a separate area for marathoners only. Inside there was a separate spread of food, including pizzas and Snickers bars, and a massage tent with free massages.

While the theory was nice, the concept was poorly executed. For one, there was no shade at all in the Marathon Zone, other than the massage tent. As I mentioned earlier, the mid-day finish meant straight-on Arizona sun for the finish. The Snickers bars melted completely (I saw examples). There were zero marathoners sitting on the chairs out in the full-sun. In contrast, the VIP area had umbrellas over at least some of the tables. For two, the Marathon Zone was far from the stage so it wasn’t possible to watch the headliner concert and enjoy the pizza and massages—you had to leave the area to watch the concert. In contrast, the VIP area was within the sight-lines of the stage. Finally, the entire marathon zone was shut down before the marathon course was finished. In other words, even if you finished the race within the time limits, you might not get to enjoy the amenities because they had already been disassembled. (This is the case for some friends of mine.) If you are going to have special amenities for the marathoners, they should be available to ALL marathoners who finish within the course time limits. (Instead, random people were handed entire pizzas as they shut down the Marathon Zone, while my marathoner friends arrived to find an empty field.)

Ultimately, I’d run this race again–and recommend it to you, too. Next time, I won’t let the pre-race hype emails set up my expectations though. It’s still early in the season, and there was a post-race survey that I’m sure plenty of runners filled out, so I’m sure the proud new owners of Rock ‘n’ Roll have plenty of information. I hope they choose to carry on the Rock ‘n’ Roll legacy of responsiveness to runner feedback–and maybe tone down the promises in the pre-race emails.

I Kahnt believe I met Melissa of Run, Heifer, Run!

Did you run Rock ‘n’ Roll Arizona this year? How was the marathon? The 5k? The mile? Will I see you at any of the other races I’m planning to run this year?

Where else will I rock 2018?

San Francisco
San Jose
Seattle
Los Angeles
Chicago
San Dieg0
San Antonio
Las Vegas
Denver? New Orleans? Hm…

In Events January 28, 2017

Red Rocks and Donuts in the Desert

Note: For the 2015 and 2016 Rock ‘n’ Roll series, I have been honored to be part of the Rock ‘n’ Blog team. The 2017 Rock ‘n’ Blog team applications have not yet opened, so I haven’t a clue if they will decide to keep me on. In the meanwhile, I bought a TourPass so I could start to rock my way in the direction of Hall of Fame (15 Rock ‘n’ Roll half marathons or marathons in a single year). Fingers crossed!

It started off quite innocently. At the Rock ‘n’ Roll Dallas half marathon in 2015 I suddenly had a desperate hankering for coffee. Coffee isn’t a standard offering at any race’s aid stations. As I wrote in my race recap, “Around mile 9 I really, really wanted coffee. I’d had my electrolytes, downed my EnergyBits, and my body (even Ouch) seemed to be demanding some caffeination. For the next mile or so, all of the potential coffee-acquisition opportunities were on the other side of the road, across traffic. Cruel world! Then I saw it: Oak Lawn Coffee.”

Seriously, Oak Lawn Coffee MADE MY RACE that year (and not just because they let me use the bathroom too). I was so happy to have a cup of very yummy coffee in my hands that I finished the race with a huge grin on my face…and made a similar coffee stop at Rock ‘n’ Roll San Francisco that year. Then I posed at the finish line with the Nestle Quik bunny because a mocha is basically chocolate milk, right? #buildit

(It’s good I’m not a triathlete, as I’m sure this counts as “outside aid” which is strictly prohibited by the triathlon over-see-ing group.)

It continued into the zone of silliness at Rock ‘n’ Roll San Jose 2016, where I was really, really hungry by the time I came around the corner to see Five Guys. (Pro tip: don’t order a large fries. For starters, the large is really, really large.) Not only was I laughing that I was walking the last mile or so of the race with a big ol’ french fries in hand, a lot of the spectators and other runners were laughing too. I laughed my way all the way to the finish line. As an adult, I think the ability to amuse yourself is seriously underrated.

Since this is a post about Arizona, here’s a picture of a succulent

Since I don’t run for time, a PR, or to podium in any way, I take full advantage of ways to make the race more fun. That’s why I do races–they are fun. When people ask me what my pace is, I literally tell them, “stop and pet the cute puppies.” If they ask again, I tell them, “approximately three puppies per hour.” (Having fun is serious business, after all.) I stop to take ridiculous selfies, just because I can. I run to the edge of the road and high-five the kids.

(Enjoying this? Why not click to tweet so your friends can read it too?) Red Rocks and Donuts in the Desert: @TrainWithBain does Rock 'n' Roll Arizona 2017 #RnRAZClick To Tweet

A huge part of why I like races is getting to meet new friends

Let me pause for a minute here, and explain WHY I do this. No, it’s not just to annoy the snooty fast runners who dislike that I’m not “racing.” (They seem to forget that the fact that I–and thousands of people just like me–do dozens of races a year, seriously driving up the demand for running events, and as a result there are more races for the fast people to win. Fortunately, most of the runners I’ve met are awesome and are not whining about how “back in the day” we all would have been swept and not given a tee-short.) Sure, in part it is because I can–and the fact that I can amuses me to no end–but there’s a deeper reason: I am a bona-fide Type-A, overachiever list-maker, to-do doer, check-off-the-things person. It serves me well at work (and sometimes when I’m cleaning house), but I know if I applied my natural tendencies to running I would quickly sap every last ounce of joy from running, and instead of relieving stress running would cause more stress. So I have forbidden myself to get “serious” about running. Running is for fun only. Of course, your mileage may vary–and I do admire those of you who focus on that BQ or PR or other abbreviations.

A slightly blurry pre-5k shot of me and Jackie and flat-Jackie

Back to Rock ‘n’ Roll Arizona, since this is supposed to be a race recap. I had flown in late on Friday, so had to pick up my bib at the last minute (aka right before the race). A flock of volunteers were on hand to assist with this process, there were no lines (did I mention we got there a bit late?), and I was quickly off to the starting line with my friend Jackie, aka my adventure running roommate. Jackie had to head to work shortly after the 5k, so she didn’t run. Of course technically neither did I, as I’d made a deliberate decision to stroll the 5k course and save some juice for the half marathon (remember, I did the Dopey Challenge the week before).

The 5k had a pretty good turnout of runners and walkers of all shapes, ages, heights, intentions, and experience levels. The weather cooperated, and I enjoyed looking at the desert in “winter.” Compared to the half marathon though, it was a much smaller race. For Rock ‘n’ Roll Arizona, all of the races finish in the same location.

Question, readers: if you voluntarily, randomly decided to cut two miles from a half marathon by just skipping them, would you still take the medal at the finish line? Would you wear the race shirt? Would you tell people “I did a half marathon” when you only did 11ish miles?

On Sunday, the half and the marathon start in two different locations, but merge just before the very end. The morning of the half it was a little chilly and threatening to rain, but I managed to stay dry. This was my first time doing this course–previously I did the full–and I really enjoyed it. Jackie and I were in separate corrals, so I don’t have any running pictures with her. I do, however, have this picture she took of several people who decided they didn’t want to go up the hill to the turnaround (and it wasn’t even a big hill–and the views from the top were gorgeous–and Jackie asked what they were doing because, of course, maybe they were injured or something, but no, they told her they didn’t want to walk up up the hill); as a result, they cut about two miles off from the course. On the road, as in life, cheaters gonna cheat, and some people are just not willing to put in the effort to actually do the job.

I will always do my best to finish the race I set out to run, until I finish, or am yanked from the course involuntarily. (If you find me face down on the pavement, be a dear and pause my watch, ok?) But that’s because I actually like races. Oh, but this is supposed to be a story about coffee and french fries or something.

Last fall several skirt companies put out skirts with donuts on them. Donuts are something of a running joke–like a joke among many groups of runners–and I’ve been known to say #runalltheraces then #eatallthefoods so naturally I needed a donut skirt. (In case you want one too, head to Chase This Skirt on Etsy. Go like ’em on Facebook, too.) This has led to many donut-photo shenanigans because, you know, donuts after a race always seem like a good idea.

Have you every stopped for a snack during a half marathon? Would you? @TrainWithBain has and would!Click To Tweet

Post-race epic donut selfie with @crantina

If donuts after the race are a good idea–and extensive research has definitely confirmed they are–what about donuts during a race? Crazy, right?

That’s what I thought, as I was running down the road in Arizona, when I saw a donut shop right across the street. It was just sitting there, begging for me to befriend it. The open sign was on. I could imagine the scent of tasty donuts. After debating whether I should cross the street and grab a snack for about five minutes (good thing I’m slow, right?) when suddenly there was a very long break in the traffic. No cars driving by, and no cars about to drive by for miles. Decision made.

I looked both ways–even though this was effectively a one-way street now (thanks, Mom)–and dashed across to Bosa Donuts. About the time I hit the front door a guy and the kid with him arrived at the door. He looked at me, decked out in race garb; he saw the bib, and gave me a quizzical look as he opened the door for me. “Life is short,” I said. “Choose joy! Eat donuts!” Bosa smelled like heaven should smell, and there was no line at the counter. As I politely asked for (runner brain kicked in, what is that thing called, the one there?) “one chocolate coconut donut, please” the guy and the kid arrived at the counter. “I’m buying,” he said to the lady behind the counter, and then turned to me, “get whatever you need.” I smiled and laughed, and explained that I only “needed” one donut. The lady behind the counter handed it to me in a bag.

I knew what I had to do:

As I took (much smaller than shown) bites and headed to the door, I noticed the puzzled looks from the folks sitting at the table eating their donuts. “Life is short,” I said. “Choose joy!” as I dashed out the door…and again looked both ways before I crossed the street.

Other runners were totally jealous of my donut (note for next time, I should get some to share) as it never occurred to them to get their own. Poor runners. I spent the next few miles laughing my butt off about my mid-race donut selfie, complete with actual donut. I couldn’t stop grinning. (Again with how underrated the ability to amuse yourself is.)

This is why I run, kids. JOY!

In Events February 13, 2016

This Girl Is On Fire! (or at least her lungs are) The Sedona Marathon

Disclosure: I received a free entry to the Sedona Marathon because I am a BibRave Pro. (Per usual, all opinions are my own–you should know by now I don’t need any help with that, I’ve got plenty of ’em!) Learn more about becoming a BibRave Pro here. Read and write race reviews at BibRave.com! It’s a great way to choose between conflicting races, to help runners find the best races, and the help race directors improve each year.

The Sedona Marathon taught me this: if you live on an island that is 6’ above sea level, running a marathon at 4500+’ just might not be the best idea.

I worked Friday, and missed the expo. Sedona offered race-day pickup with almost no lines, so it took about five minutes to get my bib. My friend Jackie had come along to be my race crew, so I put what would have been my checked bag, as well as my race shirt, in her Jeep. (The shirt is great—a royal blue Greenlayer brand tech shirt—a classic run shirt design with a line drawing of the scenery, sunrise, and some runners. During the pre-race, there were also various vendors of running gear, natural foods, and Sedona-themed merchandise. Race staff announced interesting facts about the race, including that there were 47 states represented (note to South Dakota: time to represent!) and 80 runners from Japan!

After posing for a quick selfie with Emily (running the 10k), I hopped into the corral for the final announcements, a few dynamic movement warmups, and the national anthem. (Does anyone else want to yell “Play Ball!” at the end?) Then we were off!

BibRave Pro Emily pre-race (thanks to Emily for the pic!)

I spent the week before the race waffling about whether to drop back to the half marathon. This was in large part due to my late realization at the elevation of the race (hey, I’d never been to Sedona!) and the fact that a hectic work schedule to got in the way of training. After weighing the merits of both options, and of course taking a poll on facebook, I decided to stick to the marathon. First, I’d accepted a bib to the race on the premise that I’d run the marathon. Second, I’ve only ever technically DNF’d one other race (The New Year’s Double marathon on New Year’s Day) and I still finished, which is more important to me than pretty much anything else. Finally, I figured if I got swept it would just give me more to blog about, right?

So I took off with the marathon start, with very good intentions and the knowledge that I was probably about to get my butt handed to me. The first little piece was downhill and I tried to pace myself. I once ran the fastest mile of my life at the beginning of a race—caught up in the excitement!—and regretted it about eight miles later. The course turned a few times, spent a block on the main road through Sedona, and then turned towards the hills. Uphill, naturally.

The starting line (see the lady dressed like a cactus)

I am not a fan of running uphill. I am REALLY not a fan of running uphill at elevation. It quickly became apparent that sticking to a 1 minute run/1 minute walk interval was not happening, so I adjusted to a terrain-based interval: run downhill, walk uphill, do intervals on the flat pieces. By the first aid station, I was almost the last marathoner.

We passed the 10k turnaround, and I wondered if Emily wasn’t the smartest person I knew running this race. The half marathon runners caught up with me around mile 3 or 4 or so and I got another burst of energy from being in a crowd again. Jeremy came up from behind me, and then snapped an epic selfie.

Faux-to Bomb! (thanks to Jeremy for the pic)

Despite my newly-made terrain-based plan, my lungs were really unhappy with me. My legs were fresh and eager to run, but my lungs were on fire. I shortened my flat intervals from 1/1 to “until my lungs start to smokle”/the remainder of that 1 + 1. I attempted to distract my lungs by looking at the gorgeous scene unfolding before me. Scenically, you could not ask for a prettier desert-mountain course. The “urban” portion was less than a mile of the course, and even then it was set against the majestic backdrop that is Sedona. I’d never been to Sedona before, so I spent a lot of time gawking at the red and white striations in the rock formations. The greenery was pretty much all foreign-to-me desert-y stuff, so also fun to look at.

As I approached the half marathon turnaround, I looked for Jackie. The plan had been for her to camp out near that aid station. I didn’t see her, which turned out to be a good thing—I had planned to shed my long-sleeved base later at that point (the sun had come out and unlike the Arizona natives I was no longer cold). Later on as the chilly breezes came through I was glad to have the sleeves!

At half marathon turnaround the course shifted from paved to dirt roads. The paved section was the nicest pot-hole-free blacktop I’ve run on in quite some time. The dirt road entrance was flanked by U.S. Park Service (or was it U.S. Forest Service?) signs warning “primitive road” that is “not regularly maintained.” They totally overstated it—I’ve run on paved roads in California that aren’t as nice. The road was open to traffic, and multiple ATVs, Jeeps, and other vehicles passed while I was running. (Jeep tours are A Thing in Sedona.) For the most part this was no big deal, as most drivers were courteous and went rather slow. I was glad I had a Buff with me, as I used it over my nose/mouth when drivers kicked up a little too much dust.

The crowd had thinned out completely by mile 7. I had two runners in sight ahead of me, and one close behind. As I ran-walked-woggled I heard the sound of ice cracking where the sun hit the frozen water drainage at the side of the road. Sedona rocked my concept of Arizona; first it was “cold” (the Arizona runners all had on winter gear!), and then I saw cactus surrounded by snow!

As I passed the spotter at mile 8, I overheard his radio: the lead marathoner had just passed mile 17! We exchanged pleasantries and he clapped and said, “I’m proud of you!” as I passed. That reminded me of Mom, and I powered on to the next aid station. The aid stations were the best! All of them were staffed by themed-groups, including “run from the zombies” and a group with big flowers on their heads.

The majority of the marathoners passed me on their way back as I hit miles 10 and 11. Everyone with breath to spare told me to keep it up and encouraged me onward. One of the last inbound marathoners passed me at mile 12.5—in a particularly hilly section of the course—and I’d bet she was old enough to be my grandmother. Inspired, I ran down the hill to the marathon turnaround and did a funny little dance as I went around the cone. There was a runner there awaiting transport back to the start, which I wished I’d noticed before I danced around the cone. Then it was back uphill towards the start.

A few miles in, I found Jackie! Or rather she found me. If you’re running a marathon and suspect you’re doing to DNF or otherwise come in close to the end, I cannot recommend this highly enough: bring a chaser! First, it was great to see a friend encouraging you on. Second, Jackie had gone absolutely nuts and brought enough snacks, drinks, and treats for pretty much the entire field of runners. She said the Japanese runners were confused by red vines (I guess those don’t exist there) and she had to explain that they were food. “Sugar?” one asked. Anyway, from that point forward, Jackie met me every mile or two. In addition to providing moral support, she also refilled my water bottles, mixed Nuun for me, and had every snack imaginable on hand. While I had put snacks in my Orange Mud vest, knowing I’d be out on the course all day, the Honey Stinger gingerbread waffle was the perfect treat when she offered.

"sedrona"? Completely blue skies made for good photo drone weather at the start — “sedrona”? Completely blue skies made for good photo drone weather at the start

By that time there were only two runners behind me. The famous Pink Jeeps that I’d recently seen on an episode of the Food Network’s “The Great Food Truck Race” drove up and down the course checking on us back-of-the-packers. At several points the Pink Jeep crew or their leader pulled up and offered me bottled water or Clif Shots. Around mile 22 or so, the crew leader tol me the crew was starting to close down the course. I said if course policy was to sag-wagon/sweep the last runners, I would completely understand, but I did have my own race crew to watch over me (and sweep me if necessary) and would prefer to finish. The Pink Jeep crew leader obtained the “a-okay” to carry on, once all were assured that I knew what I was doing and would be safe. The U-Hauls taking down the course also offered me water and provisions. Part of their job was also to sweep any trash that had landed on the side of the road. (Aid stations had garbage bags, but some runners forgot that when running through a National Park, you don’t drop your snack wrappers on the ground.) I let them know I had talked to the Pink Jeep crew leader and that I had my own crew, and was going to carry on.

Which I did, meeting Jackie every mile or so for more water, Nuun, and at times a snack. My pace was somewhat erratic, with little bursts of run until my lungs got fiery again. The Pink Jeep leader vacillated between thinking I’d hit the finish line before it closed at 4:00 and assuming I wouldn’t. At mile 24 I must have been looking somewhat pathetic. Jackie asked, “do you want to go another mile?” I said OH HELL NO, I’m going to finish this race.

The last 1/4 of the course returned to pavement

Less than a mile before the finish line, I hit the intersection of the highway that is the main road through town. I sent Jackie a text to try to figure out whether to turn right or go straight and then realized that DUH I had the course map on my phone. As I turned, a woman in a Sedona Marathon shirt came running up. “Finish line is this way!” Sadly, I have forgotten her name, but she is definitely The Spirit of Running embodied. Having finished the half marathon, she had showered, changed clothes, and come back to first cheer, and then help the last marathoners find their way to the finish line! As we walked/ran small spurts toward the finish line I learned that she had flown in earlier in the week (a smart thing to do, as it gave her time to adjust to the elevation). Jackie met us a few hundred feet from the finish line.

Just before the finish line there is a little hill, and most runners take off from the top and run to the finish. I gave it a shot, my legs willingly and my lungs grudgingly, and crossed under the finish line truss as the race director and his crew were removing the signage. Everyone cheered, which was pretty cool. Even though the timing mat was gone—as were all the non-race-personnel, the finish line festival, and pretty much any other trace of evidence that a race had happened—The Spirit of Running made sure to present me with a finisher’s medal and some cookies.

Post-race margarita and hard-earned bling

As I pointed out in my BibRave.com review, in addition to having no reason to complain, I have extra reasons to be thrilled with race management. First, after assuring themselves that I would be safe, they allowed me to finish even after the course officially closed. Second, as I turned the last corner off the main out-and-back portion, The Spirit of Running made sure I found my way and got me to the finish line. While I didn’t get an official time (the timing system was shut down after 7 hours, well beyond the 6.5 hour limit advertised) I was presented with a medal and allowed to raid the snacks. Finally, the race staff taking down the finish line and packing things up thanked me for coming out to run the race and were sincerely interested in what I thought of the race. It felt like pretty amazing hospitality for one of the very slowest runners out there.