Los Angeles Marathon

Last fall I figured out that running is the one sport that is easy to train for when you’re constantly on the road leading bike tours. So it wasn’t hard for Andrew Lockton to talk me into signing up for the LA Marathon. I actually had a good base of running fitness, and a few of my training buddies in Seattle were looking for a spring marathon. Fast-forward to March and while I missed a few weeks of training due to illness and work and travel and family stuff, I felt like I was reasonably well prepared for my first marathon.

The best part about this race was the large number of friends and acquaintances who were all targeting a similar pace. I had done most of my training with Ari Schorr and Tahoma Khalsa, and we all planned to start together and run together. Andrew Lockton would be running, too, but at a slower pace after breaking his toe in a motorcycle accident and missing 6-8 weeks way too close to the race. Cyrus from Denver and Justin from Seattle were also likely to be in the mix.

Pre-Race

The big pre-race highlight was our trip to the Goodwill store to buy warm-up clothes. We knew that the air temperature on race morning could be a bit chilly, and thought it would be fun to bring throw-away outfits rather than putting our clothes into our gear-check bags and claiming them post-race. Plus we weren’t sure how early we would have to line up in our assigned A corral, and how cold we might get between lining up and starting the race.

Ari found an excellent Macklemore-style long coat with a fur lining. I found a way-too-small pink puffy coat with a fur lining and some blue jeggings. It was $%#$ing awesome!

My spandex Bacon Suit and handlebar mustache were also awesome, and I got extra crowd support the whole way. Gotta try to find a photo…

Race

I wanted to go out conservatively and we over-achieved. I ran the first mile with Lockton, Tahoma, Cyrus and Jesse Williams’s friend Craig. We knew that Craig & Lockton were targeting a slower time, but figured we were still pretty close to 6:00-6:10 pace while Ari was running like an idiot, nearly 30 seconds ahead of us at the first mile mark. We hit the mile a few seconds after 6:30. Oops. Looks like I was the idiot.

But after that we split up a bit and Tahoma/Cyrus/I strung together 12 miles that were each between 5:55 and 6:10. We took turns leading. We reminded each other to eat and to drink and to relax. We talked about how our legs and stomachs felt. We steadily plugged away, mile after mile, and hit the half-marathon mark together, at a 1:19:xx split. At that point, Tahoma was feeling good and dropped the pace a bit. Cyrus and I stayed at 6:05s. Somewhere between mile 10 and mile 12 we saw Ari come out of a port-a-potty up ahead of us. He had been 2-3 minutes ahead of us, but was now back to 30-45 seconds ahead of us. I was hoping we would catch up and run together for awhile, but Ari was clearly “on a mission” after his pit stop, and took off at sub-6 pace for a few miles before settling in again.

Cyrus helped me open a bag of clif blocks around mile 14.5. My hands were a bit cold/useless so it was great to have some help. All in all, I was pretty good about eating throughout the race. I had 3-4 blocks before the start, then 1-2 in the first mile. I had a gel at mile 4 or 5, then maybe another at 9-ish. I was starting to feel tired at 14-15 and may have waited too long between snacks. Cyrus got a few steps ahead of me at the mile 15 water station and just sort of dangled out in front of me for the next three miles. I could still see Tahoma and Ari up the road, especially on the longer straightaways.

Mile 15 to 18 was probably the biggest “dark period” that I had all day. I’d been through plenty of these in triathlon racing, so even though I felt a bit physically drained I tried not to lose confidence. Sure enough, at mile 18 everything started turning my way. The sugar from those 5 blocks got into my bloodstream. (I had given Cyrus one block.) I decided that it was okay for things to hurt from there on it – I knew/expected the race to get hard eventually, but I had subconsciously been afraid of it feeling too hard too early. At mile 18, I was less than an hour from the finish, or I was a “daily easy run” distance away from the finish, so I could start to dig or press a little. I didn’t have to stay so conservative. The Bon Jovi song “Living on a Prayer” got stuck in my head. I reeled off two miles that felt like 5:40s even if they were really still in that 6-6:15 range. I caught and pulled away from Cyrus, and thought I might catch Tahoma and Ari. I hit mile 20 at 2:01:30 and calculated that I only needed to run a 38:30 split for the final 10K in order to break 2:40. A good bit slower than my average pace so far. Hooray!

But then things turned south again at 20. The route from mile 20 to mile 22 was deceptively uphill, and was a bit desolate crowd-wise as we twisted and turned our way through the VA hospital campus. I felt like I was really struggling, and running 7+ minutes per mile. Seeing my 6:30ish splits at mile 21 and mile 22 didn’t help my confidence much. But I knew that the course would start sloping downward for the final four miles, once we reached mile 22. I took a gel around 20.5 and in retrospect I probably should have taken one at 18 and another at 22.

At 22 I started to get my energy back but my legs were starting to get crampy. I tried to ingest a bit of extra water and gatorade at each aid station, but once you start feeling twitchy pre-cramps, you are on borrowed time. My calves seized up a few times in mid-air, leading to a really terrible-looking stride, but somehow I managed to maintain a 6:20ish pace. Tahoma was suffering, too, and I caught him around mile 24.

Tahoma fell back about half a mile later, as cramps & fatigue hobbled his stride. I was really waddling/shuffling at this point, to minimize the strain on my calves, and I must have looked like a wreck when I passed Jesse Williams and Danny Mackey on the sideline at mile 25. They yelled encouragement, and later said something about my “gutsy” performance. “Gutsy” is better than wimpy, but it means that you’re not looking smooth & relaxed & fast!

The last mile was touch-and-go with the leg cramps. A video of my final quarter mile would probably be quite entertaining. I was hobbling. But I crossed the line in 2:42:01, which feels like a respectable-if-not-phenomenal time for a guy with a rather expensive background in endurance sports.

Post-Race

I struggled to step on and off curbs for the rest of the day, and walking down stairs hurt for about a week.

Lockton and his girlfriend and I ate about $75 worth of sushi after the race, and it was a 50%-off happy hour!

Tahoma and Ari and I went out in Hollywood and in Santa Monica after the race, but nothing too crazy happened. It was St Patrick’s Day, but it was also a Sunday night.

I barely ran for 2.5 weeks to give my legs a chance to recover, and didn’t resume regular daily runs until April 19. I attempted my first workout on April 24 and it was downright ugly. But the fitness will come back!

No other races on my calendar yet. Will have to see how the bike tour schedule shapes up, and how much I am able to run during the tours. Another marathon or triathlon next spring could be a lot of fun. Boston has been floated around as an idea. A bunch of our training buddies are running Chicago in October first, which won’t work for me training-wise.

Puerto Viejo and Bocas del Toro

For the final post in my three-part series on the Costa Rica + Panama adventure, I am going to try to focus on what we did for the ~half the trip that we spent *not* riding our bikes, and hanging out in the beach towns of Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica and Bocas del Toro, Panama.

Highlights in Puerto Viejo included:

• Semana Santa – the sleepy beach town was absolutely *jammed* with people on Friday and Saturday nights, as we had arrived during Semana Santa, or Holy Week. This is the biggest holiday of the year, and while many Costa Ricans observe it respectfully with family and religion at the center, others head for the beach!
• Rocking Js – your archetypical Party Hostel. Cheap rooms, cheaper hammocks, even cheaper tents. An on-site bar with cheap drinks and a beer pong table and “all you can drink” specials, beachfront bonfire pits, crazy intricate mosaic tilework and lots of young spring-break-style travelers
• Pagalu – after one night at Rocking Js, we relocated to a more “adult” or quiet location. Of course we ran into two girls there that Tahoma knew from high school. Whaaaa?? Pagalu featured a pleasant, breezy common area and a shared kitchen, and I swear it was the cleanest hostel I have ever seen. The owners and their staff were constantly sweeping the floors or putting dishes away or removing old food from the fridge. The location was still quiet convenient – one block off the main drag and directly across the street from a grocery store. Many longer-term travelers seemed to use it as a base of operations. They don’t take reservations, so you may have to stay somewhere else your first night in town, then stop in to Pagalu in the morning and see if they have any vacancies. We got a private double room for $26/night – two dudes, one bed. Euro-style.
• Surfing – we aren’t very good surfers, but we were able to rent boards and drop them in the water

Highlights in Bocas del Toro included:

• Surfing off a remote island – we rented boards on Isla Caranero and paid a water taxi driver $15 to take us to Playa Primera, a.k.a. Wizard Beach, on the far side of Isla Bastimientos. There is no dock over there, so he just dropped us off in the ocean, out beyond the breakers. We jumped on our boards and paddled+surfed ashore to drop off our backpack. When it was time to go, another driver came to pick us up. We paddled out past the break to meet him, and climbed directly into his boat from the water.
• Awesome mountain biking – since we already had mountain bikes with us, we explored an ATV trail to its far end, splashing through plenty of mud puddles and creek crossings, and stopping at a few beautiful beaches and swimming holes. This was a rather wet day and I didn’t bring a camera, so no photos.
• Seeing a bunch of wildlife – most of the photos below were from our all-day boat trip
• A full-day boat trip for only $30/person – dolphin-watching, snorkeling, monkeys, sloths, starfish, a buy-your-own lunch stop and two hours of lounging/playing around on a deserted tropical island. But be careful, as you might end up…
• Saving a sinking ship – we spent about half an hour walking around the perimeter of one of the Cayos Zapatillos. At one point we saw our boat’s captain and first mate chatting up some German tourist girls, but thought nothing of it. When we got within sight of the boat, however, we saw that it was riding a bit low. And by “riding a bit low,” I mean sinking. Life jackets and water bottles floating away. Sinking. We ran over to the boat and helped a few other boat captains to bail it out. At first they accused us of neglecting our boat, but we clarified that we were only tourists/customers, and not the responsible party.
• Crazy bars with piers and water access – I wish I had some better photos to post. We went to three different bars that had wooden docks that enclosed swimming areas. One place even had swings that you could jump off of, into the water. This gives you visions of a crazy party where everybody ends up in the Caribbean Sea, no? We did jump in once, at the place with the swings. All in all the parties were a bit less wild-and-crazy than we expected, but to be fair we were there Monday/Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday nights
• A gringo cover band – a local gringo band called Cartoon Hamburger was playing their Last Show Ever on one of the nights that we were there. The entire local gringo/expat population showed up to watch and reminisce. Half a dozen folks had guest appearances on stage. Our favorite was the local bar owner who sang AC/DC’s “Big Balls” while wearing a black wig and a rather offensive T-shirt. Fun times.
• which leads us to a few examples of what happens if you stay “on the island” too long:
  • Some of the music fans were just drunken wastelands. A younger dude knocked over my beer and seemed utterly confused by the experience. A gal knocked over the large sandwich-board style sign that announced the nights entertainment, also while having no idea what was going on around her.
  • We met an Australian dude who couldn’t stop talking about cocaine. Every other sentence. C’mon, man…
  • Our hostel manager said that he planned to stay on the island for a few years to “build his resume.” We’re sure that many types of future employers look eagerly upon that line, “managed a youth hostel in a party town.” It turned out that he *owned* the hostel, so maybe he wasn’t completely nuts. :/ “Successful small business owner” sounds a bit stronger.
• Spelunking – During a long run, we stopped into a cave that they called La Gruta. For a buck each the caretaking couple lent us a headlamp and let us take a walk through.

On to some photo highlights…

dolphins! these guys swam right under our boat! just like the whale-watching tours in the San Juan Islands or Hawaii, the boat captains can’t drive up to the animals but if the animals choose to approach then the captain just cuts the motor and you sit and watch.

I also captured a few videos of the dolphins jumping around. This is probably the closest/best shot that I got:

dolphin gets its jump on, somewhere near Bocas del Toro

A three hour tour? A three hour tour?

starfish!

a monkey in a tree! we also saw sloths, but in the fading twilight I couldn’t get any good pictures

Most of your chances to see wildlife up close happen in captivity. These parrots had their wings clipped, so they hop up and down a ladder in order to get on/off of their favorite trees.

The main destination on this boat trip was the uninhabited Cayos Zapatillos – two small islands that consisted of nothing but white sand, a few trees, and sparkling blue Caribbean waters.

This post has been brought to you by Balboa beer – its intense flavor has been conquering taste buds since 1910. Or at least that is what they say on the can. Somehow this entire concept seemed offensive on some level…

Chito y Pocho

One unplanned and unexpected highlight of our Costa Rica + Panama trip was hanging out with this guy:

The remarkable story of Chito and his "best friend” Pocho started twenty years ago in Limon. Chito, a fisherman, found a 15-foot long crocodile that had been shot in the eye by a farmer and was slowly starving to death. He brought the emaciated reptile home to Siquerres and nursed it back to health. He dug a lagoon and a series of canals on his property for his new friend.

Things got weirder. Chito came to decide that the crocodile, who he had named “Pocho,” was his friend and that they could swim together in the lagoon. They swam together for years and Chito taught Pocho a few tricks. Ten years ago an employee saw the two of them swimming together and suggested that Chito organize a show for tourists. So he did just that.

Chito and Pocho travelled all over the world. You can see a map that tracks their journeys, as well as press clippings in a variety of languages. Sadly Pocho died of natural causes about two years ago, when his pond was struck by lightning!

The entire town of Siquerres turned out for the funeral, and Chito had Pocho taxidermized and his friend now “lives” in a glass display case on the property.

Tahoma and I stayed one night at El Centro Turistico de Chito y Pocho on the outskirts of Siquerres, and you can, too. They have a small hotel, a restaurant and bar, and a swimming pool. You will almost certainly run into the man himself, Mr Chito. For ten bucks a head he’ll take you on a tour of the property on his “banana boat,” pointing out the giant tortoises, monkeys and a variety of birds.

On to the photo highlights:

Riding the “Banana Boat” with Chito:

 

The canal looks pretty much like what you’d think of when you think “tropical jungle.” The plants grow incredibly quickly in this climate. We saw a bamboo grove that was at least 40-50 feet tall and Chito said it was only five years old!

This bird is called a night heron, and there were plenty of them nesting above Chito’s canal:

Chito’s place is a few miles outside of town. Anybody you ask in town can give you directions, and it is pretty hard to miss. But if you do miss it, you’ll quickly find yourself in the middle of a banana plantation:

I’m not sure that this is the right place. Are you sure that this is the right place?

Here is Chito’s wall of press clippings is in front of Pocho’s final resting place. It didn’t seem right to take a photo of Pocho himself, even though he was on display in the building behind this sign:

The cute hotel rooms rent for $50/night without A/C or $55/night with A/C. Our room had two single bunk beds and a double/queen, so three of four travelers could have easily shared it.

Chito has a few young crocodiles on the property and also a larger adult off-site that he says he is trying to train as a replacement for Pocho. It sounds unlikely that somebody could capture that magic *twice* and domesticate another crocodile, especially without the trauma that Pocho endured before Chito saved him. But you never know…

Speaking of replacements, Tahoma asked Chito whether he ever tried to train a replacement human for whenever Chito decides to retire. Chito told us that plenty of people have contacted him about wanting to get in the water with Pocho and to maybe learn, and had traveled to Chito’s place for this purpose, but he only remembers one guy who actually had the nerve to get in the water – a Chilean TV personality named Felipe Camiroaga. Everybody else who showed up, including the “Crocodile Hunter” Steve Irwin, was a combination of too frightened and too frightening to Pocho. But Chito said that Pocho liked Felipe and stayed calm enough to Felipe to get in the water.

You may have heard of Camiroaga two years ago when his small airplane crashed while delivering relief supplies to tsunami victims. Chito says it is uncanny that both Pocho and Camiroaga met their untimely end at the same time. Chito seemed quite fond of Camiroaga, and spoke very highly of him. “He was a good guy, and Pocho could tell.”

If you ever decide to visit the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica, you will almost certainly drive through the town of Siquerres. If you have your own car or are otherwise able to stop for an hour, go visit our buddy Chito. You won’t be disappointed. He said that if we ever come back to Siquerres that he wanted to take us out for beers. “All the ladies know me. I’m Chito!” Of course.