Team Geiger

A search of the last name "Geiger" yields 2 entries in the 2006 Portland marathon

It was my first marathon and I was feeling my way along.  Nothing was familiar, not the least of which was the distance.  At some point, I knew, I would be running the farthest I had ever run in my life.  Every step was into the unknown-- about how my body would deal,  but each was also a push into the realm of what was possible. 

I thought I had a pretty simple plan for getting to and from the race.  Lynda would get up early with me and drop me off near the race start, go back home to the boys and then after the race they would all meet me at the finish line and we would go home together.  Pretty straight forward.  

The race went well for a first marathon.  I fought through the typical cramps near the end but otherwise did fine.  I was just sticking my toe in the water of long distance running and just like almost everybody trying this distance for the first time, finishing was my number one goal.  

But something unexpected happened on the back side of the course out near mile 20.    At this spot in the course the organizers had placed a timing mat and the width of the road was narrowed from two lanes to less than one.  Families used this "pinch point" to look for their loved ones running in the race.  I could see this up ahead for awhile and noticed a whole group of people sitting along the curb, waiting just before the narrowing.  

And then something happened-they saw me and suddenly all stood up!  As I got closer they started started cheering me on.  A little closer and some of the group, there must have been 10 or 12 of them, picked up small cardboard signs and held them over their heads.  All of them were clad in the same red colored T-shirt with black block letters across the chest.  And the closer I got the encouragement got louder and more animated.  

Soon I got close enough that I could read the signs they waved above with outstretched arms.  And I was shocked.  "TEAM GEIGER" the signs boasted and this was wonderful!  My last name is Geiger!  And the shirts, all 10 or 12 bright red shirts, they said TEAM GEIGER too!  Everyone was wearing the same little uniform to show their support.  Wow!  I knew running a marathon was a proud accomplishment but I never expected this!  

But then I looked below the signs held high and above the black block letters across their chests and...and looked into their faces and ...I didn't know any of these people!  Not a one.  Nobody.  Complete strangers.  But they're still going nuts and cheering me on, all excited.  And as I came even nearer I trotted up to them with this look of utter bewilderment and muttered panting "Geigers?"  I said,  "I'm a Geiger."  And they all looked equally confused and said, "well so is she" and pointed behind me.  

I turned and looked over my shoulder and there was a young woman just running up.  Heather was her name...Heather Geiger!

Later I looked to see how many Geiger's ran the 2006 Portland Marathon.  There were only two us--out of thousands of runners.  And on that day somehow we converged at the same point at exactly the same time in a very unlikely fashion.  

And true to my simple plan, my family was waiting for me and cheering me on--right where I expected them.  At the finish line.  

Staying Home

Randy's wife waited for him near mile 20 of the marathon and knew something was wrong as he came nearer. He was laboring more than she expected, a vague expression behind his fogged glasses. She slipped in beside him to find out what was wrong and ended up running much of the rest of the race with him, helping him along, encouraging him to continue. When I saw him, just four hours after we had started, he looked pale and he was feeling sick.

Rob, an acquaintance I knew from the kids schools, was in the same race although I never saw him along the course. I think he lined up behind me at the start and never felt well enough that day to catch me or at least I didn't recognize him. Rob finished several minutes after Randy and was frustrated by what happened that day in Portland.

The three of us had a connection created by our new passion for running, our similar ages and the same small town we all call home. And now all three of us were left to play the game of the competitive runner and find out why we had trouble with this race.

I had the better time that day and finished seven minutes under the four hour mark. But that was 2007, a year and half ago, and so much has changed during that time. All three of us trained harder and smarter and I've added more base training miles and speed work. It's paid off.

During the next marathon we ran together in Eugene, Randy finished first with a BQ and Rob came in about 10 minutes later-- but short of the 3:30 he needed. I came in just a few minutes after that and set a PR, but still 14 minutes slow of a qualifying time for my age. Both the other guys, much lighter than me, had really ramped it up for this one and had passed me in ability. I felt I had done the work but my weight and an injury had sealed the deal and took away the very slim chance I had. Rob would run the Newport marathon a month later and qualify for Boston too, leaving me the odd man out.

Fast forward to today: Patriots Day in Massachusetts and Randy and Rob ran the Boston Marathon this morning. The now even more slimmed down version of Rob ran an amazing 3:34 and my buddy Randy did a fantastic 3:42, which is awesome for the tough Boston course. I kept track of both of them using their bib numbers plugged them into the marathon's website and am proud of the fact that both were able to realize their dreams-- and do such a great job once they got there.

But for me, I have a long way to go and a lot of work ahead. As I always say, life happens. My ability to better my running hasn't progressed as fast as Randy and Rob. And that's okay. For now I can only wonder. Wonder if one day I too can leave home, fly across the country and go for a run in Boston.

Intervals With Randy

An April run as recorded by my Forerunner

April 7th, 2009.  9 AM.  A beautiful sunny morning with temps in the mid 50's.  I had run into Randy at the high school parking lot the day before while picking up Matthew from baseball practice and made this running date before he got away.  

Started my 405 while jogging over to Randy's house and before heading down to the middle school track.  Randy wasn't quite ready to go so stretched a bit in his driveway.  After a few minutes we were off. 

Warmed up by jogging up thru Snyder park and then coming down Main street into old town Sherwood.  I was almost 2 miles into my run when we got to the middle school.  The PE classes were out on the football field practicing lacross.  There were lacross sticks, cardinal red T-shirts  and tennis balls going everywhere.  The teachers had pulled out one of those green AV carts, strung an extension cord and were blasting music over a stereo.  

Most of the kids saw what we were doing and gave us a wide berth.  Others were pretty clueless and wondered onto the track without looking.  But, it is their track and their time to use it, so...

Randy's plan for the day, which he had gotten from the Runnersworld website, was to do three sets of 800m and 600m intervals at 5k pace with 90 second recoveries.  Randy had decided that 5k pace meant  7 minute miles - which was cool with me.   

We took off on the first 800m (2 laps) and we're just friken flyin'.  But I'm following alongand  having a good time.  It's his workout and I'm just tagging along as far as I'm concerned.  We got done with the first 2 laps and Randy looks down at his watch and states the waayyyy obvious, "we ran that one a little too fast."  "Yeah,"  says I, "that did seem faster than 7 minutes.  We can slow it down for the next one".  Randy nods and I notice that his glasses are starting to fog up.

The next interval was 600 meters and this time the pace was still too fast, but a tad better.  The next 600 was too fast again, but I'm just enjoying myself with no expectations for anything but running on a beautiful morn.

Later my watch would show that we were doing about 6:30 pace.  My heart rate was doing fine at about 165.    

Slowing to a trot after the speed set I stopped and bumped fists with Randy.  "Whew, that was great.  Thanks man.  It was good to do some faster running out here."  Randy looks at me wryly, "we still have 2 more sets to do.  That was just the first."  

Uhhh, I knew that.

The next set of 800/600/600 was more realistic, bouncing around the 7 minute mark.  The last set was an average of 6'45" miles and we finished up the last 200 meters at 6'20" pace where my heart rate peaked at 182.  

I came to a complete stop after this one, got my hands on the hips, bent over at the waist, took a few gaspy breaths and then broke out the ol' fist bump for the second time.  "Ahhh that was good!"  We finished up the lap we were on at an easy jog and then started for home by cruising through Old Town and pointing our noses up Pine Street and the steep hill which loomed ahead.  I was out of gas and while I didn't walk up the hill it could barely be called running.  We rounded the corner onto Division and I bid adieu to Randy at the driveway up to Snyder park.  

In all I got in 8.5 miles, which was a surprise.  But it was a good run on a beautiful spring morning.  

My Diapers

I guess it all started with my big nose and the crooked septum that splits it right down the middle.  It's gross I know but this condition keeps me in a non-stop low grade sinus infection.  I went through the horrors of trying to fix it surgically a few years ago.  It helped a little, but as the doc said as he stuck a 6 inch metal suction straw up my nose and deep into a sinus cavity I didn't even know I had,  "I found it was much worse once I got in there.  I did the best I could but it's still deviated and going to cause you problems."  Yes.  The problem is that my nose runs all the time.  

What does all this mean to a runner?  Well, let's just say when I go for a run and  get everything all warmed up inside and add some heavy breathing - the condition worsens.  The harder I run, the faster I go, the snottier I get.  The cold of winter adds yet another dimension to the situation.  No, there is nothing attractive about my running and running nose.   

Some wiping adjunct was needed. 

Well, early on I found I could take some type hanky or tissue with me.  Kleenex fell apart right away and you couldn't wipe your forehead with it so that was out.  I still had some old hankies in the bottom of my sock drawer and at first ran with these for a bit.  But let's face it, these sheer linen squares, these throw backs to the sixties, these monogramed relics of our grandfathers generation (to the point of being a garnish to his three piece suit) have always been awful at their intended mission and in this case totally inadequate for real nasal drippings.

  

So what to do?  A small hand towel seemed the answer and so I went with that.  Small, absorbent and ubiquitous, surely this was the way to go.  And so it was for the better part of a year.  During this time I was running a lot with my friend Bob and he would poke fun of the object usually held in my right hand referring to it as my "moist towelette".  So be it.  I considered it a necessity and it worked pretty good.  

But one day my face was feeling particularly chaffed, perhaps from shaving or maybe from being outside, but a little sensitive.  So instead of grabbing just any hand towel I went to the linen closet in search of the most supple.  A towel that would be the least irritating.  

But all of them seemed pretty rough.  Dish towels were a little better but the wife would have a hissy fit if I tried taking those out for a run.  So I dug deeper.  And deeper. And then lo and behold I found just what I was looking for!  Buried deep in the closet, way back on the left and down on a shelf near the floor was a stack of old cloth baby diapers!  Sitting there for 10 years, hidden, waiting for the next little bundle of joy that we never did have, were a good 8 or 9 perfectly sized, wonderfully absorbent, gentle on my face cloth baby diapers!  Come to papa you little poop blankets and let me snot all over ya.  

And so RUNS WITH A DIAPER was born (I have a thing for native american culture and oneof  my favorite jokes ends with the punch line "so tell me, why do you ask Two Dogs F__ing").  And in a way I feel I'm doing something green by reusing what would have otherwise been thrown away.  Sometimes it's very green.  Ah gross!

So when I'm doing laundry and washing my running clothes there will away be a small stack of diapers sitting on top.