Race Recap: Hood To Coast Relay

This is from the "Better Late Than Never Department." I wrote this recap not long after my Hood to Coast experience in August and it appeared on the Run Oregon Blog.  But I am now finally getting it posted to my blog.

The 20th edition of the"Kult Kervorkian" Hood To Coast Team on the beach at Seaside.

No matter how crazy it is, there is something special about a chance to run Hood to Coast, especially when you don’t get a chance to run it often.
 
When my daughter’s teacher asked if I wanted to join her Hood to Coast team this year, I couldn’t pass up the chance to jump back into “The Mother Of All Relays.” What I didn’t know was that I was becoming part of a legend.
 
The team that Leah is part of, and now I am too, is none other than Kult Kervorkian. Running for 20 years strong, the Kult was featured in the Hood To Coast movie, appeared in the German version of Runners’s World (with the feature writer embedded in the team) and has also been in the Portland Tribune.
 
Kult Kervorkian of the more unique and well known names in the history of the relay.  The captain of the team is the same.  Randy Gibbs has run 26 straight Hood to Coast Relays and his unique view on life and the race made it a fun for all.  He is one of those guys who the announcer picks on at the start and isn’t afraid to put on a little show.
 
In my return to the relay I was assigned leg six, which meant the privilege of being up at Timberline Lodge at the start.  Randy, clad in a tie dyed shirt the team’s name and skull & crossbones emblem, wasted little time in getting the race started right, taking off with matching tie dye flag a-flying when the countdown hit “two.”  Thankfully, that false start was not grounds for disqualification.
 
While early in the week temperatures had pushed well into the 80s, a marine layer kept the sun from warming things up past 75 all day Friday.  With a west wind coming across the mountain, a sweatshirt proved handy well into the noon hour.  The ideal conditions provided for some great times for everyone in our van.  The only notable exception was Quin, whose 65-year-old body kept him slowed down on the grueling fourth leg.
 

THE FIRST LEG: LEG 6
In pulling leg six, I knew that my first run would be the longest at 6.82 miles.  With the weather as it was and with net downhill coming into Sandy, I had a feeling I could push the pace and have a shot for a really good time.  Our leg five runner, Patty, turned in a good performance and the wait at the exchange zone was minimal.  I used the uphill over the first mile as a brisk warmup (the exchange zone had little room for more than stretching).
 
From there, it was on cruise as the hills rolled along Highway 26 towards Sandy.  As their are no mile markers for the legs, it was hard to determine what kind of pace I was running.  I tried to figure it out at point using the highway mile markers, which was thwarted by a missing mile 28 sign.  So it was run by feel, and I felt good.  The 4 p.m. climate was not bad at all…and picking up numerous “roadkills” (passing people) provided motivation.
 
There were two markers that I had committed to memory.  The first was Calamity Janes, a burger joint just east of Sandy, that put me with about 2.5 miles to go. The second was the turn onto Bluff St., which led to Sandy High School and the exchange zone.  The corner put me at a half mile to know and I knew then that I was home free.
 
My pace per mile time that was entered in the team entry was 7:34 per mile, and that nearly caused our second van to miss my arrival.  I pumped in at 47:57 for the 6.82 miles, which put me at a 7:01 per mile pace.  The teammate I handed off to made it to the exchange zone with 53 seconds to spare.  In all, a very successful first leg.
 
From Sandy it was back to Randy’s house where a hot tub, hot showers and hot chicken fettuccine awaited us.  It also provided a chance to check out the “Rogue’s Gallery” of Kult Kervorkian teams past.  The walls of the Gibb house are lined with photos of the family and their kids.  But the second floor hallway is dominated by Hood To Coast photos.  A storied history to say the least.
 
By 8 p.m. it was back in the van and off to downtown Portland to start it all again.
 
THE SECOND LEG: LEG 18
One of the unique parts of a relay race is the prospect of running in the middle of the night.  The night legs seemed to go well for all the members of van one.  Quin’s second leg went better than the first and Patty also ran a strong leg before handing off to me in St. Helens.  This exchange was the easiest of three.  The exchange was in the St. Helens High School parking lot and there was ample parking at the retail establishments around.
 
After a strong first leg, my plan was to run the second leg slower.  I was anticipating eight minute per mile pace.  The temperature cooled off thanks to a wind coming down the river, so I chose to run with a long sleeve shirt (as it ended up, it was 65 degrees and I could have worn short sleeves easily).
 
The route from St. Helens High School to the Columbia County Fairgrounds ran along Highway 30 for the first 1.25 miles before traversing neighborhood streets the rest of the way.  i just ran by feel and despite having sat in a van for four hours things felt good.  I picked up another 20 “roadkills” along the way and finished the 5.23 miles in 38:55, a 7:24 per mile pace.
 
This leg was a good lesson in not always trusting the elevation map in the race handbook.  The map was labeled as hard and showed steady and significant uphill climbs.  The course was far from hilly and I felt like I could cruise much of the way.
 
With our second legs over, it was quickly off in the van for the one hour trip to Mist and the next van exchange, where a well-deserved sleep awaited us.
 
THE UGLY
The sleep that we hoped for never came.  Not long after getting past the No. 23 exchange, we hit a traffic jam that made the 405 in Los Angeles look easy.  For two-and-a-half hours, we crept along at a snail’s pace.  We didn’t reach the No. 24 exchange until 6 a.m.  What should have been a three hour sleep ended up being less than a hour.
 
When a jam like that happens, you know that something has gone wrong.  We heard a couple of different stories of what caused the backup.  One was that the parking lot at Mist had filled up and there was no place to put any more vans.  Another story had people pulling out their sleeping bags and sleeping on the road (or near the road) and ODOT shutting things down for a time.
 
Whatever happened, everyone suffered.  Our wait of two hours in traffic ended up being minimal.  We talked to some people who waited in the backup for at least three hours.  Randy likened the collection of runners at the exchange as “a bunch of orphans,” with some people waiting as long as an hour and a half for their next runner.  By the time Randy left, some people talked of the backup stretching back through the 22nd and 23rd exchange zones, a backup of some 12 miles.
 
It will be interesting to see how long Kenneth, our 12th leg runner, had to wait before our second van could pick him up.
 
Nobody I think was happier to get through that maelstrom as Randy.  He drove the entire way from St. Helens to Mist and was obviously frustrated by the backup.  His final proved strong, covering his 3.75 mile leg in 39:10.
 
And we were finally back on our way, but we never completely shook the traffic until we finished.

Patty crests the grueling hill on leg 29.

THE THIRD LEG: LEG 30
It was obvious that the traffic issues and the general wear and tear that a relay race can take had gotten to our van, but despite that all of our van one runners put together strong final runs.  Randy ran perhaps his best leg to start things off and Kathy was solid on a six-mile second leg where she got bogged down in the final two miles by heavy traffic.
 
Aaron proved strong despite some Achilles’ tendon soreness and Quin closed out with his best effort of the race.  Patty had the unenviable honor of leg 29, which started with a grueling three a half mile climb to the top of the coast range on Highway 202.  She walked a bit but persevered well.
 
When Patty started the two mile downhill run to end her leg, it became obvious that our van would not get to the exchange point on time.  At one point she passed the van back before the traffic allowed us to move about 150 yards back ahead.  At that point, Aaron and I jumped out of the van and made a 1 1/4 mile jog down to the exchange point.  I made it with about 75 seconds to spare.
 
Being the last leg, my plan was go let it all out.  After a gradual two-and-a-half mile climb, my leg finished with three miles of downhill.  I felt like I could let myself go in that final three miles and cruise into the finish for a good time.
 
I started the leg quite strong and immediately started piling up roadkills.  I started the climb up the hill before the van caught up with me on its way to our final exchange.  I was able to crest the hill and get about three-quarters of a mile down before it happened: the quads seized up a bit.  I also realized that I might not have fueled properly.  Despite the strong start, I needed three short walk breaks to get through the run.
 
I made it through the 5.35 mile segment in 39:50.  It was my slowest leg with an average of 7:24 per mile, but I was still satisfied by what I was able to accomplish.  I made it into the exchange before the fan, being picked up about 10 minutes later.  I was waiting in the exchange zone for about 30 seconds as the team had trouble hearing the volunteers announcing the numbers.
 
Our van greeted me with cold Gatorade, a chance to stretch out a bit and a one-way ticket to Broadway Middle School in Seaside, where a hot shower was in my future.
 
THE FINISH

The finish at Seaside!

It was right around 6 p.m. before Kult Kervorkian crossed the finish line together n the beach at Seaside.  From years past, the act of crossing the finish line was anticlimatic.  We had to wait until Kenneth, our final runner, made it down the promenade, hand our bib number to a staging announcer before we were assigned a corral where we were called out to cross the line.
 
When we called our number up to the main announcer to cross the line, he replied, “I know who you are.” The Kult Kervorkian tradition was alive and well within Hood To Coast.
 
I remember fondly the finish procedure in 1999, where we were called forward to a holding area as our final runner made their way down the promenade.  We then joined him as we all truly finished the race together.  I like everyone finishing together with the final runner.
 
This year’s Hood to Coast also did not have any action photographers on the course, somewhat disappointing considering that they are great souvenirs of the experience.  A team photo was able to be taken, with a photographer charging $4 for a 4×6 print of the team against a background of the beach.  We opted as many teams did to take our own team photo in front of a whimsical course map.
 
All-in-all, my Hood to Coast experience was a positive one.  I enjoyed the company of Randy, Cathy, Quin, Aaron and Patty.  My times exceeded my own expectations and those of my teammates.  And despite the weariness, I finished the experience with energy and gratefulness.

A Journey To Running's Mecca

Hayward Field at twilight during the 2008 Olympic Track & Field Trials. Photo Copyright Blake Timm.

My profession has provided me the blessing to be part of some of the biggest sporting events in the world.

In my 15 years as the sports information director at Pacific University, I have had the chance to work on the media staff at events like the 2002 FIFA Women’s World Cup, the NCAA Division I Men’s Basketball Championship and numerous professional sporting events in Portland.

Occasionally, it happens that my job allows me a front seat in some of my sport’s biggest events.  I worked at the 2008 U.S. Olympic Track and Field Trials and the 2010 NCAA Division I Track and Field Championships, both great experiences at one of track and field’s most hallowed halls.

And it is happening again.  Beginning tomorrow, I head back down to Eugene, Ore., to work on the media support staff at the IAAF World Junior Track and Field Championships.  I will spend four days around some of the best young athletes in the world and the media that cover them.

The meet takes place at the University of Oregon’s Hayward Field. For those not familiar with the sport or the venue, Hayward Field is to track and field what The Palestra is to college basketball or what Yankee Stadium is to baseball.  It is a place where magic happens.

For the running world, Eugene and Hayward Field is the sport’s Mesopotamia. It was Oregon track coach Bill Bowerman who started the first running boom in the United States thanks to his book Jogging, which was based on what he learned about Arthur Lydiard’s movement to make New Zealand fitter country.  It is where Nike got its start and where one of the sports most iconic figures, Steve Prefontaine, lived and died.

Any trip to Hayward is special, but to have a chance to be part of this particular event is very special.  This is only the second time the IAAF has held a world championship on American soil (the last was the World Cross Country Championships in Boston in 1992).  And it is no secret that the meet is partly set to help Eugene make a bid for the 2019 IAAF World Championships.

There are some who think that Eugene doesn’t have what it takes to host the World Championships and even challenge the city moniker as Track Town USA.  I hope they prove them wrong, and I feel proud to play a small part.

There is one more part of this trip that will make it special.  I finish the trip off by running the Eugene Half Marathon on Sunday.  This will be my first long race since my injury earlier this year and I am looking forward to get back to competition and see where my fitness level is at.

The race ends on the Hayward Field finish line.  As a high school student, I missed the chance to run the state championship meet on this track twice.  Each time, I placed third at the district meet.  The top two advanced to state.

I will finally get the chance to cross that finish line.

Beginnings

Running and finishing the 1985 Capitol Classic 5K in Boise, Idaho.

The movement on social media known as "Throwback Thursday" (or #tbt in the hashtag and texting vernacular) has given our generation a new way to learn more than we ever wanted to know about our personal histories.

Through the world of Facebook and Twitter, we are treated to long lost photos of college parties (some of which should be forgotten permanently), bad elementary school portraits and even glimpses of Olympian Kara Goucher in her youth, complete with curly hair and large 80s style glasses.

Throwback Thursdays give us pause to think about the past, relieve the memories and reflect on where we have been, perhaps on where we are going.  As I have continued to pursue this lifelong passion, I have strolled back into the recesses of my memory, remembering how I started as a runner and how it has been engrained in my being most of my life.

My life as a runner began nearly 30 years ago as a fourth grader at Valley View Elementary in Boise, Idaho.  Little did I know that my early introduction would lead to a lifelong passion.

In 1985 in the Boise School District, it was up to classroom teachers to teach their own physical education classes (an unfortunate foreshadowing of years to come in the teaching profession).  My teacher, Virginia Thompson, was a product of the first running boom and likely the first person I knew who was a regular runner. So that spring, Mrs. Thompson introduced us to running as fitness as opposed to something we did at recess, moving from one part of the playground to the other.

(It is worth noting that Mrs. Thompson was quite the renaissance woman. In addition to being a master teacher, she was a proud mother and the author of a number of Christian self-help books.  In many ways an incredible human being.)

I had previous introductions to running before Boise.  While living in Medford, Oregon, I was entranced by the annual Pear Blossom Run, whose out-and-back course went right by school (by the end of high school, I would compete in the 10-mile Pear four times).  The year before, I was hooked on watching the Olympic Games on television, and most notably by the track and field events.

But it was Mrs. Thompson that introduced me (and other students) to running as sport, pleasure and fun.  Our running lessons would take us on laps around the school field, building up slowly.  The eventual goal was run continuously for 30 minutes, which resulted in the first award I ever received in my running career: A handwritten certificate celebrating the achievement.

That introduction led its way to my first races.  The Boise area took the lead in providing running opportunities for kids.  The Capitol Classic provided a one-mile course through the heart of Boise's downtown, from the train depot up above downtown, down Capitol Blvd., to the steps of the state capitol.  Every child received a shirt and a finisher's medal.  I still have both.

We lived in Boise for only two years, but those years provided the foundation for a lifelong passion.  I ran in two Capitol Classics and the Harrison Classic (another one-mile kid's run in another part of town) and took part in my first 5k race as part of the annual Barber to Boise races.

Those races led to participation in elementary and junior high school track after moving to Klamath Falls, to high school and college cross country and track and to today.

All three events still exist.  The Capitol Classic and the Harrison Classic, through the sponsorship of Saint Alphonsus Medical Center and the Treasure Valley YMCA, respectively, continue to create new generations of runners in a setting where it is not about times, but the experience.  Barber to Boise endures as an annual staple of the Boise running schedule.

So to Mrs. Thompson, who took special care to work with a high-strung fourth grader in 1985 who had just escaped exile in Utah, you did many things to influence my life positively.  But the most important thing you may have done was instill in me a love for running.

Thank you.

The Journey Or The Destination?

On a recent trip to church family camp, I had a conversation about workouts and training with one of the camp staffers.

Like many camp staff, Zarin was in college and still has his whole life ahead of him.  He was one of those high energy types, leading the campfire with enthusiasm and manning the swimming hole like everyone's big brother.

It was one of those trips to the swimming hole that sparked our conversation.  Dressed in a sweatshirt and long sweatpants, Zarin certainly seemed overdressed for a 70 degree afternoon at creekside.  I recognized the high school on his sweatshirt and started a conversation about his athletic career.

After completing a set of one-footed core exercises, Zarin told me he was a high school wrestler. A lightweight, he competed at 119 pounds.  He wasn't shy of speaking of cutting 15 to 20 pounds to make weight and then proceeding to be voraciously hungry the rest of the weekend.

But that's not the point of this story.  Zarin continued his workout as he lifeguard at creekside: More core work, strengthening stretches for his back and upper arms, runs up and down the adjacent trail.

Before diving into the swimming hole, Zarin stripped off his sweatshirt and pants to reveal a plastic sweatsuit underneath, the type wrestlers wear sometimes to speed up perspiration and weight loss.  He hadn't sweated enough, he said.  The idea was to get as much weight off as fast as possible, to get the workout done as soon as possible.  The goal of his workout was the destination.

Maybe it is a result of my older age, but working out solely for the destination, a means to an end, seems to be missing the point.

Granted, every time I head out for a run there is an end goal in mind.  It may be a distance, a time to run, a pace to hit in intervals or a tempo run.  In a race, certainly the end goal is to run faster than I did at that distance the time before.

As I headed out on my run later that afternoon, I pondered that point.  As I did, I could not help but breathe in the scent of the pine trees around and feel the dust of the camp road.  Even along the shoulder of the highway, my eyes trained to the sides, admiring the old farmhouses, the sheep grazing in the pasture, the family enjoying an afternoon on the lawn or the creek ambling below the old bridge.

There is an end goal to my runs, but the workout is so much more.  It is about my surroundings.  It is about recognizing a greater awareness of the world around me.  It is about being in within my own thoughts and developing a greater understanding for my life.  It is as much about the journey as it is the destination.

That is why many of my workouts take place over the noon hour.  It is a logical break to the day.  After a full morning of work and mental aerobics, hitting the roads gives me time to think, the sort out the questions of the day, to ponder my problems or even just sweat the frustration out.  It is a journey to make myself better, both physically and mentally.  Sitting out a couple of months with injury earlier this year hammered home that need.

Maybe the idea of the workout as a journey is only something understood as one gets older.  I am sure that in my high school and college days the point of the workout was purely to get better, to get faster, to be ready for the race that awaited that Saturday.  To be at the top of my running game to help the team.

But even adults don't completely embrace the journey.  They run to be able to eat more, to look good, to impress their friends.  At my Weight Watchers meetings, exercise is often spoken of as a vehicle to pick up more points, either to hasten along the weight loss process or to allow someone to eat more within the plan.  It is a means to an end.  It is about the destination, not the journey.

Maybe the idea of exercise as a journey is hard to grasp by the weight lifters, Jazzercisers and water aerobics faithful.  Short bursts of intense work don't lend much time for one to think.  Perhaps it is best experienced by those who must cover the miles for their sport, the runners, the cyclists, the climbers.  Those of us for which the experience is not about the finish line, but the time it takes to get there.

I will continue to pursue my running goals with vigor, but I am in no rush to reach the finish line.  The journey, the experience of what those daily workouts bring me, is as valuable as making it to the next race.

Lessons (Re)Learned From Injury

Today was supposed to be the day that I made my Boston dreams come true.

Today was the Newport Marathon, a relatively small race (under 1,000 runners) on the central Oregon coast.  It is a magnet for would-be Boston Marathon qualifiers with its flat course at sea level.  According to MarathonGuide.com, Newport had 19th highest percentage of Boston qualifiers in 2013, with 21.2 percent of finishers hitting their Boston mark.

And it was to be a magnet for me.  After running a 3:23 at the 2013 Portland Marathon, I was on pace to hit or come awful close to a BQ this year.  By the end of January, I had put my money down for Newport and had put together an aggressive training plan to get me to my goal.

At the same time, though, a couple of old friends came back into my life: Achilles tendonitis and lower back issues.  It was three years removed reunion that I could have done without.  But, as chronic injuries tend to do, they came back just as life on the run was starting to really cruise.

I later figured out that the root cause of my injuries likely was not due to running or training, but thanks to the living room remodel we did right after Christmas.  I thought I was being smart in how I was lifting furniture and preparing the room for contractors and carpet layers.  Now I know that smart would have been having someone else do the heavy lifting for me.

But training, and pride in my training, compounded the problem.  I didn’t read the signals like I should have and didn’t rest when they showed up.  Continuing a streak of 12 straight months with 100-plus miles was on my mind.  I did make it to 13, but at a price. 

When the Portland snowstorm of February 2014 hit, I decided it was a good time to take a break and rest my Achilles.  A week or two off should get it back to normal, right?  Two weeks turned into two months of reduced running.  So instead of running the Newport Marathon on May 31, I rejoiced in the fact that I was coming back and finally seeing my mileage float around 20 miles per week again, mostly pain free.

Every setback, however, has its positives and its lessons…if we are willing to learn from them.  This setback for me is no different.  The last two months has provided reminders that often times are easily forgotten by driven athletes, but are the things that keep many runners on the road more and on the mend less.  Count myself among those, counting myself fortunate that it was not longer.

Here are some of those lessons relearned:

TAKE CARE OF THOSE HURTS NOW, NOT LATER. If I had taken care of my Achilles right away, taken a few days off when I first noticed an issue, I might have been at Newport today.  There is nothing worth pushing through an injury if it can be treated immediately through icing, stretching and rest.  Even things as trivial as streaks or a few missed days of training aren’t worth it.

If something is sore that is not typical (i.e. it worsens when you run or affects your form), take three days off and treat through ice, stretching, massage and rest.  If it last longer than a week, consult medical professionals.

KEEP WISE MEDICAL COUNSEL.  Since working through my first bout with the Achilles and lower back three years ago, I have been blessed with a pair of great professionals who have helped me to come back stronger than ever. 

My podiatrist, Dr. John Mozena, is a marathoner and national-class master’s triathlete.  We actually met during my first Portland Marathon in 2010 (but that is a story for another blog post).  He understands endurance athletes and runners, being one himself.

My physical therapist, Scott Hein, is a wizard in every sense of the word.  Scott was the one three years ago who linked my Achilles issues to my lower back and did so again this time.  He understands that more important than treating the symptoms is treating the cause of the symptoms, which aren’t always the same.

SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION SOONER THAN LATER.  I made another common athlete’s mistake in this process.  I spent about a month trying to self-treat my issues.  If I had seen John and Scott sooner, my two months off might have been one.  And I might have been in Newport today (not going for a BQ, but at least not watching an entry fee go down the tubes).  If you hurt for a week, do not hesitate to see a specialist.  You’ll thank yourself for it later.

CORE TRAIN.  I have known for a long time that core training and strength training reduce injury and make for stronger runners.  But a weight room can be intimidating.  It can also be hard to find a plan that caters to runners who are on tight schedules.

Before my layoff, I found the book Quick Strength For Runners by Jeff Horowitz.  The book lays out an eight-week plan core strength training plan using plyometric exercises, medical ball exercises and light weight (think 10-15 pound dumbells).  The layoff actually allowed me to give the plan a try.  It has been easy and I can feel the results.  I can’t to see how much it benefits me in racing.

INJURY DOES NOT EQUAL COMPLETE REST.  Most injuries do not mean you put your feet up for the duration.  In fact, some physical therapists’ treatment plans (such as the ASTYM performed on me) are most effective when the patient is still active.  You can’t run?  Try an elliptical machine or run in the pool.  Do a hard stationery bike workout.  Start or enhance your strength training plan.  Whatever you do, don’t just sit there.

TAKE YOUR TIME.  Once you are cleared by your doctors, that doesn’t mean immediately hammering a 30-mile week with a tempo run and track work.  You have to come back slowly and allow your body to get used to the stresses that running puts on it.  My physical therapist put me on a “Return To Running” plan that built me back up to regular, sustained running.  It starts with four segments of two minutes jog, two minutes walk.  Sure, that’s a frustrating start to a comeback, but remember the end goal.

When you do get back to a regular running regimen, remember the 10 percent rule: Don’t increase your mileage by more than 10 percent each week.

STAY POSITIVE AND STAY FOCUSED.  Running is a critical part of our lives, and it is easy to get down when we can’t do it.  Remember that injuries, even the chronic ones, are temporary setbacks.  Stay positive.  Reach out to others for positive reinforcement (social media is great for this).

READJUST YOUR GOALS.  An injury is a setback.  There is no reason it should wipe out your goals.  The Newport Marathon is gone, so I must re-adjust my goals.  My outlook is now set for the Eugene Marathon’s half-marathon at the end of July.  After that, perhaps another Portland or the Seattle Marathon in November.  A trip to Boston likely will not come up until at least 2016, and that’s fine.  As a wise runner I attend church with reminded me, Boston will still be there.

Brushes With Greatness (or How I Beat An Olympian)

A veritable Who's Who is Klamath Basin running was on the starting line of the 1994 Lake of the Woods Run.  Some of the notables (from left to right): David McHugh, Doug Madsen, Steve Chinn, Ric Timm, Ian Dobson, Blake Timm, Leonard Hill, Howie Broadmerkle and Marvin Dykstra.  Herald and News photo.

The Klamath Basin was a good place to grow up, especially if you were a distance runner.  Some super coaches in the cross country and track circles (Ken Coffman, Bob Freirich, Rick Morris, Larry Wagner to name a few), great events put on by the Linkville Lopers Running Club and some great distance running tradition (dating back to Henley High School's Ralph Hill, who won silver in the 5,000 meters in the 1932 Olympic Games).  The late 1990s produced another Basin Olympian who I share a connection with and is the subject of this piece that I wrote for the May/June 2014 edition of The Oregon Distance Runner (the publication of the Oregon Road Runners Club).

“Have I told you about the time I beat Ian Dobson?”

It’s the type of conversation starter that could make any runner’s head turn, especially when it comes out of the mouth of a 37-year-old whose best track days are far behind him.
But yes, it is true.  I am one of the few who can say that they have accomplished the feat outside of Hayward Field or any other world-class track venue.  And, no, I am not talking about a trivia contest. I am talking about on the roads.  Racing.

For those who don’t recognize the name, Ian Dobson was a 2008 Olympian for the United States.  Hailing from Klamath Falls (which has produced a few Olympic track standouts), Dobson was a state high school cross country champion, went on to run on scholarship for Stanford and then joined the elite of the elite when he finished third on the Hayward oval at the 2008 Olympic Trials in the 5,000 meters and competed in Beijing.

For many years, Ian could not shut me down.  We were both fixtures on the Klamath County road-racing scene, showing up at the same starting line ready to see who would pull ahead in a variety of distances.  The 5K?  My speed got him every time.  A 10K?  Not even close.  I regularly finished with the leaders, while Ian was somewhere back with the back.  In the top-third, mind you, but back in the pack.

There was a particular memory of the Lake of the Woods Run, when the newspaper had a starting line shot that seemed to include a virtual who’s who of southern Oregon running.  Leonard Hill, the road warrior who never seemed to age.  Marvin Dykstra, the high school distance standout who could still hammer on the roads.  Rick Morris, the 40-something volunteer cross country coach who could rattle off six-minute miles…and then dash behind a tree for a cigarette.

And you can’t mention the Lake of the Woods Run without race director Lee Juillerat, the local newspaper reporter and one of the Klamath Basin’s running gurus.  You always knew Lee as the man wearing race bib 337, worn upside down.  In today’s age of personalize bib numbers, he was a man ahead of his time.

(If you didn’t figure it out, 337 upside down is LEE.)

Of course, Ian and I were there as well, for a very good reason immortalized in this photo of the Klamath racing elite as the gun goes off for another 15-kilometer annual trot around this lake 4,500 feet up in the Cascades.

I don’t remember much about that race itself, other than it was warm for a late May morning and that I spent much of the race alone.  Marvin and Leonard were well ahead of me.  Ian?  Well, I didn’t see him until the end.  With his mother.  Well rested after finishing up his 5K.

Oh, I left that detail out.  We ran different distances that day.  But if you average out the mile times, I still had Mr. Olympian, fair and square.

Oh, there is one more thing.  Did I mention that Ian Dobson was 12 at the time?

So maybe that means that I can’t say that I beat an Olympian at his own game.  But it is fun to think back and know that, a number of times early in my running career, that I shared the road with a young kid who grew up to represent the United States on the world’s biggest athletic stage.

My memories of Ian are nothing but appreciation.  Even in those road races, it was easy to see the talent that Ian had and that he would likely join the long line of great athletes to come out of the Klamath Basin.  I’ve been told he looked up to me as I finished my high school career, but I am guessing that was only because I was 5-foot-7 and he was just entering junior high.

But I look up to him.  The sacrifices he made to become a state champion, the perseverence he had to battle through injury as both a college and professional runner, and the tenacity to stick with it and realize his Olympic dream are success stories to be remembered in those times that I struggle with my training.

In a strange twist of fate, many years later, Ian’s mother came to work at the same college I work for in the Portland area just before the 2008 Olympic Trials.  I enjoyed the chance to reconnect with Ian at the trials and celebrate his success on the track.

It brought many of those memories back of growing up as a runner, of road races in the Basin and the satisfaction that, indeed, I shared the road with an Olympian.

NOTE: ODR editor Kelly Barden convinced Ian Dobson to write a response piece to mine, detailing some of his running memories from the Klamath Basin.  You can read that in the May/June issue of The Oregon Distance Runner.