Running Times, Online

11/18/08

Dear Readers,

I hope all is well on your ends. I just returned from the 100K World Championships in Tarquinia, Italy (race was 11/8/08) and I had a great experience.
The race was filled with some of the best Ultra Runners in the world.  There were 33 countries that fielded athletes and I ended up 9th overall and the first American in 7:06:35.  An Italian athlete won the overall race and a Russian woman was first woman.

The Team from Italy won the Men’s Race and Russia won the Women’s Race.
I was really pleased with the result but think I can improve for next year’s race (I just found out I got selected to the USA 100k team for 2009 because of my top ten finish).
I am very pleased to advise that the USA women’s team killed it.

They placed 2nd overall in the women’s race (Kami Semick), 6th (Meghan Arbogast), and 10th (Devon Crosby-Helms) and were the 2nd overall in the women’s team division.  How about that?

As you know, I was excited to race in this event but was not ready for the overwhelming sense of patriotism that I felt and the honor and privilege it was to wear the Red, White and Blue.

I am still humbled to have been a part of a United States World Team. I felt the race was a fantastic challenge and it allowed me to see how I stacked up against the best in the World.

I need to improve obviously, 9th place is great but it is not 1st and my time was not what I was shooting for so I definitely have room to grow but that is why I like to compete to see where I am and what I need to do to get better and just see how far and fast I can go.

I would be remiss without mentioning that I really appreciated being accepted onto the Men’s team by the guys: Howard Nippert, Greg Crowther, and Adam Lint and look forward to racing with/against you boys soon.

Further, I should thank the support staff and coaches (Lin, Mike, Lion and the countless others that helped to make the race a success).

I also, need to send a “Thank you” out to all my sponsors, work, friends, and family for helping me to make the team and for doing all you do to help make the trip successful.

On a side note, I do have a funny comment about racing in a foreign country especially one that makes you pay money to use the bathroom.  Be careful of hydrating because by the end of the day you will have spent $50.00 to use the bathroom if you are not on a train or at your hotel room.

That is part of joys of travelling and competing outside your comfort zone; you have to adapt and that is what makes these things so darn fun.

Thanks for the support and I hope to hear what you think about this post.

Have a great day and look forward to hearing from you soon.

Best Regards,
Michael Wardian

11-02-08

Dear Readers,

Hope all is well on your ends.

I just got Rome for the 100K World Championships and I am really exicted for the opportunity to represent the United States as part of the United States 100K World Team..

I ran the Marine Corps Marathon last weekend and was a disappointing 9th in 2:28:52 or so and feel ready to mix it up with the best 100K runners in the World on November 8, 2008.

I plan to see a little of Italy with my brother (Matthew) and sister (Mariele) and I wish my wife (Jennifer) and son (Pierce) could have made the trip but circumstances didn’t allow it.

I hope to keep you posted on how it turns out and hope all is going well with your running.

Have a great next run.

Best Regards,
Michael Wardian

9/28/08

I had the privilege of attending the Wilfred Bungei, homecoming celebration yesterday. The event lasted all day long. Following a long motorcade procession into Kapsabet, there was a unveiling of ‘Wilfred Bungei Street’ and a tree was planted. I had hopped into the back of a pickup truck, with some buddies, and after a few hours of waiting the caravan headed to the Bungei home. People were pouring in from all over the countryside, on foot and wheeled transportation.

I was blown away by the crowd, that had already assembled. We quickly departed vehicle and made our way down the hill, to the main area. Wilfred’s home lies about roughly 5mi outside of Kapsabet, in a very rural farming region.

Quickly we are whisked under some ropes and across the main open part of the field, towards a tent with some chairs set up. I asked my buddies, ” Why do we get to sit here, do you know Wilfred personally?” They laughed and told me that it was because of me. Then I took stock and looked around. Yup, only white dude around. I guess they thought I was some sort of big hotshot. Anyone could make that mistake when seeing me in shorts and a dirty backpack stroll up to the velvet ropes.

There were tons of speeches, and Wilfred didn’t make his appearance for over 2 hours. In Kenya, a microphone is a dangerous thing. Be prepared for a long haul once the speeches commence, because everyone gets a shot and they are making the best of it. If you once were the chairman of the local Goatherder’s Union Local 789, then you get to rock the mike for up to 45 minutes.

Some workers soon came over to our VIP tent and brought us all Cokes, to quench our thirst. About 20 minutes later, a staffer approached me and told me “You must come with me.” Of course my American mind began to race, “Well you had a good run, and they have found out you are a nobody.” Nope. I guess some people had become worried, that I was not fed yet, and quickly escorted my friends and I to a gated compound. This compound happened to be Wilfred’s personal house, and there was ample security outside, to keep the riff-raff out. There was a huge buffet and a bull had been slaughtered, for the party. After receiving our grub, I looked for a seat under one of the awnings. Again, a grave-faced staffer grabs my arm, and I am escorted inside the home. It sure looked like the home of an Olympic gold medalist, and there were hordes of high class folks inside. The staffer took us past a curtained partition and we were seated at the dining room, to enjoy our meals. Attendants frequently brought us sodas of our choice, and generally handled any requests.

I began to realize that, “Well hey, if that’s the way it’s going to be!” We excused ourselves from the home, after finishing the tasty meal, and returned to the main event festivities. I had been snapping photos the entire time, and figured that just like the press photographers, the roped boundary did not apply to me. Sure enough I was right. No one batted an eye when I walked to the center of the festivities and snapped away to my delight.

The highlight of the ceremony, was the introduction of every person in attendance, who had competed in any Olympics. The names read off, was like the reading the All-Time World Record Holders’ list. Speaking of world record holders, I caught a ride back into town, from former WR holder, Moses Kiptanui. With about ten other guys, we piled in the back bed of his Land Cruiser 4×4 pickup truck. Moses seems to do everything in life fast. That includes driving down crowded dirt roads, simulating Rally-Car driving tactics. Honestly I think he was driving 80 mph, judging by the amount of dust and dirt lodged in my facial pores. All said, the event was amazing and can’t believe I was able to experience the event.

Training:

9/23/08

Kapsabet has been buzzing the past week, with the return of Olympic 800m champion and freshly minted millionaire, Pamela Jelimo. A convoy of vehicles made their way from Eldoret to Kapsabet, parading the star in New Year’s Day fashion. Once she arrived into town, mobs of people descended upon the local track stadium to greet the star. She now owns the honor of having 33% of the streets in Kapsabet named after her. Ok… that means just one street ( do the math), but still that’s not bad.

After all the hu-bub in town, everyone made their way to her village. When I say village, I am being extremely generous. I have run past this location, which is marked by roughly 10 mud and stick constructed huts. Thousands of people descended upon her secondary school, to help celebrate. So many people in fact, that they had to park the numerous vehicles over 2 miles away from the party. The star was under a barricade of heavily armed soldiers the entire time. This was no doubt to protect the mob from crushing her, and to keep the marriage proposals at bay. The party was hopping and not even a two hour torrential rain storm could keep down people’s spirits.

Training:

I have finally been able to increase my training volume, after adjusting to the altitude. Slowly, I have inserted some speed workouts into my program. Monday was the first time I had been on any track, USA or Kenya, and it really showed. I had a relatively easy 4xmile workout, but with a fast finish planned in the 4:30 range. The first three repeats posed no problems, but when I went to ratchet up the pace, it got interesting. The muddy track was giving me fits, even with my track spikes, making 70 second laps feel like WR pace. Try as I might, I could only muster out a 4:45 and I was gassed after that effort. The silver lining is that apparently the track is long by 5 meters, which is a small pat on the back. Still, attempting to run 5km race pace felt like two heavy hands were squeezing my lungs with all their might.

Most days I finish runs without gasping, which is quite the silver star considering things. I am not sure if I have inadvertently performed a powerful rain dance, but it still rains heavily almost every afternoon or evening. Hence, every AM run is muck filled and feel like I am wearing snowshoes by the end of each session. I have all but packed away my white socks and shirts, back into my traveling bags. I now only use black socks, and dark colored shirts for training, to make washing a less stressful endeavor.

I have been checking out the surrounding region a bit lately. A couple hundred feet higher than Kapsabet, lies Nandi Hills. This region is famous for the sprawling tea plantations covering the rolling hills. I was surprised to be out of breath just trudging up a few of these hills, and realized that an extra thousand feet really makes a big difference. The roads among the tea fields are in much better shape than Kapsabet, because it is vital for the plantations to truck out their product. I have snapped a bunch of photos and hopefully can upload them this weekend.

Q&A:

Q:Why are they so fast (diet, genetics, training, etc.)?

A: I would say a mix of genetics (years of altitude) and hard training. Sure a lack of western food is a help, but there doesn’t seem to be a magic meal. If so I haven’t had it yet! The training here is so extreme that the ones who do survive are nearly unbeatable.

Q: Lady runners?

A: There are women running here, but nowhere near the amount of men training in the area. I would say the ratio of men training to women is 95%-5%. Some women train with slower guys, and I imagine that is a big help.

Q: How do people get by money wise?

A: Good question. Many are supported by their families back home, in the villages, or other relatives. A small minority perform odd jobs during the middle of the day, to supplement their cash flow. It doesn’t take much to survive here, roughly $1 usd a day is easily enough to get you along. Many runners pack into small primitive apartment style homes, just like migrant workers, all waiting for their big break. Some have been waiting for that break, for over 10-15 years. This alone has been one of the most astonishing things I have come across training in Kenya.

9/19/08

The race program read: Marathon 7 AM , 10km 8 AM SHARP! Now since I have been here, I have slowly gotten used to ‘Kenyan Time’. Funny how just about every country outside of USA, Japan and Germany, seem to have their own ‘time’. Now if you have ever travelled to races with me, you are aware that it would take a huge bout of will power to arrive just before the scheduled race time. I did my absolute best to trust everyone’s suggestions.

So I decided to jog from the house with the brother of road racing stud Linus Maiyo, at 7:25AM. The start line was 4 miles away, so that wouldn’t put us too far ahead of the race start time. I was cool as a cucumber until about 7:58 AM and we had not yet reached the start line. I guessed it was a good sign that we had seen quite a few runners along the road, during our warmup. Even though in the back of my head I knew I was not going to miss the race, I scooted ahead in search of the start line.

I arrived at a portion of road heading uphill, and track suited Kenyans were clogging both sides of the road. I asked a bystander if this was the starting line, and he more or less confirmed my suspicions. I have become perfectly used to having people gawk at me, where ever I travel or run. Today was an extreme case though, because I warmed up to the start in just my singlet and shorts. So I was getting quite a few stares, on top of the usual ones regarding my complexion (I would think it’s understood I am the only white competitor or spectator).

There are maybe 250-300 elite looking runners just hanging out on the shoulders of the country road. Not a single one of them is stretching or taking any form of warm-up jogging. 8 AM has already past without any notice. There is not a single official present, and nobody seems conflicted. The equatorial sun is starting to make an appearance, by this time. I find a group of runners, that I know and hang out with them. As the time passes, more and more elite looking runners begin to trickle into the start area.

Finally some officials show up before 9 AM. They are in a foul mood, because the marathon was delayed for an hour before it started. They immediately began to have people line up on the shoulder of the road, but failed to do anything with the line. This repeated a few times, and then the main loud official, told unregistered runners to assemble on the far side of the road. I had actually signed up two separate times during the previous week, so I felt safe I did not need to be on that side of the street. After about 25 minutes of late comers walking by with bib numbers, my buddy Isaac and I realized that we had better get some numbers.

We pushed and shoved through the mob, to the numbers guy, and were able to get signed in after a few minutes of yelling my name repeatedly. Meanwhile the start area is still receiving a flood of runners, from all over the area. Notable joggers, Martin Lel (’08 Olympic Marathon) and Asbel Kiprop (’08 Olympic 1500m), were in attendance. 9 AM has passed without any real notice, and I begin to let the stress fade, and revel in the hilarity of the situation. The officials are screaming at the stubborn crowd of athletes, with little luck.

I have now become more concerned with my emerging sunburn, and scout for a patch of shade beneath a truck tailgate. There are now roughly between 600-750 runners milling around the start area. Isaac has urged me to stay near the starting line, in fear of being stuck 100m behind the start. The big official begins a bellowing pre-race instruction speech. The main emphasis is centered around the immorality of cheating. “It is a dishonor to yourself, your sport, your family” roared the big man to the attentive crowd,

” and most importantly it is a crime against your GOD!”

I had to turn and step aside, to hide my laughter at the fire and brimstone speech.

We made our way to the starting line and secured a spot about three deep from the front. The race officials pushed back the eager mob, and there were actually two false starts. Finally a fourth time the crowd surged, without any starting command, and the race was off.

I thought I was prepared for how fast the race would start. I was dead wrong. Within maybe 400m, I was already pushed back to roughly 200th place, with the leaders already out of sight. My mind was scattered, and I was not jogging. I judged my pace to be roughly 4:45/mile, and I was getting left in the dust! As I figured after the first five minutes, many of the runners started to drift backwards. By the time I reached the 1.75mi killer hill, I was still much further back than I had expected.

I began to surge up the hill, but I was feeling the elements by now. The two hours spent standing in the sun, had taken their toll, as I felt my head tingle with onset heat exhaustion. I mopped my brow and focused on surging up the hill. I only picked off about 30 runners up the hill, and at the crest viewed a huge mob of runners well past the incline heading towards town. I was feeling pretty rotten by now, with the sun, lack of oxygen and general shock of my unfamiliar position.

All along the course I heard shouts, of ‘Mazungu’ or just general laughter aimed in my direction. My eyes lit up when I saw the water station, at the 8km mark, which was probably meant for the marathoners. I made a direct angle to grab a bottle and dumped the contents on my head saving a splash for drinking. Cooled down a bit I bore down for the last bit into town. All along the last 5km runners were using my passing as their own internal motivation. Every thirty seconds a previously passed runner would draw even for a few moments, but sadly drop back again. We took the last hill into town, and aimed for the track.

Once we popped onto the track I could feel the cheers picking up, or just the observational ‘mazungu” cries. I took them as cheering regardless. We had 300m left to run on the track to the finish. I rolled up about 10 guys in the first 200m but the last two fellows saw me in the rear view mirror. They were able to hold me off in the final stretch, as I heard “from South Carolina, USA!”

I looked at my watch and a modest 31:14 was my finish time. I think the course was about 30 sec short, but under the circumstances I was happy with the outcome. Directly after the finish line there was a small black sheep bleating his head off. Apparently just before I pulled onto the track, the little guy had wandered onto the road, and since both sides of the track were lined with people he had nowhere else to go. From first hand accounts people said the lamb raced the last 300m like a pro! All the way through the finish he went and standing next to me in the water line, he was making his displeasure known.

After the race I got pictures with many other racers, and some really old ones. I would venture to say that I came in somewhere around 150th-200th place, out of I don’t know, a lot I guess. This is the lowest position I think I have ever had in a race, and I was beaten by livestock to add insult to injury. I took a bunch of photos and hope to get them up later.