The Followup

A day later and I'm back to the NYC, back at my desk, showered, tired, sore, awesome still - which is obvi, but otherwise still not completely over what was an amazing weekend.

There's reasons runners hold certain races and events up as the holy grails of the sport. Boston is obviously one, and having run over half of it this past year I can say that lived up to the hype. It was kind of like being a midget at the Wizard of Oz museum (which sadly enough exists and is at this very moment likely FILLED with little folks). Just from having been involved with the NYC Marathon for the last couple years I can say the energy from the race is insane. I've seen people come into bars after the race and get standing ovations. Dude just finished 35,256th and people are buying him beers. The marathon trials in the park last year were intense. Seeing Hall high fiving people at 4:40 pace made me wanna run. Plus I've run halfs, I've run 5Ks, I've run in High School State Championships, I've run college D1 XC races, I've been on some of the sickest trails in the Northeast, etc. Point is I'm no stranger to this running thing - old hand some would say - and this experience was by far the raddest thing I've ever been involved in. There's not even really a close second.

Lets take a quick look at where I was this weekend:

My team = Awesometown

My van = The capital of Awesometown, Awesometown City

My legs = Awesometown City Hall, also known as the Hall of Awesome

Me = The Mayor of Awesometown (maybe Deputy Mayor aka the Deputy of Dope, or like Recording Secretary which doesn't get a cool title but whatever), just feeding the warrior and making it rain


Plus, when all was said and done we did phenomenally finishing 99th - TOP 100 BABY! And not like 99 out of 100, but 99 out of 1000 with an average pace of 8:49. It's just super dopetasticism.

All in all thanks to everyone who made this such a great experience - from top to bottom this event and all the people I was able to meet and hang with over the course of this weekend rock my $15 DryFit socks. On a weekend without a cloud in the sky we truly made it rain.

Church on the Move playas!

The Journey Home

After finishing a two day, 197 mile relay race all you really want to do is sleep. But there would be no rest for the weary today. After hitting the beach and finishing with the team - which let me add is an amazing feeling, Jon and I had to rush back to the hotel in Portland, grab our bags, and make an 11:24PM flight. We made it to the hotel at 10:30 and the airport just in time for them to tell us we couldn't make our flight. We were tired, we hadn't showered in two days, and that honestly wasn't an option. So after a little sweet talking, (my charm with the ladies is well documented,) we got on our flight, connected, and I was back in my bed by 10AM. The longest day ever? Perhaps. Nappy time.

Leg 29: The Final Chapter

Funny thing about leg 5 is whenever you tell someone who's been to H2C that you're doing it they get a funny look on their face, laugh a little knowing laugh, give a head shake, and tell you good luck with leg 29. I seriously got that 10 times this weekend. It's almost like there are teams of werewolves along the course getting ready to take me out if I slow down and only a select few know. Ha ha, I hope you bring your silver bullets, ha ha. So leading into the leg I was a bit nervous. It didn't help that the elevation map looked like what I was snowboarding down in February just without the chair lift.

But at some point during this fantastic voyage I decided that I was going to beat leg 5 like Rocky beat Ivan Drago. Take some punishment but in the end my leg would start the fall of the Iron Curtain. Bring that bad boy DOWN.

The leg started and I'm climbing the Himalayas almost immediately. Seriously RE-DIC, and after two legs, and no sleep, I had little to nothing to give it. It was like the Commies were going to win. But beyond the Rocky IV metaphors it was beautiful along the path with wooded shoulders, deep woods, a waterfall, and running water in the background.

I did the first mile pretty unimpressively as I climbed about 200 feet - maybe averaging 7:30 - 8:00 pace. The hills let up for a little and climbing another 50 feet over the next mile practically felt downhill. This is also where I started seeing my first road kills. And that's roughly where the fun begins. Coming around a corner I saw the worst part of the climb for the first time as I passed number 1 and 2 and I became exhausted just looking at it. It's the kind of hill people have trouble walking down. And it just kept turning, and turning, and not ending, and turning, and going steeper, and turning, and when is this going to end?

But as I picked off kill 3 and 4 the runners were all just awesome. Every person I passed on the climb said something encouraging. Kill number 4 said, "Go get em." Number 5 said, "Looking strong keep it up." Then a van drove by and slowed down to yell, "Hell yeah team EKIN! Keep it up!" It's ANOTHER one of the awesome things about the race. No one really cares about winning or beating each - there's no telling when anyone started so everyone is just enjoying the experience. It was so cool that I actually started pausing my iPod (which I had playing Ize of the World by the Strokes on repeat since the second leg) as I passed people to hear their encouragement.

By this point I was struggling but kept thinking that the harder I went the shorter it would be. Please let it end.

I rounded the last corner and saw the peak, and It was like Christmas, meets my birthday, meets finding a $20 in a pair of pants you haven't worn in a while, meets making up on a Sunday thiking you're late for work and realizing it's SUNDAY PLAYA! In short - euphoria. People at the top had set up finish-line tape with toilet paper to run through (I assumed for just their teammate who I assumed was the guy in front of me so I let him run through, but they might have just been that awesome?)

I passed another kill as I crossed the line that someone had chalked on the sidewalk that said: TOP OF THE HILL. I turned to him, gave a high 5 and said, "I thought that would never end." He said, "All down hill from here, go and get it." And with that I took off.

The back side of the hill I was flying. If I had to guess I'd say I was at between 5:00 and 5:30 pace the whole backside picking up kills like I was Pesci in Casino. Anyone in my way was getting wacked. Coming over the last hill I saw the finish and let go picking up three more kills and clocking in on the 6.14 mile run in 40:16 (6:33 pace).

And with that my legs were done. My adjusted goal pace based on my 10K PR time (which I put in as 36:00) was 6:30 so I was pretty close, and I was thrilled how I ended. 16 kills to bring my total to 39. Hardest greatest run I've ever had. Life is good.

See to be Seen

H2C teams consist of 12 runners with 6 each in two vans. So while one van is out on the road running, supporting, and driving from exchange to exchange, the other van is trying to waste time and sleep. The logistics of this creates a strange situation where you NEVER see the rest of your team. I'm not even sure the other van even really exists. It's a myth like the unicorns and god. I just occasionally see Amber running through with a slap braclet but there's zero proff they're doing anything but that last 40 feet.

While at the same time you end up locked in these dejavuish loops where you see the same freaking people constantly. I've seen the other EKIN vans more in the last day than I've seen my family in the last year. They're like everywhere. I end up seeing Missy every exchange. I can't get away from the freakin super heroes.

We were in a loop with the Under Armour Van for a while which was interesting for two reasons. One because we caught their runner on leg 18 rocking a pair of Asics. And two because on our first set of legs we definitely saw someone tag a NIKE+ on them. No telling who did it considering 90% of the people here rock the Swoosh, but I will high 5 anyone with pictures.

Van Decoration

At H2C a well decorated van is as important as slathering your undercarriage with body glide on the second leg - you can go without it but it's not going to be as pleasant. I guess the main difference is the lack of physical pain involved in not decorating your van but that's the best annology I got right now so get off my back. The best decorations, such as D. Sanchez who was holding down the front of my girl Missy's van, have something for everyone, (you might notice the produce in DSan'z briefs which is a universal sign of class, or that he's happy to see you.)


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EDITORS NOTE: The lovely lady on the left with the USA hat is Caitlin Sargent. I met Caitlin this weekend and thought she was a pretty cool chick, and then on her second leg she totally yacks mid-stride and keeps on trucking through the leg. Instantly Caitlin Sargent became a personal hero. Kudos to Caitlin for rocking.
***

Some are just part of the overall theme - which is similarly as cool.


But possibly the best are the kinds of decorations that develop over the course of the race as exhaustion kicks in and everything starts getting a little funnier. The best of this kind I saw on leg 27 where a van had written on the side, "Jen shit her pants on leg 15 - seriously. TRUE DAT!" One can only imagine that one of their vanmates, Jennifer, literally shit in her pants while running during leg 15. And then, her teammates, being the totally awesome dudes and dudettes they are decided to advertise that for the rest of the race on the side of the van. I wish I could have hugged that team.

Our van keeps picking up love on the way:


The latest has to do with our obsession with the Lance Armstrong Dick's Sport commercials. Setting up for a water stop on John's second run I was driving the van, and as we had off the water I yelled out the window, "FEED THE WARRIOR!" It's become somewhat of a theme. That and our team-wide desire to "Kill the coward with-in."

(TOT SEND ME PICS of that!!!!!!)

Where are you going, where have you been?

Just getting back to civilization after being out in the middle of nowhere all day. Finally have an internet connection. Will be back to recap some of the stuff shortly.

Road to Nowhere

The volunteers here have been universally amazing – fun, cheery, conscientious, friendly, and dedicated. And in all I would love to buy them all a delicious frosty adult beverage coupled with a hearty back slap. “Here, here,” I’d say, “To the H2C volunteers to a tremendous job.” And then we’d all toast and laugh a hearty laugh knowing well that a good job had been done.

But on the way to the 18/19 exchange we encountered one dude that sure as shit isn’t going to be drinking from my frosty mug. Looking for the hand-off we came across a fork in the road. This was one of the few legs where you couldn’t just follow the runners the whole time which made it a lot more difficult. We asked the guy which way to go to which he dumbly grunted monosyllabically something to the effect of “eh”? Kind of like the end of the theme song for Tool Tim. So we asked again and he said Van 1 goes one way and Van 2 goes the other. So we again ask if he’s sure – another monosyllabic grunt later and we’re headed 40 minutes out of our F-ing way. Halfway to Jamaica we give up and turn back, later finding out that that guy had in fact gone full tard on us. Everyone knows you never go full tard.

Everything worked out in the end but honestly, during the toast I'm going to spit in that dude's beer.

The Triumpant Return

After several hours in the middle of nowhere with no aircard service, and no real sign of anything but trees and a couple random horses, (in the middle of nothing which was strange,) we’re now in the middle of nowhere with some aircard service, so I need to get this out before we’re back on radio silence – which is the only silence because Selecia and Vince are currently engaged in a battle of dueling snores.

We’re currently done with our second set of legs and Van 2 is out there somewhere on the hilly, gravely covered paths of god knows where doing god knows what to god knows who, or what, or who? I just caught a little sleep – nothing substantial but enough to make me feel like I’m dying of thirst and need to vomit. So, awesome right?

So the question is how’d my leg go right?

Well, running, much like this blog, is a funny thing. Sometimes you think you feel great, you’re dialed in, you’re completely ready, and you get out there and just aren’t feeling it. Sometimes you feel like I typically do on a Saturday morning - beat up, worn out, your hair is all over the place, you’re laying next to a couple chicks you just met hours ago, and you go out there and you’re on. And then sometimes you travel across the country, run 6 miles up a 45 degree incline, stay up all night telling ghost stories with people you barely know, step out into the 3 AM pitch blackness, and tell a 5.69 mile run to “suck it.”

Right before my leg I said I’d be happy running 6:30 pace – it seemed practical., but if I was really feeling it maybe 6:15. That’s all I wanted, needed, or thought I was capable of. For one of the few times in my life I was wrong as I clocked in at 36:50 which broke into 5:56 splits over the deceptively hilly course.

I felt decent going into it but I totally didn’t expect to be moving that fast. But every time I thought of backing down I told myself that I’d wait until I was hurting. For the most part it never came, and I just keep picking off road kills (13, to bring our van’s total right now to 45.) So with one of the hardest legs on the entire course left to run I’m feeling pretty beat, but I’ll finish, and in a race like this if y ou have one leg to hang your hate on that’s enough for the story.

After I was done Nat dropped some 7:15s over a bitch of a leg 18 to pass us off in pretty decent shape.

I want to write more but I keep getting distracted here. We have about an hour before we run so I’ll check back in a little.

Leg 17: The Return of the Mack

Got Tot throwin’ it down on leg 15 at about deuce fiddy in the A to the M. People are kinda shocked at the energy level our van is bringing at hand-offs because none of us have bothered sleeping yet, but the last two legs the lack of shut-eye has started to show a little. Selecia would likely describe her leg as left than comfortable, and John’s not doing any bragging – even though I screamed “FEED THE WARRIOR!” to him after handing off

That leaves my homeboy Vince Ho to throw a Cali style ass whoopin – ya hearing me?

After that I need to get on my pony because I have a 5.69 (haha 69), mile jaunt down a leg flatter than a 4th grader. I’m projected to go 6:00 pace but I’d be very happy matching my last leg. Hell, I’ll be happy to break 7:00s. But that’s not the kind of thinking that’s bringing home the gold.

Overall I’m lil’ tired, lil’ sore, lil’ anxious, lil’ rad… I’d say lil’ hungry but my boy JS hooked a brotha up with a bar of some type and a handful of aminal crackas. Couple polar bears, a koala, and brown bear later and I’m ready to throw down. As John is fond of saying these days – “That’s blogable.”

Just asked Nat Tat Tat how she’s rolling and she was like, “In mansions and Benzes playa!” And as she says it Tot rolls by and yells, “This is the wackest thing I’ve ever done in my life.” So it’s good to see she’s having a good time with it.

So Vinnie is bouta get on it and I’m on deck. Check back after the run.

Second Leg Layover

The running itself isn't what makes H2C such a test of endurance, determination, and will - it's the fact that you're running three times over 24 hours, without sleep, over mountainous terrain, in the middle of the night that really kicks you in the nuts and says "What!?!".

So we're currently sitting in a parking lot waiting for the second van to pass the slappy bracelet back to us for the midnight long-haul.



The van keeps picking up new sweetness as it continues to rep the NYC hard.


Another fun thing about H2C is "Road Kills". Since people start the race at all times of the day, and since faster teams tend to start later, every time you pass someone they're considered a road kill. I racked up 10 on my leg. Nat scored 6. John had 5. Tot had one. And V-dizzle had 1.


While we were waiting we ended up talking to the team who's leading the women's race. They were up from the 404 reppin' Hotlanta to the fullest. Gotta love the ATLiens. They have two of them doing 4 legs which blows my MIND. Good luck ladies - keep bringing it.


OK, about to see off Selecia for the first part of our second legs - Is it just me or did I just feel some precipitation?

Melissa Capone Dropping THUNDER

Just got a text from my main lady Missy C getting MAD nasty on leg 9 (I think). Not sure the time or distance but she averaged 7:20s over a pitch black gravelly course - and while doing so pretty much set a personal best. Missy and I have been trying to say "what up" since I got here, but I totally owe her a high fiver on that one.

Leg Six: The Natalie Chapter

Big Blogstravagana shout to my girl Natalie who stepped up to leg 6 planning on 8 minute pace and pretty much popped her collar and told 8 minute pace she just wasn't interested in running that slow.



Natalie does more than just smoke H2C legs. She kicked mad butt setting this whole horse and pony show up for us - no small task considering our team is from all over the country.

Nat was a gymnast at UDub but now does the intern thing for Nike where she gets gymnasty.

But if that all wasn't reason enough to give her some kind of an award for being the Lord of Awesome, she also just let us go over her apartment to shower. Big ups to her roomies/the downstairs people (Lauren, Jamie, Dan, Mark, Gabe, Nick, Rebbecca, Justin) whose warm hearts and pure souls kept various parts of my anatomy from getting all skanked up. I love you all.

Leg 5: The Day I Made It Rain

So I've spoken to the fact that my legs are kinda difficult - lots of hills and long as the facial hair on the Oregonian people. It was going to be difficult, but also already stated, that's how I roll. I bring the thunder. But after running the first leg I would like to change the word kinda to very, and difficult to possibly life threatening.

It started off OK, downhill and kind of fast. Then all of a sudden I was climbing Kilimanjaro. No one told me I was going to need a sherpa for this race. And it wasn't the kind of hill that eventually levels off and you're all proud of yourself. This was like 4 solid miles of 45 degree angle running. For those familiar with Central Park it was like Harlem Hill took steroids and got pissed at you for talking to its girlfriend.

But I did manage under a 6:30 pace. (It was really a 6.08 mile run and Nike+ logged it as 6) and picked up 10 road kills. Dropped those suckas dead yo.

But the most notable part of the run came about 4 miles in when I was making a turn. There was a van full of hot chicks looking at me with what I thought was cute flirty glances. But a half a mile later I get dropped mad hard by a 4'9" blond chick and I realized they just found it funny that they're 98 lb friend was sitting on my shoulder getting ready to tell me that her fast smells like burnt toast. (it was actually more like cherry vanilla.)

Showering, eating, and getting ready for leg 17. Rain has been brought.

Leg 5: The Paul Leone Chapter

I'm about to start my leg and I ain't skerd. Bout to get bout it. Rocking out to a little classical right now to get my head all right and what have you. Not gonna lie, my knee is a little sore from Monday night softball, but this ain't about my knee, this is about the team, the comradery, the vanradery, the fact that I'm out here to make it rain.

MAKE IT RAIN NOT FEEL THE PAIN!.

Perfect timing too because everything I own needs a charge right now. Check back at you when I bend leg 5 up over my knee and ask it who's you're daddy.

Leg Three

F-LO-R-I-D-A, S-T-A-T-E, Florida State, Florida State, Florida State – Woooooooooh! We’re on leg 3 about to pass to Vince from San Fran. We’ll talk about him later. Right now out there is my girl Tatiana who is reppin’ this 3.93 mile downhill trek through the hills.

Tot is a fellow FSU grad so she obviously LOVES Dix (Walter). These days she’s an EKIN out in LA where she specializes in kicking ass and taking names. She’s also my newest Facebook friend so I have a feeling I’m going to poke her very soon.



Why does this read like an 8th grader wrote it.

Overall it’s very warm out – even though the air is cold. Which is strange. It’s absolutely beautiful out though and by the time I get the stick (actually a slap bracelet,) at 6PM, it should be balla out. I have the leg after this one so I’ll check in after that. Holla.

And heeeeere we go...

Once upon a time not long ago when Paul was in New York and blogged real slow... (love the Slick Rick reference?). Ok it makes no sense. But the race is off and Selecia is about to pass us at the half way point.

And there she goes.

Next up is my boy from the 774 John Searle. About to rep CHItown to the fullest. J-dawg is running leg two and captaining this highway to hell.

Hood 2 Coast Leg 1: Selecia

The best way to understand leg one of H2C would be to get onto the roof of a very tall building, get near the edge, and look down. Pretty much the same thing. It starts at 6,000 ft and over about 5 miles you drop to 4,000. It's redic. But luckily we're leading off with a rock star.

Selecia is the OC EKIN - straight outta Long Beach which means she's a Dirtbag (and I mean that in the nicest way.) I met her yesterday and she's already used my stick - so a bond has formed. If she can stretch once, she can stretch twice. As I type this she's busy playing with men's underwear.

Selecia would like to holla at her fams, two Yogi and Roley her D-O-double Gs. Her roommate Wells for dropping mad dropping mad tight beats. All the playas locked up in the struggle - best recognize.

She also wants to let the blog readers know she enjoyed the magic stick. HOLLA!

Van Decoration

In the van right now on the way to the start after doing a little van decoration. Did mad representation for the 212, the 774, SF, LA, UDub, and FSU (myself and one of my van mates are both former Noles). Also gave a shout to my boy Phillip who allowed this to be possible but wasn't able to be with us today. Single tear.


The team name is the Streakin' EKINs, which is the historic name for all EKIN teams. That explains the drawhs.

We'll be starting at 2:45 with Selecia starting the first leg. Next step is to put together her profile.

Game Day

I had an awesome night's sleep and now I'm getting ready to Rock and Roll. Weathe rois gorgeous:

59°F
Current:Mostly Cloudy
Wind: NE at 0 mph
Humidity: 77%

And I'll be leaving the hotel in about an hour. Will post from the van.

Seatless Near Seattle

I haven’t put anything up since we arrived, but other than saying that everything is awesome I really don’t know what else to tell you. It’s about 11PM Portland time and I’m just having a blast with this so far. The team is awesome, I went to Nike Campus today after we got in and it was pretty awesome. (I’ll post those pictures when I get them off the camera.) All the gear is awesome. I’m pretty awesome which is awesome. Awesome, awesome, awesome.

Pretty much the only thing less than awesome at this point is our vans. Each van has 6 runners and a driver, and it basically goes from start to start dropping a runner off and picking one up. So when you’re not running you’re basically spending your time talking about how I’m awesome or trying to sleep – or obviously trying to draw penises on anyone who tries to sleep. But our vans were missing a crucial element today – seats. Seriously, we have seatless cargo vans. Add chains and it’s essentially a prison van. We’re going to be bouncing around the back like the dogs from Dumb and Dumber.

But on that note it’s time to try to sleep. T-minus 14 hours until the awesome officially begins.

Musings From Above

737 might be numerically inferior to 757, but in terms of flight quality this isn’t even close. Check that picture, you know what that is? Leg room playa. That’s how I be rollin’.





As I write this I’m currently at 30,000 feet soaring over the vast open nothingness of this fine land. It’s amazing how much of the USA is nothing. Someone should plant some corn, or put a strip mall down there. Something.



I decide to check out the in-flight safety manual, and this thing is mind boggling. First of all you have to think about the fact that there’s a company that is strictly specializing in the production of in-flight safety manuals – that’s what they do, that’s it. Day and night is in-flight safety manuals. They wake up and go into their giant in-flight safety manual production facility and pump these things out by the hundreds. The company that made this one is actually called Aero Safety Graphics Inc., but you have to assume they have competitors in the marketplace. So there are in fact MULTIPLE companies that’s sole industry is the production of these cards. That in itself is slightly amazing – I mean how many planes are there? And no one reads these things unless they want to reenact the seen from Fight Club and mention how they’re “Calm as Hindu cows,” so you have to assume they last a while. But yet there is a family who’s going to Sizzler tonight with money gained from the production and distribution of these cards.


But even more startling to me is the fact that this is all someone does for a living. These cards. Yet the artist they chose to put this together is like an 8th grade art student. Just look at this slop. The cell phone has “Cell Phone” on the screen, the radio is circa 1982, and why the hell is that women strapping in that dwarf? It’s bizarre. If in-flight safety manuals is your livelihood you think you’d splurge for a better artist, or at least not make the dude demonstrating how to open the emergency exit look like a 70s porn star. He’s stashtastic.

When I get back to NYC I’m making it a point to talk to someone at this company and share some of these ideas with them. Maybe over some Sizzler?

In Denver: 12:48PM est

For many years philosophers and theologians have theorized about the dark recesses of the afterlife and what hell is like. For many hell is searing hot as the souls of the dead torture you for all eternity. For Dante is was a bitterly cold place with circles of increasing severity. For me it was seat 24B on a 757 United flight to Denver wedged between a rather large and pale sodku playing dude who had no respect for my personal space, and some poor asian guy who I'd fall into every 15 minutes as my upright sleeping style lead to slouching into his shoulder. That guy must have hated me - or loved me - you never know.


My boy Jon had a similar experience rocking the flight, (which was somewhere between 4 hours and 2 and a half weeks) next to a screaming infant and the same fat dude who somehow was managing both locations.

So, sitting here in the airport and run into Amy who spots the swoosh and asks if we're running. It turns out that she does our runs in Chicago and knows our team out there. Small world. Time to board. Next post I'll be on Portland time.

About To Take Off

Going to get beat up by the flight attendant but just want to let the world know that despite the booze, despite my history, despite the naysayers, I have in fact made my flight. See you in Denver.

Almost Almost There

There's many paths to H2C. Some people sleep up, some people train up, I'm just up. PACKING. Just how I roll. Leaving in like 45 minutes to go to the airport. Maybe a little tipsy because I hung out with my main main Phil? Getting pumped. Bringing it.

The Blogstravaganza Shall Be Televised!

...Well, at least blogged about.

Tomorrow I leave to go to Hood to Coast which in many respects is to runners what the Burger King Triple Whopper with cheese is to fat people - a holy grail of sorts, where dreams really do come true. It's a 197 miles of taking names and kicking ass (not in that order) split into 36 brutal legs. So I've decided that I want to document the journey with constant blogging updates so the simple people can bask in my reflective glow. From take off tomorrow morning to landing back in the NYC on Saturday night I want to offer a runners eye view of the lows, highs, hijinx, and hilarity that occurs behind the scenes at an event like this. When people stop acting polite and start acting real.

It might be one of my finest moments. I might stop doing it after the first blog. Who knows really? Unpredictability is just how I roll.

So check back because this is only the beginning my friends. More to come. Oh more to come.