PC: Buffalo County Stampede

After running three virtual half-marathon races in Kearney, Nebraska, in the past year and a half, I registered for a legitimate 13.1-mile race in the city with the Buffalo County Stampede, taking place on June 10, 2018. I, however, forgot to consider the nearly inevitable heat I would be up against and refrained from turning on the air conditioner in my apartment so that my body could acclimate to the rapidly increasing temperature. Simply lying in bed made me sweat, and I even woke up early morning of the run due to the heat and relied on a cold water bottle on the back of my neck and stomach to fall back asleep.

The temperature peaked on race day, and the unanticipated rainstorm the night before raised the humidity level as well. I wore a hydration pack containing two water bottles filled with Gatorade for a 75-degree start and 84-degree finish with the direct sunlight to my face. I began the course at a similar pace as that of my races in cooler weather and realized this strategic miscalculation five miles in when I noticed my fatiguing far earlier than usual. Halfway through, I ran a steady steep uphill on a bridge, which would have been a breeze in most cases but took much out of me here; I could have power-hiked at a similar pace without burning myself out, what I did for the second comparable uphill past mile 10. In spite of the course being mostly flat and untechnical, the worsening heat and my body’s producing an ocean of sweat drained me both physically and mentally. I added brief walks towards the end while hydrating, partly to conserve energy to finish strong but also because my stomach felt overwhelmed by all the fluid I shoved in and my bouncing around simultaneously. With no participant anywhere near me, I had difficulty finding an incentive to push. One runner finally came into sight with half a mile to go, and I took off and poured all I had left, crossing the finish line in 2:05:46. The drastic impact summer heat and humidity, although not summer yet technically, could have on my performance… I miss winter.

Molly Huddle!

From meeting one of my favorite runners, Molly Huddle, and listening to her speak to constantly being woken up early morning by my hotel neighbors’ dog and cat ceaselessly barking and meowing, I dealt with a myriad of emotions the final hours leading up to the Lincoln National Guard Half Marathon on May 6, 2018. I had run this exact race a couple of years previously and knew what to expect, except two years ago I endured cold and rain and this year I battled heat and humidity.

I had not run for quite some time in such a large event with so many runners and crowds cheering from left and right from start to finish, as I have been participating in mostly trail races, and I knew that this setting would have an impact on my adrenaline. I wanted to break two hours again, but I knew I would have to push extra hard on this course that read slightly farther than the 13.1-mile distance on my GPS my first experience in 2016. I maintained a comfortable pace, which still put me on track to beat my personal record of 1:56:55 for the first nine miles. Unfortunately but unsurprisingly, around ten miles in, I felt the sudden temperature rise to the 80s affect me and even salt pouring out of my body. With several rolling hills left to conquer, I drastically slowed down the last three miles that I knew finishing under two hours would not be a given either. I also understood every runner was suffering and reminded myself that pain is temporary and to push without overanalyzing.

I don’t know why I look so fat here.

I completed the course in 1:59:08, unsure whether to be content or disappointed; I accomplished my goal of securing another sub-2:00:00 half marathon under tough conditions but had to give up on a personal best fairly close to the end of the race. I felt at one point around mile seven my right knee might give out, so overcoming the course without an injury already eliminated any room for me to complain. Furthermore, with the heat draining almost every ounce of my energy, I felt relieved to have finished strong, as many runners in front of me ended up walking toward the end.

With Nebraska finally warming up, or so I thought, I sought the earliest available 13.1 miles and landed on the Sillassen Half Marathon, scheduled to take place on April 14, 2018, in Arthur, Nebraska. I committed to a six-hour drive to the land of nothing-to-do just so that I could enjoy the beautiful nature across the Sandhills. Semi-understanding the course’s inevitable hilliness, I focused training on steep rolling hills.

When I registered, the weather channel predicted race day in the 40s, my ideal temperature for long-distance running. Then, Nebraska was hit with a storm warning, which became a blizzard warning, in mid-April. Really? I took out my winter running gear for a race in the upper 10s. I had booked a hotel, completed training, and mentally prepared, before I was notified, two days prior to go time, the event’s cancelation due to the possible blizzard, in mid-April.

I asked the race director if she could allow the registrants to run a virtual race, especially with the no-refund policy, and thankfully she agreed. Ten minutes after her official confirmation, I took off for the most spontaneous half marathon ever, slightly concerned about feeling nauseous running on a full stomach of Subway’s Cold Cut Combo meal. For the first eight or nine miles, I looked for significant hills to replicate the Sandhills, coincidentally while the race director was emailing the runners to “try to add some major hills.” Because GPS could be inaccurate, I ran 13.24 miles, rather than 13.1, in 2:12:31, horrendous time but okay considering the consistent hills, powerful headwinds, and my very last-minute decision to take on this challenge. I did not believe I would run another virtual race after early last year, but I cannot complain about the best alternative to the actual Sillassen Half Marathon.

My new race year commenced on March 10, 2018, with a brief Run for the Gold 10K in Springfield, Nebraska, hosted by Freedom Running Company, with whom I set my half-marathon personal record last summer. I normally do not race a 10K, and my decision to participate had more to do with getting a breath of fresh air outside Kearney with the generally humble and friendly running community. Running into two familiar faces from a previous race excited me even more.

Familiar faces!

I did have in mind to try to break my 10K personal best of 51:44 from two summers ago until I saw the brutally hilly course entirely on gravel. Adrenaline? Cool windy weather? Rolling hills? I do not know, but I kept my first mile mostly in the upper six-minute and lower seven-minute, which concerned me slightly because I hardly ever run at that pace. I remained fairly consistent until the final 1.2 miles of mostly steep uphill, where I, and probably every other runner, slowed down drastically. This race neither utilized chip timing nor provided an official time, strangely. My Garmin reads 54:51.97, so I could guess my race time by subtracting a couple of seconds because I usually start my watch prior to crossing the start and stop it after crossing the finish. Whatever. I simply came here to have fun, which I did.

Times Square!

With my Green Card process reaching the final stages, my lawyer and his assistant advised against my leaving the United States until my travel document is approved; thus, I postponed my original plan to travel to Europe for a second consecutive December and closed out 2017 exploring New York City, New York, and Atlanta, Georgia, with family and friends. I find traveling an efficient way to free myself from the stresses of my lonely and unhealthy environment, and I took this opportunity to reflect on the past 365 days of roller-coaster rides.

The Starry Night at MoMA!

I try not to focus on the negative so that I do not blur out all the blessings I have been gifted with in 2017. Most memorably by a mile, I finally accomplished my ultimate athletic dream of covering the 100-mile (plus two) distance, the pinnacle of ultrarunning, in April. When I think about how long and consistently I and my close ones prayed for this former fantasy, the hundreds of dreams I had on running and finishing, all the time I spent training (even on business trips), and of course the race itself and what I had to endure to complete this ambitious goal, this once-in-a-lifetime accomplishment from over half a year ago still feels fresh and surreal.

Holiday markets!

One dishonest individual who made my life and the lives of my close colleagues miserable for years and really should have been imprisoned was finally removed from our workplace after bizarrely slow two years of investigation. I felt relieved, more than happy, to observe justice semi-served; however, now, I feel slightly embarrassed that I as a Christian never even attempted to go out of my way to love this enemy and severely disliked him as a person rather than hating Satan in him. “If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that?” (Matthew 5:46-47)

Central Park in the evening!

A few days prior to my end-of-the-year domestic vacation, I received joyful news my Employment Authorization Document for the Green Card was approved, implying I should receive my Green Card soon and will finally feel and be free in America, where I grew up since 2001. How could I, mere mortal, comprehend the plans of my Creator? However, confident my Father watches over me and knows what is best for me, I cannot wait to experience what the Author of my life has in store for me in 2018.

PC: Wild Turkey Chase 13.1

For Thanksgiving 2017, I returned to Pickrell, Nebraska, for my second consecutive Wild Turkey Chase 13.1, hosted by Spearman Expeditions. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I did not want to let any negative thoughts enter my head, tough task with my unhealthy work environment that affects me both mentally and physically. Being alone with no family or close friends anywhere near the Midwest makes this situation even more difficult to cope with. Each time an upsetting thought crept into my mind, I tried my best to empty my head and solely remain grateful for what I have rather than concentrating on what I lack.

The race temperature commenced in the upper 20s, and a female runner to my right called me crazy for wearing solely a T-shirt for the top; I replied to her, who had on three layers of clothes that included a thin jacket, “You are going to sweat a lot. You are crazy!” She after the finish thanked me for this warning, as she took off one layer and still experienced much sweating. I kept an easy pace halfway through, and many runners passed me. At the midpoint turnaround, my pace arbitrarily automatically picked up, and I landed three feet behind a runner who has completed an IRONMAN and became my inadvertent pacer for the majority of the second half. As I spotted his continuously looking down at his GPS watch and consistently running at a 9:05-per-mile pace, I figured I would safely collect a sub-2:00:00 finish as long as I stayed close to him. Multiple runners who had passed me in the first half began to slow down, and I passed about twenty of them in the second half. I did not look for my distance on my Garmin to avoid being caught up on “Am I there yet?” When the tall buildings toward the start became visible, I checked my GPS watch and was surprised to notice I had less than one mile to go. Because I knew based on the year before and the distance my Garmin gave me at the midpoint I would be running slightly over 13.1 miles, I to be certain to finish under two hours immediately substantially increased my speed, almost sprinting, for nearly a mile, shaving off five seconds per mile on average in the final stretch.

Happy Thanksgiving!

For the first time ever in a race, I hit an immense negative split. Crossing the finish line full of energy and not even remotely out of breath in 1:58:20, third place in Age Group 20-29 and my second official sub-2:00:00 half marathon, I wondered if I could potentially run much faster than I believe I am physically able if I pushed harder to the point I have nothing left at the end. As I always do, I spent the next half an hour chatting and making friends with fellow runners. I aimed to give every runner I encountered a thumbs-up throughout the race, and I may have succeeded in doing so; I truly enjoy the aspect of strangers cheering one another on to accomplish our respective goals. The Wild Turkey Chase 13.1 wrapped up my most active race year to date, with one 102-miler and seven half marathons in nine months.

Golden Corral

Following the event, I headed to Golden Corral in Lincoln for the Thanksgiving special buffet and celebrated the holiday alone. Words cannot describe the loneliness of where God has placed me to train me at the moment, but I also understand this adversity will soon pass and how abundantly He has blessed my life. As one of my church pastors said, “When we focus on what we lack, we lose perspective on what we have.” I can eat whatever I want whenever I want, while hundreds of millions of people around the world live in poverty. I drink clean water. I have a job and make a solid living. I rent my own apartment. I own a car. I have a laptop and a smartphone. I have health. I was blessed with a family who fears and passionately loves and serves Jesus. Most importantly, I have the privilege of calling the Creator of the universe my Father. I cannot count the amount of blessings I have been freely given by grace, and my every day should be Thanksgiving. “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18).

Following the not-so-pleasant experience just over two weeks ago at the Hot Cider Hustle Half Marathon, where I was led astray multiple times, I immediately looked for another upcoming half marathon, as I refused to let the former be my last race of 2017. Nebraska compared to last year is becoming colder quite early this year, and because I am thinking of traveling over Thanksgiving, I signed up for the Beer & Bagel Off-Road Race Series ½-ish Marathon in Ashland, Nebraska, on November 11, 2017, only a few days prior to the race. (I did not know if I would be required to drink beer while running a half marathon, in which case I would not have participated, the main reason I waited until the last minute and I knew the answer to this to register.) The event website spoke of letting Mother Nature take care of building extreme obstacles rather than humanly building them. The course varies every year and is remained a mystery until running; nevertheless, in spite of people’s commenting on the typical brutal hilliness of the event, I who lived in Georgia for five years continued to think, “How hilly could Nebraska possibly get?”

No, I did not place third. 😉

The course in Quarry Oaks (golf course) repeated the same loop three times, out, back, and back out. Continuously running up and down (and hardly ever running flat) on untrimmed grass and trails, I thought half-jokingly two miles in, “What the heck did I get myself into?” Before this experience, I had never walked in a half marathon, so I remained adamant in the first loop of roughly 4.5 miles to keep running. The unending immensely steep and long hills, so steep I had trouble seeing the peak running uphill and slowing down running downhill, forced me to start mixing in power-hiking (for the first time ever) and walking with running at the midpoint of the second loop; I thought this wise as most runners began walking long before I did. Understanding this would most likely be my worst half-marathon time ever by far, which should be the case considering the massive leap in technicality from all of my previous races, I stopped looking at my Garmin several miles in to avoid being demoralized. Cardio-wise, I felt as strong as ever, but I could not push my legs to go faster because I had not been training for hills, let alone hills to this extreme. If I had any anticipation about this course, I would have prepared more specifically and efficiently and for certain performed better, although Kearney does not offer an ideal ground to train for a terrain like this.

My average mile pace read significantly slower than that of any of my marathons, testifying to the difficulty and technicality of the race. For some reason, I thought “half-ish” meant slightly less and not more than 13.1 miles; one runner’s GPS gave the distance closer to 14 miles, while mine read 13.17 with an elevation gain of 1,916 feet and loss of 1,903 feet. I believe, to some runners, this particular Beer & Bagel Off-Road Race Series ½-ish Marathon would be more physically demanding than a flat marathon. I can confidently claim this course the toughest and hilliest I have ever run on without a close second, and my time of 2:38:13 accurately illustrates that. I still enjoyed this unique experience and eating a slice of humble pie.

Usually, I only allow in my head positive comments on races because running humbles me and I appreciate the humility and dedication of the running community, including event volunteers. I consider the Hot Cider Hustle, which took place in Omaha, Nebraska, on October 28, 2017, incomparably the most frustrating and poorly organized race I have ever participated in. The run was set to begin at 8:10 AM, at 24 degrees with the effective temperature of 18, so I remained in the car until twenty minutes to the race. All runners toed the line several minutes before the official race time, when we, shivering in our light clothes, heard for no clear reason we would not be starting for another twenty minutes. A race this size (of supposedly 1,300) normally divides the starting times among different distances, but all half marathoners and 5K runners started simultaneously. I began the race as enthusiastically as usual until I saw the vast majority of participants who lined up at the very front walked or barely jogged, forcing me to squeeze through or run around them in the first minute and instinctively complain, “Come on!” My legs took a couple of miles to finally warm up to the freezing temperature.

Half marathoners had to complete two separate loops, a 5K loop with 5K runners for the first and a lengthier loop to fill 13.1 miles for the second. About 2.5 miles in, I spotted two volunteers holding signs of “10 miles” and “5K,” and I asked as I approached five times, “Half that way? Which way do half marathoners go?” The volunteers paid no attention to me but rather chitchatted with one another, and then I was told to take a different route from 5K runners. I saw no clear direction and shouted once again, “Where the heck am I going?” when a fellow runner pointed up and said, “I think you go this way.” Several other half marathoners went the same route, and we discussed with each other, “Something doesn’t seem right,” as we continued to run into inaccurate mile signs. While some just turned around, one runner and I ran together all the way to the turnaround with two volunteers, to whom I asked, “Are we going the right way?” They answered, “I don’t know.” When I came back to the aid station I passed on the way to the turnaround and asked the same question to the volunteers, they again said, “I don’t know.” When I returned to the place where I was separated from 5K runners, a new face, maybe the race director, said, “There has been a miscommunication,” but I could not make out all he said because I was running. I presume he told me to skip the section I just covered in the second loop. I turned left and took the trail I was supposed to take all along, where I had to run through or around hundreds of walkers in the 5K, and once I conquered an immense uphill, I saw two separate paths and shouted multiple times, running in place, “Which way do half marathoners go?” Here, I could no longer contain my frustration and screamed, “Fxxk this race!” about which I am still embarrassed. I decided to follow the 5K participants, and as they were turning left to finish, I shouted again to volunteers only telling 5K runners where to go, “Where do half marathoners go?” to which a girl said, “Right.” A couple hundred yards following, I saw two cones blocking the path, which usually means turn, although I was supposed to run straight; I thank the fellow runner who ran a few miles next to me for not letting me get lost again. For the remainder of the race, I only focused on escaping this bizarre maze and at one point thought, “Do I keep going when I have no idea if I am going the right way?” Around 12.5 miles for me (and 10 miles for slower half marathoners who were not led astray by volunteers), I landed where I, along with the lead-pack half marathoners, was told to take the wrong turn. The same volunteers who stood there remembered me and had me skip the extended trail because I had already completed that during the first loop.

I finished the race in 2:01:27.43, which bothered me even more knowing I most likely would have broken two hours in the half marathon for a third time had I not been led astray countlessly and wasted much energy shouting for directions and panicking about where to go. I never felt too tired physically, maybe because my mind was solely concentrated on the direction. To look on the bright side, I am thankful I completed the entire original course, although one section in reverse order, and did not have to run random places to fill the mileage and went all the way to the turnaround the first time around so I did not have to go back during the second loop and add an additional 2.5 miles to my race. I am still blown away, especially for an event this size, how not a single volunteer knew anything about the course. If 20 to 30 runners get lost this many times in just 13.1 miles, obviously the race has issues. Regardless, I still appreciate the volunteers who took time out of their weekend to help runners to a successful race. And, of course, thank You, God.

PC: Freedom Running Company

Having run four races in sum of roughly 142 miles already this year, I registered for a fifth at the Beat the Heat Half Marathon, with Freedom Running Company that supports wounded warriors’ families, in Bellevue, Nebraska, on August 12, 2017. Minor soreness in my left hip and right wing for weeks leading up to the event told me my body is finally asking me for some rest, but, aside from God, nothing distracts me from loneliness more effectively than running. I did not put much thought into my finish time because I knew nothing about the course other than its being on a trail; however, when the race commenced and I began my mile pace in the six-minute range and maintained the seven-minute for a while, I shifted my focus to securing my first official (and second technical) sub-2:00:00 half marathon. (Something about race day always makes me overperform drastically compared to training.) I sprinkled my throat with Powerade from my hydration pack every three to four miles to stay hydrated and “beat the heat.” I tried not to look at my Garmin for distance, as thinking about how much farther I have to cover drains me mentally and somewhat defeats the purpose of running; I should be running because I enjoy running rather than simply to finish. I did consistently check my mile pace, and I knew around mile 9, as long as I did not bonk, I would finally break two hours in the half marathon.

My body abruptly felt the overwhelming pace and slowed down significantly with 1.5 miles to go, around when the finish line became visible. Half a mile left, in my 25^th race, I finally experienced what “hitting the wall” meant. My entire body went numb, and I had to pour every ounce of my energy to keep running. I completed the 13.1 miles in 1:56:55, 8:55 per mile, and I consider this my most impressive running performance to date in terms of time. Speaking to the race community after, I arbitrarily and repeatedly had trouble inhaling and talking, but, hilariously, I found this amusing rather than being intimidated by this unprecedented reaction. With a nearly four-week business trip to India, Nepal, and Korea coming up, I will finally have an excuse to give running a break, but will I?