Tobacco Road: Sometimes when you lose, you win

On paper, I had the slowest, worst marathon of my life Sunday in Cary.

4:05:49. Slower by about 16 minutes than my first marathon, New York City, back in 2009. Slower by almost an hour than my ninth marathon, Ridge to Bridge, last October. Slower than I ever thought I'd run a marathon that I wasn't pacing.

And despite the fact that I started out racing the Tobacco Road Marathon -- really racing -- and didn't come anywhere near the time that I thought I might be capable of, it was also one of the most gratifying races I've run, on a few different levels.

This is not a lie that I'm telling you just to make myself feel better. This is the honest truth. I think part of it is I've now run so many marathons in a short period of time (13 in 2-1/2 years) that a) I know I don't need to prove to myself or anyone else that I can run one, and b) I know not every race is going to go very well, much less perfectly.

All signs pointed to an iffy outcome. My training leading up to the race had been marginal at best. No long runs, no speedwork, just a lot of fun runs -- both solo and with friends -- as work and family stuff consumed me during January, February and the first half of March.

The forecast was for like 80-85 percent humidity and morning temps in the high 50s to low 60s. My average marathon time in cold, dry weather is in the 3:20s; my average marathon time in warm or humid weather is in the 3:40s.

So a few days before the race, I made the decision to run without my Garmin, and to try to just turn in the best run that I could while still having fun.

Before I get into the race recap part of this -- and the race recap part will be relatively brief -- let me clear up a misconception: I am not obsessed with, nor would I call myself eager to, run the Boston Marathon. I think about it once every couple of weeks, maybe, and even then it's just sort of a passing thought.

I trained last year to hit that time because it gave me something to do, missed it by a little less than four minutes, and moved on with my life. I respect the accomplishment and think it'd be nice to qualify someday. I am in awe of and am so happy for friends who worked their asses off for that goal, and achieved it. But I'm in no rush and figure I'll probably get there when I'm 45 and run it once.

This probably sounds like a likely story, something that of course someone who isn't capable of qualifying would say, but it really is true. I run because I love to run. I set goals to make things interesting.

But I also think new experiences make things interesting, which is why I decided to "run naked" (i.e. without my watch). I have to admit that while dreams of Boston have never consumed me, I've always been a slave to the watch. I'm a guy who as a kid would spend three hours organizing his huge baseball card collection according to the most inane statistic. I suck at math, but I'm fascinated by numbers.

So ditching the watch was a big deal for me.

And yet when I got to the starting line on Sunday, I wasn't fighting off the shakes and I wasn't pawing absent-mindedly at my wrist. I really felt relaxed, and loose, and ... free. When the gun went off, I just ran.

I ran whatever pace I was running, and I felt absolutely no stress about the fact that I had no idea what pace I was running. As we wound our way out of the baseball stadium complex where the start and finish were situated, I just ran.

I ran past the 3:30 group at around the 1-mile mark, the first indication whatsoever of how fast I was going. About 2.5 miles into the course, we turned right, onto the trail section of the course. A younger guy sauntered up alongside me and asked what time I was shooting for. "You know, I'm really not sure," I replied. I explained the watch situation, then said, "Last year I ran a 3:20 here. I guess it'd be nice to do that again, but this humidity..." My sweaty singlet was already clinging to my chest. And then, quickly, I said, "But don't tell me what pace we're running!" He kind of laughed, and chatted at me for a bit. I just ran.

I ran what felt like a pretty consistent pace, although even just four miles in, I didn't feel like this was going to be my day. The younger guy was also still chatting, but he was dropping a lot of F-bombs, and although I am far from a prude, it was getting a little annoying. I was just here to run, not hang out with Tony Soprano.

Eventually, he said he needed to back, and -- a bit relieved -- I just ran.

I have to tell you, despite the discomfort of running in humidity like that, I just felt so connected to the trail. As addicted as I am to that stupid watch, when you leave it at home, it changes you. You don't worry or wonder about your splits because there's no point. You just run. I just ran.

Tobacco Road is done on a course that doubles back on itself twice; there's a U-turn between Miles 8 and 9 and another between Miles 18 and 19. As a result, you get to see friends (and rivals) a couple times, to say "Hey man," or "Looking strong, keep it up," or just to get a read on where they're at in relation to you.

Based on the several friends I saw before and after hitting the first turnaround, I felt like I was probably about where I needed to be -- a couple/few minutes behind a buddy shooting for sub-3:15, a couple/few minutes ahead of the 3:30 pace group, several minutes ahead of several friends trying for times in the 3:30-4:00 range. So I just kept running.

By about the halfway point, after a couple of long, slight-but-steady inclines, I had determined that this wasn't going to be my best day. Between 14 and 15, we passed the point where you could cut back onto the asphalt and jog the 2.5 miles back to the baseball stadium. But I figured I was still probably somewhere in the 3:20-3:25 range, since the 3:30 pace group hadn't passed me. I just ran.

About Mile 16, the lack of fitness and the humidity started to catch up with me. Fatigue was setting in. As I came up on the second turnaround, I saw my 3:15 friend was still looking strong, and when I hit it, I suspected that either he was getting strong or I was getting weaker (or both) -- that he was now about five minutes ahead of me. As I came back toward the "slower" folks, I saw the 3:30 pace group was gaining on me. Probably only three or four minutes behind. "Just running" was becoming harder.

Around Mile 20, G.I. issues manifested themselves swiftly and profoundly. Horrifyingly, we were in a forest mini-canyon of sorts, so there was nowhere to go. It took about five or six minutes of painful running to reach a place where I could take care of the problem, and I lost several minutes while doing it. Back on the trail, I didn't need visual proof to know that the 3:30 group had dropped me.

At this point, I was probably nearing dehydration, between the sweat and the other problems. Or maybe not. But I was brutally thirsty. So when I hit the aid station at Mile 21, I had a full cup of Gatorade, my first full cup of liquid of the day. Then I had another. Then another. Then another. It tasted so good. Two cups in I knew I would be sloshing if I kept running. Four cups in ... and it was over. After that fourth full cup, I said to myself, "You know what? I don't really wanna run anymore."

I was at total peace, too. I grabbed another cup of fluids, and eased back behind the tables. Just started watching. For a minute, I debated looking for a ride. (There'd been a sign right before the tables that denoted this as a "Dropout Point" and that a shuttle could take you back if you couldn't finish.) I wasn't sure anyone would want me in their car at this point, though. I was drenched in sweat.

I saw a couple of friends go by and didn't draw attention to myself. It wasn't embarrassment; it was more I didn't want my stopping to in any way get in their heads. I didn't want them to think, He stopped ... I want to stop.

But I knew my friend Diane would be coming through eventually (she was shooting for 4:00 and had seemed to be fading a little when I saw her approaching the second turnaround), and I had come to the conclusion that the way to make the best of this day would be to help someone else get through those last five, grueling miles -- the toughest miles of any marathon.

About 20 to 25 minutes after I stopped (although it could have been more, it could have been less -- remember, no watch), I saw her approaching the water station. She seemed to be struggling at this point, and I could tell I'd be fine running with her, despite my current state.

As she stopped for water, I came up on her from behind and tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey!" I said. She looked confused. After I explained what happened with my race, I told her I was going to run her in. She continued to look confused. But we started running.

The next five miles were a slog for both of us. I could have gone faster, but I was thrilled to be running 9- or 10-minute miles. My guess is she might have wanted to go slower, that she would have been thrilled with 11- or 12-minute miles. A couple times, she said, "You can go ahead, I don't want to keep you." I was like, "Diane! I'm not running for time anymore! Stop it! My job now is to get you home." (It'd be easy to say, as a casual observer, that she was just trying to get rid of me. But I've known Diane -- a multi-time Boston qualifier -- for years. When she told me later that she was happy that I kept her company, I am sure she's telling the truth.)

I told lame jokes and tried to do as much of the talking as possible, offering encouragement and optimism, particularly over the last two miles. We crossed the line at exactly the same time, shared a high-five, and immediately ran into our mutual friend, Mark, the 3:15 guy ... who had broken 3:15 and qualified for Boston for the first time.

We all hugged and exchanged high-fives, then posed for a race photographer together before heading over to inhale pizza and grab some free beer. We ran into a couple of other friends, Laura (who'd done the half) and Emily (who'd also struggled through the full). We swapped stories and laughed and griped about the weather.

It was a great way to cool down: With friends and happy talk about running. Only one of us had PR'd, but none of us were discouraged. I was actually thrilled with the way running watch-less had made me feel spiritually, and I'm excited to try it again when I'm in shape and the weather is better. I had been there to support a friend when she was hurting. I ran 26.2 miles on Sunday. I just happened to take a little break at Mile 21.

Charles Swindoll once wrote, "The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, the education, the money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than what other people think or say or do. ... I am convinced that life is 10 percent what happens to me and 90 percent of how I react to it."

I would tend to agree.

New York? Again? Just my luck.

I'm probably not the luckiest man on the planet, but as the New York City Marathon lottery goes, I've got a pretty good batting average.

First year I applied, boom. In. Ran NYC 2009 as my first 26.2. Second year I applied, no dice. Was just trying to rack up the rejections, anyway, so I could do it again in 2013. But I applied again this past year, and -- boom -- my number came up again.

So I'm standing there Sunday on the base of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, Staten Island side, surrounded by thousands of other runners from all over the world. There's an NYPD helicopter circling above, and a TV news chopper, and a couple of single-engine planes dragging banners, and another helicopter, and I get this lump in my throat and I think to myself: I can't believe I'm fortunate enough to be able to do this race. Again.

Then New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg addressed the masses over the P.A. system, a woman sang "The Star Spangled Banner," the cannons fired, and Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York" rang out as we started heading up the two-mile-long bridge.

Going into the race, I wasn't completely sure what was realistic. In 2009, I ran Charlotte's Thunder Road Marathon just five weeks after NYC, and last year, I did Thunder Road six weeks after the Ridge to Bridge Marathon in western North Carolina. This time, though, I had booked a date with the Big Apple just 15 days after the 2011 Ridge to Bridge race, in which I ran as hard as I could and posted a 3:13.

I did tell many people that I was doing this one for "fun," that it wasn't a race but an experience to soak up. So I figured somewhere in the neighborhood of 3:30-3:40 was a nice, safe goal for the notoriously challenging course in New York. But as many of you competitive types probably know, the temptation to "go for it" can sometimes be overwhelming.

The week of the race, I had successfully convinced myself and my coach that my legs were feeling great, and we agreed that I could try to run 7:45s, which would get me in under 3:25 -- a great time for a runner like me on a course like this. The day before the race, though, as she and I were walking in midtown on the way to catch the shuttle to the expo, she suddenly said, "So I was thinking that maybe you should run 8s for the first half, and then if your legs feel good at that point, you can start to turn it up a little bit and see what happens." This sounded like a good idea ... until I got to the starting line, and greed started seeping into my psyche.

I ignored the cardinal rule of marathoning: You don't ever, ever, ever, ever, EVER take the distance for granted. Things can turn in an instant. One moment you feel like you're in complete control, the next moment your race is spinning out of it. (Just ask Mary Keitany.)

My fastest mile of the race was the second, a 7:38 coming down the mile-long, 225-foot plunge on the far side of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. My fastest mile of the second half was the 18th, a 7:52 along First Avenue in Manhattan, which typically draws the biggest and loudest crowds of the entire race -- at times 6 to 8 people deep for more than a mile on the west side of the street.

This is ironic because I had spent weeks, months even, warning friends of mine who also were running that those were the two spots where they most needed to keep themselves in check.

My race was by no means a disaster. My slowest mile was No. 24, a 9:01 coming up the long incline on Fifth Avenue in Manhattan, alongside Central Park, where two-thirds of the runners around me seemed to also be running in slow motion. I soldiered through, without walking, on not-fully-recovered legs, on a course that does everything it can to chew you up and spit you out. (Those bridges were steeper and longer than I remember them, and the climb up Fifth Avenue is agonizing.)

After I ran New York two years ago, I wrote a recap that started slowly and was WAY too long -- but I also really feel it captured the experience of running the race about as well as I could have captured it.

That blog entry provided a lot of specifics about the unique qualities of the various areas that the course runs through. This time, I'll just make a blanket statement: To me, Marathon Day in New York is a day that's full of so much hope. Runners hope to get a PR. They hope to spot someone they know in the crowd. Friends and family members hope their runners see the sign they've made for them. Children hope they can get a runner to give them a high five.

Race officials estimate that 2 million spectators line the course every year. Maybe that's a wildly inaccurate guess. And, sure, tons the fans have a vested interest in the event (i.e. are out there to support someone running). But I think there are lots of people, especially in Brooklyn and Queens and the Bronx, who just come out because it's fun to cheer. It's fun to gawk. It's fun if you're, say, Italian, or Japanese, or Ethiopian, to go bananas when you see someone running past flying the country's colors on his or her clothing.

Seeing people who might not otherwise give a hoot about running take time out of their day to be a part of the event in some small way is so awesome, so inspiring, so awe-inspiring.

Purely from a numbers standpoint, I did OK on Sunday. I ran a 3:35:54 -- 1:44:07 for the first half, 1:51:47 for the second half. Not great, not a complete meltdown. These are numbers, though, and as much as I love numbers, this weekend was about the power and the pleasure of bonding experiences.

One of the many unique aspects of this event is that unless you have remarkably fast or charitable friends, you can't just say to your spouse or your brother or your neighbor or your college roommate, "Hey, let's go run the New York City Marathon." Your number comes up, you do the detective work to find out who else's number has come up, then social plans begin to formulate. After spending a night with a couple who lives in New York but wasn't running the race, I shared a room Saturday and Sunday with a guy I barely knew before the trip and now would consider a good friend. I had a great dinner with some Charlotte Running Club members on Friday night, a fun lunch with my coach and her sister on Saturday, and a delicious feast with friends from the University City Road Runners group I belong to on Saturday night. Each crew was a motley one, many of us thrown together by chance -- but I couldn't have asked for better companions.

Now, as fantastic as the entire experience was ... this time around, the inconveniences stood out a little bit more. New York is, of course, expensive; my hotel room was -- after taxes -- more than $900 for two nights. Manhattan is a city geared toward walking and standing around waiting in lines, and one of the worst things a marathoner can do the day before a marathon is a lot of walking and standing around waiting in lines.

Race morning is a long ordeal that involves walking, then a subway ride, more walking, then a ferry ride, more walking, then a bus ride, more walking, then a whole lot of standing around. You could get a ride from someone across the bridge, but the Staten Island Expressway must be cleared by 6:45 a.m., so if you go that route, you're in for three-plus hours of waiting around in the start village.

The course is very crowded. There were 42,000+ runners when I did it in 2009, and 47,000+ this past Sunday. They're sent off in three waves so it's really kind of like three races with 15,000-16,000 runners in each, but it's still a ginormous number of runners. Worse, occasionally fans, locals, or cops will try to cross the street.

After finishing, it's a long, cold march to the baggage trucks containing your warm clothes and your cellphone. It's a virtual certainty that you won't see a friend or loved one for at least 20 to 30 minutes after you cross the finish line, at a time when a hug would feel like the greatest thing in the world.

The whole thing sounds pretty awful, doesn't it? Well, go ahead and be scared. If you don't enter the lottery next year, the chances of my number coming up again only get better.

Nope, I'm not disappointed with a 3:13!

I didn't really come very close to qualifying for the Boston Marathon today.

I mean, I wasn't way off. Missing by 3.5 minutes is much closer than missing by 35 minutes ... but it's still 3.5 minutes. It's not 3.5 seconds.

You might ask me (and some have): "Are you disappointed?" And the answer is: Maybe a little bit. Mostly, in truth, because I wanted so badly to hit the mark to honor my coach, who has been molding me and pushing me and prodding me as an athlete for the past several months.

But don't ask me whether I'm disappointed. Ask me whether I am totally and utterly psyched. And the answer is: absolutely. Positively.

Almost exactly two years ago, I ran a 3:49 in my first marathon. My progression since has been 3:42, 3:49, 3:43, 3:26, 3:28, 3:20, 3:46. So this is a huge, earth-shattering breakthrough for me -- a 7-minute marathon PR and a full 13 minutes faster than my time on the same course one year ago.

I ran a 3:13:26 at the Ridge to Bridge Marathon this morning, and here -- in lieu of a more traditional race report -- are the things that stand out to me about after this experience.

1. 26.2 miles is a loooong #$&@ing way. I usually manage to forget this fact about 24-48 hours after I run a marathon; there's no other way to explain why I keep signing up for these things. I got to Mile 18 today and my head almost fell off of my body when a quick check of the math revealed that I still was going to have to run for another hour at my then-current pace. The early miles fly by like they're nothing, but I would describe the perceived distance between Miles 22 and 23 to be about six miles. It's just a long race.

2. A downhill marathon does not mean an "easy" marathon. I picked this race -- which starts in the tiny town of Jonas Ridge and drops down into the Pisgah National Forest before winding its way to Brown Mountain Beach Resort -- because as many of you know it features almost 3,000 feet of descent. Here's the thing: The bulk of the downhill is set between Miles 6 and 13.5. There are two significant uphills within that stretch. The five-plus miles that precede the downhill are wildly rolling. The final 12 or 13 miles are often flat, but have several gradual inclines. The truth of the matter is, the first half of Ridge to Bridge is quite easy. I think my 13.1 split was 1:34-something, and I could have gone faster. On its own, the second half can best be described as easy to moderate. The challenge, though, is managing the three parts of the course so that they all balance each other out and produce a solid time. It's all about tactics. If you hit the first section too hard, you'll pay for it later. If you hit the downhill too hard, you'll pay for it later. If you are too conservative in either spot ... you might pay for it later. People who've never done Ridge to Bridge can easily look at the elevation chart and go, "Well, I could run a huge PR there, too." And they might. They might also crash every bit as hard as I saw many runners crashing out there today. It's fast if you run it correctly. But ask any R2B vet, and I guarantee you they'll say the course is far tougher than it appears to be on paper.

3. I had a game plan, I went for it, I just came up a little short. So my strategy was to go out slowly, warm up through the rolling hills without getting down to goal pace, then hit the downhill section hard -- without killing it. At the bottom, I planned to try to maintain at or just below goal pace through 23, then I had built a gradual slowdown through the last 3.2 that would still get me to 3:09:30. Everything went according to plan until late in the game. Rolling section up top: 7:46, 7:34, 7:23, 7:27, 7:25, 7:28. Downhill section: 6:58, 6:59, 7:01, 7:12, 6:57, 7:05, 7:10, 7:01. Bottom section: 7:24, 7:15, 7:13, 7:14... Between 18 and 19, I felt a ripple through my right calf muscle that had me backing off just slightly. At this point, I felt like I was still in good shape. 7:23 for Mile 19. And then things started to slowly unravel. The pounding from the downhill was taking its toll, although aerobically I felt good and I still had energy (i.e. I wasn't feeling a bonk coming on). 7:46 for Mile 20. I tried to push through and managed one more halfway-decent mile -- 7:28 for No. 21 -- but then my calf seized up in Mile 22, so I had to back off and clicked an 8:04. The rest is history, or, if you need numbers, 7:53, 8:14, 8:11. About 50 yards from the finish, my hamstring locked up completely and I had to stop to rub it out, but I pulled it together enough to run it in without looking wobbly.

4. When the margin for error is small, one false move can cost you. I knew I'd be cutting it close. I was in shape for a sub-3:10 attempt. I was not in shape for a sub-3:05 attempt. So it wasn't a case where I could shoot for the moon and then just land among the stars if I missed. Everything had to go perfectly. And one thing didn't. For some reason I can't explain, I took only water at aid stations through 18 miles. When I got the first hints of cramping, I knew immediately that I should have been taking some Gatorade throughout the morning. I'm no sports medicine doctor, but I do know that the most common belief is that we will experience muscle cramps if we run low on electrolytes. I was low on electrolytes. I think I was suffering enough in the late-going that I still likely would have missed my mark; by my unscientific estimates, the cramps cost me a minute or two tops. We'll never know.

5. I toughed it out, though, and I got my toughness from Kelly Fillnow. I think a year ago, I would have bagged the race at Mile 22 and figured out a way to salvage a 3:20 by taking some walk breaks and coming up with excuses in my head. Instead, I busted my rear end to try to stay on task as much as possible because my coach said to me the day before: "You can endure so much more pain than you think you can." I wanted to test the theory. She also told me to use mantras to focus myself, and I did, and they worked. On the downhill, it was "Lean into it; don't brake. Lean into it; don't brake." In the final miles, it was "Stay within yourself. Stay within yourself." I am proud that I was able to manage the cramps as best I could by slightly changing my cadence and leg lift, applying just enough gas to keep me moving at an OK clip without rising into the red zone and locking up a muscle. I knew I was not going to hit my goal by Mile 23, which in the past would provided me with an excuse to give up. Instead, I kept hammering as hard as I could hammer. It hurt. But I discovered that Kelly is right: I can take a lot more than I thought I could.

6. It's great to have a goal, but it's even more gratifying to have great people to help you work toward it. I mentioned this on Facebook, but I am just so thankful to have had the love and support of my wife and daughter through an intense training period, and to have had Kelly there to push me. I self-"coached" myself to a 3:20 in March 2011, just 16 months after my 3:49 debut. But I knew going from 3:20 to 3:10 -- a mark that fewer than 1 in 12 marathoners will ever get to -- was going to take more motivation and effort than I was used to. It's kind of like what they say about losing weight: "The last 10 pounds are the hardest." Anyway, as many of you know, Kelly kicked my butt this summer. I ran more quality miles than ever, did more workouts and speedwork than ever, more core, more strength, more swimming. I got through the training plan without a single injury, without a single injury scare. So this run was for her, and for my wife and daughter.

7. You've gotta celebrate the small victories. A Boston qualifying time, of course, was the big goal (sub-3:10 for me). But there are still plenty of positive takeaways, not the least of which is the substantial PR. Perhaps the statistic that makes me smile the most: Nineteen of my mile split times today were faster than my fastest split in the same marathon last year. Oh, and I finished 24th overall out of more than 300 runners. Also, if you look at my result another way, it shows that I missed a BQ by just six seconds per mile -- which makes it sound like I came a lot closer than I actually did!

8. Ridge to Bridge is an amazing event. Mind-blowingly good. This is a small race that gets all the big things right. Exceptional organization. A beautiful and challenging course, one that can bring you a big PR if you play your cards right. Pristine weather both times I've run it, with amazing fall colors and breathtaking vistas. The best post-race food spread I've ever tasted. Halloween candy and throwaway gloves in your welcome bag. Heated luxury coach buses to take you to the start (you can sit in them right up till a few minutes before the gun goes off). It attracts the friendliest runners you can possibly imagine. There's acold river to soak your legs in at the finish. A race director who knows you by name. A truck that brings discarded clothing to the finish area so you can get it back if you wanted it. Great volunteers. Nice medals. Marathon experiences do not get any better.

So that's it. No. 9 is in the books. Marathon No. 10 is two weeks from Sunday. I'll write again, after New York...

Chat live with a sports medicine expert

Just a quick heads-up about something cool Presbyterian Healthcare is offering from 5-6 p.m. TODAY. Dr. Keith Anderson, sports medicine expert, will chat live with folks on the Presbyterian Healthcare Facebook page.

Fresh off a trip to Kona, Hawaii, where he served on the medical team for the Ironman World Championship, Dr. Anderson will answer questions about distance running, including topics such as nutrition, hydration, mileage progression and injury prevention/treatment.

It’s free to participate, though Presbyterian is asking people to register in advance by clicking on this link.

Area finishers at the Chicago Marathon

One hundred seventy-two Charlotte-area residents are probably a little sore this evening. OK, maybe a lot sore. But they all can say they finished the Chicago Marathon on a day when abundant sunshine and temperatures that climbed into the upper 70s took their toll on runners.

The fastest Charlottean was David Przybyla, 29, who recently moved here from Lafayette, Ind.; if the warm weather got to him, it didn't show -- he ran a steady pace of just over 9 mph (6:35-6:40 pace) for most of the race. The top area woman was Leslie Gentile of Huntersville; the 27-year-old ran a 3:16:20 and slowed only slightly in the final few miles.

Here's a complete list of finishers. If I missed someone, please let me know and I'll add them. Congratulations to all who ran.

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David Przybyla, Charlotte: 2:53:55
Scott Kennedy, Rock Hill, SC: 2:59:43
Josh Lemke, Charlotte: 3:02:45
Jason Martin, Charlotte: 3:09:13
Tim Friederichs, Charlotte: 3:12:10
Paul Shamansky, Midland: 3:15:10
Leslie Gentile, Huntersville: 3:16:20
Julie Przybyla, Charlotte: 3:19:58
Karin Nentwig, Charlotte: 3:20:04
Mark Ulrich, Charlotte: 3:23:11
Mark McGeough, Huntersville: 3:24:31
David Templeton, Fort Mill, SC: 3:26:14
Stefan Fencl, Fort Mill, SC: 3:27:03
Koine Kinyua, Charlotte: 3:30:31
Sarah McGeough, Huntersville: 3:33:51
Brian Moroz, Charlotte: 3:34:56
Kay Bruegmann, Charlotte: 3:35:30
Sean Anderson, Charlotte: 3:35:49
Margot Brinley, Charlotte: 3:36:43
Westley Webber, Charlotte: 3:36:46
Steven Brown, Indian Trail: 3:38:18
Laura Oberbauer, Charlotte: 3:41:06
Siobhan Grant, Charlotte: 3:43:11
Rhett Benner, Huntersville: 3:44:07
Nicole Smith, Charlotte: 3:45:26
Robert Steere, Waxhaw: 3:47:24
Zoe Brennan, Charlotte: 3:48:01
Kerry Peterson, Charlotte: 3:48:06
Anand Ekambaram, Charlotte: 3:48:21
Mike Sullivan, Charlotte: 3:48:26
Manuel Pimentel, Charlotte: 3:48:50
Shannon Emery, Weddington: 3:52:10
Melissa Johnson, Charlotte: 3:53:29
Joseph Anastasi, Matthews: 3:54:52
Jodi Batista, Stallings: 3:55:23
Daniela Wilburn, Huntersville: 3:56:08
Timothy Vest, Huntersville: 3:56:33
Keri Crews, Charlotte: 3:56:38
Gary Chesson, Charlotte: 3:57:40
Jonathan Rosen, Charlotte: 3:57:58
Jean Hargett, Mooresville: 3:59:12
Erica Joefreda, Rock Hill, SC: 3:59:14
Katherine Earle, Waxhaw: 4:01:00
Katie Harbold, Charlotte: 4:01:50
Christi Cranford, Charlotte: 4:03:57
Marty Albrecht, Concord: 4:03:59
Hazel Tapp, Charlotte: 4:04:07
Scott Sharp, Cornelius: 4:05:00
Anne Ratcliffe, Charlotte: 4:05:35
Diane Derkowski, Charlotte: 4:07:26
Michael Ham, Concord: 4:07:32
Brooke Smith, Charlotte: 4:07:38
Mike Tamberella, Gastonia: 4:08:06
Sarah Ryan, Charlotte: 4:08:29
Mike Schank, Huntersville: 4:09:20
Wade Miller, Charlotte: 4:10:16
Darryl Strack, Harrisburg: 4:10:33
Kristen Backeberg, Lake Wylie, SC: 4:11:18
Pamela Almeida, Charlotte: 4:12:31
Greg Scharff, Matthews: 4:12:40
Michael Adams, Mooresville: 4:12:59
Jason Bria, Charlotte: 4:13:17
Jennifer Challis, Fort Mill, SC: 4:13:17
Joseph Roche, Concord: 4:13:18
Kyle Coates, Charlotte: 4:14:16
Jason Silverstein, Charlotte: 4:14:23
Gautam Oza, Charlotte: 4:14:46
Cliff Jarrett, Charlotte: 4:15:15
Sivakrishna Uppalamethi, Charlotte: 4:16:02
John Bennett, Clover, SC: 4:16:55
Marcia Risi, Davidson: 4:16:56
Peter Wysong, Charlotte: 4:17:16
Craig Novick, Gastonia: 4:18:12
Sara Dumond, Charlotte: 4:19:29
Philamee Bennett, Charlotte: 4:19:49
Daniel Strong, Charlotte: 4:19:55
Andrew Coffey, Charlotte: 4:20:45
Scott Snyder, Charlotte: 4:21:11
Mark Guenther, Charlotte: 4:24:28
John Hasner, Charlotte: 4:25:11
Michael Barilla, Charlotte: 4:25:52
Jay Johnston, Charlotte: 4:26:34
Mary Ann Kennedy, Rock Hill, SC: 4:28:03
Ryan Anthony, Gastonia: 4:28:29
Nikunj Damani, Charlotte: 4:28:29
Toby Holloway, Matthews: 4:28:34
Katy Brown, Charlotte: 4:29:32
Niki Koesel, Charlotte: 4:30:13
Christopher Zagar, Concord: 4:31:33
John Allen, Charlotte: 4:32:48
Elizabeth Westerberg, Charlotte: 4:32:53
Jason Brett, Charlotte: 4:34:43
Heather Enlow Novitsky, Charlotte: 4:34:51
Elsie Briley, Huntersville: 4:35:11
Dominic Salomone, Charlotte: 4:36:38
Shelley Dugas Thomas, Davidson: 4:36:53
Amy Pittenger, Charlotte: 4:37:34
Alex Dolphin, Charlotte: 4:38:12
Alexander Gunn, Davidson: 4:38:42
Emily Knudson, Concord: 4:43:15
Steven Bugica, Charlotte: 4:44:47
David Hulbert, Charlotte: 4:45:13
Jonathan Czarnecki, Charlotte: 4:46:14
Tom Becker, Waxhaw: 4:47:28
Eugenia Sosa, Charlotte: 4:47:56
Hylton Early, Charlotte: 4:47:57
Sara Vest, Huntersville: 4:48:06
Charles Waikwa, Charlotte: 4:48:43
Christopher Maffucci, Waxhaw: 4:51:44
Andrew Markners, Fort Mill, SC: 4:52:50
Anne Koester, Huntersville: 4:53:38
Matthew Deiger, Charlotte: 4:53:44
Emily Harris, Charlotte: 4:53:55
Brian Adams, Cornelius: 4:55:46
Michael Fink, Cornelius: 4:56:32
Praveen Rathee, Charlotte: 4:56:44
William Linnane, Indian Trail: 4:57:02
Jessica Cohen, Charlotte: 4:57:16
Shawne Carew, Charlotte: 4:58:28
Amanda Vander Haar, Denver: 4:58:36
Hal Keener, Charlotte: 4:58:46
Brendan Beirne, Cornelius: 4:59:40
Gigi McNinch, Charlotte: 4:59:42
Andy Market, Charlotte: 5:00:08
Sandy Campuzano, Mooresville: 5:00:12
Kevin Hofer, Charlotte: 5:00:39
Amheric Hall, Charlotte: 5:01:35
Jennifer Brown, Charlotte: 5:02:24
Evan Wolkofsky, Charlotte: 5:03:39
Stacey Hien, Concord: 5:04:12
Scott Jackson, Charlotte: 5:05:22
Heidi Giffin, Charlotte: 5:06:18
Meredith McCormick, Charlotte: 5:06:18
Jeffrey Frelitz, Charlotte: 5:06:37
Alecia Taylor, Charlotte: 5:07:04
Alison Stanford, Waxhaw: 5:08:43
Lesley Williams, Huntersville: 5:09:12
Bill Miller, Concord: 5:13:29
Mark Burnham, Gastonia: 5:14:34
Gatewood Campbell, Huntersville: 5:14:47
David Smoots, Charlotte: 5:15:12
Kyle Rippey, Charlotte: 5:18:15
Stephanie Poludniak, Charlotte: 5:18:26
Pani Maddi, Charlotte: 5:21:00
William Robinson, Charlotte: 5:21:12
Tracey Scheid, Huntersville: 5:23:34
Dawn Maschhaupt, Charlotte: 5:23:36
Thomas Hornick, Indian Trail: 5:24:56
Quyen Tran, Charlotte: 5:27:03
Stephen Price, Charlotte: 5:27:52
Dana Slagle, Huntersville: 5:28:00
Betsy Myers, Charlotte: 5:28:29
Robert Prestininzi, Fort Mill, SC: 5:30:04
Christopher Otte, Fort Mill, SC: 5:34:45
Laura Reed, Charlotte: 5:38:44
Allen Wyatt, Charlotte: 5:39:56
Melyssa Fleming, Charlotte: 5:42:35
Heather Gerhart, Charlotte: 5:42:58
Sharon McGowan, Cornelius: 5:44:28
Larry Hunt, Charlotte: 5:47:33
Vivek Kumar, Charlotte: 5:52:38
Charles Ellerbe, Charlotte: 5:54:42
Courtney Market, Charlotte: 5:54:58
Michael Shade, Charlotte: 5:57:01
Nathaniel Romance, Charlotte: 5:57:37
Cheryl Emmerich, Charlotte: 6:06:23
Joseph Rinaldi, Matthews: 6:07:49
Martine Kusiak, Huntersville: 6:10:16
Stephanie Yewcic, Huntersville: 6:10:16
Anna Pasterz, Charlotte: 6:20:04
Michelle Wyatt, Charlotte: 6:20:18
Jodie Strong, Charlotte: 6:30:45

You? A cross-country coach? Why not?

Do you get a lot out of running? Would you like to give something back?

Here's an opportunity: It's called Cross-Country for Youth, a 10-week after-school running program designed to combat childhood obesity and promote character-building among middle schoolers. More than 325 students participate in the five-year-old program run by Reggie McAfee, the first African American to break the four-minute mile barrier.

What does this have to do with you, and with "giving back"? Well, the program -- which is in about 22 Charlotte-Mecklenburg elementary and middle schools and three Mecklenburg Parks -- needs coaches and character presenters.

In addition to practices, held on Mondays and Wednesdays from 4:30 to 6 p.m., student participants will be competing in a series of cross-country meets. The estimated weekly time commitment for coaches is two hours over the 10-week period; all materials and training will be provided, and it's OK to buddy up and coach with a friend.

For details on Cross-Country for Youth, click here. If you are interested, contact McAfee via e-mail (reggie.mcafee1@gmail.com) or phone (704-634-4688) this week -- the program's fifth season is just about to begin.

Inaugural 5K to support Let Me Run

Fix 4 the Day -- a local "network of people inspiring each other to live a healthier lifestyle by exercising their bodies, minds, and spirits" -- has announced it will sponsor and coordinate a 5K run/walk that will benefit Let Me Run of Charlotte.

The Fix 4 the Day 5K will be held at 8:30 a.m. on Saturday, Nov. 19, at McAlpine Creek Park. The out-and-back course is on a gravel footpath that is 10 to 15 feet wide; there'll be a water station at the 1.7 mile mark. Former Carolina Panthers safety Leonard Wheeler will speak before the race, and plans to hang out afterward. Post-race food and refreshments will be available.

Let Me Run is a non-profit "aimed at strengthening boys in body and spirit," which "use(s) the power of running and lively group activities to equip boys with tools to lead a balanced and fulfilling life.

For more info and to register, click here.

Also: Volunteers are needed to assist boys, and to cheer them on as they run. Anyone interested in helping out can contact volunteer coordinator Kirsten Wrinkle at kwrink@bellsouth.net.