Beer Mile

I love it... an American Record in the Beer Mile by an Olympic 800m runner.

I did a few beer miles in my day, the last was in 2001(holy shit that was a long time ago!).  The clock read 9:15 after earning myself a penalty lap for ... putting it nicely - being unable to keep the beer down.  That December night, I vowed to never do another one.  It's one of the few events in which my brother has a better PR than I do.  As Ron so eloquently put it this morning... "your brother is the 354th fastest beer miler in the world, according to the official records."  Maybe it's time I come out of retirement...

Runners World article...

U.S. Olympic Runner Runs 5-Minute Mile ... While Chugging Beers - Watch More Celebrity Videos or Subscribe

1:40.91

The 800m is an event that has been near and dear to me since I started running track in 7th grade.  It's the event that I learned to love more than any other... and it's a passion that has lain dormant within me for almost a decade now.

A little description of the 800... It's too long to call a sprint, but to short to call a run.  It tests the athelete's endurance by forcing them to maintain speed for two long laps, your finish often resulting from your tactical decisions - much like a distance race.  It tests the athlete's speed by forcing you to outgun your opponents in only two short laps, like a sprint.  Becuase of that mix, an argument could be made that the 800 is one of the toughest events in Track and Field and I absolutely loved racing it - and what's more - I was pretty good at it.

In middle school, I ran two events.  The 800m and the 1600m.  That was it.  I had found my niche and set up shop... actually, I built a permanent structure (a walk in fridge with good IPA on tap...).  That niche is why, to this day, I can fake it in a shorter bike race and finish way above where my fitness level should put me.  Early in High School, I was a little punk and didnt really run track until my Junior year.  When I came out though... I went right to the 800.  We had a solid group of guys and I was fortunate enough to be a solid 3rd man on our 4x800m relay team.  That year, we went to The National Scholastic meet to place second behind an "all-star" team of kids from Northern Virginia.

Coming into my Senior year, I put in a lot of work with my friends over the summer.  We had an outstanding group of about 10-15 guys, any one of whom would be a top guy on nearly any other high school cross country team in the nation - on ours, they were pack fodder.  We were good.  We went on to set a state record that season.  My first of cross country season set me up well with the base that I needed to be at my best in the middle distance races to come.  It provided that endurance to hold on through the entire 800m.

Coming off such a storied cross country season, my friends and I were raring to go on the track.  I was fortunate enough to anchor our mid distance relays to some pretty impressive results;  Some highlights were a pair of Penn Relays - Championship of America medals (which ironically, half the teams from other countries) a PIAA State Championship, a top 20 time on the US all time list and a National Championship.  I went on to run mid distance at a Division I program for a couple seasons where I'm disappointed to say that my punk kid mentality had a resurgence and cut my division I career short.  Post collegiately, I volunteered to coach mid distance at a local High School and had the opportunity to run with and help coach an 800m state champion.  After that, I got my isht together and started running the 800 again.  I raced a lot of local college track meets over the next few years and posted up some PR's in the middle distance events.  So... to say that I'm a bit passionate about the decade or so that I spent working on the 800m event would be an understatement.

Here is just about the only evidence of my running career that I could find on the intermaweb:   

The other night, we were watching some of the sprints.  It brings me joy and a sense of pride that Kim is so genuinely interested in the Olympics and especially the track events.  I love that She'll ask some good questions; questions that really make me think to answer.  Not because I didn't know the answers... but the answers have been bouncing around in my mind for so many years that I've nearly forgotten.  Once the thoughts started coming back though, I had to restrain myself from flooding her with too much information.  At some point, I flew down the stairs into our dungeon of a basement and grabbed an old pair of track spikes.  With great pride, I presented to her my size 13, 800 meter shoes.  "See Babe?  This is what they look like... This is how they're designed to get you up on your toes... these little metal spikes, give you incredible traction... etc. etc."

The Olympic games have opened up a window where I can show my wife and son a glimpse of what I used to do, "before I existed" in their world.  I look forward to the televised track events and was very excited to catch the 800m yesterday, so that I could show them, hey "this was Bill Showers the runner" which led to Bill Showers the cyclist that they've come to love.

Yesterday, brought us what was/will be perhaps the greatest performance in all of the Olympic games this year.  At the very least, it was far and away the most impressive track and field event.  You could argue that there were other track events that were more impressive, but you would be wrong.  The men's 800 meter final was absolutely unbelievable.  David Rudisha led the race and ran completely alone from gun to tape setting one of the most impressive world records that we'll ever see.  What's more, is that he pulled the entire field to personal best times, which, by itself is just as unbelievable.  The silver medal went to an 18 year old kid, who became the third person - ever - to run faster than 1:42. 

1:40!!  eleven seconds faster than me in my heyday

The event that I so wanted to watch with my family, I watched by myself today, in my lonely office.  Last night a convoy of Verizon trucks ripped through our neighborhood, taking  with them our TV, our Phones, and our Internet.  After a 45 minute phone call I had to retreat with my tail between my legs.  I fucking hate you Verizon.  Hate.  You.

Bear Creek Mid Atlantic Super Series Finals

Coming into the MASS finals this year, I had no expectations at all.  I'd not been racing and was obviously not in the hunt for the series.  I did have a loose plan that came as a result of attempting to reassure my nervous wife that I'd be OK... Being that I was racing for the first time this year on the toughest, most technical course in the MASS, in some of the most oppressive weather that we've had.  I doubt that I convinced her, but my resulting "race plan" was to go out easy (which I don't do), have fun (which I can't do after going out hard) and most of all be safe (Racing at Bear Creek?)  Right... It's not like there are any places to screw up and hurt yourself there.

As soon as I pulled into the parking lot, I realized that I'd forgotten my license.  Seriously?  It's been on the kitchen counter, all season.  I rummaged through my wallet to find last year's license.  No.  I took that out of my wallet last week when I cleaned out the useless crap.  Great start... I figured the worst thing to happen would be a forced CAT 2 entry and I'd bandit the pro race, get DQ'd and not have my results show up on the USAC page.  Meh.  The registration people were cool about it and after accepting the registration - pending the official's ruling - I politely told her that I'm going to disappear now and nobody will see me until after the race.  I promised to go to the official afterwards to accept my lashings. 

With an hour or so of the start, I went out for a warmup.  From the first crank, my bike was making a god aweful racket.  It was unbearable and it would have been unsportsmanlike for me to ride the thing in it's current state.  I spent 15 minutes scouring the area for the only tool that I didn't grab off the workbench - a bottom bracket tool.  Figures.  After performing bike surgery half an hour from the gun, I headed out for another short warmup.  Not a peep from the bottom bracket... Score.  You're welcome, fellow competitors.  An announcement came that our start was to be delayed by another 10 minutes, which accompanied by my nerves, prompted me to shoot out for another quick loop to stay "warm" - in the 90° heat­.  Good call.  A few minutes later, I returned to a starting grid packed full of 40 guys.  Fail - I could only laugh at myself for that stupidity.  I found a cozy spot in the back row next to Mike Laub and we made some small talk.  Chatting about our bikes and such I overheard one of the guys near us complaining about his back row position.  He was bitching to the CAT 1 field behind us and generally being obnoxious...  Getting annoyed with his broadcasting of excuses, I just wanted them to say go already...

A hundred yards in, there's a short punchy gravel climb that a lot of guys have trouble with, especially in a tight start group.  I knew it was coming and was able to carry momentum through a loose inside line and pass a bunch of guys.  We hit the pavement climb to the trail head and I was steadily moving up.  About half way up, I hear a pleasant greeting from my left.  I look over, smile and start chatting ... "Hey! How's it goin' Steve?"  That brief conversation was enough put me off the pavement and into the bushes.  I almost lose it all together and pray that there are no hidden rocks in the brush.  I held it together and managed to sneak back onto the tarmac.  Most of my momentum and a several positions gone, Lebair asked me "What the hell was that move?"  "Oh, no big deal...."  Jokingly, I said something about Ordons using some trickery to crash me out in the first half mile. "Rat Bastard."  I regained my composure just in time to stop at the trail head for the bottleneck into the woods.  I dismount, stand there, crack a joke and pick my nose... I probably could have had a beer before getting onto the dirt.  Realistically about 15 seconds later, I entered the woods running - the first 25 places were long gone and I could only see the last 10-15 guys.  I guess that is where a good starting position and some gear options make a huge difference.  Pfft.

The trail turned downhill and over the first root, I burped my front tire.  I think "Wow.  It's going to be one of those days I guess..."  It was just a little bit of air, but it was enough to make me nervous for a bit.   I was probably running too much pressure anyway and after making it through the first rock garden, I forgot all about it.  Feeling good starting the first climb I made some passes.  Halfway up, a guy chopped me, twice in a row on two punchy climbs, completely killing my momentum.  Both times they would have been otherwise clean passes and that kind of crap always fires me up whether it's intentional or not.  Luckily, I had to come off the bike the second time and was able to run past him.  Otherwise, I would have definitely burned another match or three to get around on the next flat section.  Thanks, Richard. 

As I started to descend, I could feel Matt Miller on my wheel.  I know he likes it here and descends really well so I offered up a line.  I figured that he would let loose and was hoping that I'd be able to hang on for the ride.  Just after he went around, I could feel my back end starting to get loose.  30 seconds later I was fumbling around with my CO2s on the side of the trail.  Thankfully, it sealed, but I lost my ride down the mountain, a chunk of time and several places in the process.  The rest of that first lap was pretty much a blur.  I rode fairly conservatively, questioning if the tire was good to go or if it was going to let loose in a cloud of Stans at the worst possible moment.   

Second lap, the tire was holding air and after gaining some spots on the climb, my confidence in the bike came returned.  I descended well and could see some people coming back to me.  Near the bottom of the mountain, I nearly T-boned Festa as he practiced some trials in a tight corner.  He kindly apologized and gave up a line shortly thereafter.  I tell you what, it's really refreshing to be out there with guys that aren't assholes.  Despite what our license might say, we're all amateurs and we're all out there for fun.  Some guys lose sight of that and I think that a little sportsmanship and being a genuinely good guy on the trail goes a long way.  Things like that definitely build some Karma and I think we all could use a little extra now and again.  From my limited interactions with Mike, I bet he's got a lot of points.       

Awesome pictures by A.E. Landes Photography

3/4 of the way around lap two, we were starting to hit lapped traffic.  It's always a frustrating and precarious situation when you have this kind of thing going on and every year I think I have the same experiences here.  I always try to be as nice as possible... I say please when I ask for a pass and thank you as I go by.  I know that nobody ever wants to give up their line, but it's a lot safer for everyone.  Stalling only frustrates the faster rider and a lot of times it will make them force a pass - which can be dangerous and frustrating for both racers.  When a racer catches you and has politely asked to pass more than once please don't ask; "Are you there?"  Yes.  I am here.  Yes.  I still want to pass you safely.  And Yes.  My patience is running extremely thin.  Kindly yield in accordance to the rules of racing.   

The third lap I felt pretty strong on the climb and was able to pick off a few more.  I had no idea what position I was in, but I was feeling good about the fact that I had steadily moved up the whole race.  I took a few chances on the descent trying to make up some time on those whom I couldn't see.  I did catch a glimse or three of somebody that was behind me on the switchbacks and that helped me keep on the gas.  Eventually, I started seeing a carrot out in front but I knew I was running out of room.  As we left the woods for the last time, I could see that he was within striking distance.  I knew that I'd really have to work to bring him back on the half mile gravel finish, so I got on it.  I couldn't turn the pedals over quick enough to close it down on the flat around the lake, but he wasn't gaining anything.  As we started the last climb, I could see him struggling.  About 200 yards out, I made contact just as we crested the hill.  I really needed to make a pass here, but I just didn't have it.  I sprinted hard on the downhill finish, but he had the lead position coming into the sweeping corner before the line.  Hoping that the gravel would make him swing wide, I tried a last ditch effort to get around the inside.  I couldn't hold it, the back end broke free and that was it.  We rolled across together, 12th and 13th place. 

I'm pretty happy with how the race panned out.  I stayed relaxed, had fun and didn't get hurt.  I got to put in a race effort on next year's Nationals course, which suits me pretty well.  I'm excited about getting my ass handed to me by the likes of Todd Wells.  I wonder how many guys will be in that field on a single speed?