Finisher! Army 10-Miler 2020

 My 10th Army Ten-Miler is in the bag! 

The first annual Army Ten-Miler (ATM) occurred in 1984, the same year I received my commission as a Second Lieutenant of Engineers and long before I ever dreamed of running more than the required 2 miles. Time goes by, does it not? Life happens.... A few 5ks, a few 10ks, and soon running becomes a joy and the joy of running becomes habitual. 

Upon returning to CONUS in 2000, I ran my first ATM in what is still my best time. I have run the Fall Classic a total of 10 times (9 officially--I'll explain later). Now I'm 20 years older and hopefully somewhat wiser. With knees of papier mache and ankles that crackle like dry spaghetti, I am content to finish! 

Race day! DC hat, outlaw/motorcycle kerchief/mask, racing bib, and "Never Quit!" training shirt

My string of ATMs includes these years: 2000, 2001 (unofficial), 2002, 2010, 2011, 2013 (the week before my first (and possibly only) Marine Corps Marathon), 2014, 2015, 2016 (not my best effort--okay, my worst, by far), and 2020--the comeback kid! 

As you can see, I last competed four years ago and that was my poorest outing to date. The sordid tale is detailed HERE. Then in 2018, though determined to improve my trend, I was forced to sell my bib due to some lower back issues. Last year I did not even sign up, as 2019 was all about sailing (in lieu of running).

This year's edition was particularly sweet for personal reasons. You see, in the fall of 2019, I experienced a bizarre medical emergency. Blood clots from DVTs I did not even know I had dislodged from veins deep in my legs and clogged my lungs. The blockage in both lungs was bad enough to land me in the hospital. Obviously and thankfully, I pulled through, but I remember the day I came home. I thought, "Wouldn't it be awesome to run my 10th ATM less than a year after a serious medical emergency? From struggling to move around the pulmonary ward with supplemental oxygen, a walker, and those infamous yellow "fall risk" slipper-socks to gliding over the 10-mile racecourse in my Brooks Beasts in under a year? 

Game on!   

And so wheels were put in motion! Walking. Walking faster. Walking further. Jogging. Walking and jogging, i.e., wogging. One foot in front of the other! Keep moving forward. That's the way you do it! 

Shirt, bib, coin / medal, and Brooks Beast 20

And the results? 

Glorious!   

This year was a virtual race, which gave me the freedom to choose my own course. I trained in my neighborhood, but for race day, I went to the familiar bike trail alongside the Potomac. 

The map shows the start and finish line of my 10-mile loop. 

The best part of the course was the bridges--I ran twice over 14 in all, plus I enjoyed a great view of the mighty Woodrow Wilson bridge. I ran from the start north to cross the stone bridge over Hunting Creek, and then south over wooden bridges 24, 23, 22, etc. down to 12 near Fort Hunt where I turned around. About half-way from the start to the southern turnaround, the bike trail crossed over the G. W. Parkway on a magnificent stone arch bridge. 

One of my favorite bridges on the bike path beside the George Washington Memorial Parkway, Bridge No. 12 is near Fort Hunt. At this point, I had just reversed course and was heading back north to the finish. 

I wore my race bib and saw one other racer who was also drawn to the beautiful, winding, riverside course. I made friends with bikers and other pedestrians who saw that I was racing and cheered me on. This crowd support was perhaps not the same as throngs of supporters lining the streets of DC in a typical ATM, but it was nice all the same.  

Along the way, I made a new, well-camouflaged friend (foggy glasses not for turtle vision but for scale)

This was my second virtual Army 10-Miler. The first was years ago and not officially sanctioned. After 9/11, organizers canceled the race for obvious security concerns. Back in those days, we still had snipers on the roof of the Pentagon and anti-aircraft weapon systems on the 5 corners. But a group of us ran anyway, wearing Family Support Group shirts of our own design. Unlike the "shadow" races that have been sanctioned for forward-deployed Soldiers, our 2001 race was not recognized officially. However, in my book, it was the best. 

Detail of this year's shirt confirms that ATM 2020 was a virtual race

I think it was a clever idea to provide a ribbon and clip to convert the coin into a medal if the runner so desired. This was the first year MDW offered this option, in response to runner feedback. Great idea! 

The coin comes on a ribbon to wear like a medal

Personally, I never wear the official race t-shirt until after I've earned it. I've seen a lot of runners wearing them during past races, and that is fine, just not for me. 

The back of this year's shirt looks like a billboard or something out of  NASCAR 

The Army Ten-Miler is conducted by The U.S. Army Military District of Washington and is the third-largest 10-mile road race in the world. The ATM traditionally starts and finishes at the Pentagon with a course that travels through Washington, D.C.

“The Army Ten Miler is a demonstration of the Army’s commitment to readiness, fitness, and our communities. This annual race is a symbol of these commitments and of our dedication to the health and safety of the entire Army family.” --Maj. Gen. Omar J. Jones, commander of The U.S. Army Military District of Washington.

The 36th Army Ten-miler virtual edition entry fee was $59 and all race proceeds benefit U.S. Army Family and Morale, Welfare, and Recreation programs. 

"Having fun doing good!" 

You can view my updated Army Ten-Miler Shirt collection HERE.

Army Ten-Miler T-Shirt Collection

Finisher! Army 10-Miler 2016

The Army Ten-Miler (ATM) is an annual event hosted by the Association of the United Stated Army (AUSA) in conjunction with that organization's yearly symposium and exposition. Organizers say the race is the third largest ten-mile race in the world but it's certainly the largest race I've ever participated in. The field of 35,000 included at least one runner from every American state. 

I love the ATM. I always see people I know, the entrance fee supports military charities, the statue- and monument- and museum-lined route is inspiring, the event attracts world-class competition, and the after-party is a blast. 

Officially, this was my 8th year participating in the big race. If we count 2001 when I ran a shadow event because the main race was cancelled due to post-9/11 security concerns, then this was my 9th ATM. Either way, with all that experience, I certainly ought to know better than to do what I did this year....  

For a variety of reasons, this was my slowest outing--by far. In fact, I was plodding along, listening to TED Talks, when I noticed a man with a stop watch and a clip board writing down my bib number. I thought that was odd, so I removed my earbuds and looked around. Someone else was sliding a barrier across the route right behind me. Turns out I was the last person allowed to remain on the course, and everyone behind me was diverted to a shortcut route back to the Pentagon. 

I knew I was moving slowly. My pre-race exercise and diet had not been optimal and I was suffering the effects of those choices. I could feel the blisters on my feet--confirmed when I got home, removed my shoes, and saw my bloody socks. To avoid getting shin splints, I was exaggerating my ankle rotations and pausing frequently to stretch and flex my ankles and calves. At one point I had to wait in line for a porta-john. So yes, I was aware that I was way off my target pace, but I had no idea that I was so close to the maximum allowable pace of 15 minutes per mile. I crossed the 5-mile mark blissfully oblivious to the fact that I was just about to barely pass the pace count cut-off!  

Seeing that barrier slide behind me at the pace check point bolted me into a heightened sense of awareness. Naturally, I had to pick up the pace for the remainder of the race, because the course closes at 11:30. or 2.5 hours after the last  heat starts at 9 AM. The only thing worse than getting shin splints and blisters is getting shin splints and blisters and having nothing to show for it! I did manage to complete the second half faster than the first half of the race, and I lived to tell the tale! 

For me, "running" ten miles is a matter of falling slightly forward and just barely catching myself, 20,000 times. Having run the darn ATM a time or two, I certainly knew how to train and prepare--yet this year I seem to have relied on luck. Luck alone got me past the pace-count check-point with seconds to spare. I saved all my brilliance and wisdom for a little poem, which I have titled, "But If You Do." I composed most of it in my head as a distraction from the burning sensation in my feet, ankles, and shins. 

But if you do...

Don't get old, but if you do

Don't slide yourself out of shape, but if you do

Don't sign up for the Army Ten-Miler, but if you do

Don't wait too late to train.

But if you do, don't train all at once

But if you do, don't give yourself blisters

But if you do, don't rely on Epsom salts,

But if you do, remember

Only starters finish

Only movers blister or chafe

Only those who risk falling advance and

Only the lucky get old

Links to previous post-run photos:

2010 http://philosfx.blogspot.com/2010/10/finisher.html

2011 http://philosfx.blogspot.com/2011/10/finisher-atm-2011.html

2012 did not run and I don't know why not

2013 ran, but did not take a photo and I don't know why not

2014 http://philosfx.blogspot.com/2014/10/finisher.html

2015 ran, but did not take a photo and I don't know why not

And, for a post containing my ATM shirt collection, n = 10 (including the shirt we made for the 2001 shadow run fund-raiser for the ODCSPER Family Support Group), see HERE.

That Moment When #5: Too Hot to Run?

Today was hills day. It was 90 degrees, sunny, and humid. Pretty sure the heat index carried the apparent temps into the mid-nineties. I did my job, summiting Harrison Hill three times--but it took me the better part of an hour to accomplish, plus a gallon of water and 40 minutes to cool down. 

Hooah!  

49 days! 

Finisher!

Evidence of a morning well-spent

Along with Melanie Grace (#21,223) and 35,000 of our "closest friends," I participated in the Army 10-Miler on Sunday, October 12th. This was my 7th running of the ATM and the 30th annual edition of the event. I have observed quite a change in the nature of the event over the years. 

When I first ran it in 2000, the race was like a party. People wore outlandish costumes. There were jugglers and acrobats and people playing instruments while they ran. The atmosphere was fun--even frolicsome.

The 2001 edition was canceled due to post-9/11 security concerns, although many people ran shadow events anyway. I formed a team of 6 runners from the Army M&RA and G-1--a group of people who suffered 20% casualties including 29 killed in action on 9/11. We had special t-shirts made with the names of our fallen comrades, and we collected pledge money for the Family Support Group.

After 9/11 and the 12 years of war that followed, the event has gotten more somber., with this edition being by far the most poignant. Instead of birthday cake hats, bare feet, and kazoos, I saw: 

• people running in memory of someone who was lost, or in support of someone injured. 
• a Gold Star mother running in memory of her son, SFC Bowen from Maryland Army National Guard. 
• more hand bikers and wheelchair racers than ever before. 
• two blind runners, with escort and guards, and t-shirts declaring that loss of sight is not loss of vision. 
• a number people on prosthetic limbs. 
• many people carrying Old Glory, or unit guidons, or banners depicting such things as Purple Heart medals 

I suppose the most touching moment came after mile nine when we passed a man on two prosthetic legs. His stumps were sore, and he had his arms around two other men who were helping to carry him across the finish line. I gotta tell ya, stuff like that just really tugs at your heart. 

After the race, the vendors included not just the typical Army recruiting tents, but tents for adaptive sports and tents recruiting people to join Red White and Blue, Ward 57, Wounded Warrior Project, and many more. Of course my brother (fighting brain cancer) was on my mind today. I was running for him and others who cannot.

It's not as if there was no joy or reward in the effort. Melanie and I started and finished the run side-by-side. After being brought to tears on more than one occasion over the 10 mile course, we crossed the finish line hand-in-hand, exuberant and joyful.

Bottom line, I am proud to be affiliated with Armed Forces Services Corporation, a corporation which values service and is the champion for Warriors, Veterans, and Families. As an AFSC employee, I am working for the DoD's Wounded Warrior Program, helping to make a difference in the lives of our wounded, ill, and injured Warriors from all services and components.