TC 10 Mile Runner Stops Race to Save a Life!!

This has been all over the local news for the last 24 hours.

One of my wife's co-workers was running the TC 10 Mile on Sunday when he stopped to save someone's life. Dr. Carl Dean was about to enter into St. Paul around the mile 4 mark of the race (just over a mile from my house) when this happened...

From MyFox9.com:

"I looked over and heard a guy say, 'I can't feel a pulse,'" Dean told FOX 9 News. "So, I thought this was serious and ran over there."

Dean pivoted from a competitive racer into the role of emergency medical professional.

"Surprisingly there wasn't a lot of panic," he said. "Most runners were so focused on the race and trying to keep warm, they didn't see what was going on."

Dean quickly did, and he started CPR chest compressions on the fallen runner with the help of some bystanders and a second physician who stopped. The runner appeared to have no pulse and struggled to gasp for air.

Within minutes, marathon medical crews had arrived with an Automated External Defibrillator, or AED. A single shock was all it took to get the man's heart beating properly again.

"We think it was probably less than three to four minutes from the time the guy went down to the time the AED was on him," Dr. Bill Roberts, marathon medical director, estimated.

Roberts praised the first responders for their quick-thinking, and Dean didn't just stop after the work was done. He went on to complete the 10-mile course -- although, he asks that no one will look up his finishing time.

The annual marathon has a Runners Helping Runners program, which means that Dean and the others who stopped to render aid will get free entry into next year's race.

OK, I have 5 thoughts on all of this:

FIRST: I'm glad the fallen runner is OK!

SECOND: The TC 10 Mile / TC Marathon came out saying they had 40+ AEDs on the course. And it just took about 2 minutes to get to the fallen runner and another 1-2 minutes to deliver the shock from the AED. Good for them.

THIRD: Look at Dr. Dean - could he BE any more Mid-Western? (My wife says he's originally from SD.)

Image from the Fox9 article

FOURTH: They actually have a program in place where you get free entry next year if you save someone's life. I love that.

FIFTH: Dr. Dean asked the media to not announce his results. I'm not "the media" - I'm "Steve in a Speedo." So I looked up his results....



1:36:14!


He saved someone's freakin' life during a race.

And then he STILL finished in under 10:00 / mile.

INCLUDING the time he spent saving that guy's freakin' life!!!


You're amazing, Dr. Dean!!

Side note: How hard must it be to get your heart-rate / running pace back in check after you just saved someone's life? How "jacked up" would you be for the first mile? I can't imagine!...

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Human Race 5K: PR or Bust

Saturday night, the night before the race, Pharmie and I went out with some friends. We had to check out Michelangelo's Pietà (or at least a replica) that is currently on display at the Cathedral of St. Paul:

Then we went to a fancy French place. The food was GREAT! I had a duck breast:

And then I had little puff-pastries filled with ice cream and smothered in chocolate sauce for dessert:

Hopefully it wasn’t anything TOO rich for the race the next day!!

Sunday morning, I got up and got ready for the 5K. The great thing was that the 5K started 0.7 miles from my front door! So when “packet pick-up” opened, I just jogged down there, picked up my stuff, and jogged back home to get my chip and number put on. Here’s the pick-up tent just as they were opening:

I got home and figured out what I wanted to run in. This is what I wore:

(That’s a cat coming out of my butt)

I was wearing my Sugoi “tuke” hat, Ryder “drill” sunglasses, New Balance Emmisive long-sleeve t-shirt, Nike shorts, Drymax socks, and Sacouny racing flats. Pharmie said something about looking like a multi-product whore. ;)

So about 18 minutes before the start, I took off out the front door. I jogged down to the start (with a couple of “stride outs”), and still had over 10 minutes to spare. I chatted with a few other guys lining up near the front, and it was a conversation that some hardcore runners don’t like to have: I asked what they thought their finishing time would be. I told them I was NOT running for place, and that I was ONLY running for a PR, and I wanted to know who I’d be around. Everyone at this race was TOTALLY cool with sharing prospective times. One guy, B, said he was hoping for around 17:30. I told him I was gunning for just under that, because 17:27 was my PR. A young, 15-16 year-old redheaded kid told me he was hoping to go out under 5/mile (gulp) and finish around 15. And there was something about him that made me BELIEVE him - I knew he knew what he was talking about. I gave the young-en some advice on the course, Molly caught my eye and said hi, and we were being ushered up to the line in no time.

Rick Recker from the MDRA sounded the bullhorn, and we were off!

Here’s the course and the elevation chart:

The elevation chart looks worse than it really was. The only “noticeable” hill was the 2% grade up to Snelling, and then the 2% grade coming back down.

I pushed it up the first little hill to Cleveland, and I hit my watch. The stoplights on this course are a half mile apart, so I could check on my pace at the 0.5 mile point and see how I was doing. The speedy 15 year old was GONE from the start. And I was running in second. About a half mile in, B slowly passed me, and we chatted for a moment. I was in third. (But I did NOT care about place - I was going for PACE!)

• Mile 0.5: 2:47 (5:34 pace). “Perfect!”

I was SO happy with that starting pace. I knew I had to hold a 5:36 average to PR, so I was where I needed to be! We hit the 1 mile marker at the base of the hill just before Snelling.

• Mile 1: 5:38. “Good! Try to maintain this up the hill.”

Coming up to Snelling, I could hear sirens getting closer and closer. I was afraid that the 2 police officers were going to tell me to stop to let an emergency vehicle go though. But the sirens stopped, and I looked over to see an ambulance stopping at an SA just 1 block off Summit at Snelling. Close call!

Running up the rest of that hill was a little rough. I was right on B’s heels, but I knew my pace was dropping a little. The half mile leading up to the turn-around was 2:50 (5:40 pace). I was slowing. At the turn-around, I really didn’t know if I’d be able to PR. I was hurting, and the race was only half done. I knew I’d have to “gut it out.”

• Mile 2: 5:43 (uphill). “Shucks. That’s a bit too slow. I hurt like hell, but I’ve GOT to go NOW. Use this downhill coming up! GO!”

I was trying to watch my foot-strike: I’m a “heal-striker,” and I know that only slows you down in a race. I was trying to land mid-sole. That downhill half mile clocked in at 2:42 (5:24 pace), so I knew I had a shot at the PR. But I just wanted to stop and catch my breath. I was h.u.r.t.i.n.g. I wanted to end it. I was thinking about what Char had commented on my Friday post:

Good luck with that PR. Just remember that the pain will stop as soon as you cross the finish line or die, which ever comes first.

I’d like to go with death please. With a side order of fries. Thanks.

I glanced up and decided to pick up the pace and catch B in front of me. I was still in 3rd, and that speedy kid was literally BLOCKS ahead of us. I hurt like hell, but I needed to make up some time NOW. I also spotted Pharmie off in the distance on her bike! She had surprised me out there by showing up to cheer at the start of her bike ride! She snapped a shot of me off in the distance as I was starting to pass B with about a half mile left:

Side-by-side


Making the pass


Taking 2nd place

I shot Pharmie a little smile, and then got back to work. A few seconds later, she whizzed by me on her bike shouting “GO HUNNIE!!” She pulled over just before the finish line and got ready to snap another photo.

I hit my watch at the mile 3 marker, but I didn’t look at it. I was pushing HARD. Knowing my split at that moment would not help anything. I just needed to leave EVERYTHING out there. Here’s the AWESOME shot Pharmie got of me as I crossed Cleveland with just 100 feet left in the race:

• Mile 3: 5:19 (downhill). "Holy hell. Nice!"
• 0:31 to the finish.

RESULTS:
Finishing time: 17:11
Pace: 5:31.8 / mile
2nd out of 498 overall
1st out of 26 in the 25-29 age group

And most importantly: a PR of 0:16 on a certified course!!

F*ck, I hurt. Pharmie grabbed a shot of me awkwardly coming out of a “I’m gonna barf” pose, with B in the foreground:

B and I congratulated each other on performances that we were both happy with. I grabbed a photo of my lovely Pharmie getting ready to do the rest of her 45 mile ride:

I felt GREAT soon after I finished, but I really left it “all out there” during the race. I was so happy with how I had done, and I told myself I didn’t need to race a 5K for a LONG time. ;) I found Molly and Jenny and congratulated them on great races too! (Molly was one of the top females, and Jenny was 2nd in her AG.)

I changed out of my running shorts when I got home, and I put on long johns and old jeans so I could go do yard work. It wasn’t until later that day that I realized that I never put underwear on before I put on my long johns.

Note to self: wash long johns.

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GREAT RUN (Except For When I Got Hit By A Car)

Bad news: I was hit by a car.

Good news: There is no “gross foot photo” in this post! I promise!

I’m fine. Don’t worry (Mom). Here’s the story:

Yesterday, I thought I’d go for a 10 mile run, as I’m building up my miles for the Winter Carnival Half Marathon in 2 weeks. I planned on running a regular route. I wanted to do this route, then turn around and head back the exact same way:

So, late-morning, I was ready to run. I checked the temp. It was 1 above with a 13 below wind chill:

Nice temp for a long run. (Seriously, it is.) I quick had a second breakfast (2 servings of oatmeal), stretched for a bit, and took off.

I did better at running easier on the way out. One reason why my 9 miler (3 posts below) got so tough at the end was that I went out too hard: my first 3 miles were 20:29 on a slippery surface. Yesterday on my 10 miler, my first 3 miles were actually a little faster, but the surface was better to run on (we got a little snow recently, and the new thin snow-pack was GREAT for running in YakTrax).

About 4.6 miles into my run is when I got hit by a car. I was coming up on a quiet intersection. I had the right-of-way, as the cross street had a stop sign. As soon as I hit the cross street, I saw a car coming WAY to fast up to the stop sign. She slammed on her brakes, and she was sliding fast towards me. My eyes were wide, and I hit a sprint as fast as I could on that snow-pack. Right as she was about to hit me, I started high-stepping like a wide-receiver trying not to get tackled. (That’s kinda how I felt too...) She slid fast past me, and her bumper hit my rear leg (right leg) as I was trying to get the hell out of her way. It didn’t knock me down, but it spun me around hard so I was now facing her. I gave her a “What-the-heck-was-that?-Slow-down-on-the-ice?” shoulder shrug. She gave me a “Holy-shit!-I’m-glad-I-didn’t-just-kill-you!-Totally-my-fault” wave over her shoulder. I know (Mom) that I need to watch it out there. But she was moving WAY to fast in those conditions. I think she drove along side of me for a bit, making sure I didn't pass out or decide I wanted to sue her. It was respectable that she was concerned, but I just kept going. I didn’t even stop for 2 seconds - I was quickly back to my run.

Later, I thought that maybe my YakTrax scratched her bumper. Hopefully they did. ;) That sounds mean, but I have to admit that it DID run through my head. Ha!

Anyway, I hit the turn-around at mile 5 in 34:53 (6:59/mile). I was feeling pretty good, and I already knew I’d have a hearty negative split.

With 3.5 miles left, I was feeling better than I did near the end of my 9 miler a few days back, so I started picking up the pace even more.

With about 1.5 miles left, I could feel that I had been picking up the pace. I was hurting, but still going strong. My knee and my heel both still felt GREAT! Sure, I was hit by a car, but this was turning into a great, strong run!

10 miles
34:53 first half (6:59/mile)
32:35 second half (6:31/mile)
1:07:28 total (6:44.8/mile)

I got home and snapped a photo (of course):

I got in the house, and I as took off my hat, it stuck to my head. A cashew-sized ice chunk had formed near my right temple.

When I zoomed in to the photo of me just as I wrapped up, I could see the ice. You can see where it goes from my hat to my glasses to my temple:

Here’s the ice highlighted in red:

Getting clipped by a car yesterday reminds me of a few weeks before Ironman WI 2007 when I was attacked by a dog. A German Shepard lunged at me while riding my bike full speed, and I had to punch it in the face to stay alive. I said something like “If I was ready for THAT, then I’m ready for Ironman.” Maybe getting hit yesterday (and then finishing the run with a great time) was the sign that I’m ready for this half marathon!

Recently I’ve been questioning if I’m “PR ready” for the half marathon in 2 weeks. I looked back on some numbers from training for the same half marathon last year. At this same time last year, I ran a 1:06:31 9-miler and a 1:13:45 10-miler. This year, I just ran a 1:02:02 9-miler and a 1:07:28 10-miler.

Umm... yes. I think I’m ready to order. I’ll take the PR please. With a side of blisters, and a cup of cheese sauce for dipping.

(p.s. You'll have to check back on Monday. I'm working up the short story of how I got into running. It's pretty good. And there are embarrassing old photos. You'll get a kick out of it.)

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Scariest Bike Ride EVER

Is it just me, or when random things happen in your life, do some of them get you saying, “If I was ready for THAT, I’m ready for Ironman?” I’ve been thinking like that a lot lately, and I had one of those moments last night.

The plan was to do a swim/bike brick. I took my bike to the Highland pool and planned to practice transition out of my trunk. I swam 3200 meters at a decent pace, ran out to my car, grabbed my stuff, hopped on my bike, and headed out for a 40 mile ride on the Gateway Trail. My legs were heavy and I wasn’t going too fast. I was going against the wind on the way out, and I was riding about 16-17 mph. Nothing fancy.

Then I came across 2 women walking a huge German Shepard. Yep, this story is about to take a turn for the worse. The 2 women had their backs to me and were taking up most of the trail, so I gave a friendly “on your left” as I was coming up behind them. They scooted over. As I passed them, the German Shepard reared up like a bucking bronco. He was on a short leash, and the woman in control was holding him back with all her might. I must have startled him. Or he thought I was a deer - a perfect lunch. It was quite a large animal when it was standing on its back legs!

I got past the hyper German Shepard only to have my heart sink when I heard these words come from behind me: “Riley, NO! RILEY...RILEY, NO!!!

Shit.

A second later, I hear the sound of the German Shepard’s claws on the trail getting louder and louder. It’s not a pleasant sound. He came up on my right. (So I’m thinking, what an impolite dog - don't you know you’re supposed to pass on the left? I’m such a bike nerd.) He’s staring at me the whole time. He’s bounding with giant leaps. He’s not barking or growling, but he is making these deep, rumbling noises. He gets ahead me, still looking over his shoulder at me. He cuts in front of me and cocks his head back around to look over his right shoulder. I crouch down and lay into my bike - I hunker down in my drop down bars. “I’m getting out of here,” I think. I start pulling away.

The German Shepard now realizes that I’m an admirable foe, and he kicks into high gear as well. He comes up again on my right. We’re staring at each other - I’m looking just over my right shoulder at him. Then he makes his move.

He lunges at me. Full throttle. I can still see it happening in slow motion. In real time, I felt like it was happening in slow motion. His front paws are spread wide apart, ready to take me down. We were about to meet face-to-face, or should I say teeth-to-neck. I did the only thing I could think of: I took my right hand, kept my palm open, stretched my fingers back, and nailed the heel of my palm right in the dog’s face. The blow landed with a CRACK right between the dog’s eye and corner of his mouth. (Now, before I get any nasty comments, I LOVE animals. I have 2 cats, and I grew up with a total of 5 dogs. I’ve never hit an animal like this before. I only struck this dog because it was about to kill me. I hope you understand.)

I didn’t break anything, and the dog didn’t break anything, but the shot was loud. I swerved out of control to the left from the power of the punch. I didn’t wipe out. Holy crap, how did I NOT wipe out?!? I didn’t look back. I never looked back. I dropped into aero and gave it everything. If I still had hair on my body, it all would have been standing on end. I looked down. My bike computer said 33 mph. This was on the flat, against the wind. I had been pulling 16-17 mph just a minute before. I took a moment to give myself a little half-cocked smile indicating how proud I was of that speed, and then I got serious again.

A moment later, I realized that I had a long scratch on my right arm. No blood, just a long red mark. That was all I was left with from this encounter.

Immediately, I wanted to bottle this feeling that I had. All of these endorphins, adrenaline, and everything else that was coursing through me - I wanted to keep it. I wanted to remember it and use it on those 112 miles on the bike on September 9th. But after a few miles, the feeling was gone. All I have left is the visual of the leaping dog coming at me. Maybe that visual can be my secret weapon on the bike...

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My Trip to the ER

This is a little bit of a scary story, and this story is true (unlike my scary story about my watch that spoke to me a few months ago).

On Wednesday, near the end of my Color and Design class at CVA, I mentioned to my students that I was feeling a little dizzy. It didn’t seem to be too big of a deal. I went and got a drink of water and figured I’d be fine in a few minutes. Class was beginning to wrap up, and I was ready to swing by home to have lunch and get ready for my afternoon class at MCAD. I was leaving school and walking to my car, and I felt a little dizzier. I was just watching my feet, because if I looked up, everything was spinning a little too much. I stopped for a moment and rested against a fence to get my balance. I was close to my car, so I let go of the fence and kept walking.

The next thing I remember, I was getting out of a construction worker’s truck (or contractor, or electrician) in the parking lot of United Hospital’s Emergency Room. As I was “coming to,” I realized I was speaking with the man in his truck. He had picked me up and taken me about a mile to the hospital. I don’t remember ever getting up, getting into his truck, or speaking with him. I don’t know if he woke me up or found me dazed or what. When I climbed out of his truck and was staring at the doors of the ER, I nearly lost it; I was freaking out.

I didn’t know how long I was out or what happened in the time between collapsing on the sidewalk and getting to the ER. I walked inside and up to the counter. The woman at the desk asked how she could help me. I said “I... I was just dropped off in the parking lot... and... and...” I lost it. I was so scared, and I just started crying. I was shaking. She tried to calm me down and she handed me some paperwork to fill out. I reached for the pen, and I realized that my right hand was bright red and numb. I was able to mumble, “I think my hand is frozen... I can’t write...” I looked down and started feeling around. My left leg was soaked and my computer bag was wet and still had some snow on it. “Oh my God, my computers... My wallet!...” Both of my laptops were still in my bag and my wallet was still in my pocket. My day planner was still in my left hand, but it had some snow on it too.

So the nurse took down my info for me. My memory was working fine. I was able to rattle off my social security number and all of my other data, so my brain wasn’t broken. I wasn’t in any pain, but the back left part of my head was a little sore from where I must have hit the sidewalk.

I had to tell what I remembered about what had happened to all kinds of people in the ER. Each time I broke down. The head nurse (who was the second person I met with) kept nicely telling me to calm down. I must have looked like a mess. “Just calm down, it’ll be OK, they’ll run some tests...it’s OK...just calm down...”

They tested me for about everything except for feline diabetes. My blood sugar was fine. My blood pressure and heart rate were fine. The numbers and lines flashing on the EKG were all fine. They did blood work and that was all normal. There were no outward signs of anything being wrong. They kept me there for a few hours to monitor. I kept telling them, “The doctor who gave me a physical last fall told me ‘Whatever you’re doin’, keep doin’ it! You are a very healthy young man!’ I’m a triathlete, I’m in GREAT shape!”

I asked if I could get my laptop to get the phone number for the head of the Media Department at MCAD so I could call her and let her know that I wasn’t going to be able to teach class that afternoon. They handed me my computer, and I got her number. (I talked to her later that day, and she told me that I sounded really scared in the message that I left her.)

After being there a little while, my fear turned into embarrassment. I just wanted to get out of there. I felt fine. Except for being quite shaken up, I felt fine from the moment I walked into the hospital. They weren’t ready to let me go. I also realized that, being my computer was still on my lap, now was my chance to take a quick photo with the built-in iSight on my Mac:

I’m pretty sure that I wasn’t supposed to take a picture in there, but whatever. To wrap up this long, strange story, they basically told me “these things happen” and unless it happens again, it was probably just a fluke - maybe due to stress. But if it happened again, I’d have a CAT Scan and a lot more tests. Super.

They asked if I had a ride home. I lied and said yes. I was just ready to get out of there. They let me get dressed and leave. I walked back to my car, which wasn’t really that far from the hospital - maybe over a half mile. But in that walk, I had to climb the roughly 200 stairs behind the James J. Hill house. After that, I STILL felt fine, so I knew things were going to be OK.

I got back to my car and looked around. I wanted to see if I could tell where I dropped. Sure enough, right between the fence that I leaned on when I felt dizzy and my car, there was an L-shaped depression on the edge of the sidewalk. That’s where I fell. And I still didn’t remember any of it. I looked around to try to figure it all out, but I now realize that I won’t remember what happened and I should stop driving myself crazy trying to dig those details out of my brain. I got into my car, drove home, and did something any good triathlete would do: went to the Y for a 2500-meter swim. Just kidding. I drove home, had a big glass of water, and fell asleep on the couch to Rachel Ray making chicken on TV.

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