FIFTY AND COUNTING - BY BRAD MAX
FIFTY AND COUNTING
by Brad Max
Part One
Why would a grown man, with at least the normal share of responsibilities, decide that upon turning the big 5-0 he would participate in 50 inline speed skating races in one year? As a way to handle the fact that he is grown and has those responsibilities? A love of skating? For the exercise? To celebrate his health? To prove something?
All of these reasons, plus others I would discover during the year, entered into the endeavor I took on in November of 2004. Over nine previous years of skating, my racing experience—though enjoyable—was intermittent and undistinguished. I had spent more time writing about skating (articles, poetry, a screenplay) than racing. But even at 50, I continued to hold very dear my ability to put wheels on my feet, join up with others in a pace line, and partake of the heart-stirring, soul-freeing sport of inline speed skating. So that is what I decided to do, 50 times in one year.
I chose the San Diego Silver Strand Half Marathon as the first race for reasons of efficiency—it immediately followed my birthday 50th birthday, Thursday, November 11, 2004. I left a Saturday morning birthday party, drove directly to the airport, and arrived in San Diego just after midnight. This would be the first of many race events I would travel to, arriving just in time to catch a little sleep, head to the race, and then practically roll from the finish line to the departure gate and onto the plane. I also chose this race because it seemed a doable distance for my training level. But it would also be the first of many races for which I would find I had not sufficiently trained.
The Silver Strand starts on the old and orderly Coronado Island, then travels almost straight south by the Del Coronado Hotel and along the Silver Strand, in sight of
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Paceline on the Silver Strand.
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both San Diego Bay and the Pacific Ocean, to the town of Imperial Beach. Around 170 skaters at a variety of levels turned out, and I had a pack, or at least a person, to skate with most of the way. I finished with a blistering time of 52:18, good enough for fifth in my age group and a commitment to start training. This event has the best post-race celebration I
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Brad Max (left) with Masters skater boys after the 2004 Silver Strand.
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experienced in all my races—ample free food, drink, and excellent live music, reasonably priced massage, a moderately sized expo and nice awards ceremony, all held in a grassy park beside the beach and wrapped in that perfect So-Cal weather. After the race (and a massage) I renewed
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Pausing for a picture post-race at the Cherokee Lodge B&B – 49 races ahead of me.
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the acquaintance of some masters skaters and shuttled back to the charming little Cherokee Lodge B&B on Coronado for a quick shower and trip to the airport. One race down, only 49 to go. Now, you may be thinking, “if he spends a long paragraph on each race…” Don’t worry. My next 17 races were at three indoor meets—in Wichita, KS; Tallahassee, FL; and Springfield, MO. The Wichita and Springfield events were part of the Mid America Speed League, put on by Joe Cotter. If you know Joe and Debbie Cotter, you know that they are a totally class act, pillars of patinage, who put on only well-organized race events. Joe, in his coat and tie, provides informed, running commentary during every race. Since 20 of my races were at the Cotters’ co-productions, I doff my helmet to them both. The most memorable of the early Wichita and Springfield races was the Veteran Mens’ 700-meter Final in Springfield. (Okay, there were no heats, only a Final!) In lap four, I was in fourth (okay, out of four). Mike Pickle was just ahead of me, and going into turn two Mike went down and stayed down…and stayed down. The race was stopped, and Mike was attended to. Though he’d hit his head hard, he finally came around and was helped to the center of the rink. After a few minutes Joe announced that the race would be rerun. Mike picked up his helmet and headed for the starting line. “Whoa, there, Iron Mike,” the officials stopped him, “the rules don’t allow crash victims who stop a race to skate in the rerun.” Mike skated the later races and was okay, though a little dizzy. But some say all skaters are a little bit that way.
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See the blur of skaters blasting off the start?
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The Tallahassee event, in February, was particularly dear to me because I got to see my older daughter, Megan, who goes to school there, at Florida State.
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Daughter Megan in Tallahassee, team poster in the background.
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That’s why I chose it, of course. By this time I was getting pretty skilled, if not at skating in races, at least finding them. I was constantly searching the internet for events to get me to 50, and for back-up events, and back-ups to the back-ups. Tallahassee fit in well, allowing for some business, visit with a friend, and some long talks with Megan. The promoters of the race showed plenty of Southern hospitality—they had included the one-man “Team Kansas City Brad” in their team posters around the rink. The race event was exhausting, as the Masters skaters kept insisting that we Veterans “skate up” in their races, too. I hardly sat down—seven races in one morning. Mid-March and I had 18 races in the books.By this time, I was beginning to face the races a little differently than I had initially. Stepping up to the starting line, not knowing if I was going to finish smoothly or crash, place well or lose badly—was a real issue in the early starts. But putting myself out there, over and over (especially in Tallahassee, seven times in four hours, sometimes with no more notice than, “You comin’?”), I was beginning to have somewhat less fear. And, this was spilling over to other parts of my life, as well.
Without a doubt, my favorite event occurred in early April. The rest of my family was either on spring break, doing college visits, or away at college, and I was facing a weekend home alone. I had searched in vein for races in the U.S. (honest, I did!). But the only event I could find was in a town called Rouen…in France (I swear!). During the week before the event, the race director, Sandrine Candelibes-Torchy, had been very helpful with information over the internet: Three races? Oui! Rain or shine? Oui! Places to stay? Oui! Stay with us! So…on Tuesday I cashed in beacoup mileage points, and on Thursday I left work in the afternoon and flew to France. Landing in Paris, I found a hotel near Gare Montparnnase, the start of the grande ‘dame of night skates, the Paris Friday Night Skate. Before the 10pm start, I skated across the city to the house of some friends for dinner. I was back just in time for the Night Skate (my fifth, yes, fifth), and by the end of the night I had done about 40 kilometers (25 miles) on the day before a race. That’s training!! The next morning I took time to stroll through a glorious two-block-long market outside the door of my hotel and then headed to the train station.
Checking the departure board and my ticket, I discovered that the day before, in my pathetic French, I had purchased a ticket to Royan (4 hours southwest) rather than Rouen (an hour north). How do you say “Oops” in French? Fortunately, that was easily fixed, and before long I was on my way to Rouen.
In Rouen—the town where Joan of Arc was burned at the stake—I was warmly welcomed. But in terms of skate racing, they do some things differently than I was used to. First, I was given a tattered race number (no pins), and told politely that I must return the number. Since I was collecting all my race bibs, I had to…how you say…take a picture, for digital history. Second, whereas we serve up hot dogs and burgers at the concession tent, they served crepes—choice of fillings…but of course. And, before the races on Sunday, the second day, the huge throng of skaters was assembled for a Parade of Teams. They cheered just as loudly for Team Kansas
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“Team Crepe” at the Internationale du Grand Rouen.
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City’s team of one. Then, skaters from foreign countries were brought up to the stage for a public exchange of gifts. Oh, yes, the racing in Rouen. It was spectacular. There were enough skaters in my division (for once!) that I had real competition, at my level. Three of us traded the lead a dozen times in each of three races. The hairpin turns around narrow medians, the touch-and-go pavement, and the breezy straight-aways made for the best close-quarters
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With the French, our arch-enemies.
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racing I had during the entire year.
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Love those road race hairpins! Rouen Cathedral in the background.
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I am sure that, as Napoleon Bonaparte—that famous Frenchman and would-be skater—said in his heart of his beloved France, “I shall return.”
I will admit unabashedly that one of my strategies in selecting race events was to find a series to which I could show up every time, and thereby have a chance at accumulating enough points to reach the podium. If this makes me the Tortoise, the bad penny, the tar baby, of the circuit, so be it. Everyone should have a strategy. And, I inflicted mine on the debut season of the Eastern Seaboard Series, in Trexlertown, PA. I chose wisely. Bob Albanese produced these events which took place once-a-month from May through September. The venue was the Bob Rodale Park which has a one-mile, 20-foot-wide, smooth asphalt path, winding through placid woods and one punishing hill. Each event during the season was a little different, but most had a long race, a short race, and a relay. It’s very well run, Ross Creavling does a great job announcing, and the weather—let’s face it, we lucked out. After the first event in May, I was in 8th place, and very encouraged. I heartily recommend this series to skaters in the area. And, to the Advanced Veterans, I promise not to show up every time in ‘06.
By the end of May, after returning to Wichita for an indoor meet and going to Orlando for the rain-out of the Disney Half-Marathon (no, it didn’t count), I had 26 races under my belt. I was just over halfway to 50 and just over halfway through the year.
Everything seemed on track. But during the summer, my racing card was a little sparse. Through all of June and July I only went to three events for a total of five races. In Topeka, Kansas, at the closest event to my home, I added a two-mile run to the 8k skate at the Lions Club Journey for Sight, and I sorely regretted the run for three days.
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My early morning view from “Hotel Hertz” in Mays Landing.
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At another event, in Mays Landing, New Jersey, I arrived at the race site at 2:30 in the morning, and ended up sleeping in my car. Finally, at the second installment of the Eastern Seaboard Series rounded out my early summer schedule. A 10K and a mixed relay, and I left PA with 34 races done, and in sixth place in the Series. Movin’ up!
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Brother-in-law Brendan in fifth–not the order of finish at Trexlertown!
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At the end of July, I took a break from all the exertion of skate racing, to hike 70 miles with my son and a full pack at Philmont Scout Reservation in New Mexico. I hoped that on my next race back, all the hiking and altitude would give me an edge. Who was I kidding! That race was the 21K Debbie Kohl Memorial which was the third event in the Eastern Seaboard Series. I had convinced my hockey-playing, marathon-running brother-in-law to participate in the race with me (not much convincing required). After the race, we were both going to have to rush to the Newark airport in hopes of making it to Kansas City in time for a huge family party my wife was having (much convincing required here). The race was brutally hot, and it was the only race I actually thought about quitting…until a very kind girl handed me an ice cold water bottle with two laps left. Despite my abysmal performance (brother-in-law did well), the series points kept piling up. After three installments of the Series, I was in 4th, just inches from a place on the podium. (And, we made it back to the party with five minutes to spare.)
Although I was two-thirds of the way to my goal, I had relied heavily on multiple races at indoor events (22 of 35). But the indoor season was basically over until late fall. I would have to step up the pace of searching out and traveling to races. But in another way I was slowing up the pace. My daughter and I, knowing we both have a penchant for being hard on ourselves, had talked in Tallahassee about having more fun. We even committed to doing this. Skating is fun, and through my travels to skate, as well as the more mundane, everyday things like working, I began practicing having more fun and taking things easier.