In the short time that I have been cycling to work, I have realized that there is a great deal of confusion about the best way for cars and bikes to share the prized tarmac.

There have been efforts to promote the concept of ‘Share the Road’.  This entreaty has made some inroads in making drivers more aware of the presence of bikes and the need to accommodate them.  But the slogan also has emboldened some cyclists to imagine that ‘share the road’ means ‘we have the exact same rights as cars’, a mindset that may be legally valid but when taken literally will only increase long-term hostility between drivers and riders.

The best way to interpret ‘Share the Road’ is a framework in which roads are understood to be the principle domain of cars (the roads were built and designed for cars, after all), but one where bikes have visitor rights.  Visitor rights are important: bikes are not intruders, bikes are not hazards.  Aside from the Red Wedding, the Rule #1 for how to treat visitors to your home is: Try to keep your visitors’ blood and central organs inside their bodies.

At the same time, bikes should recognize that Rule #1 for visitors is that they should be respectful and grateful of their host’s hospitality.  A cyclist who treats the road like its his own dominion is akin to the guest that starts clipping his toenails on his host’s coffee table.

A Few Specific Clarifications for Cars and Cyclists:

(1) Cars: do not pass a cyclist around a blind turn.  This happens all the time, and the problem is that if a car happens to be coming the other way, the cyclist is no longer alive.

(2) Cars: if you are stopped behind a cyclist at a red light and you would like to turn right, do not speed in front of the cyclist and swipe around them to make your right turn.  Most cyclists get up to speed quickly, and it will just be a couple seconds before the cyclist is gone and you can safely make your right turn.

(3) Cyclists: you know those ambiguous sidewalks without traffic lights?  the ones where you technically have right of way, but where the chances that a car will actually stop is a game of roulette?  assuming that a car will stop is like dipping Little Red Riding Hood into the wolf’s mouth.

I deleted my Strava account yesterday.  All the data….poof.

I don’t regret my 18-month dalliance with Strava.  Knowledge is useful.  It corrected a grave misconception that I was a rock star when it came to training.  I went into races cocky, despite being woefully under-prepared.

But even if Strava was good at pointing out the inadequacies of my training, it did very little to point me on a better path.  This is the general pattern of how Strava has gone for me for the couple times a year when I decided that I’d like to train for something:

6 weeks prior to ‘A’ race: Ah!  Crap!  I’m not trained at all.  Look at what everyone else is doing.  I need to get my ass in gear pronto.

4 weeks prior to ‘A’ race: Okay, so I’ve tossed in a couple long runs.  Feeling good about this.  Wait, crap, I still haven’t done enough?  Come on, Strava!  Seriously, I need to do another long run??

3 weeks prior to ‘A’ race:  Um, it hurts to walk.

1 week prior to ‘A’ race:  Soooo….I guess I should get this checked out?

3 days prior to ‘A’ race: Why does it always seem like training just = never getting to actually toe a line?  When’s the last time I actually got to run my ‘A’ race?

day of ‘A’ race: Well, at least the kitty likes it when I’m a cripple.  More weekends sitting around watching tv = more pets.  But not getting to run the race you’ve been training for is kind of like failing to orgasm.  There’s all this build-up of energy and tension and then no release.  You can try lifting weights.  But nothing is going to substitute for that loopy relaxed feeling at the finish line of having entirely drained yourself.  Feeling like a loaded spring all day is way worse than just having a cruddy race.  

I realized I’d hit a crossroads with two stark choices:

(a) Step up my game, hire a coach who can direct me in how to step up my training in ways that result in something other than more couch time with the kitty;

(b) Shut it all down.  See if I can relocate that lovely state of ignorance when I fancied myself a rock star runner for frittering around in the woods for half an hour and finding a bunch of birds.

Do I even have to tell you which way the wagon went?

Lately, I’ve had a run of bad prizes.  First there was the 25,000 airline miles ‘negative prize’ at the DC Race for the Cure. And now no one at the DC Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon will return my emails about the fact that I haven’t yet received my $500 cash prize (or the trophy they were supposed to mail).  So in honor of my current state of prize grumpiness, I’m going to take a trip down memory lane to highlight the best and worst of my running prizes over the years.  Note that the quality of a prize is not necessarily an absolute, but often a function of the delta between the expected prize and the actual prize.

WORST PRIZES

1.   25,000 taxable American Airline miles, Suman G. Komen Global Race for the Cure (2016).  I’ve had my share of disappointing race prizes, as I’ll be enumerating below.  But no prize where I’ve actually have a net negative cash flow.  Paying upfront income taxes for airline miles I’ll never use has to be the #1 worst prize in my 20+ years of competitive running.
2. 

   ‘So, this shit piece of wood is just like a token I go redeem somewhere for the real prize, right?’

   Coaster, Fool’s Gold 50mi (2014).  Alex P. stopped by the bar one night after WUS to promote his new race in Montana, with 100-mile, 50-mile and 50-km options.  Aaron and I signed up for the 50-mile race, which offered $300 in prize money to the winner.  As we came to discover, weather in Montana in August is wildly unpredictable, and it snowed 8 inches the night before the race.  At the second aid station, Alex instructed all the 50-milers to turn around and do the 50-km course, because the snow storm had made the high elevation pass too dangerous.  It was raining and windy and the coldest I’ve ever been in a race, my teeth chattering for hours.  But I couldn’t drop, not with $300 of prize money on the line.  At the award’s ceremony, I didn’t get an envelope of cash.  I got a small wooden coaster in the shape of Montana that said 50k winner.  Gary K. tried to take my picture standing with the RD for the VHTRC Facebook page.  I was able to tolerate standing up there for the moment Gary needed to snap the picture, but my smile barely conceals how I felt about my coaster prize.

3. Zip, Fire on the Mountain 50k (2011).  Aaron and I both won the Fire on the Mountain 50k in 2011.  After the race, the RD told us he didn’t have our prizes on hand, but he’d put them in the mail.  Six months later, nothing ever came.  We emailed him and got no response.  The following April we just happened to run into him again at the Race for the Birds.  I cornered him at packet pick-up, and was not shy in my request for a FOM prize status update.  He said if I won the Race for the Birds that day too, I’d get double prize.  I won the Race for the Birds as well, but no prize ever materialized.
4. Gift Certificate to a Running Store That was Closed, Charlottesville Marathon (2011).  In 2011, most of State College’s CVIM Boston Marathon team didn’t register in time.  It was the crazy year where the race sold out in hours, that brought about the new waved registration that lets faster times sign up earlier.  So we all decided to go to Charlottesville instead.  I won the marathon and a bunch of my friends got age group awards.  But we soon discovered that the gift certificates were to a Charlottesville running store that wasn’t even open that day.  We were heading home that afternoon.  I guess only locals could use the prizes.
5. 

   i might have won the race, but eliza (aka 8-pack girl) went home with the bladder

   Bladder-less camelback, WHM (2011).  I have a long history with the WHM, but the most memorable race for me by far was the 2011 show-down with Eliza.  It was the only time I ever looked (and felt) really vulnerable during the WHM.  It was my slowest time ever on the course.  I felt terrible.  I ran terrible.  And it didn’t help having 8-pack girl battling it out with me.  I managed to eke out the win.  As a prize I won a lovely camelback, something I didn’t actually have and needed desperately.  But it turned out that the bladder had been accidentally placed in Eliza’s pack.  There were numerous efforts to reach out to Eliza to obtain my bladder and have it delivered to me.  Fortunately, the bladder-less pack is still very useful for when I occasionally bike to work and need to put some clothes/snacks/phone/money/keys/badge in it.

6. Bonus miles, 5th grade mile, Chevy Chase Elementary School (1991).  I ran my first timed race ever in 5th grade.  I won the girl’s mile race in 6:58.  I was 3rd overall.  I didn’t get an official prize from the school, no ribbon or anything.  But it was the kind of thing where my parents could have taken me out for ice cream or something to celebrate.  The actual Nelson family response?  There seemed to be an overwhelming and immediate need to to find out whether I was actually fast.  So my brother, father, and I raced another mile on the spot.  And yes, they both beat me.  Demoralized, I never raced again until high school.
7. (Honorable Mention) All-America Award, NCAA Div III Cross Country (2001).  This gets an honorable mention because the award itself was lovely, a large calligraphed parchment for finishing All-America at Nationals in xc.  But the award makes the list because my college coach Ned offered to get my name professionally calligraphed.  A couple weeks later we had a falling out when I told him I was going to study abroad the next semester in Australia and miss the indoor and outdoor track seasons.  Every time I visited his office for that awkward conversation about where my award was, he shrugged and said he hadn’t seen it recently.  It’s likely still lying somewhere in a file cabinet in his office.

BEST PRIZES

1.  $300, Shepherdstown Library 5K (2008).  This gets top bill because it is the one and only time that a prize has been so generous that in good conscience I had to give some of it back.  This was a dinky 100-or-so person 5k race in Shepherdstown, WV to benefit the local library.  Sure, it was a killer course that ended on the toughest hill I’ve ever had in a 5k.  And I had to come from behind to win.  But I gave $100 of it back.  It just wasn’t proportional to the size of the field or the level of effort.
2. Ceramic vessel, Uwharrie (2011).  When I won the Uwharrie 20-mile race, I was so delusional that when they handed me my prize I thought it was a bucket to puke in.  Only when I regained brain function did I discover that the prizes at Uwharrie are beautiful.  The region in North Carolina where the race is held is famous for pottery, and the prizes are vessels made by local potters with local clay. The piece I won at Uwharrie was soda-fired, one of my favorite firing methods.  It fits my aesthetic perfectly.  There aren’t many races where you come away with a prize that’s meaningful and one of the most treasured items in your home.
3. 

   Sashimi plate at Suski-Ko

   Dinner for 2 at Suski-Ko, Ellen’s Run 5k (2015).  In previous Ellen’s Runs, I had always won $100 in cash.  Last year, instead I won a gift certificate for dinner (up to $100) at a fancy sushi restaurant in DC.  I had a debate with my father, the economist, who vehemently rejected my claim that the gift certificate was a superior gift to the cash because it would make me have an enjoyable experience that I wouldn’t otherwise have (I’d otherwise just spend the $100 on a new pair of running shoes).  Fortunately, WUS has behavioral economist Julian J. on its payroll, who could confirm the validity of my opinion.  A memorable dinner with my mom, brother, and Aaron entirely trumps a new pair of sneakers.

4. 

   Best prize. Ever.

   Handmade plaque, Teton Crest Trail (2015).  Jack K. made us the coolest prize ever for our completion of the ~35 mile Teton Crest Trail in Jackson, WY.  The prize got triple bonus points for (a) Jack having mad woodworking skills, and (b) the fact that it wasn’t a race and we had no expectation of getting a prize.  Still, it was one of the best days I’ve ever had on the trail, and it’s wonderful to have such a beautiful token to commemorate it with.

5. Flowers, WHM (multiple years).  I’ve done everything I can to alleviate WHM RD Tracy’s concerns that a bouquet of flowers is an overly-girly prize.  Tracy has amazing taste in flowers, and long after the flowers dry out, I still keep them in my Uwharrie vessel as permanent home decoration.  My cat Leda loves them.  She purrs and rubs her cheek on the dried flowers, and sometimes her whole body.  What prize could possibly be better than one that makes my kitty happy?
6. Patagonia Refugio backpack, Holiday Lake 50k (2015).  Everyone knows Horton gives out great swag, and I’ve gotten a lot of sweet clothes over the years, some that I practically live in.  But the Patagonia backpack makes the list because it was life-changing.  At the time I already owned a backpack with a pouch for a laptop, and it seemed pointless to receive another one.  But I had no idea how comfortable a backpack could be until I tried the Refugio.  I travel a lot, and hauling my computer long distances had always hurt my back and shoulders.  The Refugio distributed the weight in a way that the computer felt weightless.  Sometimes I’d have a fleeting panic attack that I’d left my computer at the security line because my pack felt too light.  I used to have to plan my life around minimizing time with my laptop in tow — e.g., dropping it at home before going out for dinner..  Now I hardly notice it.

Cecile, Bernard, Rosemary, Mom, and I made friends with a rock star German Shepherd after the race.

Momma Jill’s Performance of the Decade

My mom’s been running the Susan G. Komen Global Race for the Cure 5k for 20+ years, marking 20+ years of cancer survivorship.  Somehow, over these two decades my mom has reversed the course of aging.  At age 69 she is actually running faster than she ever ran in the previous two decades.  This year, following some quality prep at the tough, hilly Race for the Birds trail race in April, the roads around the Tidal Basin must have seemed breezy, and she cruised to a 2-minute PR in 37:13.

I Discover There’s Such Thing as a ‘Negative’ Prize

My quads were still chewed up from the prior week’s Promise Land 50k, and  I was in no shape to race.  But the Race for the Cure is more fundraiser than road race, and I realized 30 seconds into the race that an easy hand gallop would still win.  I ran 1:30 slower than last year’s win, but hey, a win’s a win.  ABC 7 was there with a camera crew, and it was fun to tell the story of how I’ve been running this race for 20 years to celebrate my mother’s survivorship.

So I’ve been running competitively for 20 years, and have won all kinds of prizes of varying qualities, but I never knew that you could win a ‘negative’ prize.  This is the email I received the week after R4C:

Hi Martha,

Nice chatting with you just now; congratulations on being the top female runner at the DC Race for the Cure this year!

As I mentioned on the phone, as the top female runner you will receive a certificate for 25,000 American Airlines miles for your use.

Please note that  the recalculated market valuation of the AAdvantage miles certificates is $0.03 per mile (or $750 per 25,000 miles certificate).  As any gift or any awarded item valued at $600 or more is considered taxable income by the IRS, recipients will now be receiving a 1099 form at the end of the year to include in the amount for their taxable income.  This means that all recipients must now complete a W-9 form prior to receipt of any AAdvantage miles certificates moving forward.

I’ve attached the W9 form for you to complete.

If you could please send me your mailing address, I will send you your certificate via overnight mail in the next day or so, and you should have it by Monday.

Many thanks,

Adrienne

So, let’s see here: I have to pay hundreds of dollars in income taxes for airlines miles that I likely won’t be able to use.  I won 25,000 American Airlines miles at last year’s race, and I pulled my hair out all year trying find a route where I could use them.  Never found a way.  The American Airlines AAdvantage frequent flier program was recently ranked as the worst program of all US airlines by the Wall Street Journal, which noted the paucity of seats available to frequent fliers on American’s flights.  American Airlines has not been on our good list after charging Aaron $210 last month so that he could still use the return leg of flight to Boston after we got stuck in Colorado during the mammoth April snow storm.  In the end, I declined the prize.  Fortunately, the prize is the least of the reasons why I run the Race for the Cure.