St. Patrick's Day

When people see only my first name on paper or in rare cases, my first and middle name, which is Liam Tobin, most of them probably think "wow, this dude must be as Irish as they come".  But then they see my last name and they say "oh.  Nope, never mind".  Liam and Tobin are both very Irish names, but on the contrary, my last name, Dumenjich, is very Croatian.  I was always pretty aware of the basic makeup of my heritage, but thanks to 23 and Me, I've been able to drill into the details a little more.  My mom's side of the family is mostly Irish with some German heritage, and my dad's side originates from various places in Germany, along with Southern and Eastern Europe, including Croatia, Greece, and Hungary.  The simple version of my heritage is Croatian, German, and Irish, which is what I often tell people.  Part of the reason why I was always cognizant of my heritage is because of the fact that my mom's side of the family takes great pride in their Irish roots.  

Virtually all of my aunts, uncles, and cousins on my mom's side have Irish names.  Two guys named Patrick, Katherine, Mary, Kelly, etc.  Christmas was often celebrated over two days.  Many members of that side of my family wear Claddagh rings and jewelry with Gaelic knots incorporated into the design.  We had Gaelic poetry on the walls in our house and Waterford Crystal drinking glasses in our cupboard.  Us kids drew pictures of shamrocks just for fun.  Irish whiskey and Guinness were must haves at any family gathering.  My mom loved anything and everything Irish.  It runs in the family, and my aunts, uncles, and cousins still share this sentiment today.  

St. Patrick's Day was never a day that went uncelebrated.  Growing up, we had not only the day itself, but also the parade in the Corktown neighborhood of Detroit, which is always held the Sunday before.  My mom took me to the St. Patrick's Day parade in Detroit before I even turned a year old.  Somewhere in my collection of keepsake photos, there's a picture from the St. Patties parade in 1987 of me wearing a green onesie, posing with my two uncles in between pulls of Guinness.  The standard cliché is that St. Patrick's day, which falls on the 17th of March every year, is an excuse to wear green, drink green beer, and get shitfaced drunk.  Okay, maybe there's a reason for that.  The Irish certainly have a reputation for heavy drinking.  All clichés come from somewhere right?  My uncle once joked that even though people drive on the left side of the road in Ireland, they're driving on the right side of the road half of the time because they're trashed.  Another one of my family members has a funny coffee mug that tells you the ingredients for Irish coffee with a scale for each ingredient on the side of the mug.  The first three inches are Irish whiskey, with about a centimeter for coffee and cream.  I myself, along with my family members have largely embraced the stereotypes, however for the Irish, St. Patrick's Day has a deeper meaning.  

The purpose of the holiday, simply put, is to celebrate and honor the life of St. Patrick, who died on March 17th back in the 17th century.  St. Patrick is viewed by many as the most significant saint in Irish history, having had a large impact in shaping Irish culture.  It started off as being observed as a religious holiday by the Catholic church, but we all know what it's become today.  Today in Ireland it is widely celebrated as a holy day, in a way that is similar to how Thanksgiving is celebrated in the United States:  A day to be with your family and loved ones and have a big feast.  Okay, and have some drinks too.  That is often the way the actual holiday was celebrated on my mom's side of the family.  We'd typically go over to one of my aunt's houses and just hang out together.  Of course the parades the weekend before were a different story.  We would all be dressed up in our St. Patties attire as the parade went by, and cheer people people on.  Once the parade ended, we'd spend the remainder of the afternoon at The Old Shillelagh, one of the most well known Irish pubs in Detroit.  I enjoyed this annual tradition almost every year up until when I left Michigan and moved to Chicago in spring of 2009.  St. Patrick's Day in Chicago was a different level of rowdiness.  The Chicago river, which runs through the downtown area is dyed shamrock green the weekend before St. Patrick's Day every year (If you've never seen it, Google it.  It's pretty awesome).  Every bar in town is packed, house parties are everywhere, and there are not one, but two parades.  The two St. Patties Days I spent in Chicago are definitely ones to remember.

Above all, St. Patrick's Day is my mom's holiday in my world.  Because she loved it so much, I often think of her on St. Patties Day and all of the fun memories I had with her and her side of the family.  Usually I drink a Guinness in her honor, even if it's at home.  This year however, Sam and I drank Shamrock shakes from McDonald's, which are pretty tasty by the way.  I hope to someday bring Sam and our little dude, who will be arriving this summer, to a St. Patrick's Day parade in Detroit with my mom's family.  It'll happen when time permits.  In the meantime though, maybe we can start him off with a shamrock shake on his first St. Patties Day in 2023.      

Fast Times In Berkeley

Let me start out on a completely unrelated subject to the rest of this story.  I realized just this morning that Panera Bread has very tasty and underrated coffee.  Or perhaps it's not underrated, but maybe more the fact that I simply don't go there to eat very often.  That hazelnut blend though.  Delicious!  This morning I joined Bay Are Runners, a local running group that I've been a part of for a couple of years now, on their weekly Saturday morning group run on the Lower Guadalupe River Trail in Santa Clara.  It was good to catch up with people, meet new people, and get some good miles in during the early morning hours.  A handful of us went to Panera for breakfast afterwards, and as I was taking a particularly delicious sip of the wonderful coffee that I mentioned above, I was trading conversations with other runners about races they've done recently and what they have coming up.  After hearing about my upcoming ultramarathon season, which kicks off in April with the Canyons 100K by the way, my friend Sheri was talking about how her favorite distance to run is a half marathon.  She looked at me laughing and said "I know that's nothing for you".  I tend to hear this a lot, and it's understandable.  My friends will talk about running marathons, half marathons, and other similar distances then look at me and chuckle.  "Liam, a marathon must be nothing for you" or "Dang Liam, you can do a half marathon in your sleep compared to what you've done".  Contrary to what most people think, this is not the case.  Just because the distance is shorter doesn't mean it's easier or less grueling for me.  This interaction with Sheri got me thinking about the Berkeley Half Marathon, which I ran on 2/27/2022, almost two weeks ago.  

I signed up for the Berkeley Half Marathon in December 2021 simply because it looked like a cool race.  Berkeley is a cool city and I thought it would be fun to do a road race up there for a little change of scenery.  My friends and fellow Bay Area Runners group members Kelly, Arjun, and Maggie were also going to be running, and on race morning we were able to find each other fairly easily in the crowd of runners.  The feelings I had at the start line were similar to those I had at the start of the LA Marathon in the sense that it felt good to be in a normal racing environment again.  The Omicron variant surge had calmed substantially over the last month, I'm vaccinated, and I've already gotten the virus and recovered, so I'm immune, at least for now.  If Berkeley, of all places, is okay with thousands of runners being packed in together, I think it's okay.  We runners lined up behind the start line near Berkeley High School.  At 7:30 AM the horn sounded, and off we went.  The course went through some cool neighborhoods and through part of the UC Berkeley college campus, which apparently was a new modification beginning this year.  When I looked at the elevation profile before the race, the chart indicated that the first half of the course had some urban hills, while the second half was relatively flat, with a gradual incline up to the finish line during the last mile and a quarter or so.  Many factors, physical and psychological, can contribute to how runners feel during races.  For me, on this day anyways, everything seemed to align, and I felt good throughout the entire race.  Sam was busy all weekend staying at a client's apartment, so I did some solo snowboarding the day before at Dodge Ridge.  My legs felt strong, and I was in good spirit.

Now, back to half marathons versus ultramarathons.  They're both challenging for me, but in different ways.  People have heard me talk over and over about why ultramarathons are challenging.  The crazy long distance, enduring through the fatigue and pain, telling yourself that yes, you can go on, even if you're physically wrecked, etc.  But in ultramarathons, the approach is different.  I'm not going all out.  I'm either slowly running up the hills or hiking them.  When I hit a flat section or a downhill, I run between ten and twelve minute miles, depending on what point I'm at in the race, and how steep the terrain is.  If it's a flat course, I'm generally trying to average an eleven or twelve minute pace per mile to conserve energy over the long distance.  But when it comes to shorter distances like a half marathon or a 10K, I'm actually trying to run fast.  To me, road races are about throwing down miles as fast and comfortably as I possibly can.  It's still running in both instances, but it's a different method of running, and some would argue that it's a different sport.  And let me tell you this, running as fast as I can without self destructing is hard.  I'm still putting my body through challenges and pain, just like I would during an ultramarathon.  It's just a different approach.  So, that being said, half marathons are not easy for me, despite what people think.

At around mile five in Berkeley, I was running up a hill in a residential area.  It was draining, but as I approached the crest of the hill, I looked down at my watch.  Because I was feeling good, I had a pretty good pace going, even for running uphill.  The thoughts that I mentioned above were going through my mind, and I said to myself "well, this isn't an ultra, it's a half marathon, right?".  That was all I needed.  I decided to kick things into overdrive.  I got to the top of the hill, then threw down a thirteen minute two mile.  The rest of the race went well as I progressed along the course.  We were treated to awesome views of San Francisco across the bay, as we ran by the water, and I saw Kelly and Arjun during the out and back section of the course.  As I powered up the gradual incline during the last mile and got within about a quarter mile of the finish line, I looked down at my watch, and it hit me.  "Holy shit, I'm probably going to PR today" I thought to myself.  I just wanted to have a good race, I wasn't planning on going for a half marathon PR, but I surprised myself.  I finished in one hour and thirty-five minutes, breaking my previous PR by one minute.  I didn't beat it by a lot, but a PR is a PR.  Needless to say, I was pretty stoked!  Arjun also got a PR, coming in a little after me, Kelly finished four minutes ahead of me, and Maggie come in a little after Arjun.  We all ran a pretty consistent race, and agreed that it was a good course to get a PR on, despite the urban hills during the first half.  When we all hung out at the park where the finish line was, I realized that there were other Bay Area Runners members present, running the 10K race.  We shared stories over a delicious meal at a hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant in Berkeley, before dispersing for the afternoon.  

Running those fast miles took a lot of my energy, and the next day, my short morning run was noticeably slower than normal for good reasons.  It was a reminder to me that both trail ultramarathons and shorter road races are both challenging in their own ways and anyone who runs even a 5K is a badass, no matter how long it takes.  Additionally, I was thankful that I had a good day out there.  Looking back, I guess the secret formula to running a half marathon PR is simply to do the following: go snowboarding the day before, eat Popeyes's the night before, and listen to David Bowie on the the way to the start line.  You'll PR every time LOL.