First Ever Gear Review: Nathan Minimist Hydration Pack

I am a guzzler. Even before I started running, I would drink between 64 and 128 ounces of water every day. Since I started, my minimum has increased to about 96 ounces on a rest day. I don't force myself to drink that much, it's just what keeps me happy.

If I'm running less than 10 miles in cool conditions, I don't carry any water. Any more than that and I want some with me. In warmer weather, I've started taking water for anything over six miles. I've carried water in all three of the half marathons I've run. The courses were all well-supported but after running the Georgetown 10-miler, which had abysmal course support for this back-of-the-packer, I'm a little paranoid about being able to drink when I want to rather than when the course dictates it. On race day, I bring my own water and drink the race's sports drink.

After the G10 debacle, I asked friends for advice on hydration options. I knew I didn't want to carry anything in my hand, even with a strap. Wearing a SPIbelt for several runs helped me realize I didn't want a belt-style hydration system. For me, a pack/vest was the best option. Most of the people I asked about this option suggested Nathan as a quality brand.

Minimist: behind me all the way!

Since I'm a recreational runner with a limited budget, I chose the Minimist, which is one of Nathan's most basic race vests. The website's description of the pack: "Just what you need and nothing more with featherlight fabrication, a 1.5 L bladder, zippered back storage, and front pockets for phone and essentials." The pack itself weighs 11 oz. I can't remember how much I paid, but I'm pretty sure it was around $50. It's currently $59.95 on RunningWarehouse.com.

I was spurred to write this review when a friend saw my pack in my most recent race photo and asked how I liked it. As my list of pros grew longer, I realized I should review this awesome product that's made my running more enjoyable.

Here's a quick list of the things I like about the Minimist:

1. Featherlight isn't an exaggeration.
2. The pack fits snugly, comfortably, and doesn't move unless I move it.
3. Adjustments can be made quickly and easily even while on the move.
4. It has enough pockets to make up for the lack of pockets in women's running clothes.
5. It holds enough water for me for 13 training miles even in hot weather.
6. The open design would allow me to use a larger bladder without buying a new pack.
7. As far as running gear goes, it's affordable.

I've loved this pack since the first moment I put it on. It took me less than a minute to adjust it to my frame. Filling the bladder was easy and nothing leaked.

I tested it on a long run just a couple days after I received it - my first 10 mile training run. When I got started, I noticed a few things that needed to be cinched down, took care of it while I was on the run, and from that point, I didn't have to make a single adjustment to the fit. The pack stayed exactly where I put it, too. Even when I'm wearing a tank, nothing rubs, annoys or chafes. Once I've got it on properly, I barely notice my Nathan is on my back. Even after completing a half marathon, when all I want is to remove my shoes, hat, clothes, etc., I don't even think to unbuckle my Nathan because it fits so comfortably. While I'm on a run, the best thing a piece of gear can do is perform so admirably that I don't notice it.

The pack has four pockets. Two of the pockets have elasticized top openings and fit enough fuel for me for a half marathon (usually some Clif Shot Bloks and Jelly Belly Sports Beans). There's one zippered pocket that's large and stretchy enough for both my phone and 5th Gen iPod Touch (no smartphone for me). The fourth pocket has a Velcro closure. I've used this pocket for my car key. On a recent run, though, my key fell out. If the key hadn't hit my foot, I wouldn't have noticed it was gone and I would have had to retrace at least two miles of a long run, so I'll probably avoid keeping my key there in future.

There is a fifth pocket that I would potentially use in races in which there are major delays between getting to the start and starting or getting to the finish and getting your stuff. It's a large zipper pocket in the main section of the pack. Any item you put in it would be resting between the water bladder and your back. It could be useful for a light jacket, flip-flops, astronaut ice cream, or anything else that can be packed flat, is light, and you wouldn't mind carrying however far you're running.

So far, this pack's water-carrying capacity has been large enough for me to get through my longest training run of twelve+ miles. (I always keep some sports drink and food in my car for after long training runs.) It's also been a great resource in my halves, so I can decide when I want to drink instead of depending on the course or slowing down at water stops, though, as I mentioned, I do supplement my supply with the course-provided sports drink.

As I get to longer distances, I'm considering buying a 2L bladder. Because the pocket that holds the Minimist's bladder is open, I would be able to use a larger bladder without buying a new pack. It might stick up a little but that wouldn't bother me. In marathons, it might even be possible to have someone meet me mid-course to replace a depleted bladder with a full one.

There are only a couple things I'd change if I could:

1. There is a clip for the hose on the upper chest strap but, even when it's clipped in, a good bit of the hose is left dangling off into space and joggling around. I troubleshoot this problem by tucking the nozzle under the shoulder strap but that's a duct-tape fix at best. I'd prefer the clip for the hose be on the shoulder strap. (EDITED [6/21/13]: I've since learned that the tube can be cut to the desired length, if you remove the bite valve and cut with sharp scissors. Of course, this assumes that the bite valve is simple to remove. See #4 below. [6/22/13]: With some elbow grease and trust in the quality of the product, I was finally able to separate the hose from the bladder and clean both. I also cut the hose to a better length.)
2. I don't like red. Oh well. I rarely have to look at the pack while I'm on a run and most products of this type don't come in a wide variety of color choices. (This one is available in white but the vendor I purchased from didn't have that option. Even if they had, I wouldn't have chosen red.)
3. The Velcro closure pocket isn't terribly effective at keeping things in. It's the tiniest of the pockets, though, and my stuff for a run can easily fit in all the others.
4. Cleaning the bladder itself doesn't seem difficult but you're supposed to be able to separate the hose from the bladder and I have yet to be able to pull hard enough to make that happen because I don't want to damage the bladder or hose. My solution thus far has been to hang the bladder to dry after each time I use it, to empty the hose as much as possible, and to run clean water through before I drink from it.

Bottom Line: I would recommend this pack to anyone who doesn't care too much about bells and whistles but wants a simple, affordable, comfortable solution for carrying a lot of water a long way without using your hands or wearing a belt. I plan to continue using mine for a long time to come.

Tip for hot weather: Before my most recent half marathon, I filled the bladder with ice before I added water. Despite the heat and a two-hour wait from wake-up to race time, my water was cold for the first hour of my run. And, as an added bonus, the cool bladder was against my back, like an ad hoc ice vest. I wouldn't recommend freezing the bladder but I do fill it and keep it in the fridge the night before a long run.

How do you hydrate during a long run?

Official Race Recap: 1/2 Sauer 1/2 Kraut Half Marathon Edition

I did it. I ran another half marathon today. It was a great race with a German theme. Perhaps the name tipped you off.

My decision to run this race was quite spontaneous. Patti, a friend I met about a month ago at a running event, was already signed up and casually mentioned that there were spots left. All of my objections were settled when she said transportation and hotel costs were on her.

The beer wenches with Marathon Man

We headed up to Philly Friday afternoon, arrived around 4, collected our bibs at one of the lowest key packet pick-ups I've ever witnessed in the basement of the Cannstatter Volksfest Verein, then headed to our hotel. Patti was meeting six friends. They were running late. Before dinner, we headed back to packet pick-up to grab all of their race bags. With big races, we would have needed proof. At this one, Patti just listed their names (some of them incorrectly) and we got their shirts, bibs, food tickets, bags and safety pins - lots and lots of safety pins. Awesome!

A hearty dinner at Cracker Barrel, followed by a swim in the warm hotel pool was the perfect pre-bed time routine. I was all jammied up and in bed by 9 p.m. I set my alarm for 5:20, since it takes me almost no time to get ready, but Patti was up at 4:30 and so was I.

Patti donned her dirndl and tried to convince me to wear the extra one someone brought along. There wasn't enough peer pressure in the world that could have squeezed me into that costume.

It was a quick trip to the parking area, with a stop at Dunkin' Donuts for a bagel. We waited for the other beer wenches to meet us and hopped a ride on the shuttle to Pennypack Park. Along the way, tons of people asked for photos with the crew and they hammed it up like champs. Of course, most of these ladies run every race (and they run A LOT of races) in costume.

Pre-race selfie

Patti and I agreed that we wouldn't race this - we were treating it like a training run with the extra perk of a medal.

My watch wouldn't get a signal, so we were the last folks across the start line, which worked out since we were taking it nice and slow. Being at the back of the pack and using a run:walk interval, we kept leap-frogging with others around us. They would jog and pass us as we walked. Then they would stop to walk and we would pass them. Back-of-the-packers are friendly folks, so it was fun to joke as we passed one another.

When we began, it was probably about 65 degrees. By the time we finished, it was probably near 75 or 80. (There's a reason I start long training runs at 5 or 5:30 a.m.) Fortunately, 95% of the course was shaded and there was an occasional breeze. There were more hills than I was expecting (we killed a lot of them - just chugged right up while slowing our pace only a little), as well as about 1.5-2 miles of trail running, which slowed my roll.

Patti and I kept up a 2:1 walk:run interval for the first 11 miles. Then, though Patti was worried about being too slow for me, I was the one who pooped out. Patti switched over to 1:1 and finished about 2 minutes before I did. I switched over to a running-whenever-I-could-for-as-long-as-I-could:walking-the-rest and jogged across the finish line 33 minutes after my half marathon PR time was behind me.

The photographer at the finish said I had a nice smile, so my face must not have been showing how much pain I was in. That's a good thing, especially since it dissipates so quickly afterward.

As I neared the finish line, the marathon leader buzzed past. This guy took a minute less to finish 26.2 miles than it took me to run half that. Amazing! Watching him finish ahead of me was a sight I didn't mind in the least.

Post-race selfie

Patti and I spent a few minutes recovering from the run and then began the trek up the hill to catch the shuttle bus back to Cannstatter, where there were beer and brats waiting. My training run for today was supposed to be 14 miles, I'm going to count the walk up that hill as part of it. :)

The brats were DELICIOUS! Plenty of sauerkraut on top. I don't normally eat a lot so soon after a race but I used both of my tickets and wolfed those things down.

This was a really great race (or training run, as the case may be). It's small but extremely well-organized (down to results being emailed to each person within a few hours of finishing). The course has plenty of tough parts but enough easy parts to balance. There was a surprising amount of crowd support where they were able to access the trails. Every person got a round of applause as they approached the finish line. (It's amazing how that little gesture can mean so much when you're exhausted and in pain.) The race shirt was a nice tech shirt with no sponsor names, just the race logo, that I'll definitely wear once it's cooler and short sleeves are more necessary. AND this race is really inexpensive. I paid about $80, and that was two weeks before the race. If you sign up early, it's only $50 or $60 and the full is only $5 more. Also, if you register for the full and decide you need to stop at the half, you're still a finisher and they count your hm time (they do this to help people make wise decisions about running in the heat).

If you're within easy driving distance of Philadelphia, I recommend it. You probably won't PR, unless there is unseasonably cool weather, but you'll have fun. And, if you like to travel for races, it's really worth visiting Philly for this one.

Best course sign: "I've trained 18 weeks to hold this sign!"

Catching IronMen

Before you ask, no, I'm not referring to the movie.

On Sunday, June 9, I spent about five hours volunteering at the IronMan 70.3 EagleMan Triathlon. In March, I was introduced to the idea of volunteering at races as a way of giving back to the running community. Because I'd always been so moved by the TV recaps of IronMan competitions, I decided to see if there was one in my area. Turns out, the EagleMan has been run in Cambridge, MD, for many years. I signed up and spent the next three months anticipating the event.

The job I volunteered for was "runcatcher." I Googled it and discovered that it would be my job to make sure finishers didn't fall over at the end of the race. Sounded good to me. I made my fair share of jokes about catching hot, sweaty men (and women, too, of course).

Cambridge is about an hour and a half from my home. I arrived around 10 a.m. and was in plenty of time to help unwrap medals in anticipation of the elite finishers coming across the line.

There were a bunch of us in a thirty foot long area, shaded by a canopy, wearing our yellow and green Eagleman Crew Shirts, getting ready with icy cold wet towels, medals, and scissors to cut off timing devices.

The finish line was more subdued than I expected it to be. Now that I think about it, though, I'm not particularly boisterous at the end of a long run and the folks crossing the finish for this race has just propelled themselves through a 1.2 mile swim, a 56 mile bike ride, and a 13.1 mile run, plus transitions. So, I guess it's not surprising that they weren't hootin' 'n' hollerin' as they came through.

There were plenty of people up front waiting to walk the athletes through the finish area, so I assigned myself a task that wasn't glamorous but needed to be done. I made it my responsibility to make sure there were icy towels for every finisher. Over the course of 3 hours, I hauled a dozen or more bags of ice, even more buckets of water, and stacks of towels, ensuring that the three big tubs of towels remained full.

Jon Blais' parents (white and green tees) w/83 yo finisher

I saw so many beautiful things at the finish line. Some of the highlights for me were:

• Seeing at least three octogenarians finish strongly, with their heads held high and barely a wobble in their gait. I told one older lady (in her seventies, I think), "I say this without any irony: I want to be you when I grow up."
• Watching several people laying down to roll across the finish line. When I asked the volunteer coordinator why they were calling it a "Blazeman roll," he told me about John Blais who competed in an IronMan after learning that he had ALS. When he got to the end of the course, John could no longer walk, so he log-rolled across the finish line. The coordinator then pointed to a couple presenting medals and said, "Those are his parents."
• Hearing competitors jovially ask about each others' races and congratulating one another.
• Seeing a man carried across the finish line by six other folks when he could no longer move his own body. This sight was a little scary, too.

Andy Potts medal-ing

Probably my favorite thing happened around the seven hour mark when Andy Potts, who won in 3:47:46, came back to the finish area and started putting medals around the necks of folks who took twice as long (or more) to finish. There wasn't a hint of condescension in his tone as he congratulated them on their accomplishment. When I left an hour and a half later, he was still there, welcoming racers across the finish line.

There was more than one moment at that race that made me tear up. It was an emotional experience, watching people finish a journey they may have begun months or years before I ever laid eyes on them. I went home sunburned and tired but also content and hopeful.

In a slight paraphrase of the great Kathrine Switzer: "If you are losing faith in human nature, go out and watch an [IronMan]."

Why Did She Wear That?

As I was sitting in my car at an intersection this afternoon, I saw a couple cross the street. Both of them were large. Both were wearing clothes that some might call embarrassingly tight.

One of the first thoughts that went through my head was, "Why would she wear clothes that make her look like that?"

Then, almost immediately, I thought, "Why do I care? Why should anyone care?"

Then, "Maybe she feels great in those clothes. Maybe she looked in the mirror this morning and thought, 'Damn! Lookin' good!'"

Then, "Who convinced me that having fat makes a person less valuable or that a person should feel ashamed to show their fat in public?"

And, "Why are my thoughts always so much harsher toward large women than large men?"

Finally, it was like scales fell off my eyes, and, for a few seconds at least, I realized that I have no right or reason to care about someone else's weight or size unless I know the person and his or her situation and can be genuinely concerned for the health of that person.

Though I'd like to pretend that I have the emotional capacity to care for the health of every person I see, I can't honestly say that I do.

So, just as I hope others aren't judging me when some of my fat is showing in a way our culture deems unattractive or when they don't know I ran 10 miles before deciding to eat four pieces of pizza or a giant bag of Taco Bell, I'm going to do my best to stop judging everyone around me for not meeting the artificial standard of attractiveness I've bought into more than I realize or want to admit.

Maybe by being less judgmental of others, I will find a way to stop judging myself.