Jacksonville Bank Marathon

Apologies in advance for this indulgent, self-congratulatory post but I’m really pleased with my performance in the Jacksonville Bank Marathon this weekend.  I’ve been patting myself on the back so much I think I hurt myself.

To begin with, 10 days before the race I had no idea I would be running.  Since the Marine Corps Marathon I have not done any distance training.  After a brief recovery period I spent my time trying to acclimate to running in huaraches and making improvements to my form.  I had run a lot, but the longest distance I had run was 8 miles.  I guess you can count two 5k’s as speed workouts and the runs in huaraches were as stressful on my legs as long runs.  So it was more than just fun and games even though it didn’t feel like training.

When I got the call offering a position as a pace leader for the race, I immediately ran a 19 mile long run, with no advance preparation, just to give myself the confidence that I was up to the task.  To say that I was pleased with my ability to do this is a huge understatement.

I was up at 3 am for the commute to Jacksonville which meant about 4.5 hours sleep. That’s par for course for me.  Someday I’ll find out if a solid night’s sleep can improve race day performance.

I was assigned to be the 4:45 pace leader.  We were instructed to run even splits and warned not to “bank” time.  This meant averaging about 10:52 per mile, almost a full minute under my usual race pace.  I was confident in my ability to finish the race, but I have to admit I was nervous about trying to run it with that strategy.

It turned out to be an awesome race.  I found that pace very comfortable and never even felt winded during the entire 26.2 miles.  This meant lots of time and energy for conversation and I met some great folks along the way.

I started with a small group of about 6 people and picked up and dropped runners throughout the race.  I had one runner that was with me from the start that stayed with me for over 20 miles, a local runner named Steve who was running his first marathon.  I knew he was starting to struggle by about mile 18 when I heard him start to shuffle his feet.  I encouraged him on and he made it another 2 miles before he dropped back.  I have to admit I suffered a moral dilemma at that point trying to decide whether to hold my pace or help this one runner that had stayed with me for so long.  I slowed down for a bit but eventually continued to run my assigned pace.  I found Steve after the race and he told me he finished right at five hours and was happy with that.

I was pleased to discover that I was running with several people with ultramarathon and trail running experience.  I picked up some good tips and race recommendations including several in Alabama I intend to check out, thanks to Bill from Birmingham.

I finished the race with two runners including a first timer named Chris from Pennsylvania who had not run more than 10 miles in training, on a treadmill no less!  Oh to be young again.

Cons

1. Really not many from a runner’s perspective.  There was some confusion behind the scenes for pacers like confused assignments and some of the balloons we were supposed to carry indicating our pace were popped or missing.  I doubt this was anything most of the runners would have noticed.  This didn’t affect my enjoyment of the race in the least.
2. Traffic.  There were a few times late in the race that cars and runners shared the road.  It was just a few vehicles and I never felt endangered.  I was towards the back of the pack though and this might not have been the experience of the runners up front.
3. Hydration.  I find cool weather hydration tricky.  Over hydrating before the race caused me to make several pit stops in the first half of the race.
4. My Garmin died on me.  It’s out of warranty by just 2 months and suddenly the battery life plummeted to about 2.5 hours.  It quit on me just after I passed the midpoint of the race.  The pace band I was wearing combined with the frequent time clocks proved to be invaluable to keep me on track.
5. My bib#:  666.  How unlucky is that!

Highlights

1. The course itself.  This is promoted as Florida’s Fastest Marathon and I can see why.  There was hardly anything that even this flatlander would consider an incline.  It was mostly run on shady, tree canopied streets through some beautiful neighborhoods.
2. The weather was perfect.  High 40’s for the start and I was comfortable in short sleeves.  The streets were often half in shade and half in sun which made regulating your temperature easy just by moving in and out of the sun.
3. Time clocks at nearly every mile marker were a real luxury and near the end of the race there were clocks at both the full and half marathon mile markers which I presume were offset by about a tenth of a mile.
4. The volunteers were awesome.  The water stops were well staffed by people who seemed to know what they were doing.  The race as a whole was very well organized.
5. My bib#: 666.  I was singled out and cheered for by both spectators and other runners thanks to that number.  It turned out to be a lot of fun and I relished every moment of it.  How lucky is that!

 So how’d I do?

I finished with a chip time of 4:44:12 a mere 48 seconds ahead of my assigned time of 4:45:00 (accomplished without the benefit of my Garmin for half the race – thank you very much!).

My half marathon splits were 2:21:33 and 2:22:39.  I hope the 66 second differential between the first and second half of the race met the race organizer’s expectation for even splits.

Would I do it again?  In a heartbeat!

There is something to be said for reaching the finish line invigorated instead of spent.  Sure my legs were fatigued and I had some of the usual post marathon aches but now, just two days after the race I feel fine.  I also really enjoyed the social aspect of being a pacer.

I’m leaving on a jet plane. . . .

This time tomorrow I’ll be in Washington DC.   I’m so excited I can hardly contain myself.

The forecast for the start of the race Sunday morning is sunny and 40 degrees.  A little chilly for this Florida boy, but it should be fairly comfortable as soon as we start running and just about ideal by the time we reach the midpoint of the race.

I’m ready for the race, but is DC ready for me?

It was a dark and stormy night . . . .

The dense clouds ushered in an early dusk on a late September evening.

A determined figure fast approached through the deluge, eerily silhouetted in the relentless sheets of rain, head hanging low under the fatigue of miles, body contorted in an effort to slice through the unyielding wind.

Lightening crashed in a blinding strobe leaving in its wake a seemingly impenetrable void.

Unbeknownst even to him, plodding through the darkness stride after unending stride in leaden shoes soaked far beyond the point of saturation, quietly and without fanfare, Running Bird ran his 3,000th mile.

Restless Legs

Anyone else get restless legs when you taper?

I’m taking a light week in advance of the Miracle Miles 15k this weekend, kind of a mini-taper.  My legs were bouncing up and down so hard during dinner last night that I almost toppled the wine glasses.  This was despite the fact that I ran 20 miles Sunday and had a vigorous speed workout Tuesday.  Missing a single mid-week 8-10 mile run has left me bouncing off the walls.

The last two weeks of October are going to be misery.

Am I an athlete?

Because I’m old and nostalgic, I reached for the dusty dictionary I keep within arm’s reach of my desk:

ath-lete (ath-leet)  n.  a person trained to compete in contests involving physical agility, stamina or strength; a trained competitor in a sport, exercise, or game requiring physical skill.

and because I’m not completely technologically inept, I also referenced dictionary.com:

ath•lete  [ath-leet] 
noun
a person trained or gifted in exercises or contests involving physical agility, stamina, or strength; a participant in a sport, exercise, or game requiring physical skill.

I’ve seen this term bandied about recently, even by myself, but never in reference to myself.  I don’t consider myself an athlete.  Never have.

I played organized sports as a kid, swimming, soccer, baseball, etc.  By the time I reached high school those days were behind me, save for the occasional pick-up game with friends.

30 years later I find myself accomplishing things physically that I never dreamed possible. Does that make me an athlete?

I train.  I train hard.  4 to 5 days a week.  Speed work, hills, long runs, tempo runs, progression runs.  I put in the miles.  I improve.  Does that make me an athlete?

I enter contests.  I’ve even won a few awards.  Does that make me an athlete?

At what point do you become an athlete?  Is it when you enter your first competition? How about your 10th?

Could it be earlier than that?   Maybe it’s when you first start measuring your performance, striving to improve.

Is it a state of mind or something quantifiable?

I think it’s words like “skilled” and “gifted” that appear in the definitions that give me pause.  Those are the qualities of an athlete that I believe I lack.  A friend of mine recently pointed out that people like us are not “genetically endowed” with the qualities necessary to easily compete with those so gifted.

Ouch!

At least he didn’t shatter my dreams completely.  He qualified his comment with this:

. . . unless you want to hire a professional coach and do nothing else but train all day in a feeble attempt to improve your aerobic capacity beyond its natural limit.

Feeble?  Did he really have to say feeble?

He has a point though.  Skills are achievable with training, dedication and hard work.  Skills are still within my grasp.

Gifts, on the other hand, are by definition given.  “Genetically endowed,” as my friend would say.  Gifts are not a guarantee of success, but when combined with the work ethic required to hone skills . . . great things are achievable.

In my mind, that is the stuff of athletes.

I have been privileged during the course of my feeble quest for running skill to run with true athletes and the experience has always been inspiring.

Weird Stuff in my Running Kit

Things that might be hard to explain to a non-runner without them questioning your sanity:

Band-Aid Dots

Bandana

Towel

Body Glide

Duct Tape

Dr. Scholls Shoe Shot Powder

Gel Packets and an assortment of electrolyte tablets/powders/gels . . .

Ziploc baggies

Head Lamp/LED Flasher/Reflective Vest

and to think I used to believe all I needed for a run was a good pair of shoes, shorts and a shirt.

Going Streaking

Not quite as consistent as I would like, but I squeaked
past 100 miles during the last workout of the month.

I finally broke the 100 mile/month barrier again.  After a streak of 13 consecutive 100 mile months I decided I needed a break.  I was feeling a bit battered and suffering from shin splints and general aches and fatigue after training for the Croom 50k.  I reluctantly cut my mileage back to about 60 miles/month for two months.

Cutting back was a tough decision and one that made me feel surprisingly guilty.  I tried to console myself by recalling that not too long ago I would have been ecstatic about a 60 mile month.  It didn’t work.  I also tried to remind myself that my original goal was to maintain that level of training for a year – and that I surpassed that goal.  That didn’t work either.  There was no assuaging the guilt, but it was the right decision.  I did suffer a decline in my fitness level, but my legs feel healthy again.  I’m reinvigorated and excited about ramping up the mileage again.

I’ve got plenty to keep me motivated over the next few months.  The Marine Corps Marathon in October, the Space Coast Marathon in November, the Key West Ragnar Relay and a Doppel gathering at the Miami Marathon in January, a possible attempt at a 50 mile ultra in the spring, and probably a few other treats along the way.

So let the streaking begin.  I’ve got a 13 month PR to break. 

And for those of you that I lured into reading this post with a deceptively prurient title:

Giddy no More

Disclaimer: The above picture has very little to do with the subject of today’s post (at least she looks like she’s running fast). I received feedback from my Giddy School Girl post yesterday questioning my testosterone levels so I’m overcompensating.

Yesterday’s speed session went very well. We were privileged to be able to work out with the University High School Cross Country Team. The workout consisted of a one mile warm up, 8 - ¼ mile intervals, and a mile cool down.

We were instructed to run the intervals at our 5k pace which for me is about 7:30. I ran the first interval in 90 seconds flat, much faster than my 5k pace but it qualified me to run with “Group 1” for the rest of the session. I’m not sure if that was privilege or punishment. Doing the math I realized that was a 6:00 mile pace.

The coach did an awesome job but was relentless. After what seemed like mere moments of recovery she would call for each group to line up for another lap as we were still dry heaving from our last effort. She wielded the lanyard on her yellow stop watch over us like a whip to “encourage” us like galley slaves on a roman trireme. It worked.

By the time we finished the 6th interval I realized I had no idea how many we were running. Concerned, I sheepishly decided to give myself another minute of rest and waited to run the last two laps with Group 2.

My pace proved to be too fast and I lost a few seconds with each lap. I did manage to complete the first mile of intervals in about 6:20, not bad for this old geezer. By the end of the session I slowed to 1:50 per lap which is right on target with my actual 5k pace and probably where I should have started.

It was great to run with the high school kids too many of whom made running seem effortless, easily loping around the track while I was gasping for breath. Curse them for their youth.

This will become part of my weekly training and is a great opportunity afforded by WVR.

Anyway, back to the girl in the picture. Was anyone else’s first impression on seeing her a concern that she has a serious over striding issue?

Anyone?

Anyone?

Giddy as a School Girl

After eight days, my running hiatus is finally over.  I completed a three mile run Monday and so far my shin feels good.  Now it’s back to some serious running.

Most of my training has consisted of simply putting in the miles with a few hills thrown in for variety.  I have really been slacking off when it comes to speed work.

Thanks to WVR, tonight I have a real speed workout planned, on a real track, under the supervision of a real coach. I’m as giddy as a school girl.  I’ll probably faint like one too, as it will likely still be near 90 degrees when we begin.

Wish me luck.

5 Stages of Running Withdrawal

I accomplished a lot in the past 18 months. It’s been an exciting adventure and the next season of running is looking even better. Unfortunately training consistently for that long without a break has left me feeling a bit battered at times. Now that a nagging pain in my right shin has persisted for a month I figured it was finally time to rest. Marathon training starts back up again next month and I want to start out healthy.

I am currently on day four of my hiatus, the longest I have gone without running since February of 2010. In just that short amount of time I already discovered that quitting cold turkey results in withdrawal symptoms that put taper madness to shame. As it turns out, running is as physically addictive as heroine.

So I thought I would share my 5 Stages of Running Withdrawal.

1. Denial: Rest? Who needs rest? Not me. I can’t get injured, I’m invincible. This pain just means I need to switch shoes, or improve my form, or get a massage, or run trails instead of roads, stretch more, buy painkillers in bulk, get a foam roller, a stick, a brace, runner’s tape, stock up on that magic ointment they hide behind the counter in the Asian market, stroke my lucky rabbits foot, consult a witch doctor, surf through TV infomercials looking for miracle cures . . . .

2. Anger: I haven’t had a quality long run in a month and suddenly every phrase that exits my mouth is peppered with language so foul it would make a sailor blush. As a precaution, I started warning the highway patrol to clear the roads before I start my morning and evening commutes. There is also a sign posted outside my office door “Watch Out for Flying Equipment” as even the slightest malfunction is likely to be followed by a hysterical temper tantrum the likes of which would make two year olds stand and take notice.

3. Bargaining: I promised myself no running for at least a week. Oh, but WVR’s got that new track workout tonight, that really sounds like fun.  Maybe I’ll just go and see how I feel. And the Genuine Bistro run is tomorrow, I love that route (and the beer afterward), surely just a quick 5 mile run wouldn’t do any harm. I'll keep my pace over 10:00 minutes.  Well, maybe speed up just a bit for one mile, but no faster than 9:00, wait, its a coolest evening we've had in a while.  OK 2 miles at 8:30, no faster than that, I promise, unless I think I can catch up to the person ahead of me.  My alarm is set for 7:00 am, so why am I wide awake at 4:30? Since I’m up anyway, why don’t I just lace up my shoes and tell myself later it was a dream.

4. Depression: Sob.

5. Acceptance: is a myth. I want to run.

Milestones

I know it’s weird to do a “year in review” update in March, but I just reached a significant milestone.

I believe in the value of setting goals. One year ago I ran my first 100 mile month and set the goal of maintaining that level of running for at least one full year. I achieved that goal this month.

Succeeding required running a total of 1,516 miles including:

• four 5k’s
• a 4 mile race on the beach
• a 15k
• two half marathons
• two marathons, and
• completing an ultramarathon training program (I’m currently tapering for the race on 4/9/11)

I suffered aches and pains along the way, but managed to complete the year without incurring any significant injuries.  I attribute this both to Chi Running and to the sage advice of some very patient, generous and accomplished runners.

I discovered that the benefits of an ice bath far outweigh a few minutes of discomfort and rediscovered the long lost, youthful pleasures hidden deep within a tall glass of chocolate milk.

I found serenity in a 20 mile long run.

Most importantly, I found a great group of new friends who share my passion for running. I know I couldn’t have achieved this without them.

Last night I had the strangest dream . . .

I sailed away to China
In little row boat to find ya

Wrong dream.

I dreamt I awoke at 3:00 in the morning and ran 20 miles before sunrise. Isn’t that a ridiculous thing to dream?

It started blissfully. I was running along a quiet country road with my path lit by a full moon. The road was so deserted I could fearlessly run down the yellow centerline. It felt like the world was mine for the taking.

It ended in a bit of a nightmare. My quiet country road turned into a busy highway with evil, wild eyed commuters gleefully targeting the fool trying to run on the shoulder of the road, who was hobbling along trying to ignore the pain shooting down the side of his knee.

When the dream ended, I was happy to find myself safe and sound at home but drenched in sweat with my heart racing.

A very odd dream indeed, but I think I know what triggered it.

Drinking German beer on St. Patrick’s Day.

Happy Birthday WVR!

Big Plans

Psst.

Can you keep a secret?

All the pieces of the puzzle are starting to find their right places and the picture is becoming clear. It’s not official though, so I don’t feel like I should publicly announce it, at least not yet.

But, if you would like an obvious clue, check out my training programs page.

Congratulations!

Congratulations to all my friends that participated in the National Marathon to Finish Breast Cancer in Jacksonville yesterday. There were many first time finishers, PR’s galore, and at least one Boston Marathon qualifying effort that I know of already.

Watching you all train for and run this event has been inspiring.

Things that make you go hmmm . . .

I feel like I need to apologize for my last blog entry. It was kind of a downer and not typical of my usual optimism.

The hectic schedule of my non-running life keeps interfering with my running plans and I have been having trouble finding a race that fits well into my calendar. Combine that with a minor bout with runner’s knee and a couple of light weeks to heal and I was surprised by the dramatic effect on my mood.

An 18 mile long run this morning helped to set things right again and my spirits are lifted.

Which makes one wonder, if 18 miles makes me feel this good, could I run nearly twice that distance?

Hmmm . . . .

If your friends jumped off a bridge . . . .

Who needs a recovery week?

Apparently, I do.

I ran 21 miles Saturday, exactly one week after completing the Charleston Marathon.

Bad idea!

I did it on impulse, caught up in the excitement of friends peaking in their training for the Run with Donna Breast Cancer Marathon in Jacksonville next month. I’m still toying with the idea of running that race too.

My muscle aches following Charleston were gone by Tuesday. I completed an easy three mile run Wednesday morning followed by a much faster four miles Thursday evening and felt great afterward. My plan for Saturday was to do 10-12 miles but when it came time to turn around and everyone else was moving on, I couldn’t resist. I was feeling too good to turn back.

The first 10 miles went great. During the next five I started to notice just a hint of pain in my right leg. By the final three miles I had to stop and walk frequently to ease the pain.

Now, several days later, I am still experiencing pain in my shin and knee.

I knew better but I was feeling invincible.

It was such a dumb thing to do that I couldn’t even whine to my mother about being sore. Instead of sympathy, I had to face the “If your friends jumped off a bridge would you jump too?” lecture. I guess I deserved it.

Another hard lesson learned.

What’s next?

Charleston Marathon

January 15, 2011

A drove of DoppelLaufers will be meeting face to face for the first time when we invade Charleston next month for the Riverfront Race Festival. We will be running virtual non-virtual, non-virtual virtual, live, real, in-person (I’m at a loss for words for a change, but I think you get the idea) marathons and half marathons to kick off the winter season of virtual racing. The race will be followed, I’m sure, by the consumption of massive quantities of medicinal hops to help soothe our aching muscles.

I’m a little worried about how cold the weather will be for this race, but Mother Nature has graciously provided near record lows for Florida this week to help me acclimate. How thoughtful of her.

Wait a minute – I need to crank up this space heater a little.

Ahhhh.

Where was I?

Oh yeah - training. I modified another Hal Higdon Marathon program to set up a training schedule over the next few weeks. Here it is:

I also analyzed my last few months of training to try to figure out why I hit the wall at the Space Coast Marathon.

This is what I’m thinking:

• Overconfidence – shooting for 4 hours for my first marathon and starting out too fast.
• Inexperience – especially relating to eating and drinking during the race.
• Inadequate speed work and hill training – my training was pretty light on these workouts, mostly because of a bout with ITBS half way through and the fear of a recurrence that lasted for several weeks.

Fortunately, the sadistic leaders of WVR have scheduled a reprise of the notoriously difficult Victoria Park meets Deland Hills route next weekend. From my quasi-paranoid, self-centered, delusional world perspective, I know they did this solely to address the deficiency in MY training. So I will offer apologies in advance to the innocent neophytes who will be unwittingly subjected to this tortuous ordeal for the first time.

Good luck.  You may need it. ;-}

Space Coast Marathon – All the Gory Details

Maintaining this blog over the past few months has been incredibly cathartic for me so I feel an obligation to be brutally honest about what I experienced running the Space Coast Marathon on Sunday, even if some of it is a little embarrassing. So here you go . . . .

The race is advertised as Florida’s Oldest Marathon and has a great reputation locally for being well organized and picturesque. The race course is basically an out and back route following the Indian River, which separates the east coast barrier islands from the mainland of Florida. The race starts in the middle of the route at a quaint shopping district called Cocoa Village. I have driven within blocks of this area many times and never knew it was there, I will definitely return to check it out.

The half marathon ran south, following the river for about 6.5 miles and then doubled back to return to the start. The full marathon ran north 6.5 miles along the river, doubled back to the start/finish and then followed the half marathon course to the south. This was the first year the two races were separated in this manner and I heard that it was done in an attempt to reduce overcrowding. It was a good idea in theory, but it created a significant problem for the full marathon runners late in the race. I’ll get to that later.

I don’t have much to say about the first half of the race. It went almost exactly as I planned. My goal pace was 9:09 per mile in order to finish the race in 4 hours. The plan was to take about 3 miles to work up to that pace and then just try to maintain.

My split for the first mile was 9:25, close enough to the 9:30 I had planned. I hit my race pace in the second mile, a little bit early. My fastest mile was an 8:53 for mile 7 in the vicinity of the first turnaround, probably due to the excitement of passing friends as the course doubled back on itself.

I reached the midpoint of the race averaging 9:11 per mile, right on target, and thoroughly enjoying the experience. The course was beautiful with just a few gently rolling hills, nothing too steep, long or challenging. I was still feeling great.

I noticed over the next few miles that my pace was slowing down with each passing mile by about 10 seconds. I was still feeling good though and was not yet concerned. I was also beginning to feel the affects of changing conditions. It was a pleasant 57 degrees at the start of the race but now I was feeling uncomfortably warm. The wind steadily gained in intensity as the sun rose higher in the sky and I swear it somehow managed to change directions with the curves in the road so that it was always a hindrance. The curves suddenly seemed to be more steeply banked than in the first half of the race. None of these things would have bothered me when I was fresh.

I noticed a growing disparity between the distance measured on my Garmin and the mile markers on the course so I made a concerted effort to “run the tangents,” weaving back and forth in my lane to reduce the distance travelled around curves. The race had thinned out enough that I wasn’t worried about impeding other runners. Fatigue was starting to set in though and I soon found this to be too mentally taxing, preferring to hold my line down the center of the road.

Rather than rely on the Gu provided by the race organizers I was carrying two packs of Power Bar Gel Energy Blasts that I used in training. These are little gummy candies with each package roughly equivalent to two packs of Gu. There are 9 pieces per pack and I noticed in training that each piece is a small enough dose of carbs and electrolytes that I could wash them down with either water or Gatorade without upsetting my stomach. My plan was to eat one candy per mile beginning at mile 4.

Around mile 10 I noticed that my stomach was starting to feel full and heavy. I had been slowing to take water at every water station and eating my gel candies according to plan. I intentionally skipped the next water station and decided to cut back on the gels. This was probably a mistake because within just a few miles I was finding it hard to keep track of when I had last eaten. At some point late in the race I became so fatigued that it required too much effort to reach into my pocket to fish a piece out of the package. I think I eventually forgot I was carrying food altogether. I checked my pockets after the race and realized I hardly touched the second package. Looking back, I have no recollection of when I stopped eating.

I started to hurt around mile 15. I didn’t really notice it at first until I slowed to take in some water and realized that for the first time, slowing to take a drink did not provide me any relief.

My pace continued to deteriorate and by mile 18 I had my first split over 10:00. As I realized that a four hour marathon was no longer a possibility I started to adjust my goals. 4:10? 4:20?

I was beginning to struggle and told myself that if I could just make it to the turnaround at the southernmost point of the course I would be OK. Only 10k left in the final leg. I was willfully ignoring the advice I heard literally 1000 times while training – the second half of a marathon starts at mile 20.

Mile 20 required more than eleven minutes.

Within half a mile of passing the turnaround, Robert, a friend from the West Volusia Running Group and veteran of many marathons, caught up with me. We ran our final long run together in training for this race, nearly 24 miles, and I found it funny that I recognized the sound of his footfalls approaching me from behind. He caught me, faded for a minute with a cramp, and then passed. I struggled to match his pace for a few minutes but couldn’t keep up. As I watched him pull away, I remembered how I cockily believed I would beat him. I remembered our conversations in which I confided that I thought I would be able to finish the race in four hours. He never said anything to discourage me, but would always give me this knowing look, as if to say I had no idea what I was about to experience. He was right.

Shortly after that I was passed by the 4:15 pace group. Again, I struggled to pick up my pace to keep up. I was a little more successful this time which is reflected in an improved 10:52 split for mile 22, but ultimately had no choice but to watch them slowly pull away.

By this time, most of the nearly 1600 half marathon runners and about half of the full marathoners had already passed through this section of the course – twice. The next two water stations had run out of supplies. When I reached the first I saw a bizarre scene with runners gathered around the water table, some of them trying to lap water from the spouts on the sides of the Igloo coolers. In my already confused mental state, I couldn’t comprehend what was happening and I decided to continue on without stopping.

When I reached that next water station, there was a similar scene and I heard that the problem was that they had run out of cups. A volunteer offered me a pitcher full of water. I needed a drink, but I was feeling nauseous and needed to sip the fluid slowly. As I blankly stared at the pitcher in my hand I wasn’t able to even consider trying to quickly chug water from the pitcher and pass it on. I told her I didn’t care and I would take one of the discarded cups from the ground. She quickly sorted through a pile of crushed cups, found me one that would work, and helped me rinse it out and pour the water. When I turned around I realized I was now the guy holding the pitcher and I was confronted by a dozen outstretched hands holding salvaged cups. I quickly poured a few cups before realizing I was supposed to be running, so I set the pitcher on the table, and fought my way out of the crowd.

I hope I wasn’t too snippy with that volunteer, I honestly can’t remember. The problem wasn’t her fault and she was very helpful. I hope I thanked her, but again I can’t remember if I did or not. If she by chance is reading this – Thank you!

Despair

It was shortly after leaving that water station that I completely stopped running for the first time. I was spent. The sensation is difficult to describe but I had nothing left.

Just one minute, I promised myself. Walk for one minute and then you will be able to finish this damn race.

I spent that minute visualizing the short routes I ran in training – 5 miles on the Gemini Springs Trail, 5k around Victoria Park, 3 miles to the Debary Hall – all distances that I could easily complete. The race was almost over and the short distance left should be easy. At least that’s what I tried to make myself believe.

I dutifully started to run again when the minute was up but managed only a few minutes of a shuffling run before I had to stop again. I was devastated.

One more minute, just one more minute of rest.

This cycle continued throughout mile 23 which took me well over 12 minutes. Mile 24 was even worse. You can see my pace graph on my Garmin page here. This section of the graph has more peaks and valleys than the Appalachian Trail. I kept trying. I refused to give up, but I could not maintain a run.

I heard someone shouting my name and turned to see Leigh, another member of WVR, who showed up to support the racers and cheer us on. I was embarrassed that she caught me walking. She took this photo of me and was gracious enough to wait until I started running again before clicking the shutter. This lifted my spirits enough that I was able to continue running again, at least for a short time. She yelled to me that Jennifer, WVR’s organizer, was waiting just ahead.

Jennifer spent hours pacing runners in the last few miles of the race, encouraging them to the finish. She caught up to me near the end of the 24th mile, just after my last spurt of energy faded. I was again embarrassed at being caught walking and dug deep to start running. She ran next to me and tried to use humor to lift my spirits. After each joke she told I heard an odd sound escape my mouth - part chuckle, part exhalation, part grunt. The sound seemed to emit itself without volition, over and over again. It seemed I had even lost the ability to control my speech at that point.

Determination

With Jennifer’s support, I was able to complete the last two miles of the race without stopping, slowing only once to drink some water at the last water station. I even began to get faster with each mile. She left me with a final cheer at the 26th mile marker and doubled back to assist the next runner.

The final stretch was crowded with cheering people including my friends from WVR. The race ended on a columned sidewalk that encircled the finishing festivities. It made for a dramatic end to a tough race. I wouldn’t call it a kick, but I was able to speed up just a little as I approached the finish line. When it finally came into view around the curve in the sidewalk I felt myself start to get choked up.

Elation

I stopped running the moment I crossed the finish line and stumbled forward awkwardly, nearly falling and frightening a young volunteer who reached out to try to support me. Someone draped a towel around my shoulders and hung the finishing medal around my neck but I never saw their faces. I didn’t have the energy to raise my head. My struggle to restrain the emotion welling up left me gasping for breath and I reached out for a column to hold myself up. It took a few minutes to compose myself.

For the next hour I was miserable. I could barely walk. I was too nauseous to even drink any water. I made my way over to where WVR was encamped near the finish line to watch other runners come in, but I could not get comfortable. When I stood my legs complained. When I sat it was my back, shoulders and neck. I laid out my towel on the ground hoping to lie down and then realized I was unsure if I would be able to get down without falling over. I finally succeeded and in time began to feel human again. I even managed to shuffle around like a zombie in my bare feet in search of food and drink.

I continued to watch and cheer for runners as they came in and felt a bond with each and every one of them.

Will I do this again?

You may think I’m crazy but the answer is - hell yes!

I know I painted a gloomy portrait of the experience, but in some weird masochistic way this was one of the most glorious moments of my life.

There is also a small matter of revenge. I’ve come to the conclusion that “the wall” is inaptly named. A wall is impersonal - rigid but passive. What I encountered was very personal. It was animate and malicious - an evil thing singularly bent on my destruction that nearly bested me.

I will be better prepared next time.

4:27:39
413th Overall
53rd in Age Group

What's my Secret?

“What was the secret, they wanted to know; in a thousand different ways they wanted to know The Secret. And not one of them was prepared, truly prepared to believe that it had not so much to do with chemicals and zippy mental tricks as with that most unprofound and sometimes heart-rending process of removing, molecule by molecule, the very tough rubber that comprised the bottoms of his training shoes.”

This is the passage that immediately precedes the famous “Trial of Miles, Miles of Trials” quote from Once a Runner, by John L. Parker, Jr. (a great read by the way).

The character from Parker’s book was training for the mile, attempting to conquer the elusive 4:00, but the same philosophy holds true for marathon training.

I can only hope that over the course of over 500 miles of training during the past 18 weeks, my tracks contain enough of those molecules of eroded rubber.

I’ll find out in four more days.

A Journey of 500 Miles

I officially started my marathon training 17 weeks ago on July 26. An eight mile run this morning brought my total mileage to 525 since starting this journey.



You can view my training plan, as well as the actual mileage I ran, here.

With one week left, I can honestly say that I feel ready. I had highs and lows throughout my training, but I’m happy to say I am ending on a high. I thought that I would feel beat up and run down at this point, but instead I feel better than I have in a long time. My last few long runs went extremely well and I finished each one feeling stronger, more confident, and remarkably pain free.  I know much of this success is due to the support and advice I recieved since joining the West Volusia Running Group and I owe them a huge debt of gratitude.

Next week, I expect I’ll look back and scrutinize my training to figure out what worked well and what did not.  But for now I will sit back, relax, and try to enjoy a week of rest and gluttony.

Seven more days until the Space Coast Marathon!