Last night…no, check that, yesterday afternoon registration for the 115th Boston Marathon closed – 8 hours after it had opened. This was, by far, faster than last year’s record of several weeks, which had in turn shattered the previous record set the year before of a couple of months. Yup, if you had managed to BQ in the last 12 month months, but didn’t have phone or internet access yesterday, you are out of luck. True, you can run for a charity or get lucky like I did last year by having an Invitational Entry handed to you, but if you simply wanted to register, and you went to do it after work yesterday, it’s “Sorry Charlie.”
I was lucky. I got through on the computer at around lunch time. Next year, who knows if that will be early enough.
8 hours.
8 FRAKKING HOURS!!!
As excited as I am, I am now a little nervous. Another Twitter friend (@edschober) had the wisdom to point out, “[I] Bet the qualifying times for 2012 #bostonmarathon will be adjusted down…or they’ll triple the entry fee.” My sudden fear now is that after BQ’ing for 2011 and 2012, I may get UBQ’s (UnBostonQualified) for 2012. I understand the reasoning. Although Boston isn’t the sole reason people run marathons in the Fall, there is a large contingent of runners who work all Summer to run a marathon in the Fall with the hopes of qualifying for Boston in the Spring. Boston closing in 8 hours eliminated many of the Fall marathons, including the biggest one, New York City, from that equation.
If the BAA (Boston Athletic Association) doesn’t lower the times, you can bet that early fall marathons like Bay State and Smuttynose will continue to grow in popularity, possibly driving up prices across the board. I don’t know what the answer is. It probably makes more sense for the BAA to lower the time rather than raise the fees (though who knows, maybe they’ll do both).
One final thought – let’s stop bashing the charity runners for this. They only make up 5% of the field AND they do a lot of good. Quite honestly, Boston would have closed yesterday regardless of whether there were charity slots or not.
Bottom line is that in all likelihood, I am going to have to get faster…or older faster, and I think I’m okay with that…I just hope that if the BAA lowers the times, they keep it within striking distance.
UPDATED: One last “last thought” – if runners are going to get angry at other runners for Boston filling up so quickly, they should be looking at runners like me. Last year I was lucky enough to land an Invitational Entry and this year I was fortunate to qualify by a mere 1:40. Please leave the charity runners out of it.
All week I had been uncharacteristically unnervous. It may have been the fact that this was going to be my 4th marathon in less than 12 months or maybe it was the focused training schedule I had been following. Either way, all week I had walked around with a sense of calm. That is, until I put the car in reverse to pull out of the garage and head up to Hampton Beach early Sunday morning. As soon as the car began to move, my stomach started to do back flips. I cranked up the music, but the whole way up, the butterflies in my stomach continued to get bigger and bigger. As I listened to Stevie Wonder, Survivor, Queen, AC/DC among others, I started to visualize the race. I tried to see myself crossing the finish line. Earlier in the week, Brendan, my dailymile brother, had predicted a 3:19:22 finish for me. The more I thought about it, the more overwhelmed I became.
Upon finally arriving in Hampton, I promptly made my way to the check-in tent. A large group of dailymilers had agreed to meet at 7:30 to hang out, warm up and meet. As I made my way to the tent I heard someone say, “there’s a dailymile shirt”. I turned to find a group of people, among them was Doug, from Lex’s Run, my buddy Pete, who had been the first cyber-runner to ever reach out to me, and Brendan, my brother who I was going to run this marathon with. I had met Pete before and had run several races with Doug, but this was the first time I was meeting Brendan. The funny part is that we knew each other. Through dailymile and Twitter we have become good friends. There was no awkward moment, it was just two friends getting together.
Pete, Brendan and me
Most of the dailymile/Twitter Smuttynose party - pre-race
After a bit of chatting it was time to head to the start.
Before heading to the corral, we had to get a picture of Team Kinvara:
Team Saucony Kinvara - Brendan, Pete and Me
Yes, I know, those aren’t Vibrams. They aren’t my funny toe shoes. Yes I do still run in them (my Vibrams), but no, I didn’t run in them for this race. It’s probably the topic of another post, but suffice it to say that it was a game time decision that I went with the Kinvaras, and I don’t regret it one bit. They are an amazing shoe! If you aren’t ready for Vibrams, but you want a natural shoe that is unbelievably light and performs incredibly, go out and get a pair.
Now back to your regularly scheduled blog post.
In the swirl of the crowd, we had lost Pete. It was probably for the best. Although we had talked about running together, as we got into the last week, Pete’s confidence had grown and he had decided that he was going to go for 3:15 (the required time to BQ* for a young kid like him). Brendan and I made our way to the starting area. Doug, who was running the half, found us and said, “you’ve put in all the work. You’ve already done it. Now it’s time to take your victory lap. Go get it.” Inspiring words.
Brendan and I shook hands, gave each other a hug and waited for the starting gun. Suddenly the crowd started moving. We hadn’t heard the gun, but no matter. It took us nearly a minute to get to the actual starting line and when we crossed it, you could hear our watches beep in unison.
:38 / 1:16 / 1:54 / 2:32 / 3:10 – these numbers, like the numbers from LOST, were swirling around my head all week leading up to the race. They were the 5 mile splits I knew I needed to maintain a relatively steady pace throughout. I knew that if I hit mile 25 with a 3:10, I would be close, with a little room to spare. It meant that I would be able to run 9:09 minutes per mile for the last 1.2 and still cross the finish line with a 3:20:59. I didn’t want it to be that close though. I knew I had to have at least a couple of minutes in the bank. I remembered the difficulty of finishing the last 3 miles at both Boston and Providence. No, I didn’t want it to be that close. Still, I knew that if I could maintain 38 minute per 5 mile splits, I would in all likelihood be okay.
The first mile involved Brendan and I weaving our way in and out of the crowd. It was a little frustrating, but there was no sense in trying to sprint through.
Brendan (#2334) and I working our way through the crowd at the start - I know, heel striking that early is NOT a good sign - photo courtest of JiminMaine
We didn’t hit the first mile marker until nearly 8:00, way too slow for our goal. Fortunately, by the time we hit the second mile marker the crowds had thinned a bit and we were able to get on pace. Mile 2 arrived in 7:36. As we made the first big turn into the town of Hampton I was unable to resist the urge to get away from the crowds behind us. Without really thinking about it, I picked up the pace. We hit mile 3 in a too quick 7:21. Now some of you non-runners may be asking yourself, what the heck’s the difference between a 7:40 mile and a 7:20 mile? Does it really make a difference? Well, it’s not necessarily what it does to you right then, but more how it affects you 10 – 15 miles down the line. Anyway, despite initially being worried about it, I realized that we were back on pace for my 5 mile splits of 38 minutes. The next two miles were fairly uneventful and we hit the 5 mile marker in 37:54. Right on target. The first 5 miles went by almost too easily.
3 miles later we made our way to the coast. The wind was still relatively calm. In the distance I was surprised to see someone strip off his camelback hydration system and throw it into the grass. I yelled, “Nice toss!” and he waved an arm. A few minutes later Brendan and I caught up to him. A bit of chit-chat and we discovered that Ralph was making an attempt at a BQ of 3:20 as well. This was Ralph’s first timed marathon. He had run the distance once during his training. We invited him to run along with us, which he was more than happy to do. After a relatively slow mile 6 and 7 (7:46 and 7:43 respectively) we had picked up the next 2 miles at sub-7:30 pace. As we passed through small pockets of spectators, I reached out to high-fived the kids. I was yapping away, talking about my first marathon experience and the awful pace-setter I followed in that race. Before we knew it, we passed mile marker 10 – 1:15:49. Again, right on target.
For some reason, I felt like I needed to take on the role of cheerleader for our little pod, so I just kept talking…and talking…and talking (in retrospect, it explains why I had a sore throat for the next few days).
The Smuttynose Marathon is a double-loop. Starting at about mile 3, you get to see the mile markers for the second half of the marathon, so as you’re passing the mile markers for 8, 9 and 10, you are also passing the ones for 21, 22, and 23. Psychologically it was a little tough to realize that we were going to have to do this all over again. In the meantime, I realized that Brendan had been falling back a bit – not too far, maybe only a few seconds per mile, but it was enough to make me a little nervous. I would occasionally turn around to check on him and make sure he was still with me. Every time, he would nod in the affirmative, and I would turn back around. We had made an agreement earlier in the week that if someone faltered, the other was NOT to risk his own race for the sake of the other, however, I also didn’t want to lose my partner in crime.
At the 11.5 mile mark, those that were running the half-marathon peeled off. As was the case when I ran Manchester almost a year ago, it was a discouraging moment. I had been running for quite some time with this loose pod of people and suddenly we went from a crowd to a string. I tried convincing a few of the runners that were a mile and a half from their finish to come join us. A young lady looked at me, smiled and said, “been there, done that.” I was tempted to say something back to her, but I bit my tongue. As we peeled away, directed by a volunteer to go in a different direction, I pointed at the finish and said, “but the finish line is over there!” He laughed but told me I had to go the other way anyway.
Mile 12 arrived at a 6:08 pace. Yeah, no, really. That’s what my watch said. Everybody around me looked at their watches confused. Obviously there had been an error in placement. When mile 13 arrived 7:40 later, I realized that somewhere later down the line, we were going to have to make up a minute and a half.
Just after 12 I saw the leader coming the other way. He was all alone. I couldn’t help but admire his being able to run at that pace all alone. I glanced back at Brendan. He was still on my tail. He nodded, so I kept the pace. Ralph had fallen off (I would late find out he ran a 3:35). At about the halfway point however, Brendan began to fade just a little more. Truth is, it was probably more my picking up the pace a little and Brendan holding steady. I noticed that my splits were closer to 7:30 than 7:40. I kept looking back, but the gap was growing.
I hit mile 15 at 1:52:22. 2 minutes in the bank, I thought, but then I realized that at some point the “make up” for the short mile 12 had to becoming. Still, an extra minute and a half put me at about 1:53:52. Definitely on target.
At Mile 16, we rejoined the part of the course we had already run. I looked over my shoulder looking for Brendan. He was now maybe 30 yards back. I decided I had to press on. I ran the next five miles (miles 16 – 21) 11 seconds faster than I had run them (miles 3 – 8 ) earlier. When I hit mile 20 at 2:30:09 (2:31:39 with the adjustment), I knew I had a shot. As my friend Rick Reilly has said to me on several occasions, it was all coming down to the final 10K. The marathon, he would tell me, is actually 2 different races: it’s the first 20 miles and the last 10K. The final 10K had been what killed me in Manchester, had knocked me down at Boston, and had taken the fight out of me at Providence.
When I hit mile 20, I began to do a lot of arithmetic in head.
6.2 miles, just under 50 minutes to go, 6 times 8 is 48, 8 times 60 is 480, 48 plus 48 is 96, 96 is 1:36, 48 plus 1:36 is 49:36, which puts me at 3:21:05 – Shit! Start over – if I run a 7:50 for the next 6.2 miles…
When I hit mile 21 in 7:32, I re-calibrated everything again. I was doing okay. But I still knew the adjustment for mile 12 was coming, and at mile 22 it came. There had been a small part of me that had hoped and prayed that by some miraculous twist in space-time that we had all, in fact, run 6 minute miles at mile 12, but as my watch passed 8:00, then 8:30, I realized the time to pay the debt had come. I kept looking for the mile marker. – tick tick tick – 8:40, 8:45, 8:50. I finally saw the mile marker and passed it at 9:07. My watch now read 2:46:49 and I had 4.2 miles to go.
I again began to do the math in my head.
4.2 miles, 34 minutes 10 seconds left before the cut off. 8 minute miles means 2 minutes and 10 seconds to run 0.2 miles, if I multiply 2 minutes 10 seconds by 5 I got 10 minutes 50 seconds, what? That can’t be right, oh, wait a minute, it is, 96 seconds is less than 130 seconds!!!
If I could just maintain 8 minute miles I was going to be okay. Buoyed by this thought, I ran mile 23 in 7:31. I looked over my shoulder for Brendan, but I had now lost sight of him.
Now I just needed to fight off the last 5K. Mile 24 came and went in 7:41. Part of me dared to think that I had this in the bag. I was cruising. I had this.
Or so I thought.
24.5 arrived with my legs turning to jello. One moment I’m running steady, the next my legs are wobbling underneath me. I remember literally saying to myself, “uh-oh!” Fortunately I had 24.5 miles of momentum behind me, but I found myself slowing. I looked at my watch. 3:06:00. I had four minutes to get to mile 25. 14:59 to get to the finish, 1.7 miles away.
On any given day, if I need to, I know I can run 1.7 miles in less than 10 minutes. No problem. I might be in a lot of pain at the end of those 10 minutes, but I know I can do it. At that moment, looking at 1.7 miles felt like I was looking at another 5. My legs wobbled again.
For a split second I thought, “I’m not gonna make it. This is where I am going to hit the wall. This is where my assault on a BQ ends.”
Then I heard my friend Sheila. Now mind you, I have never met Sheila, nor have I ever heard her voice. I know her through this blog, the wife’s blog and through Twitter. I imagine her voice to be strong and authoritative, but nurturing. An iron voice wrapped in a velvet scarf. But I heard her shouting at me:
“Run like your hair is on fire. Run Luau, RUN!”
I put my hand on my heart where I was wearing an Autism Speaks pin. Strength flowed from my burning hair down to my legs. “This is nothing compared to what my little Brooke goes through” I thought, “this pain is temporary”. I was running through molasses, but I was running. I ran by the 25 mile marker – 3:09:50.
OK! 11:09 to cover 1.2 miles. The molasses was getting thicker. The wind had picked up AND there were people just milling about along the course. I weaved around a few groups of walkers. A runner in blue was 70 or so yards ahead of me. I focused on him, mentally trying to reel him in. Slowly he got bigger and bigger. I was reeling him in, but I could feel myself fading.
“HAIR ON FIRE!!!” Sheila yelled.
At this point I was running on fumes. I didn’t think there was anything left in the tank nor did I think I had any gears left.
Mile 26. 3:17:47.
That last mile had taken nearly 8 minutes. Frak! No, no, no, no, no!!! I was slowing down!
It was do or die time. I yelled out loud at the top of my lungs, “Come ON!!! Run! Dammit!!! RUN!!!”
I think I scared a few of the walkers on the course, but it worked. I found and hit that last gear. My speed started to pick up. 45 seconds later I passed the 13 mile mark for the half marathoners. 0.1 to go. The guy in blue was firmly in my sites. I put it into overdrive, lengthened my stride and went into full sprint mode.
Someone yelled at the guy in blue, “he’s coming! he’s gonna catch you!!!”
Too late, buddy! I flew past him.
I heard my buddy Adam, who had paced a friend through the half, yelling, “Luau! Luau! Luau!” I pumped my fist!
I looked up and saw the clock, it read 3:20:something. I knew I had it. I KNEW I HAD IT!!!
Official Time - 3:19:19 - photo courtesy of Doug (@reallynotarunnr)
The euphoria of qualifying for Boston was (IS!) unbelievable. I didn’t know if this day was ever coming. Friends have told me that they knew, but the truth is, you never know what the next day is going to bring. I could wake up tomorrow and be unable to run for whatever reason, but now…now, I can call myself a Boston Qualifier.
After shooting through the finish, I found my buddy Pete. He told me that he too had qualified for Boston, running a 3:15:24. We hugged in celebration knowing that we would be able to toe the line together in Hopkinton this coming April. Our attention quickly turned back to the finish line. 3 of us had started that day in pursuit of a BQ, and Brendan was still out there. Although the clock had clicked over to 3:21, we knew that because Brendan and I had started as far back in the crowd as we had, he still had some wiggle room. Unfortunately, Brendan ended up missing a BQ by 32 seconds. The fact that he had PR’d by 5 minutes did not alleviate the frustration and disappointment.
After some pizza and ice cream, part of the Smuttynose dailymile/Twitter crew convened in the beer tent.
Mmmm, beer... - photo courtesy of Adamm9
Pete (from Runblogger.com) and I celebrate our BQ's.
After one or two, we went out to cheer our friends Alett and Sandra in. We walk a few hundred feet down from the finish line with the intent of running Alett in. As she approached, we tried to break into a jog. It wasn’t happening. Alett flew right by us. We had left it all out there on the course. With Alett and Sandra’s arrival it was back to the beer tent for one more.
The Smuttynose dailymile/Twitter crew, post-race
Finally it was time to go. I told Pete I would see him in Boston. As I walked back to my car with Doug and Brendan, I tried to come up with something encouraging. Brendan has been a huge inspiration, not just to me, but to countless others on dailymile. His BQ is coming, I am sure of it.
I am sure that I will run this race again someday. It is sure to become a popular race for those trying to achieve their own BQ. The nice thing is that with this race not only do I qualify for 2011, but I also qualify for 2012 as well. I know where I’ll be in April. For next fall there’s talk about trying out the Vermont 50. We’ll see if there’s still interest next Spring.
In the meantime, I can now turn my eyes toward New York. Having qualified for Boston, I can now approach New York as a celebration, as a fun run. I intend to find as many friends in the crowd as I can and take pictures with each and every one of them. So if you are going to be in New York for the marathon, let me know where you’ll be – I’ll come find you!
You can find Doug, his wife Lex and Lex’s Run —>HERE<—
and finally, you can follow Brendan’s inspiring training on dailymile —>HERE<— (honestly though, I wish he wrote a blog!)
*BQ stands for Boston Qualifier – a dream for many runners. In order run the Boston Marathon, a person is required (unless running for a charity or having the luck I had last year of stumbling across an invitational application) to run a previous marathon within a certain amount of time. For me, that time is 3:20:59. For my buddy Pete, that time is 3:15:59.
***
I need YOUR contributions to a project that I’m working on. Interested?
All you need to do is send me a paragraph or two telling me why you run and/ or why you think others should run. E-mail it to me at “runluaurun at gmail dot com” (written out so the bots don’t start sending me spam).
If you can, please include a picture of your favorite running shoes and tell me what kind of shoes they are. Also, please let me know how you would like to be referenced (real name, nickname, pseudonym, etc) just in case this project actually ever sees the light of day.
The more responses I get, the sooner I can put it all together, so please don’t be shy about forwarding this to your running friends and spreading the word.
In a few days I will be traveling up to Hampton Beach, New Hampshire to run the Smuttynose Rockfest Marathon. I have worked hard this summer, following a proven plan, hoping that it will translate into a Boston Qualifying time. During this week I have actually been surprisingly unfidgety with my taper. In previous marathons I have dreaded this week before a marathon, but with every workout on the Pfitz 12/55 plan planned right up to Marathon Day, I have had a sense of calm I have not experienced in the past. That’s not to say that I’m not very excited.
But as excited as I am about running this thing and hopefully achieving my goal, I am just as excited, if not more so, about running Smuttynose with two friends, Pete and Brendan. The interesting part about this though is that I have only met Pete once and I have never met Brendan. Still, I plan on putting much of my Smuttynose experience in their hands.
Our plan is to run together for as long as we are able. We have agreed that if someone falls off the pace (7:38/mile) we will not all slow down for them, but we do plan to try to carry each other to a sub-3:20 finish, which would be a PR for all three of us (Pete’s PR is a 3:24, Brendan a 3:27 and mine is a 3:30). Unfortunately for Pete, he’s a bit younger than Brendan and I, so a 3:20 doesn’t qualify him for Boston. I won’t blame him if at some point he is feeling it mid-race and takes off. In the meantime, we will run together – strangers in the real world, good friends within our online running community.
I feel lucky that I live in an age where a site like dailymile exists. The three of us have become friends because of dailymile (and to some extent Twitter). Pete (of Runblogger fame) was the first person in the ether to reach out to me a year ago when I was stumbling blindly on Twitter looking for advice on the Manchester Marathon. Through him I was introduced to dailymile. On dailymile (a social site for active people) I was able to connect with many, many other people who, like me, found joy in regular physical activity. I eventually connected with Brendan, who just might be one of the most positive people on dailymile that I have ever interacted with (which says a lot because as a whole, the people you find on dailymile are a very positive bunch!).
Over the past few months, the three of us have encouraged each other through good runs and bad, through health and injury. This Sunday will be the first time I go into a marathon with a solid plan to run with friends. Hopefully we will draw strength from our numbers when we all inevitably hit the wall at around mile 20. Regardless of what happens, I know that the experience of running together will be a positive one and will help us run faster than had we been alone.
Wish us luck…hopefully there are 2, maybe even 3 BQ’s waiting for us on the other side of this weekend!
I can’t specifically say. To be discovered? To be handed fame and fortune? To win the lottery? I have been waiting. As a youngster, I always felt I was destined for something big, but I never did anything about it. In 1992 I said to some friends I wanted to go to New York, become a soap opera regular and become a star. My friends were all for it. I did eventually go to New York, but not until 1996, and only for a job as a paralegal at a midtown law firm. I did finally make it on to a soap opera, but only as an extra and only because a dear friend of my sister-in-law happened to be the head writer and was kind enough to get me on (Thank you Lil’ Jess and Tom!).
Yup, that's me in the background...
Still, I waited. Waited for greatness, for fame, for fortune.
***
It’s not coming, is it? There is no Justin Bieber fairytale waiting for me, is there? (part of that may be because I don’t sing…details.) Random House is not going to stumble upon my blog and decide they MUST have a book written by Luau. Foxnews is not going to decide that they MUST talk to me about the minimalist movement and make me a media darling. Oprah is not about to come calling, asking me to talk about how we can get America healthy again…is she?
No.
The lottery, both figuratively and literally, is not about to call out my numbers. My blog may be just under a year old, but at nearly 41, I’m no longer that fresh face with potential.
And yet I have waited.
***
For the last 11+ weeks I have been following a training program aimed at helping me run a 3:20 or better at the Smuttynose Marathon on October 3rd. I have not followed the program to a tee, but I have worked very hard and made re-adjustments along the way to keep me on track, both in mileage and types of workouts. Injuries and travel have required me to make some changes, but my numbers are lining up correctly and I am feeling very confident. If I don’t manage to qualify for Boston, it’s going to be very, very close.
If I do run a 3:20 or better I will have to face an ugly, brutal truth: – to achie—
-<<record stratch>> – Wait…what? Luau, um, did you just said that if you ACHIEVE your goal, you’re going to have to face an ugly truth?
Yup. That’s what I said. The ugly truth is this: to achieve your goals, most of us must work for it. If I run a BQ (Boston Qualifier), it will have been achieved through sweat and pain, hard work and determination and even a little bit of blood. There has been no “waiting” this time around for a BQ.
As much as I like to pull the “back when I was your age” card on my children and younger friends, the truth is, my generation really was the beginning of the immediate gratification/MTV society (I can’t say generation anymore because we have had children that also carry this need for immediate gratification…Video on Demand? DVR’s? 24 Hour News?).
My father didn’t raise me this way, but somewhere along the way, I lost the thread. I left the path and I got lost. Things came too easily too early for me and I got comfortable. Well, these 11 weeks have brought me a new perspective. Barring a twisted ankle on the course, I will run close to, if not achieve a BQ. Regardless, I know I will run a personal best (Providence is my current PR at 3:30:11), and it will all be because of hard work. I feel like I’ve cut away the fat, more mentally than physically. I am ready.
So Random House, Foxnews and Oprah, watch out. After I hit this BQ, I’m coming.
The primary training tool in the marathoner’s tool box is mileage. The more miles you put in the bank, the more likely you will be able to successfully complete a marathon. Logging 60 miles a week (something I’ve never done) will force your body to adjust to the concept of 26.2 miles much more aggressively than running 20 miles a week. That’s not to say that you can’t complete a marathon on 20 miles per week training, it’s just makes the task a bit more painful.
That said, my goal really has never been to just complete a marathon. Don’t get me wrong. Completing a marathon is huge. HUGE! But from the very start, I wanted to eventually be able to call myself a Boston Qualifier. As much as I have improved over the past 8 months, dropping 24 minutes on my marathon time, I am still 9 minutes and 12 seconds short of accomplishing that goal.
As banged up as I was at the end of both Boston and Providence, my legs recovered quickly and I was upright and walking down stairs within a day. Fitness is not the issue.
Speed is.
I have a need and the need is speed. At both Boston, but especially at Providence, I had opportunities late in the game to pick up the pace and finish close to 3:20. As much as I tried, the speed just wasn’t there at the end. I never stopped running, but in both cases, the last three miles proved to be my undoing.
Enter Yasso & Galloway.
My hopes are that this fall, Bart Yasso and Jeff Galloway will take me to the promised land.
Both are running experts and both have “discovered” certain indicators that can tell you if you are ready and able to hit your desired marathon time.
I plan on using their methods as part of my speed training this summer to help me get to where I want to be.
You can find their indicators here & here, but in a nutshell they work as follows:
Yasso 800’s: Once a week you go to the track and run a series of 800 meter intervals. Starting with 4 intervals and adding one each week, you try to run each 800 in minutes and seconds in the time that you would like to run your marathon in hours and minutes. I would like to run a 3 hour 20 minute marathon or better, so I will run 800 meter intervals in 3 minutes and 20 seconds or less. In between each interval you walk the same amount of time. Eventually you build up to 10 intervals, and if you can do that, you should be ready to run your marathon.
Galloway’s Magic Mile: Once every 2 weeks or so, you run a mile about as hard as you can. Galloway says that at the end of the measured mile you shouldn’t be able to maintain that pace for more than another 100 yards, though he does emphasize no puking. Over the course of you training, you do 4 magic miles, eliminate the slowest, and average the remaining 3. From there he has a program that calculates what your magic mile average indicates. I need to average a 5:53 mile or better to run a 3:20 marathon.
The indicators alone won’t be enough speed work by themselves, so I plan on throwing in some shorter intervals along the way (some 400’s and 200’s). If you have any suggestions, please let me know. My goal this summer is to do Yasso 800’s once a week, running 3:20 splits or better and check my Magic Mile at least 3 times. Hopefully come October (I’m looking at the Smuttynose Marathon on October 3rd) both of those indicators will tell me that I am more than ready to break the 3:20 barrier in the marathon.
When we run races, we all use a variety of methods to keep us focused and moving. Sometimes it’s a mantra, like the one I used last February at the Super Sunday 5K/10K. Sometimes it’s keeping someone in mind who has inspired us. Sometimes it’s the crowd that pushes us on (Women of Wellesley, you are awesome!). Sometimes, it’s a game we play with many of our fellow competitors – a game my buddy Mike calls Heroes and Villains. The thing about this game is that generally only you know that you are playing, despite the fact that many of those around us are unwittingly playing as well. You pick runners around you that you want to run like (the Heroes) and runners that you want to catch or stay ahead of (the Villains) – check out Mike’s recap of his Boston Marathon and his bitter duel with the Cat in the Hat.
I was floored, flattered and thankful when I received this email yesterday:
$22 to Autism Speaks; you can decide what to write for Providence.
And at the risk of seeming creepy, here’s the story of how I came across your blog & hopefully return the favor you (unwittingly but undoubtedly) did for me on that little jaunt to Boston on 4/19.
A bit of background:
• An invite & generous sponsorship from my employer secured a charity bib for me to run, so I also began toward the back of the pack (somewhere in the middle of coral 25).
• For a number of reasons, I’ve been interested in transitioning to barefoot running but decided to hold off until after the marathon. A friend, mid-transition to barefoot himself, asked that I report back on how many barefoot/VFF runners I saw during the race. My attention was thus double-primed toward anyone in the category (I saw a grand total of three).
• I run for fun, fitness, mental health, perspective, etc. and while I did have a tiered set of time-related goals, my primary focus was to enjoy my first experience participating in the grand event that is the Boston Marathon. [Incidentally, goals were (a) beat my fiance’s ex-girlfriend’s time of 4:23 – very mature of me, (b) come as close to 4:00 as possible, and (c) qualify for 2011 – under 3:41] But my approach to the race was pretty much to just go out and run for fun, disregard the clock, and see what happened for me.
Flash forward to Hopkinton. I always run on the left side of the road, against vehicular traffic, and out of habit I took to the left shoulder from the start. I also found it easier to weave through the throng from the side than the middle while I sought whatever pace felt right. About mile 3, I moved inside to allow what turned out to be VFF-wearer #2/RaceMenuSinglet pass ahead. I had passed the nearly-hobbling VFF #1 (apparently dealing with a pre-existent ankle injury) around mile 1, and this was my first chance to see a minimally-shod stride/running form in action. I was struck by the runner’s apparent lightness & energetic but graceful stride – a beautiful thing, that forefoot strike, what I took to be joy in running and in the overall experience, and his consistent effort to give a high-five to every child with an extended hand. With all the anticipatory chatter on the bus about the grueling course, the training, the times, the splits, the will-I-even-make-its, etc., it made me really happy to see someone else seeming to enjoy the gorgeous day, and to love the experience for it’s own sake (and not just the outcome).
Water stops aren’t a part of my normal runs, so I passed through most of the initial aid stations without stopping. After one of these, I found myself somewhere ahead of VFF #2 but continued on at the pace I had adopted. After another mile or so I encountered VFF #3/VeganShirt, who looked strong but seemed to have a heavier footfall & greater heel/midfoot strike than VFF #2. His focus seemed different as well. I followed him for a while, and after a point VFF #2 came from behind again – stride comparison confirmed. VFF #2 still looked to be going strongly, happily along his way, enjoying himself and the day, and rewarding the outstretched hand of every child lining the street. It was great. And so I figured I’d keep pace a while longer, and thus it continued until around mile 11 or 12.
It was then with some disappointment that I let VFF #2 & VFF #3 go on their way: morning coffee and nerve-driven (fun is fun, but 26.2 is still a goodly distance) pre-run sipping from three bottles of water had me looking for a pit stop. Unlike the flocks rushing for the woods outside Hopkinton, propriety kept me running until an actual ‘facility’ was readily available – unfortunately short lines don’t always mean short waits, and I lost a solid 4ish minutes.
But I had somewhat locked in on the pace maintained thus far, and fell back in stride pretty easily. I had no sense of my time, pace, etc., but tried to run hard while staying true to what felt good/right (in spite of the pain setting in) and continue to enjoy the day. Because who knows what any future holds? It could be a once-in-a-lifetime experience I was having, and I wanted to be able to look back and love it from beginning to end.
I continued to keep an eye out for barefoot/VFF runners, but through the rest of the race I neither saw any others nor encountered the three previously sighted. I was curious how these three had fared…Was VFF #1 even able to finish? Did VFF #2 maintain his admirable stride & enthusiasm? How were those heels holding up for VFF #3? How would I be feeling after ‘x’ miles in different footwear? How long does the transition to barefoot actually take? Will I end up preferring it, or will I be back to padded shoes and arch supports?
Many other thoughts (irrelevant to this account) & miles later, I reached the finish line. I looked up to check the clock upon crossing, but the time was entirely meaningless since I had no idea when I had crossed the starting line to begin with.
It was only after meeting my family over an hour later (they had been stranded along the route) that I learned my actual time – 3:40:18. With a mere 41 seconds to spare, I qualified for Boston 2011. Quasi-disbelief, a surge of pride, and a silent but exuberant thank you to VFF #2 – the runner who inspired me to set a faster pace than I may have otherwise, and whose manner over those few early miles seemed to resonate with my own approach to the day. I was curious how the rest of his race had gone, and sent well-wishes out into the cosmos.
But curiosity eventually got the better of me. By the power of Google, and the circumstantial coincidence of there being but one Boston 2010 runner wearing VFF and a Race Menu singlet who happened to mention these things in his blog, I discovered RunLuauRun – your race report & pics confirm you as VFF #2. I earnestly hope it doesn’t seem inappropriate that (a) I googled a stranger and (b) I’m emailing* the same. It’s just that you were inspiring during my run and I wanted you to know as much.
I’ve already taxed my legs a good bit this week (not having had a second marathon on my radar just yet), but by way of returning the favor and in show of solidarity with your commendable 2 in 2 weeks effort, I’ll commit to 26.2 miles of [activity on foot] this weekend. Congrats on a great race in Boston, and all the best in Providence. Whether it’s this weekend or some other, your BQ is most definitely out there.
Happy running!!
Sincerely,
“Ilsa”
To unwittingly help someone BQ is almost as good as doing it myself. It is not too often that we get to learn of the good things we have unknowingly done for others. I am thrilled for “Ilsa” and I hope that next year we get a chance to chat at the Athlete’s Village as we wait for the start of Boston 2011!
We all have people who help us each and every day, but how often do we really take the time to say thank you? What if today, for just one day, we follow Ilsa’s lead?
I’ll start.
Thank you “Ilsa” for making my day! I will be thinking of you (along with everyone else who signed up to use the human billboard) as I make my way through Providence on Sunday.
So on Monday I ran the 114th Boston Marathon. It was like no other race I have ever run before – one that may not have ended as I had hoped but was a fantastic adventure nonetheless.
I could start with my 5:15 wake up, my hurried breakfast and shower, my nervous drive to the Boston Commons, my ride to Hopkinton with my RaceMenu Teammates (a story for another post), my wait in the Village, hooking up briefly with my buddy Mike, but I am eager to get right to the race.
The start of the Boston Marathon is broken into 2 waves, with the faster qualifiers in Wave 1 and the rest of us in Wave 2. The second Wave starts 30 minutes after the first. Each wave is further broken down into Corrals of 1000 runners each. Wave 1 had 13 corrals, wave 2 had 14. For those of you not wanting to do the math, that’s roughly 27,000 runners.
In part because I was not a qualifier and in part because my application was sent in last minute, I was assigned bib number 27709 in the 27th and final corral.
This was my view as I looked ahead to the starting line.
No, you can’t actually see the starting line in this picture because it’s over that hill in the distance.
This was the view behind me as I lined up.
Yeah, those people don’t even have bib numbers. They’re bandits. I was literally one of the last people to cross the starting line on Monday. In fact, once the gun went off, it took me well over 15 minutes or so to get there! The trip to the starting line was a marathon in and of itself, filled with false jogging starts and full stops.
From the start I was struck by the crowds. As soon as you cross the line (even before it) there are countless people, young and old, holding out there hands wanting nothing more than a high five. In the few races I have run, I have never seen such support.
Once I got over the starting line, I followed the advice of a dailymile/twitter friend Chris (@cyktrussel) and hugged the left shoulder. He had said that as a runner starting in the back, one of my biggest hurdles to a BQ was going to be the slow moving mass in front of me. On the shoulder I found room to move at a comfortable pace. Most people seemed to be sticking to the middle.
I took a deep breath and tried to find my inner calm. Despite the 15 minute walk up, or maybe because of it, I was completely amped up and ready to run hard. Not the way one should start such a challenging course. As I began to meditate on my pace I was distracted by the sudden flood of runners cutting across my field of vision from right to left. Dozens and dozens of runners were running into the woods. For a moment I couldn’t figure out what they were doing. Was this some weird mass run suicide thing? Had they become possessed by lemmings? It only took a moment to realize that these were all of the people who hadn’t thought to relieve themselves BEFORE the start of the race. I wish I had had the wherewithall to snap a shot of the wall of runners standing in the trees, all lined up.
After a chuckle, I settled into a groove. A half-mile in, Runkeeper beeped. I looked at my watch. 3:50. A little faster than I had planned, but right on the pace I was hoping to run for the whole race. I should have been a little more conservative, but as many Boston first-timers do, I let the pull of gravity pull me. I had planned on trying to run 8:00 miles through the first 10 and then slowly drop it down, but I was so happy cruising along at 7:40 – 7:45, and I felt so good, I thought, that maybe this was where I was supposed to be.
It would come back to haunt me. It’s amazing what 15 – 20 seconds per mile can do to or for you. I should have been running 8’s.
Around the 3 mile mark I heard my name called.
“LUAU!”
I turned to find my lovely new friend Alett, also known as @petfxr on twitter. Although she has been a relatively new addition to my online community of runner friends, she has very quickly become one of my favorites. Anyone who read my race recap of the Eastern States 20 will recognize her as the angel who brought me water when I had forgotten mine in my car. We hugged as best we could while maintaining stride and I was off.
A couple of miles later I recognized another runner. Not someone I had ever met, but I knew the costume. It was Jason Jacobs (@runkeeper), the creator of my most used iPhone App, Runkeeper, running in a Runkeeper costume. I’m not saying that I wouldn’t be the runner I am today without Runkeeper, but Runkeeper has made it a whole lot easier to get here. We had never met, but I introduced myself and he recognized my name. He quickly snapped a shot on his phone.
I wish I had thought to do the same. As we passed 5 miles, I looked at my watch. 38:40. A little too fast, I thought. I tried to slow down. I actually put my hands out in front of me with a slow down motion, willing myself to ease ease up on the downhill.
About a mile later I came up behind my buddy Mike. We chatted for a few moments before I rolled on. As I did, he yelled “Looking good. Now throw it down!” I wasn’t ready to do that quite yet, but his enthusiasm was impossible to resist. I could feel myself pick up the pace just a little.
As I passed mile 7 or 8, I heard another yell of my name. I turned just in time to see the Inclusion Facilitator Extraordinaire from my younger daughters Summer Camp, Ms. T. As she yelled “Run Luau Run!!!” at the top of her lungs, I was filled a burst of energy. I was brought back to my wait in the corral.
***
When I went to put on my running clothes early in the morning, I had found a little note the wife had left me, folded over and held shut by an Autism Speaks pin. It read, Read in the Corral. I did. I must have read it 5 times while waiting for the gun to go off.
If you can’t make out the picture (it got a little sweaty in my pocket), it says:
You’ve prepared for this.
You’ve got this.
Know yourself.
Listen to your body.
Trust yourself.
Have faith.
We’re with you at every step.
Game on, baby.
Run!
I placed the pin on my singlet and stuck the note in the small pocket of my running shorts, the pin representing my younger daughter for whom the loud cheering crowds would just be too much too handle. Thanks for the note, Honey!
To have Ms. T yelling, “Run Luau Run” (loud enough to be heard in Boston) was awesome. Thank you Ms. T!
***
The next few miles were a blur, but as I approached 13, I prepared for what I thought Wellesley would be like. Every veteran Boston Marathoner I have spoken to gets a glazed look in their eyes when they talk about the halfway point of the race. Actually, I take that back. Every male veteran of the Boston Marathon gets that look. It’s not that you are halfway and it’s not the beauty that is the town of Wellesley. No, it the women of the college. Every year they line up and form a scream tunnel and they cheer. They cheer and offer kisses to any runners willing to stop.
Though I wasn’t quite willing to stop for kisses, I did remember reading an article last year in which Kara Goucher said she had been told to run as close to the crowd as possible to draw on their energy, so I ran as close to the women of Wellesley as I could. Each and every one of them had their hand out. I’m pretty sure I hit every one over the course of about 100 yards. As we came out of the gauntlet, I shouted to a guy who had been right in front of me,
“That was awesome!”
“Yeah it was,” he yelled back.
“I wanna go back and do that again!” We both laughed, but carried on.
I looked at my watch. 1:42. Pretty much where I wanted to be. As we shot through the center of the Town of Wellesley, I remember thinking, “Ok, you’ve got this. Less than 13 to go.” I ran a self-diagnostic and came to the conclusion that I was pushing the engine hard, but was not quite red-lining it.
Again, the next few miles fell into a blur. I focused on hitting every water stop and staying close to the crowds. As we entered Newton just past 16 miles, I realized something wasn’t quite right. The cheering as you enter Newton is tremendous, especially if you happen to be trailing one of the charity runners because the hospital is right on the Newton-Wellesley border. As loud as the crowd was, I didn’t have the energy to high five every hand that was sticking out of the sea of spectators. I briefly thought about my fears of the 16 mile barrier but I took a deep breath, re-focused and found new energy as we approached the firehouse at the start of the Newton Hills.
“This is it People!” I yelled to no one in particular. I received several enthusiastic “Yeah”s as we made the turn.
I buckled down and pushed ahead. I had been warned that there would be evil psychology at play the moment I hit the Hills. Most people at some point walk them and when everyone else is walking them, your brain starts asking YOU why you aren’t walking them. I wasn’t going to let that happen and in fact, came pretty close to maintaining pace all the way through them.
Somewhere on the Hills
But I paid a price.
Right before Heartbreak Hill I found my wife and older daughter on the right. My daughter was wearing a fantastic hat she and the wife had made.
I had asked my wife to have a bottle of Nuun water and Clif blocks ready for me. I shouted that I didn’t want the water.
Unexpectedly, she began running with me. She kept pace for about two or three blocks. I looked at her and said, “I’m close, but I think I’m gonna be on the wrong side of 3:20”. She looked at me in surprise. “You got this baby”. But I knew. I thought back to the note she had left me. Know yourself. Listen to your body. I knew the hurt was coming. The wife peeled away and I pressed on . I thought of my little one and the Autism Speaks pin on my shirt. I stared up at Heartbreak Hill. My body ached just looking at it.
Don’t stop on the Hill, I could the voices telling me. Were they from the spectators or in my head? I wasn’t sure. Lost in thought I almost missed a group of spectators called the Boston Hash House Harriers. I had been told by Alett that they handed out beer to whoever asked for it, but more importantly had the motto, “On On!” I yelled it to them at the top of my lung three or four time and received more than I gave. The responding cheer was huge, but the energy only lasted a few moments.
I looked at my watch. 2:35 at 20 miles. That was a full 10 minutes slower than the 20.2 I had run just 3 weeks earlier at Eastern States, yet I didn’t feel nearly as good. The wheels were coming off the bus. The gas tank was running on vapors and I was only part way up Heartbreak. A few moments later, I heard, “Hey Luau”. I turned in surprise to find Josh (aka @bostoncardiovet). He wasn’t running Boston, but as a thank you for running the last 1/4 mile of the Eastern States 20 with him 3 weeks earlier, he ran me up the rest of Heartbreak Hill. I’ve told Josh several times that his run with me probrably saved me 2 or 3 minutes off my total time. Thank you Josh!
Soon after I crested Heartbreak and started the downhill I hit 35K. I looked at my watch. 2:50:43. So close yet so far. The quads cramped up. I suddenly had visions of Manchester running through my head. Oh Lord, please don’t let me seize up! As much as my quads hurt though, I was determined not to stop. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. The rest of the race was a complete blur. I actually maintained pace for another mile, but then the pain became too much. A little past 23, try as I might, I couldn’t maintain a 7:45 pace anymore. This was where I was supposed to drop the hammer and sprint home for a BQ. It was not meant to be that day. Mile 23 had shot up to mid 8’s; Mile 24 mid 9’s; Mile 25 mid 10’s. I took comfort in knowing I pushed the wall back by 6 miles from my earlier marathon, but it did little to alleviate the disappointment.
I sighed as my watch passed 3:20.
As I hit the Citgo sign,
Photo by @Milesandtrials
I heard people yelling there was only one more mile to go.
I usually laugh at 1 mile. 1 mile is something I could do in my sleep. 1 mile doesn’t even count.
NOT TODAY!!! 1 mile sounded like an eternity. Really? We still have a mile to go? Well, no Luau, actually it was 1.2 more miles. When I realized this there was part of me that just wanted to give up, but I pressed on. With a half mile to go, the crowds thickened, their cheers deafening. As we took the two turns into the final stretch I flashed back to last year’s marathon and watching Kara Goucher and Ryan Hall come through these very streets. I picked up my pace.
As I turned onto Boylston I broke into a dead run. This finish line looked so far away. I pushed harder as the crowd cheered all of us on.
I pumped my fist as I crossed the finish line and almost came to a dead stop, not because I wanted to but because my body was refusing to continue. I had managed to run the last mile in 9:01. I limped along, and ran into yet another online community friend, Audrey. The two of us limped along in pain, wishing we could laugh at the pain we were in,happy to be done, satisfied that we had left it all on the course.
I eventually found a spot to sit down. Big mistake! I was unable to get up for 20 minutes.
I sat and mulled over my failed attempt to qualify for Boston in this race. I had been pretty confident that I was going to pull it off. It was just not meant to be this day. I ended up running a 3:32:05 (22 minute PR), and up until about 22 miles I was well within striking distance. That I could keep pace 6 miles longer than I had in Manchester on a harder course was encouraging. Had this been Bay State or Providence, maybe I would have had the juice to pull it off, but the Boston course is a tough one.
Next year I run smarter. I thought I had run smart in this one, but looking back I know I should have held back even more at the beginning.
Now the question is, are my legs going to be recovered enough by May 2nd for a run at 3:20 in the Providence Marathon or does that become a fun run? That’s only 10 day away. Ouch!
On the eve of the 114th Boston Marathon, I thought it would be fun to pull this post out from last December. Hope you find the humor and motivation in it.
I did!
…I finished with a world record shattering time of 1:59:59. The first sub-2 hour marathon in history…AND I did it in my signature Luau VFF’s.
Okay, so no I didn’t. I didn’t even qualify for Boston last year. Shoot, I barely ran a sub 4-hour marathon in my first (and so far only) try. But, somewhere, and I mean that, I did it. I not only won the Boston Marathon, but I won New York, Chicago and London as well.
The coolest part…
-wait for it-
…is so did you!
Of course, it didn’t happen in this universe, but if you are familiar with quantum physics (of which I am – just enough to make a fool of myself) you may also be familiar with the Many Worlds Interpretation (MWI). In a nutshell, MWI states that for every decision we come to in life, both/all choices are in fact made and reality branches off in two or more directions instead of just one.
For the infinite number of choices we could have made since the beginning of time, an infinite number of not-quite-identical worlds have branched off into existence. Infinite worlds – infinite possibilities, all occupying the same space, just not the same reality. This is not fantasy. It is scientific theory that is actually gaining support in the scientific community.
In one of these worlds, all of the right choices have been made to turn me into a world-class marathoner. I am simply the best there was, is, and ever will be. There is also one where YOU are the number one marathoner of all time.
Looking at the glass half empty, I could ask: Why am I not in THAT reality? Why am I stuck here as just an average, every day runner? I point this out not to tease us or make us feel bad. No, I choose to look at the glass as half full. This other me is still me – the other you is still you. We are connected by the fact that we are essentially the same person. So when I am out there pounding the pavement, feeling the legs tire, I can reach across the ether, mentally touching that other reality and channel the world-class me. He’s/I’m out there/right here – occupying the same space, often running the same routes.
The next time you feel yourself lagging, draw on some cross-dimensional strength. I’m sure the Olympic medalist you would be happy to lend a hand.
***I also have a best-selling book, Run Luau Run, available on Amazon and at your local bookstores. Well, somewhere I do.
If you want to start your own #CharityStreak pick up the Charity Miles app and start raising money for your favorite charity simply by walking, running or biking:Get the Charity Miles app:
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