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Boston 2010

Posted in boston marathon, race recap, tagged boston marathon, race recap on April 22, 2010| 37 Comments »

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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!

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Manchester Revisited

Posted in motivation, race recap, tagged guest blog, Manchester City Marathon, running on April 2, 2010| 3 Comments »

In less than 10 days, Inspiration Jenn will be running her first marathon (St. Louis). A couple of weeks ago she sent out a call asking for first-time marathon stories, which she would post one by one over the course of her taper. I was more than happy to oblige. This is the post I wish I had written 5 months ago. You can find it –> here <—

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55:14 to Boston

Posted in boston marathon, race recap, Vibram Five Fingers, tagged Eastern States 20, running, Vibram on April 1, 2010| 11 Comments »

Last Sunday I ran the Eastern States 20. In the words of a twitter & dailymile friend, Josh (@bostoncardiovet), it was a blast…a huge, 15mph blast of headwind for about 80% of the race. That said, it had to be one of the most fun races I have ever run.

***

It didn’t start that way. For the 11AM race, I was up at 5:20. I hadn’t realized when I signed up A) just how far of a drive I had to get to the buses taking us from the finish to the starting line and B) that the buses would be leaving so early. Unfortunately for me, my father drilled into me the need to be early to any transportation you may be trying to catch. In the end I could have probably slept for another hour or so and still have been okay. As sleepy as I was though (or maybe because of it) I felt pretty relaxed riding the bus to the start.

We arrived at Traip Academy at 8:30. 8:30 for an 11:00 race. I found a corner of the gymnasium where they were holding us and settled in for a wait. As the minutes slowly ticked by, the nerves began to slowly build in my stomach. The only other time I had run 20 miles or more was 5 months ago at the Manchester City Marathon. That one didn’t end pretty and the ugliness started way before 20. I reached into my backpack for my water bottle to fiddle with the handle.

That’s funny, I thought it was in this pocket. I reached into another pocket and then another. No water bottle. CRAP! Nerves turned to mild panic. What the Frak am I going to do?

One of the things I love about my online running community is that there is a true sense that we are all in these races together. I tweeted something along the lines of Oh crap! Forgot my water bottle in the car. Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! Within seconds I got a response from my buddy Pete (@oblinkin), who I have met just once in the real world mind you, telling me to calm down, water was on the way. That’s right. Long story short, he tweeted another twitter friend, Alett (@petfxr), who he knew would be driving Josh to the start. Turned out she had an extra water bottle. Nerves began to settle.

A little before 11 we all mosied down to the start. I chatted with a few runners who were curious about my funny looking shoes. I tried to find the dailymile and twitter friends that I thought might be there but had no idea what they looked like. I checked and rechecked Runkeeper and my headphones, twice (right, that’s four times). Check.

5…4…3…

I pressed start on Runkeeper.

2…1..Go!

I started to run with the crowd, waiting for the nice voice to come through my headphones telling me that I needed to start the next 0.5 mile interval. Nothing! I tried raising the volume on the Oakley’s. Nothing! As I continued to run, I took my iPhone off of my arm to reconnect my headphones, Runkeeper and my music. After two minutes of running in this fashion I finally got sound coming through. I looked at my watch to see how far off Runkeeper’s time and my stopwatch’s time were going to be.

00:00

CRAP!

I started the stopwatch and tried to focus on what I had ahead of me.

After the initial technical snafu, I settled into a groove. About a mile in I heard my name called behind me. It was another dailymile & twitter friend, Brad (@bradbirkel). He was running with a friend, experimenting with negative splits. As I pulled away, I knew he’d eventually catch me. I didn’t realize at the time just how helpful his catching me would be. In fairly short order I fell in with a group of runners that I’d stick with for the next 13 – 14 miles. We varied in shape and size, and if I’m going to be honest, we were running at a pace that was a bit faster than my original plan. My goal at been to run about a 7:30 – 7:45 pace for the race. This group was clipping along steadily at 7:07. Every couple of miles I would do a body check. Head, lungs, stomach, butt, legs, feet. Check, check, check, check and check.

From nearly moment one however, the wind was in our faces. The instant we hit the coast, I felt myself get pushed back. Holy Crap! This was not going to be easy. Our pack dwindled down to about 7 or 8, tightening a little as a group. We instinctively took turns leading the group, but the wind was harsh no matter where you were. This group of runners was more talkative than any I had raced with before and again, my Vibram’s became the topic of much conversation. How you like those? Don’t your feet hurt? Do you get knee pain?

The conversation kept me occupied, but only kept the demons of Manchester at bay for so long. As we passed miles 10, 11, 12 I looked ahead to 16. That was where I hit my initial wall in my one and only marathon. I was keeping up with this group, but the wind was starting to wear on me. At 15 I got hit with a cramp in my side. I tried to power through it, ignore it. My group started to pull away and I began to hear footsteps behind me.

No! No! NO!!! Pass! Don’t be passed!

At 16 I hit a wall. Well, not quite a wall, more like a wall of jello. I was still moving, but man it was hard. I felt my pace slow. I watched as my group went around a corner and out of sight. I thought for a moment of trying to catch them but really had no choice but to let them go. The goal of this race was to finish this race between 2:30 – 2:40 with what felt like was enough gas to go 6 more. I let them go. As my pace slowed, I got passed by a guy wearing his Manchester City Marathon shirt. This guy had probably passed me around this point in that race. I growled at myself. Don’t lose this guy. You don’t need to catch him yet, but don’t you frakkin’ lose him.

About a quarter-mile from 18 I felt a reassuring pat on my back. It was Brad.

“Looking strong buddy!” he said. I told you you were gonna catch me! Brad kept moving along. He would finish the last 3 miles in 18 minutes.

That pat on the back may have been Brad’s hand, but I felt the running gods give me a little push. 2 miles to go Luau. It’s go time!

I shortened my stride and quickened my pace just a touch. I slowly, ever so slowly began to reel in MCM Shirt guy. We made the final turn into the last 2 mile stretch. It was right along the beach and when I tell you that the wind nearly blew me down, I am not giving the wind its due. Another dailymile friend (Jamie) was manning the water station at 18. He yelled something like “Go Luau!” I grabbed some drink and kept chugging along, staring down MCM Shirt guy.

The wind gusted. I hit back by speeding up. With about 1 1/2 to go I passed him. I kept pushing. I didn’t want to be the guy who passed someone with 1 1/2 to go only to get re-passed at the finish.

The wind had taken my determination personally and doubled up. I yelled at the top of my lungs. I hate this headwind!!!

“PUSH!!!”

What was that?

“PUSH DAMMIT! GO!”

I briefly looked over my shoulder. I couldn’t see him, but I could hear him. I could hear his footsteps.

“YOU GOTTA GO MAN! LET’S GO” He didn’t have to ask me again. I broke into a dead run. The pedal was pushed to the floor. I was pulling him and he was pushing me. But his footsteps were getting closer.

Suddenly I heard a trio of female voices, “Run Luau RUN! Go Daddy!” My family, who was supposed to stay home because of the distance and cold, had shown up, and just in time. I waved at the girls, found a little more speed and closed out the last 1/2 in an all out sprint. After I crossed the finish line, I turned around to find the guy who had pushed me through. We hugged, chatted for a minute and then went our merry way. I found a few of the people who had been in my original pack and discovered that I had in fact closed some of the distance on them in the final couple of miles.

I felt pretty good. I knew I had 6 miles at an at worst 8:30 pace still left in me. I did the math. 51 minutes. I checked my time. 2:25:45. 20.21 miles. 51st overall out of 705, 44th of 374 men, 10th of 124 in my age group. 2:25:45. I did the math again.

55:14 to get to Boston.

As excited as I was at my time, one of the best highlights of the race came just a little while later as I played on the beach with my family. I looked up to see Josh finishing strong. I waved and cheered and then the wife suggested I run him in. I ran up to the sidewalk and went stride for stride with my friend who I was meeting for the first time for the last quarter-mile. What a great way to meet in the real world for the first time. It was also great meeting a fellow Vibrams runner, Andy Marx, the Grand Llama of TMIRCE. I hope to meet up with them some Saturday this summer.

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No Fear

Posted in race recap on February 8, 2010| 14 Comments »

It started on Wednesday. I was a little nervous about the upcoming race. Energy was starting to build up. I wasn’t sure what to do. I sat down at the computer and started to make a playlist. There are people who love the music when they run and those that love the silence. I like both, but for this particular race I wanted music. I had just seen a clip from one of the Prefontaine movies with Joe Walsh’s County Fair playing (see below). It was inspirational. So I built the list. I checked the time. 43 minutes.

That was my goal. Under 43 minutes. If I took any longer the music was going to stop. On Friday I started to listen to the playlist as I drove about town running my errands. As I would hit certain songs, I would visualize where I would be on the course. Years ago, when I was teaching at a small ski academy up north, we were privileged to have a visit from then big ski star Picabo Street. She talked to our kids about preparation before a ski run and part of that preparation was visualizing the run itself. I always thought that was a little hokey, but starting Friday and up until Sunday morning as I drove to the race, I kept visualizing where I would be and how my body would react at certain points. I kept saying to myself, “don’t be afraid, don’t be afraid”. Eventually that mantra morphed into “No Fear.” As I drove to the race site I kept saying it over and over again, “No Fear, No Fear…” I tried to channel my inner Prefontaine.

It was cold, but after going through the normal warm up routine I decided to strip off the pants and go with shorts and one layer on top, a long sleeved shirt. I slipped on the VFF Treks, pulled down the skull-cap and slipped my mp3 sunglasses on. As we waited for the starting gun I kept repeating my mantra, trying to ignore the cold. The starter started the countdown…

No Fear

ready…

No Fear – I pressed start on the Runkeeper App

set…

No Fear – I slipped my glove back on as the music started.

GO!!!

And we were off. The beginning of County Fair is very slow. The first two and a half minutes are not what you would typically call running music. However, it then kicks into a groove that, when combined with the memory of the clip of Prefontaine, gets you going. I started fast but when the groove hit, I heard myself say, “No Fear” and I stuck it in overdrive. I had tried to start as close to the front as I felt I could without being out of place. For the first 1/2 mile I weaved in and out of traffic. I took every hole I could find, occasionally slowing down to then zip past a dead end of bodies.

Making a move

When Runkeeper told me I had run a half mile, I took a quick glance at my watch.

3:20

6:40 pace. Okay! I did a self check. Everything functioning normal. The pace was a touch faster than I planned but I was feeling good.

No Fear

At the mile marker my watch read 6:36. I was speeding up! It was early, but I was picking off groups of people at a time. As I hit the first turnaround at about a mile and a half, I cut hard and turned it up a bit. Mile 2 read 6:16.

No Fear

Finishing the loop I saw that I was way ahead of where I had planned to be at 3.1 miles. My plan had been to run about 21 – 22 minutes for the first loop. As I went back onto the course my watch read 19:55, mile 3 had been a 6:20. I hadn’t known I could run that fast, especially with another 3.1 to go. For a moment there doubt crept in. What am I doing? I can’t run this fast twice. I’ve never been here. I started doing some quick math in my head. If I could just run a 23 on the second loop I’d still come in around my goal.

I repeated my mantra.

No Fear

Mile 4 arrived quickly. 6:18. At this point I said to myself, “it’s only 2 miles”. At about 4 1/2 miles we hit the turn to head back to the start. About 50 yards ahead of me was some young kid, and 50 yards ahead of him was a young woman. I quickly reeled him in, looked over and said, “Come on. Let’s go catch that girl. Help me reel her in.” He looked at me like I was crazy, but he followed.

About 100 feet from the 5 mile marker we caught her. I eased just a little as the guy took off. After a moment, I looked at her and said, “Come on Let’s go catch that guy. Let’s reel him in.” We passed the 5 mile marker and she said, “I just PR’d for 8k!” I looked at my watch. Mile 5 – 6:23, 31:55 so far. “Me too,” I said, “Let’s get him!” We pushed on, caught him and passed him. Mile 6 arrived in 6:22. I was still flying, but now I was in the closing stretch. Less than a quarter mile to go and I knew I was within the realm of a sub 40. I went into an all out sprint.

No Fear

Roger Daltrey was screaming in my ears. I covered the last 0.2 miles in a 5:55 pace finishing the race in 39:29, 7 1/2 minutes better than last year and 3 1/2 minutes faster than my stated goal.

My final results were 6.2 miles in 39:29 with a 19:55 first half and a 19:34 second half. I finished 39th overall out of 791 finishers and 4th out of 60 for my age division. I missed placing in my age division by 2 seconds! Not bad for a guy who just started running a little over a year ago.

I like to think that I learn something from every race. This race taught me that visualization can be a real part of training. I plan on trying it in other parts of my life as well, whether it’s parenting or housekeeping (I think the wife would be down with that part!). I also learned that we are stronger when we run together. Johnny and the young lady helped me push myself harder than I would have had I been alone on that stretch. For that I am thankful. I think that is something that I can take into other aspects of my life as well. I actually found Johnny afterward in the chowder tent and thanked him for pushing me along. He turned it right around and did the same.

I am still processing the race. Trying to figure out how this affects my long term goal. According to some websites, a 39:29 10k translates into a 3:02 marathon. Um, yeah, I’m not so sure about that. That being said though, I may have to rethink the training paces over the next several months. I’ve stepped up a level in my running, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to step back.

Boston? I have you in my sights!

Below is the Prefontaine movie clip that inspired the playlist and the mantra:

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Falling Uphill

Posted in race recap, tagged boston marathon, chilly half, Falling, Falling Uphill, Hill, marathon, minor adjustments, new move, together, Up on November 17, 2009| 13 Comments »

my "running shoes" after 13.1 miles

Yesterday I ran our local half marathon. After my experience at Manchester I looked to this race with a balance of excitement and fear. As I warmed up with a half mile jog I kept telling myself, “make Manchester count for something…make Manchester count for something…”

After my implosion during the second half of that race I was determined not to make the same mistakes.

“Don’t go out too fast!”

“Stay hydrated!”

“Run smart!”

As I fiddled with my gadgets (I ran with my iPhone running the Runkeeper program and a pair of Oakley Rockrs) and chit chatted with a good friend who was also running, I almost missed the starting gun.

Things didn’t start off well. Nothing came through the earbuds. No music. No voice cue from Runkeeper. I pulled the phone off my armband and tried to get it to work. Nothing. My legs kept moving but I had no idea how fast I was running (one of the cool features of The Runkeeper app is that it gives you average pace for your run). To make things more difficult, my sunglasses began to fog up. I was not only not hearing anything, now I couldn’t see! Finally, about 3/4 of a mile into the race I rebooted the program and got things going. Aaah, music! I looked up just in time to see my buddy Mike directing the runners around a corner. I waved, put my head down and finally began focusing on the race.

I passed the first mile marker, pressed the lap button of my watch and peered at the number through foggy glasses.

7:04

Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!

What had happened to “don’t go out too fast?” My pre-race goal was to run 1:35. I didn’t care about the seconds. If it had a 1:35 handle, I was going to be ecstatic. My strategy was to start in the 7:30/mile range and then run slowly progressive negative splits the rest of the way. A first mile 7:04 was NOT part of the plan! I slowed down ever so slightly and after about a quarter of a mile Runkeeper beeped and told me it was time to start a new half mile interval.

Crap!

In my fumbling with my phone I had managed to restart the app 3/4 of a mile in. My stopwatch and Runkeeper were completely out of sync. “I am thinking too much about my gadgets dammit!” I said to myself. I decided to sync the watch with the app. For the next 3 miles, things were humming. I was consistenly running 3:20 half mile splits and every time Runkeeper mentioned my average pace, I was right where I wanted to be.

At about 4 1/4 miles I realized that I wasn’t getting my audio cue on my splits anymore. Then on the 35 minute cue, Runkeeper announced that my pace was 8:00/mile and I had run 3.5 miles. Somehow, today of all days, my phone had lost its GPS signal. Runkeeper had never failed me and it is my favorite app for my phone, but I guess it was Murphy’s Law that it was going to happen today! It was time to stop stressing the technology and just run. I had my music. I had my stopwatch. At mile 6 I tapped the lap button, took a sip of my honey water, put my head up and surveyed the thinning crowd.

From almost the start of the race I had been trailing a fellow runner. She had been on average about 10 – 15 yards ahead of me the whole race. Sometimes she would stretch her lead on me to about 30 – 40 yards, I’d reel her back in and then she’d stretch it out again. She did this over and over again throughout the first half of the race. She had no idea that she was pacing me or keeping me focused on the race for that matter. I was behind her the whole time.

At about 7 1/2 miles we approached the steepest hill in the race. She was about 20 yards ahead of me going into it. For no apparent reason, I decided it was time to experiment. An experienced runner who I had recently become friends with suggested that I lean slightly into hills to make the ascent a little easier. I thought to myself, “why not lean ALL the way in?” I must have looked absolutely ridiculous. I don’t know what I was thinking trying this in the middle of a race, but there I was, leaning into the hill like I wanted to kiss it. I could feel my legs kicking out behind me and then quickly catching my fall. I was literally falling UP the hill. Gravity was doing most of the work. When I got to top I looked up and there was the woman, not more that 3 feet in front of me. I had my hooks in her and I wasn’t letting go. We ran stride for stride over the next mile and a half. I made sure that I didn’t get uncomfortably close, but I wasn’t about to let her stretch it out again.

At mile 9 the two of us caught another runner as we approached a hard left turn on the course. She took him on the inside. I had been running just slightly behind her to the left so at this point I had no choice but to swing wide right and pass him that way. My plan going into the race was to hold steady for 10 miles and then push the final 5K hard. But as I passed this guy and saw the woman put a few more feet between us, a little voice in my head said, “Drop…the…Hammer!!!” And suddenly I was off. I left my lifeline and partner behind me and eyed the next runners ahead of me. Now for some reason, as I sped off, I got it in my head that I had just passed mile 10. Why? I have no idea. So when I did hit mile 10 a few minutes later, the wind was briefly taken out of my sails. I thought, “Oh, no! I’m gonna run out of gas!” But then a small miracle – a hill.

Before this race I would tell you that I hated hills. After the race, I will still probably tell you that I hate hills. But at that moment, in my particular state of mind I said to myself, “Yes! Time to kiss the ground!” I leaned far into the hill, my feet flailing behind me. As I hit the top of the hill I cruised past a group of 3 runners. There is the runner’s high, which I love. But there is another high – I don’t know if it has a name – the “I’m cruising past 3 runners as if they are standing still” high. I love that one too!

At this point I had the gas pedal floored and I wasn’t going to let up. I covered the next two miles in 13:30, picking off runners here and there. But now with a little over a mile to go I could see one more runner in front of me. He had to be a good 100 yards ahead of me. I thought, “there’s no way.” I could feel myself running out of gas. I had just covered the last 3 miles in just a touch over 20 minutes…faster than my sweet recovery run of the other day. I almost resigned myself to my place…”just hold on” I thought.

But then the next little miracle…well, three of them actually. I could hear my wife and two daughters yelling, “Go Daddy!!!” from across the street. As I peered through my foggy sunglasses I could just make them out, and then the headphones kicked in with the Rocky Theme. It was perfect. I waved as best I could and dashed off. As I rounded the corner, another hill! Yes! I pulled my new gravity move and flew up the hill. As I turn the next corner, the guy in front me was not more than 50 yards away. We had a half mile to go.

“Gonna Fly Now” rang in my ears. I was reeling this guy in. With a quarter mile to go he was 20 yards out. I was so focused on him, I nearly missed the big, lumbering man in a green shirt flying by me on the right. I panicked for just a moment and then actually heard my wife in my head say, “Oh no he di’n’t!”

150 yards to go and the three of us are racing for the finish line. I’m trailing both of them by about 10 yards, but Green Shirt obviously has used everything up passing me and the other guy is fading fast. I’m wondering if I’m going to run out of real estate. I’m pulling them in but I’m not sure if it’s going to be enough.

50 yards and I’m almost on their heels.

40.

30.

20.

With less than 10 yards to go I catch them both and race into the chute ahead of them. I look up at the clock. 1:33:14!

I saw my buddy Mike with his family at the finish line. He looked at the time. He knew more than almost anyone what this time meant to me. I was 2 minutes under my goal and nearly 10 minutes better than my only other half marathon. I managed to finish 38th among 655 total runners and 9th among the men in my age group (which my wife will remind people I will only be part of for another month). What a high!!!

About 10 minutes later, I saw the woman who had carried me through the first 9 miles of the race. I thanked her. She smiled, not sure exactly what she had done to help me.

I was happy that I was able to take some of the lessons from Manchester and apply them to this race. But more importantly, I learned that making adjustments on the fly can make a huge difference. I’m not sure that the Falling Uphill move is for everyone. I’m not even sure I could pull it off again in a different race. But in this particular race, for this particular runner, it worked. I managed to climb three different hills letting gravity do most of the work. In each instance, I reached the top of the hill fresher than I had started at the bottom.

This race took away a lot of the self doubt that I felt from Manchester. I am now actually thinking of skipping both Disney AND Miami this January. My desire to run those races on short rest was predicated on the chance of qualifying for Boston 2010. Since that can’t happen now, I think that I am going to use this race as a building block. Perhaps I will finally try my hand at the Falmouth Half Marathon this February…the race that indirectly got this whole running thing started. Disney would be have been a panic race. I don’t need to panic anymore. I know I have a BQ in me and I know I have at least until September of 2010 to run it.

Meanwhile, if you see a someone flailing up a hill, face to the ground and legs flying backwards, yell out “Luau” and I’ll try to wave without falling flat on my face.

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Manchester Marathon 2009

Posted in race recap, tagged luau, manchester, marathon, pain, will on November 11, 2009| 10 Comments »

I started running a year ago. Four months ago I decided to run a marathon with the hopes of qualifying for Boston. I was training to run Bay State in Lowell, MA with the hopes of running a 3:20:59 or better to BQ. Injury interrupted my training over the last 6 weeks and I was forced to stop running for four weeks, pass up Bay State and run the more challenging Manchester Marathon instead two weeks later. My last long run (19 miles) was 6 weeks before Manchester and I started running again 12 day before the race, never running more than 7 miles in those last days.

The hills were killer…felt like they went for miles at times…though they didn’t really start getting to me until about 15. The thing I think what really killed me though was that I didn’t hydrate enough (both before and during) and the pacer I was following went out at a blistering 6:30 pace…he was the 3:25:00 pacer…I’m thinking I’ll follow this guy for 18 miles and then crush it at the end…instead he raced out and mentally I was screwed.
“Dude, you think 6:30 might be a little fast?”
“Huh…yeah, I guess I better slow down.” Ya think? I tried slowing down, but I kept worrying about slowing down too much. Lesson? Don’t follow the pacer…you know what’s too fast or too slow. You’ve been training for weeks. If you can keep your adrenaline in check, you’ll know. ***and just in case I can’t, I’m bringing my iPhone with Runkeeper running to tell me my pace every 1/4 mile!!!***

All that said though, by mile 3 my head was back in it and I was cruising, feeling great. I wasn’t thinking about my depleted stores of glycerin, nor was I thinking about sticking to my original game plan. The pacer had taken me out fast and dammit, I was gonna try and keep a decent pace!

Hydrating was tough. I kept getting water up my nose…I learned three days too late the art of the crushed cup. When I hit the half at 1:35, I was pumped, but going over the bridge to the western part of town I hit a huge, HUGE headwind and hill. Knocked my pace down 70 seconds or so. Got back on track on the next mile, but I think the damage had been done…I started thinking about the fact that I was doing this all over again…it didn’t help that at 13.1, most of the people I had been running with peeled off to finish their half marathon…we went from a group of 8-12 to 3…that was disheartening…suddenly it was lonely…which is weird because I run alone usually. I’ll very happily run 14 -18 miles alone early on a Sunday morning, either enjoying the peace and quiet or plugged into some pounding music. Truth is, after 13.1 miles with complete strangers, battling the same hills, a bond is formed. I wanted my unit to run with me…instead I was very quickly a unit of one. …14 was a killer and then 16 hit me like a ton of bricks…I trudged along to 20 at a miserable 9:00 pace not realizing that the wall that hit me at 16 was nothing compared to the pain that was waiting for me at 20.

I kept thinking, “just make it to 20 and then drop the hammer. It’s only a 10K at that point. Shoot! It’s only 2 5K’s. What’s 3 miles? Nothing! I can do 3 miles hungover! I still have an outside shot at 3:20:00. Just make it to 20 and then drop the hammer. Put the foot on the gas!”. I continued to push myself along in this manner. I knew the minutes were ticking away and that my chances of qualifying for Boston were slipping away, but dammit if I wasn’t going to make it close!!!

Almost to the marker, my quads, both of them, froze. I came to a dead stop and couldn’t move for about 2 minutes. Tick! Tick! Tick! Time was slipping away. Boston was disappearing into thin air. My thoughts of a 3:10:00 first marathon were long gone at 16. Now 3:20:59 was crumbling. I wondered if I could finish. My legs wouldn’t bend…at all!!! I thought about quitting. I thought about my family waiting at 24.5. I was suddenly overcome with a sense of peace regarding Boston. All that training…all of the hard work would now have to be summoned up to finish this race. I slowly started walking like Frankenstein’s monster. After about 100 yards I could bend my knees just a little…another 200 yards and I broke into a very poor excuse of a jog…from that point on it was will power and nothing else that was moving me. Off and on the legs would freeze and I’d have to stop. It took me 20 minutes to get from 20 to 21. At 24.5 I saw the family, dug deep, put on a smile and broke into a jog. I went around the corner knowing I had about 1.2 to go…I’m screaming at my legs to bend, but I’m struggling. As I turned the final corner I saw the clock…I had found peace in the fact that I wasn’t going to qualify but I saw the clock…it said 3:54:14…at that moment I found one last gear…I wasn’t coming in over 3:55…I actually ran the last 50 yards or so…clock said 3:54:46…net time ended up being 3:54:04…next time I’m eating more bananas to keep the potassium levels up…2 days later I wanted another shot at it…trying to convince the family to head to Disney for the Disney Marathon!