No, literally, I am running the Around the Lake Marathon tonight, starting at 7PM. If you are in the Wakefield, MA area this evening, please feel free to come out and cheer.
I have never in the last 21 month of marathon running felt more unprepared.
How unprepared am I? Let’s go by the numbers:
If I had stuck with my 12 (week)/70 (mile peak) plan, these are the weekly miles I would have run:
55/59/62/66/59/70/70/64/70/57/44/28 for a grand total of 704 miles of training.
If I had stuck with my fall back 12/55 plan, these are the weekly miles I would have run:
35/39/43/48/42/48/55/49/52/43/32/22 for a total of 508 miles.
*** *** ***
Here are the actual miles I ran:
54/51/47/42/30/7/32/32/15/30/28/4 for the mighty sum of 372 miles.
Not pretty is it. That’s close to only half of what I originally planned on running. In addition, you’ll notice the downward trend in mileage over the last, well, um, during the entire training cycle. I had some motivational issues to be sure, but there were some weeks marred by either injury or life simply getting in the way (it happens). Still, I have never felt so unprepared for a 26.2 miles race. Even in my first marathon I had the advantage of not knowing what it was I was getting into.
But you want to know something funny? I’m ok. In fact, I feel at peace with the fact that I am way undertrained for this race. There’s no reason really. Maybe it’s the fact that this is my 7th marathon in 21 month, maybe it’s that I feel somewhat rested (though heavier with the lack of miles), maybe it’s that I’ve set my Garmin to beep if I start going too fast (avoiding the debacle of Boston 2011), or maybe it’s just the cumulative effect of repeated endorphin highs…I don’t know.
Am I worried? A little to be sure. But I don’t have the nervousness I’ve had before every other marathon (who am I kidding, before every other race!!!), that awesome/awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.
What will happen tonight?
I don’t know.
All I know is I’m running a marathon, I’m totally unprepared, and I’m totally fine with that.
I really hadn’t planned on being here, yet here I was, at the starting line, wondering what the heck I was doing.
Having just come off my first heavy mileage week since late March, I wasn’t sure how my legs were going to react.
They felt heavy.
What the heck was I doing hopping last minute into a half-marathon?
***
One of the things I “love” about the half-marathon and marathon distance is that at some point, if you are a mid-packer like me, you will be tested. It is not a question of if, but one of when. Usually the test comes in the second half of the race. In a marathon it is often during the last 10K (though mine at Boston came at 17). In the half, I usually find that I must overcome my brain somewhere around miles 9 or 10.
Yesterday my test came during the first 4 miles. I had jumped into this half-marathon on a whim. I hadn’t trained for it, AND I had just started a new training cycle that already had me at over 40 miles for the week. That isn’t a lot for some, but it is a full week for me. My legs. were. tired.
As the starter yelled, “Go. Go! GO!” I got sucked out by the front of the pack. I had run into RaceMenu/Mix1 teammate Greg (when he showed up I joked that everybody’s projected finish had just dropped one spot) and had made the mistake of hanging out with him near the start. When the starter yelled go, I knew to let Greg go (he’s fast). I didn’t give chase and I thought I was running at a smart pace. Because of the threat of rain, I had left my iPhone (my de facto GPS device) at home, so I had no idea really what my pace was. As we passed the first mile marker I tapped my watch and looked down.
6:09.
Um, what?!?
My goal for the half-marathon I had signed up for 2 weeks from now was to run 7:00 minute miles (and that would be an almost 2 minute PR). I had no business running a 6:09 first mile in an impromptu half-marathon. I slowed myself down a bit which resulted in me watching several runners pass me by.
It’s never a good feeling when you get passed, even if you know in your head that it is the smart thing to do – it is discouraging at best. As the faster runners continued to pass me, I quickly spiraled into a dark place wondering what I had been thinking. I hit mile 3 in 20 minutes flat, but my legs felt like rubber. I was spent. I had gone out too hard, too fast and with little over 10 miles to go, I was done. By the time I hit mile 4, I actually had thoughts that maybe I needed to stop road racing – for a while anyway. What was the point, really? I mean, seriously, I am not fast enough to have a shot at winning any of these races; why in the world was I putting myself through this kind of hell? Miles 4 and 5 were significantly slower and I started to think about walking or quitting. The problem of course is that if I did that, I was stuck in the middle of nowhere and I’d still have to make my way back to the start. On top of all of that, my right foot fell asleep between miles 4 and 5 (and would remain so for most of the race) and it felt like I was running on a stump of a right foot. Yes, things were moving along swimmingly.
When I hit mile 6 I looked at my watch.
41:59.
Just under 7:00 per mile. Granted there were still 7 miles to go, but a PR was not out of the question. We were almost done climbing Heartbreak Hill and I notice that I was now starting to pass a few people. I saw Greg coming in the other direction. We slapped five as we passed each other. He had a good 40 – 50 second lead on the second place runner. Encouraged, I tried to quicken the cadence a little and push up the hill. As we hit the turnaround and started heading back, I saw one of the runners who had passed me early on off in the distance.
I stopped thinking about my sleeping foot. I stopped thinking about the pain and how tired I was. Instead I focused on this runner’s tan shirt. There were other runners in between us, but for some reason I did not want to lose to this guy. It was time to go to work. He was to be a good 75 – 100 yards off, but I slowly started to reel him in. Coming down Heartbreak, a young kid pulled up next to me and I latched on. Moments later I heard a loud, booming, “LUAU!!!” I looked to see Kim from Tales of an Endless Runner working her way up Heartbreak. I yelled back and carried on. Running downhill felt good. I finally caught tan shirt at around mile 8. As I started to pass him, he surged, as did young kid. I pushed along with them. Tan shirt briefly opened up about a one meter gap before fading. Young kid and I pushed on.
I still felt terrible. My legs were sluggish and my breathing was labored. My mindset, as it had been from about mile 5 on, was “just finish”. Forget the PR, just finish.
I kept thinking if I could just hang with young kid, I would be all right, but I very quickly realized that in this particular case, youth was going to win out. At mile 9 I felt young kid quicken the pace. He was trying to reel in a group that was about 50 yards ahead of us. I thought about coming along for the ride, but I knew I had spent my surge energy catching tan shirt. I quickly glanced behind me to see if anyone was closing on me and saw no one. I decided to keep my pace and let young kid go. It was a move I would partially regret later.
When I hit mile 10 I looked at my watch. 70:16. I started to do some math. My PR was a 1:33:14. That meant if I ran the next 3.1 miles in just under 23:00 minutes, I could PR. My heart and my brain went in two different directions. My heart said, “GOGOGO!!!” where my brain said, “be smart, run smart!”
I divided 23 by 3.
7 2/3.
7:40.
But that doesn’t take into account the extra 0.1!
23 divided by 3.1 is…
oh crap! too hard. I can’t even do that when I’m not running.
I arbitrarily assigned the 0.1 mile stretch 45 seconds.
22:15 divided by 3.
3 times 7 is 21.
that leaves 1:15…divide that by 3…that 75 second…25!
7:25!!!
I need to run 7:25 pace the rest of the way to hit a PR!!!
Yes, this is what was running through my brain as I covered mile 11. When I hit the mile marker I looked at my watch – 7:18 for mile 11!
Re-calculate!
Nononono!
Just run!!! Keep pace.
Mile 12 came in 7:19. 1.1 miles to go. If I could just maintain my pace I would beat my previous best. I looked ahead. I had pulled within maybe 75 yards of the guy ahead of me (young kid has disappeared out of sight). I thought about trying to make up 75 yards over the course of a mile, but I was spent. That said I did manage to pick up the pace. With less than a few hundred yards to go, I heard RaceMenu Chief Alain cheering me in. There was no one behind me and there was no way I was catching the guy in front of me, but I picked up the speed with one last push. I knew the PR was mine. As I made the final turn and ran through the chute, I saw the clock – 1:32:23 – a PR by 51 seconds.
1:32:23 - 22nd overall, 4th AG, 51 second PR
I. was. beat.
Alain handed me a mix1, congratulated me on my PR and told me that Greg had won the race in a course record 1:14. Man that guy is fast! Greg and I posed for a picture for our sponsors.
So, I finished in 1:32:23, 22nd overall and once again, as it seems to be my fate in these things, 4th in my age group, just off of the podium. Maybe if I had chased young kid back at mile 9 – 10 I would have caught the 40-something that finished ahead of me – of course, maybe I would have crashed and burned before even making it to mile 11, who knows.
I’m glad I chose last minute to hop in on this half-marathon. I’m glad I passed the test early on in the race. Did I learn anything? Maybe that even when it feels like it’s all going down the tubes, if you put your head down and battle through, sometimes good things can happen. Makes me feel pretty good going into the Boston Run to Remember Half Marathon over Memorial Day Weekend in 2 weeks. That race is MUCH flatter than this was, so I’ve actually got a shot at another PR. We shall see.
***
On a tangentially related note, it seems that Sunday may have been National PR Day. Many of my running friends scored personal records in the races they ran, none more joyous to me than my buddy Brendan (@mainerunnah on Twitter) who ran the Pittsburgh Marathon and got his BQ in a 3:19 finish. Those of you who read this blog regularly may remember Brendan from my Smuttynose BQ. At that race we were both shooting for 3:19’s as part of Team Kinvara, but he unfortunately came up 33 seconds short. Getting the text that Brendan had achieved his goal actually brought a tear to my eye. Congratulations Brendan, you have caught the Unicorn! I will see you in Hopkinton in 2012!
I ran my very first marathon (the Manchester City Marathon) a little over a year ago. I went into it not really knowing just what I was getting myself into. Over the course of the next fifty two weeks I ran three more marathons (Boston, Providence and Smuttynose). In each of those I learned a little bit more about the 26.2 mile distance.
One full year after running the Manchester City Marathon, and with one week to go until New York, I thought I had the knowledge, determination and discipline to conquer the five boroughs. Unlike Meatloaf, I only got one out of three right.
I would love to go into detail of my whole weekend experience, but in the interest of time and space I will just say that on Friday and Saturday I got to catch up with the always inspiring Sarah Stanley, had the honor and pleasure of meeting my buddy Michelle, running with both her and TK, and having a fabulous brunch with a roomful of runners (too many to list here) and attended the Team Up with Autism Speaks Pasta Dinner.
Me and Sarah Stanley at the Expo
Me and "Miss Joy" Michelle meeting for the first time at the expo...we later attended a wedding together!
At the dailymile/Twitter Brunch where I got to sit with THE Running Laminator!
At the Autism Speaks pasta dinner with my sister and Autism Speaks President Mark Roithmayr
Got to sit and eat with fellow autism parent and twitter friend Rhonda aka @train2tri
Let’s get right to the race.
As I stood, shivering in the starting area, I tried to visualize my journey before me. Much like Smuttynose, I had a plan – I was going to break the race into 5 mile segments. I knew in my head that no matter how I felt, I could run 5 miles. In my head I told myself the moment I take that first step in each 5 mile segment, I was now down to 4+ miles. It worked to perfection at Smuttynose. I was sure it would work in New York. If could replicate my Boston Qualifying race, New York was going to be a breeze. Part of the plan also called for taking a Honey Stinger at the beginning of each of those 5-mile segments. Easy enough. I had run Smuttynose in 38-minute 5 mile segments. My plan for New York was to attempt 37 minute splits.
Although I had never run New York, I tried to imagine myself taking a Stinger and a swig of my homemade Honey Water at the designated spots. I saw myself crossing the finish line in Central Park. The clock read 3:16, which was fine, because I was about a minute back from the starting line.
After the introductions of the elite runners, the gun went off, and we were OFF! waited for the wave to make it’s way back to corral 12. I took one last look around for DP_Turtle, hoping to find a running partner, but to no avail. The sea of people began to surge forward and as we crossed the starting line, I hit my watch and we broke into a jog and then a run. My New York City Marathon had officially started.
People had warned me about the mass of humanity that I would be part of. I thought having run Boston from the very back that I already had a grasp of what that meant. As I began to climb the Varranzano-Narrows Bridge, I realized just how wrong I was.
The view of people ahead of me and behind me was almost overwhelming. Reaching the peak of the bridge, I looked out over the water at Manhattan. Having lived there in the late 90’s, I felt a tinge of sadness. Even today, almost a decade after 9/11, I still expect to see the Twin Towers standing there. I said a quiet prayer for those who lost their lives and loved ones that day and moved on.
As I passed the first mile marker, I took a look at my watch – 8:14. A nice, slow start. Unfortunately the second mile was downhill and gravity did it’s thing. Coming off the bridge I hit mile 2 in a too fast 6:43.
Too fast! I thought. But then I reconsidered, thinking that I was now on target for sub-7:30 miles. It had worked at Smuttynose. It was going to work in New York, right?
Shortly thereafter we got our first dose of the crowds. The cheering was absolutely amazing. The next 3 miles went quite smoothly. I hit the 5 mile marker at 36:02…a little ahead of schedule, but I felt good. Real good! Too good.
I pulled out a Stinger.
***
Now here’s the thing. I am a huge fan of NRG’s Honey Stingers. I am convinced that they helped propel me to my BQ at Smuttynose. Before traveling down to New York, I decided to defer picking up my Stingers until I got to New York. I assumed the local running shop would carry my brand. They did…just not in the original flavor I was looking for. My choice was banana and chocolate. I settled on a mix. But what could go wrong, right? They were Honey Stingers!
***
As I passed mile 5, I pulled out my Stinger, tore off the top, sucked the the honey and washed it down with Honey Water.
It.
Was.
Awful.
I grimaced and washed it down with another swig of Honey Water.
Much better.
That is until a mile later. At mile 6, it started mildly. Small tiny waves brushing on the shore. But with every passing minute, the waves of nausea became bigger and bigger. They were soon crashing down on me. I tried to stay focused on putting one foot in front of the other, but I could feel myself starting to fade. Somewhere in the next mile or so I had to stop at a port-a-potty. I didn’t feel good.
44 seconds later, I was back on the road.
At mile 8 the three starting groups (for the uninitiated, the New York City Marathon starts in three waves, each wave broken down into three separate starting areas that run their own routes for the first 8 miles) came together. The crowds and runners became more congested.
Mile 10 was coming. The nausea wasn’t going away, but I knew I needed to take a Stinger. I tried to psych myself up for taking in sugar, but the closer I got to 10, the sicker I felt. Mile 10 came and went, and I decided to push the Stinger off until mile 15. I took a swig of my Honey Water, but even that was now making me sick. At the next garbage can, I chucked my bottle. I looked at mile split – 73:35 – that was a 37:33 split. Despite the urge to hurl for the last 4 miles, I was still on target.
I slowed down a touch, trying to give my body the opportunity to re-group. After about 10 minutes I started to feel somewhat normal. No longer feeling green, I pressed a little to make up for lost time. As we crossed the half-way mark I looked at my watch. 1:37:19. Sub-3:15 pace!!!
Ok! I can do this!
Just after the half, I spotted my friend TK. I ran over, gave her a hug.
Looming in the distance was the Queensboro Bridge. I took a deep breath. I was going to take the ascent slowly and let gravity do it’s thing on the back side. Passing mile 15, I realized that I needed to take in some nutrition. The very thought of taking a Stinger brought back a wave of nausea. I decided to wait just a little longer.
I took a look at my watch – 1:52:20 – a 38:45 split. Still within striking range and ahead of my Smuttynose pace.
As we began to climb the bridge, I was surprised to hear music. Led Zepplin’s Kashmir began pounding through my earbuds. I had forgotten that I was listening to music. The bands and crowds are so loud along the course that unless you have your music pumped up all the way (something I do NOT advocate), it is completely drowned out.
But on the bridge there were no fans, no bands, no sounds save the quiet pounding of running shoes on the asphalt. Robert Plant wailed away in my ears. I couldn’t help but smile. For some reason, it felt like the perfect song for the moment. Reaching the peak of the bridge, I forced myself to take another Stinger. The thick honey was so unappetizing to me that after forcing half of it down, I spit out the rest. My level of nausea kicked right back up.
I had been told that I would hear the cheering in Manhattan long before I came off of the bridge, and I did. Momentarily I was uplifted. Coming off of the bridge, I race over to the crowd and high-fived a number of kids.
The high was good enough to keep me going for a couple of miles, but I knew I was starting to pay for the lack of carbs I was putting in. At this point I realized I needed to put some kind of sugar into my body, so I decided to start drinking Gatorade at each water station.
I never drink Gatorade. Ever.
Through 18 miles I had manage to keep my mile splits under 7:50. I was still averaging under 7:30 per mile. Mile 19 came in at 7:57. I wouldn’t see another 7-handle the rest of the way. As I entered the Boogie Down Bronx, almost on the nose at mile 20 I nearly doubled over from pain in my stomach.
Stomach cramps? Really? My lack of drinking Gatorade while training was coming back to haunt me.
I had never suffered from stomach cramps before in a race. These were sharp and painful. I knew that my game plan had to change. Even as I had approached mile 20, I had been thinking that a PR was still a possibility despite the ongoing nausea. I had fought through it for 19 miles. I knew I could fight through it for another 7.
But this was different. I went into survival mode. I just needed to keep moving. Time was no longer the goal – finishing was.
We weren’t in the Bronx long, quickly returning to Manhattan and Fifth Avenue. I’m not sure how it is physically possible, but it felt like both going up First Avenue and going down Fifth Avenue were both uphill. Is that possible? It sure felt that way. The stomach cramps weren’t going away, but I felt like I could make it through to the finish…that is until somewhere before mile 22 when I felt a twinge in my quads.
My mind flashed to mile 20 of the Manchester City Marathon when my quads froze, leaving me with my legs planted to the ground like tree trunks for 10 minutes, unable to move.
The twinge became more intense. I could feel both quads tightening up. This is NOT good! As I passed mile 22 I thought about quitting. I was in official death-march-mode.
Is it worth trying to get to the end? I’m nauseous, my stomach has sharp pain and now my quads are seizing up. Maybe I should walk. Maybe I should stop.
But something kicked in. I knew that the Team Up with Autism Speaks cheering section was just a mile away. Autism Speaks, the families that battle autism every day and all those who had helped me raise nearly $3,500 had brought me to New York. I couldn’t let them down. I looked down at my singlet. “Run Luau Run” it said right above the Team Up with Autism Speaks logo. I thought of Brooke. I thought of my friend Greg and his son. I thought of my friend Sheila and her son. I thought of Jersey Jenn and her family….and Judith…and Drama…and Gaby…so many families…
No. Walking was not a choice. Stopping was not an option. I wasn’t running for me.
Each stride brought a shot of pain in each leg. I looked up to see a sign: Pain is temporary. Pride is forever! followed by Your Feet Hurt Because You’re Kickin’ Ass!!! Two better placed signs I could not have asked for.
I caught the Autism Speaks cheering section by surprise (they were still setting up) and soldiered on into Central Park.
Now, I love a good set of rolling hills as much as the next guy, BUT after 23+ miles? Oh my frakking God!!! The uphills simply brought a more intense pain to my quads, and the moment I began going down the hills, my hamstrings decided to join the party.
Gee! Thanks Hammies! I’m glad you could make it to the Pain Party!
Up and down. Up and down. But as intense as the pain was, I knew I had less than 5K to go.
Somewhere around 24, something made me look left. There was my sister! A sight for sore eyes! I ran over to her and gave her a hug. A big part of me wanted to stop right there and call it quits, but I knew I couldn’t.
A hundred yards later, I spotted my mother-in-law (Grammy) and her husband (Grandpa DD). I tried to put on a brave face.
"Gotta keep moving...I think the finish line is this way" (photo courtesy of Grandpa DD)
"Maybe if I flap my arms, my legs won't have to work so hard!" -courtesy of Grandpa DD
I had nothing left. My body was working on sheer muscle memory. At this point, my hair could’ve been on fire, and it wouldn’t have mattered.
We exited the Park and ran along Central Park South. I knew that we needed to go back into the Park at some point, but it felt like it was taking forever. Finally, as we approached Central Park West, we cut into the Park for the last 400 or so meters. This was the final test of the New York City Marathon, because this very last portion was painfully uphill. Really!?!
Usually I have a kick at the end of these races. Heck, I even had one at Manchester for the last few hundred yards, but on this day I would have to be satisfied with just keeping a steady pace. There would be no passing people at the very end. No triumphant sprint across the finish line.
I looked at my watch – 3:26:31.
I mustered a smile. Despite everything, I had managed my second best marathon time.
I didn’t hit 3:15.
I didn’t PR.
But I have to say, that in many ways, I am more proud of what I did on that day than of my BQ time at Smuttynose. New York pushed me past what I thought was my limit. I could have quit. Heck, maybe I even should have quit, but I didn’t.
Yes, pain is temporary and pride is forever (at least I hope the pain is temporary – my legs and shoulders are still hurting as I write this!).
I wandered out through the bag pick up section, briefly checking into medical, probably leaving before I should have, woozy but proud.
How I felt through much of the race
I found my family, thanked them for coming.
Me and my sister (who took care of me after the race!)
Me and my Mother-in-Law
We made our way back across the park to cheer in other Autism Speaks runners.
Hanging out at the Autism Speaks cheering section, cheering other runners in
I got to see Edison the mining runner. Talk about a story of perseverance.
So what did I learn in New York? At least four things (though I’m sure others will reveal themselves):
1. Don’t mess with your nutrition. Last minute changes to what you put in your body can really mess you up.
2. Train for the terrain. Truth is, I spent the summer training on very flat roads in anticipation of Smuttynose, which is billed as the flattest marathon in New England. That was great for Smuttynose as I cruised to a BQ, but not so much for New York with it’s bridges, slow, long climbs and rolling hills in Central Park.
3. Running with someone makes a huge difference. At Smuttynose I was blessed to be able to run with my friend Brendan for nearly 15 miles and then with some strangers for another 7 or 8 or so. I ran New York without a partner and I’m pretty sure it didn’t help.
4. No matter how good you feel, if you’ve been targeting averaging 7:24 per mile, it’s not wise to run a 6:43 in the second mile.
As beat up as I am though, I’m already strategizing for Boston. Just this past Wednesday, I received my Confirmation Notice in the mail. Mentally I am ready to start running again! I am ready to start training for Heartbreak Hill! I plan on kicking it’s ass! The only problem is that my legs haven’t got the memo yet.
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.
Okay friends, New York is less than 4 weeks away. When I first put it out there that I needed to raise $2600 to run the New York Marathon for Autism Speaks, you put me there in less than 4 weeks. I was amazed and humbled how quickly my circle of friends rallied around to support this cause that is so very important to me. I am extremely grateful. For the last couple of months however, I’ve been stuck at a little over $3,000. Nothing to sneeze at for sure, but I know I can do better. So I’m throwing out a challenge.
If I can manage to raise $8,001 ($1 more than the goal of the fundraiser currently standing in 5th place among New York runners) before the Friday (11/5) I leave for New York, I will do this:
Yo! Wuzzup?
That’s right. I will, for the first time in my life, dye my hair, and not only will I dye my hair, I will dye it Autism Speaks Blue. Come on. How many of you wanna see me walking around New York City with blue hair?
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!
…when it comes to speed. What is fast for some is slow for others and visa-versa. Still, the one standard you can compare yourself to is, well, yourself. Part of the reason many of us enter footraces is to see just how fast we are. Once we have finished one, we use each subsequent race to measure how our speed has waxed or waned. Much of our change in speed can be attributed to diet, hydration, training, weather and quality of sleep & recovery.
But what about Mars Blackmon’s eternal question, “Is it the shoes?”
Can what you wear on your feet make a significant impact on how you perform on the streets? Nike, along with Blackmon (Spike Lee) and Michael Jordan, tried to sell us on that idea way back in the early 1990’s. “It’s gotta be the shoes” was everywhere.
Runners today have a myriad of shoes to choose from when they enter a running store. Every shoe has it’s selling point, whether it’s support or cushioning, firmness or flexibility. And of course, we all have different feet, so the range of choice is a good thing, right? But what if you are simply looking to increase your speed. You feel you are close to whatever goal it is you have set for yourself, but you have fallen just a little bit short. Is there a shoe for that?
People are constantly asking me, “Can you run fast in those, uh, things?” They point at my Vibram Bikilas or Treks, not sure what to make of them.
Commercial hype and celebrity endorsements aside (Joe Montana – it is so sad to see you pitching those Skechers Shape Ups), let’s do a simple thought experiment. Let’s pit twin brothers against each other in a long distance race. Each has had the exact same training, eaten the exact same foods, and received the exact same amount of sleep. They are wearing the exact same outfits and weigh exactly the same. They also both incorporate the same running style. Which one would you bet on to win this race? You can’t, because any bet you make would be a complete guess.
Now, let’s take one of the twins out of his traditional shoes and put him in a pair that weigh half as much (12oz to 6oz each). This is now the only difference between the twins. One is literally carrying 3/4 of a pound less than the other. Now you may wonder, what difference can 3/4lb make in a footrace? Well, based on certain calculators out there on the internet, for a 175lb man like me, it can mean 9 seconds in a 10K, 22 seconds in a half-marathon and as much as 45 seconds in a full marathon. For a 150lb runner, the time difference is even greater. What’s 9 seconds? Well, it can mean the difference between placing in your age group or not (I’ve missed placing in my age group twice 5 seconds or less). It can also mean the difference between qualifying for Boston or not. I still have over 9 minutes to make up, but if I ran in traditional shoes and clocked a 3:21:40, I’d be pretty ticked off!
So what am I getting at? Vibram Fivefingers are my racing shoe. They literally are half the weight of my old Brooks trainers and I am convinced that they have helped me reached times that I wouldn’t have had otherwise. Between the forcing me to run in a more efficient manner and allowing me to carry less weight, my speed has picked up. At the age 40 and with only a little over a year of consistent running under my belt, I was able to record a sub-40 in just my second 10K. I was not a runner before November 2008. Was it solely because of the shoes? No way! But I don’t doubt that they had a huge part in my race that day (of course, I still missed the podium by a few seconds).
If you are a dyed-in-the-wool heel striker with no desire to change your stride, then the minimalist shoe is probably not for you. But if you are naturally a mid- to fore-foot striker, or are like me, a partially reformed heel-striker, and you are looking for ways to cut down your times, the Vibrams, and more specifically the Bikilas or Treks, may be the shoe for you. I’ve heard people say that as heel-strikers they cannot possibly run in the Vibrams. I would have to disagree. I have always been a heel-striker and although I’ve tried to alter my mechanics, using a cross between chi-running and barefoot techniques, I will still land just ever so slightly on my heel.
Providence Marathon
Boston 13.1
Boston Run To Remember
That said, my heels have been fine. I am a faster, stronger and more efficient runner than I ever was.
Taken to extremes, you may ask, well why not toss out the shoes altogether? Go barefoot! That’s another 45 seconds right there! The problem with that for me is I don’t have natural tread on the bottom of my feet. Both the Treks and the Bikilas have enough tread so you can run hard and still maintain traction with the ground. If I tried that barefoot, I think I’d rip the skin right off the bottoms of my feet.
I’ve put well over 1000 miles in VFF’s over the last 12 month, with close to 400 in either Treks or Bikilas, interspersed with some runs in my traditional Brooks. I know my comfortable pace in my VFF’s is about 20 seconds faster than my Brooks.
Based on my personal experience therefore, I have to agree with Mars. “It’s gotta be the shoes!”
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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