As for the 5k race today, it was a mixed bag. A PR, but still short of the sub-17. I really thought I was gonna do it, the sub-17, with splits of 5:18 and 5:28 according to the Garmin. But the Garmin miles were 20 meters short of the mile markers, so my true pace was probably a little slower. At mile 3 I was around 16:30 and thought, “there’s no way.” Maybe it was that thought that sabotaged me. Whatever, the final gun showed 17:03. Overall, I’m pleasantly surprised considering my training this last month has been very low key. I think I’m still coasting on residual fitness from the dual marathons of 2009.

The goal for the summer is to run as much as possible, not worrying too much about “training.” Lots of miles, some tempos, threshold runs, fast finish long runs, just running by feel mostly, not overdoing any workouts. From there it’s either the S.A. marathon again in November or Houston in January, depending on where my training and motivation takes me.

I’m on my fourth Linux distro in a month (openSuse is holding up so far). They don’t make it seamless.

First let’s recap recent events. I ran the Cowtown Half-Marathon in Ft. Worth on Feb 27th with several college friends. I trained pretty hard and had some excellent workouts, the best being an 18-miler with the last 6 under half-marathon pace. That told me I was ready. The race itself I’d count as a success, but more memorable was the weekend with the friends. So not only did i run a PR 1:17:40 and finish 10th overall, I got to have a sleepover with my fellow near 40-year olds.

Revisiting the race, I’ll just say that I ran hard from the gun, hard the whole way, and hard enough to puke at the finish line. A good course, the first mile downhill (5:35ish for me I think), mostly flat, a few hills around 10k, a slight uphill around 10 miles where a high school kid passed me, then a merge with the 10K runners for the finish where I put on a 1.1 mile kick (ha) and overcame the high schooler.

After the half I contemplated shutting down the training for the spring, so took it easy for the next few weeks. I think I even had a 15 mile week in there. But a few days before the Capitol 10,000 I decided to run and wasn’t expecting anything spectacular. I thought I might break 36:00 on residual fitness alone and that’s exactly what happened: 35:50 for 31st overall. My first two miles were around 5:35 while my later miles were 5:50ish. Oh well, it was a good painful.

So somewhere in there I decided to try and keep fitness through racing. I think the Cap10 was part of the plan, and I signed up for the Bun Run as well. I’m thinking that was a mistake as this week I’ve totally bombed my workouts. I even showed up for the bomb run, but there were no bombers, so I bombed solo, and boy did I bomb. I struggled to run five miles and ended up doing a lame fartlek/mile repeat workout. The Bun Run does not look promising.  But this happens every year around this time, a hard crash after a Spring peak. When it happens it is not pleasant and you end up doubting your whole fitness future.

Anyway, if I ever recover my plan is to run either S.A. or Houston. I train better with looming goals so I think S.A. may be optimal since Houston seems so far away, across the holidays and into another year, but we’ll see how summer training goes. From there it’s not too far to the Masters division and I’d love to give that a shot for a year or two, but that’s getting ahead of ourselves.

I’ve run one race, a 5K a couple weeks ago, since the San Antonio Marathon in November. Finished third in a PR of 17:09. An ok run, but not a great race. I wasn’t really competitive mentally, either preparing for it or racing it. Wanted to hang around and do my best, but I never thought I had a shot, and got outkicked by 10 seconds in the last 400 meters. Afterward I paced a friend the last eight miles of the marathon. Highly recommended, pacing. All the glory, none of the pain.

I still want to break seventeen in a 5K, but it’s not a huge priority (and those next 10 seconds are daunting, much like a donut). In fact, motivation for anything less than a marathon is hard to come by. I don’t run much in the morning anymore (ok, a couple of doubles here and there). Mostly lunchtime and afternoon runs. I hardly make it to any Gazelle workouts and do most of training solo based on a book. That will have to change as I’m coaching little league and flag football this spring and the better half wants to train for a tri.

Average weekly mileage so far this year around 50 I guess, high of 70ish. Most memorable workout this period was a 17 miler ending with 3×2mile on the track just under HM pace. For whatever reason, my easy runs are quite a bit faster than pre-SA, though my workouts aren’t necessarily faster. I think I’m still running off fitness built during the “great marathon build-up of ‘09″. Suppose I’ll cannibalize that for as long as possible, in some sort of Ritzenheinian strategy to race faster shorter races after extended marathon training.

I’m racing the Cowtown Half-Marathon on Saturday.

On April 2nd, 2009 her brother forwarded a chain email full of “Awesome Photos”. At the time Jessica didn’t even look at the email but today her sister looked at the email (takes her awhile to check her email?) and saw Jessica’s picture of Friday in the email. Huh?

So how did a photo from Jessica’s iPhone that was taken in late March and never uploaded to the web end up in a chain email a few days later on April 2nd?

It gets even stranger.

The photo appears on this website which claims to have posted it on February 22, 2009, a full month before the photo was even taken! The explanantion here must be that the date on that webpage is wrong, or it’s actually a different photo that looks exactly the same.

In fact, there are other photos (february 2, 2006) that are remarkably similar.
The photo from that site (shown below) looks very similar, but is subtly different. Not Mr Friday:

Now Jessica’s photo is all over the web, as you can see here and here.

But still the question remains … how does a photo from Jessica’s iPhone end up on the web if it didn’t ever leave her iPhone? I guess the most likely explanation is that Jessica actually emailed the photo (iPhone didn’t have MMS at the time) to someone and doesn’t remember doing so. And whomever she emailed it to felt it was ok to forward on the photo or post it to the web without her permission.

Bizarre.

The lead-up week looked like this: 21 total, a couple of short MGP pace workouts, lots of food and drink, and a long, drawn-out test of patience. By the middle of the week I was eating lots of couscous, drinking non-stop shots of double saturated Gatorade, and itching to run. Thursday and Friday were supposed to be zero mile days, but just for the sake of routine and sanity, I ran for 10 minutes each morning. After swearing off the Aussie carb-load trick at Boston, I succumbed to it again on Saturday, but didn’t sweat the exact amounts. I drank five of these 100 carb drinks in the 24 hours between my Saturday morning sprint and the marathon. Plus a big breakfast (waffles/cereal), normal lunch (couscous) and dinner (Quesadillas/rice), lots of gatorade all day, and woke up at 2 and 3 am to down more Gatorade and Clif bars.

The original plan was for me to stay with a friend in S.A. and the family drive down to cheer the morning of the race, but at the last minute we decided to get a hotel. Lucked into one right on mile 8 and it worked out great for all of us. Jess and E got to walk to the Alamo, J and myself lounged in the room. Sunday morning I woke for good at 4:30am and walked 10 minutes to the shuttle buses (after hearing horror stories from 2008 I wanted to make sure transportation was a no-stress part of my race). Later, the family was able to just walk out the door and be on the course.

Walked right on to the bus, a short ride, then a 10 minute walk to the start area. Two hours before start time, I picked up a bagel and some bottled drinks, then parked under a tree to try to nap. An hour to go I did the potty thing, the bag drop off, and headed up the 34 corrals to the start. Feeling calm but ready, both the good and the banal on the loudspeakers began to move me. I noticed all the nervous energy around me, the people laughing, the sincere well wishes, the hugs and kisses. I was glad to be where I was, I was where I was supposed to be.

A few fun minutes with the training crew … Mario, John, Farshid, Jesus, Madison. Would have really liked to see Woo. Another quick potty behind a building and back and time to focus. One last mental reminder of what this is about: not me, not my will but Thine be done. Be who you are, express what you have and enjoy the experience.

Finally we’re off, I’m with Mario, it’s a bit crowded, too much weaving, looking around, I don’t have much idea what to expect from the course. I’d made a last minute decision to carry a cytomax bottle and skip the craziness that usually accompanies early water stops. First mile in, I regret the decision and chunk the bottle. From here on home hydration routine works out to about one Cytomax cup and 2 cups of water each stop. Sometimes more, sometimes less, often one of the cups gets dumped over the head.

I’m trying to stay with Mario but the crowd is thick. Move around some runners, through some others. I don’t know the turns or tangents so I’m moving outside, then inside, then to the curb and back. Wasted movement and I tell myself not to get antsy or annoyed. Already my borrowed Garmin is way ahead of the course. I notice a couple other Gazelles running with us, Madison up ahead. I don’t feel comfortable yet, no rhythm, it feels like we’re a little fast. Mario and I keep reminding ourselves to stay relaxed, to back off, it’s a long race.

At this point I think Mario seems stronger than me and wonder if I can keep up. I tell myself to just hang on to his shoulder. After one water stop he pulls away and I have to speed up to catch him. I decide it’s worth it. I can’t thank him enough for leading the way through the first half. I didn’t feel great the first 10 miles but just keeping up with him helped me immensely.

Somewhere in these miles I first notice a red-haired girl in a red running skirt a hundred meters ahead. You don’t see many of either in a marathon and the combination is striking. She’s running with a guy in a cross-country jersey and I assume she is a college girl running the half.

No real spectators until mile seven or so. I’m noticing the bands though and I like them a lot. The songs give me energy. I take time to listen and to look. Seems like every one has a female singer.

Lots of turns and I notice again the Garmin is already way off. A little frustrating because even though I’m running 6:20ish pace by my Garmin, the course clock shows 6:30 pace. That means I’m running too far, not hitting the tangents. I make a mental note to pay more attention.

Mile seven through the city and I see the Gazelles cheering brigade. Big boost. A hard right and I nearly get cut off at the corner. Mile eight past our hotel and I look for the family but they’re not there. Around the corner and there they are. Always a speed shot to see the family, I give them a little fist pump. Turns out the fist pump becomes my “thing” this race. I’m starting to feel strong, the energy is flowing, I’m happy to be doing what I love and doing it well. I’m thankful for the spectators, the bands, the cheerleaders, the volunteers the families on their porches, the passersby oblivious to the spectacle. I give a lot of fist pumps to all of them. I’m feeling good.

We turn the corner to head south on mile ten and the wind hits us. If you weren’t running you probably wouldn’t notice it but we immediately notice it and our pace slows a couple seconds per mile. We see Gilbert for another big boost. He admonishes us to stay strong, keep hydrated, to work together.

The split off for the half runners is here and I see the red skirt girl stay for the full and I’m kind of shocked. I don’t know why, I shouldn’t be, lots of girls are faster than me, but she seems so strong. I think she must be going for an Olympic Trials qualifier (2:47).

Somewhere in here we see Jonathan D from Gazelles. He runs along side with a happy aura and wet towels. “Here, keep cool, don’t worry and just throw them down up ahead.” I’m not sure if it was his demeanor, the small actions, or the unselfishness but the encounter with him really moved me. I feed off his awesomeness and I’m jacked up now more than ever. Thanks Jonathan.

The splits are clicking off. We’re passing other runners pretty consistently. Most of them seem to really be struggling. We passed a guy from Chile who’s breathing really hard. He latches on to my shoulder for a few seconds which annoys me enough to make me speed up. We pass a young dude who is working really hard and asks us what we’re shooting for. I say nothing but Mario manages a short “twofitty”. Shortly after this Mario says, “this is really hard.” I respond, “yeah, you want to take turns blocking the wind? Get behind me.” I think I hear him say, “ok” but I’m not sure. At any rate that’s the last I’m with him. I debate momentarily if I should stay with him or go, but I’m feeling it and I’m here to run my race. But again, not enough thanks for Mario.

By the half I’m 15 seconds ahead of Mario, I see him on some turns then one final look back and I don’t see him again. I turn my concentration to the runners up ahead. There are a lot of them coming back to me. It seems like it’s a tough day for most but I don’t seem to be affected. I’m starting to dump water over my head and into the wind I even feel a little chill. My energy is full, spirits are high, I’m holding myself back from really going for it. I keep reminding myself of what my 2:29 friend says: “Everyone feels great through 18.”

I see red girl grab a bottle off the elite table. She’s elite!? Immediately she turns around and puts it back. She’s clueless?! Soon she pulls away from her running buddy and is in and out of my sight. Fuck she’s running strong. I vow to keep a bead on her and chase her to the end. It’s desolate out here on the back half and she’s my siren on this day.

Mile 16, a short U-turn, and I’m shocked to see Madison coming the other way. He should be way ahead. Turn another corner, I see him walking and I’m saddened. He stops and starts and stretches and I pass him reluctantly. For a split second I wonder if I should stop but he has a running partner and doesn’t seem to be in any danger so I ask him if he’s alright and I keep running.

Another corner and … there’s nothing. No runners, no cones, no spectators. I wonder if I missed a turn. I couldn’t have, just keep running. Soon enough I’m back among the world. I see red girl. I’m passing more runners. I’m trying hard to contain my excitement. Still a long way to go. But I feel strong, energetic, happy, excited, joyous. This is how it’s supposed to go and I wish everyone felt this way. I remind myself to be grateful, that it’s not my ability, I’m just the expression. Grace is the word I’m looking for.

“I can work harder than this, it feels like I’m just jogging. Should I be working harder?” I didn’t want to get greedy but the thoughts are hard to fend off. I love the cheerleaders, I like the bands. I fist pump and high five. Mile 20 and red girl is coming back to me. Finally I catch her and say, “I’ve been chasing you all day. You’re running so strong.” She replies, “well, you caught me and now I’m dead, so you better go.” I can’t tell if she’s pissed or encouraging. Unsure, I take off. I looked her up later and saw she ran 2:52. Well run race red girl, well run. And thank you for pulling me through 20 miles.

Now the sun peeks out and I immediately feel the difference. I pass a guy who is drenched and he takes off his shirt. I say something about the wind in our face both ways, he says something about the sun and humidity. It’s the first I really notice it. I’m drenched too. I consider de-shirting but want to represent the GZL and don’t want to carry the shirt. Fortunately the sun hides behind the clouds again and that’s the last I think about it.

Mile 21 and I see the same Gazelle brigade as before. I pick it up, give a fist pump, they’re yelling … and my hamstring twinges. Oh crap. But it’s just an instant and it passes as quick as it came. I hear Kevin say something like, “holy sh**, he’s like top 20 or something!” This is the first idea I get of how well I’m doing. It gives me a momentary boost but again I remind myself to stay humble and patient. I had told myself to make it to 20 then try to light it up the last 10k. I’ve pushed that back to the last 4 miles. I’m running so well there’s no need to get greedy.

Suddenly I notice I’m hungry. I took a Gu at 5, 13, and 18 and decide to take my last one even if it’s too late to have any effect. It seems to work because I never think of it again.

Mile 22 and I merge back against the marathoners still heading out at mile 12. More energy from their cheers. I lock on to a couple guys 1/4 mile ahead. I like the lack of turns and the long straight empty road ahead.

Mile 24 merges with the half runners still finishing up. Thank goodness they have the street separated. Unlike Dallas White Rock where I had to weave and bob and scream and cry my way through hordes of half’ers, I have half the street to myself. Then Gilbert is there with a bullhorn and the energy of a supernova. He’s screaming at the few half-runners moving into my lane. He’s yelling at me to keep strong. “Iyo ngwe! Iyo ngwe!” I get so geeked up I drop the pace, I’m feeling it, yeah baby…. uh oh, my hamstring locks up. I have to stop. I stop for a second, two. Gilbert goes quiet. Keep running, just keep running. Almost like it never happened, I’m back at pace again, but I know I can’t drop any bombs from here on in. Just maintain, don’t get greedy, be who you are.

I see my family again. Another fist pump, more energy. I feel like I’m shuffling but the Garmin says I’m staying consistent. A couple of turns and with each turn I feel my hamstring twinge. I’m careful now to take it easy on the turns. There’s an older guy in front of me, looks like the last guy I can catch. I’m slowly closing in. I’ve been trying to do calculations in my head for the last 5 miles but now it’s time to just run. I’m not gonna go any faster, but I feel like I could keep this pace for as long as necessary. The older guy is coming back to me now and I finally pass him. I’m not sure where the finish is but I’m sure it’s close. I’ve heard about the finish up a hill and I’m there now. I hear my name from above. I’m all alone.

I’m pumped when I cross the finish. I want to scream. F*** yeah! F*** yeah! F*** yeah! Not very graceful so I hold it in. I’m so, so grateful to have done this, expressed this. I walk around in a joyous daze, wanting to hold on to this feeling for as long as I can. I want to hold on to it even now. It’s a powerful thing. Spiritualizing such a physical event takes faith, work, practice, discipline, stamina, joy, but most of all it requires grace, and grace we have in abundance. By definition, unmerited love, grace is given freely. I’m grateful to have experienced it.

Official Results:

Garmin Splits:

1: 6:37
2: 6:15
3: 6:19
4: 6:28
5: 6:25
6: 6:16
7: 6:20
8: 6:15
9: 6:21
10: 6:22
11: 6:29
12: 6:28
13: 6:25
14: 6:25
15: 6:23
16: 6:20
17: 6:24
18: 6:19
19: 6:22
20: 6:26
21: 6:21
22: 6:23
23: 6:34
24: 6:30
25: 6:41
26: 6:27
26.5: 3:18
Avg: 6:25

Weather:

Time / temp /dew point/humidity
7:30 / 62.8 / 60.8 / 93%
8:01 / 63.9 / 61.8 / 93%
8:31 / 65.1 / 63.0 / 93%
9:01 / 66.1 / 64.0 / 93%
9:32 / 67.0/ 64.9 / 93%
10:02 / 68.7 / 65.7 / 90%
10:32 / 69.7 / 64.7 / 84%
11:02 / 70.6 / 64.8 / 82%
11:33 / 71.7 / 65.2 / 80%
12:03 / 73.1 / 65.5 / 77%
12:34 / 73.5 / 65.5 / 76%

The lead up to this race began before Boston, last year in fact. I signed up for Boston last fall, 2:50 on my mind, had an excellent autumn of training, set a 10K PR, then promptly crashed when it actually came time to train for Boston. My legs were cement, heart was stone, every workout sucked, every run was a struggle. My solution was to run more. I increased my mileage, doubled my double days. Somehow I went to Boston, ran a 2 minute PR and was sorely disappointed by the whole process. What I didn’t realize was that process laid the groundwork for this success.

And yes, of course, I consider the 2009 San Antonio Marathon a success. I’m happy with my time, 2:49:51. Moreso though, oh so moreseo, I enjoyed the process. After Boston I took time off from running, I reassessed training, commitment, motivation. We went to Europe and it changed everything. Running along the Seine, the Thames, The River Garonne revived my passion. I wasn’t training, wasn’t running every day, wasn’t even trying, but I was having my best workouts in a year. We came back for the summer and I ran when I wanted to run, rested when I didn’t. No longer a slave to the alarm, to the plan, I stopped keeping a log, stopped caring about Miles Per Week. I found a book that got me even more excited about the process. Need it be said that I was running better than ever? And I wasn’t even trying.

So of course, by regaining the process, I signed up for a race to measure the results. Oh the irony. And that’s the puritan story of how, after swearing off marathons for good at mile 10 of Boston, I came to sign up for the 2009 Rock ‘n Roll San Antonio Marathon and 1/2 Marathon in all it’s commercial glory a mere four months later.

After signing up, I was desperate not to lose the “innocence” as it were. I deliberately stayed away from Gazelle workouts, I purposely did shorter “long” runs, I often cut repetitions short. I wanted to keep not caring about the result, I wanted to keep enjoying the process. I had four months until the race, and in fact I hadn’t even committed to the full 26.2. I told myself, and others, that I signed up for the full but would run the half if the training didn’t go well.

The training went well. Peaked at maybe 75 mpw (not keeping track, remember?). Started taking a day off every week. Doubles when I wanted. My garmin broke but I found I enjoyed running with my son’s one-lap kid’s watch. Every workout was fun, my fitness felt phenomenal, and still I wasn’t really trying. If only I could bottle this, I didn’t want to lose the feeling. And of course as race day approached, the tyranny of the result started weighing on my shoulders, the process pushed aside, and I started struggling again.

So this last week I tried really hard to forget about obtaining a result and endeavored to remember the expression. The result is pressure, the process is an expression. Patience, desire, unselfishness, joy, stamina, love, passion. You don’t try to impress anyone, you don’t feel any pressure to perform, you don’t worry that you’re not good enough. You don’t even have to really do anything, you just have to be what you are … a good runner, a mediocre runner, one who runs, one who enjoys running.

And so yesterday, toes on the line, I thought to myself, “forget about time, remember the process. You’ve trained for this, you don’t have to do anything you’re not capable of, you just have to be who you are.”

To be continued…

I’ve had a great fall of training with some great training partners … progressive 22-miler with Mario with the last 2 in 5:45, 7 x 1 mile in mid 5:20s, 20 miler with Pete over Mt. Bonnell with a fast finish, 7 mile tempo in 42:00, 19 miler with Woo with last eight at 6ish, 20×400 feeling fresh, lots of runs with Farrug and Farshid … the workouts have been great, the pressure’s been low, the fitness is there. I think I’ve averaged in the high 60s, topped out around 75 per week, but I haven’t been keeping a log since Boston, just trying train more by feel, less by worry. Trying to get more sleep. Started taking a rest day. Seems to have made a big difference, and if the workouts are any indication the new attitude and regimen has been working great … until the last couple weeks.

Had some bad 1000s 10 days ago, then struggled mightily on what was supposed to be a confidence building 10 mile pace run last Saturday. Maybe due to the drop in mileage I don’t know. Originally I was training so well I thought I would forego any taper and just keep doing what was working, but after feeling so miserable, the last couple weeks have been in the 50s and this week will be 20ish; starting to feel better now, hopefully legs will be ready to pop come Sunday.

A lot of my training over the summer and fall has come from this book: The Self-Coached Runner by Allan Lawrence.

It’s from the early 80s and it’s definitely old school training. I think the 10th week had something like:
Saturday: 18 miles
Sunday: 17 miles
Monday: 5×1 mile

I certainly didn’t do that, or even most of his plan, but it gave me ideas, I cherry-picked what I thought I needed, and it kept me on track. Actually, the best part about it I thought was the “pre-training” base phase where he has runners doing speed work, tempos and long runs, but keeping the intensity relatively light.

He has training plans for a 2:20 marathon all the way up to 4:00 (and for half-marathon and 10K timess), accompanied by a case study with “ordinary” runners. So you’ll see stuff like, “Vanessa, a 32 year old homemaker who took up running 3 years ago, ran 2:44 at the Houston Marathon”. He also has a second volume focused on the shorter distances which I plan to use for the Sprint Series in the Spring.

Beyond running, I helped coach Joshua’s flag football team, I’m taking a statistics class, showing up for the usual Cub Scouts mumbo jumbo, fighting fleas with the new dog…

The race is the thing for now though, but if it doesn’t work out come race day, that’ll be ok, because I much more enjoy the process than the result. The result comes and goes but the training sticks with you, is shared with others, and, dare I say it, is fun.

As an aside, I sense that blogging is dead. Compared to Facebook and Twitter it feels so isolated, so slow, so old, out of date and alone, as if the blogger is writing in a vacuum, talking to a void (where are the friends? the status updates? the chat? the tweets? the apps? the photostreams? the iphone app? Hello … hello … hello ….)

Anyway, after Boston I took a week off from running, then jumped in the Chuy’s 5K in May and stunk up the joint … again. Ran the same exact time as last year, 17-forty-something. That’s just a bad race for me, though I did win a free dinner and a wooden fish for placing in the age group. The great part about that race though is that my 7-year-old ran it too, so I got to go back and finish with him. He was very proud to have run a 5k (though he will always point out that he’s actually run a 6K before).

After that debacle, I really took some time off, just running leisurely, then traveled with the family to Europe. My brother and his family live in Toulouse, France, so we went for a visit, stopping in Paris and London. It was utterly fantastic. The boys want to live there now, and who can blame them? Public transportation and pastry shops seem to us to be the height of civilization. I ran a few times in Paris, through the Tuileries, along the Seine, around the Louvre. Toulouse reminds one of Austin with a river and accompanying trail, on which I did some fine tempo type runs. In London I ran through neighborhood parks and down the Thames.

Coming back to the heat of Texas after the allure of Europe was a bit of a downer, and my running never really picked up that much. With the new Garmin watch, I stopped keeping my log, but I don’t always run with the watch, and its log applications blow chunks, so I’m really not sure how much I’m running. Mileage? I don’t know, maybe 50, forties? However, we swam every day for 3 weeks after returning to Texas, so much so that I got vertigo for a couple weeks from water in my ears.

Another respite from Texas, a mini-vacation to Colorado, 7500 feet, hiking and fishing, one easy 5-miler with a friend at 9:30/mi pace. I love the mountains, and would live there if I could.

I signed up for the San Antonio marathon, but only plan on running the half-marathon. Three friends are running the half, but it was only $15 more to sign up for the full, so we’ll see how training goes, how I feel 10 weeks out, then make a decision. During the Boston marathon I swore off marathons, by the next day I was ready to take another shot at 2:50, and since then I’ve vacillated between that goal and the sub-17 5k goal.

So here we are, today. This morning I ran a ladder workout: 400/800/1200/1600/1600/1200/800/400 with 400 jog rest (800 between the 1600s), and it was nails hard. Not supposed to be too difficult, but that’s seven miles on the track. I got the workout from this old 80s training book I found at the library one day, and the book had me excited for a brief period, until I actually started looking at and attempting the workouts. I’ll write more about the book in another post, but it is old-school tough stuff.

I have no ending.

I’m grateful for my training partners, my coach, my friends and family who support my running. I’m grateful that I’m able to run and that I’m able to run the Boston Marathon. Hopefully in the future I will run the race with more grace and reflect on it with more soul.

As for this time, I ran what I ran and if I didn’t meet my goal, it is my own damn fault. But I ran my best on that day, and the splits don’t lie. Training through the winter was fun, the trip was fantastic and the race was a great experience. I’m grateful for all of it. Oh, and 2:56:20 is pretty damn good.

My mind is a jumble of thoughts about the race so I’ll just lay them out here and see if they make sense.

I’m having a hard time writing a race report for two reasons. First, I really don’t remember much of the actual race. It seemed to go by in a blur and I was either totally focused or completely distracted (or both) by the extraneous minutia of the other runners, the tangents, the water stops, my clothing, etc. Extreme ambivalence is the other reason I’m having a hard time with the report. I just don’t know what to think and I’m still processing the experience and the aftermath. This was only my second marathon, so I do know that I learned quite a bit.

The Training:
I averaged about 60 miles per week for the 18 weeks prior to the marathon, with a high of 85, a 5K race at 17:22, a 10K race at 36:20 and a half-marathon at 1:18:42. It was less mileage that I wanted or thought I was doing at the time. I never really felt good through training, the miles didn’t come easy, the legs were tired most of the time. Not enough rest? Scrap the doubles? More strength training? All things to consider. The Gazelles training group through the winter was superb. Kevin, Pat, Mike, Russ, Dan, Farshid … everyone made it a really enjoyable training block from a personal perspective. Thanks to them all.

The Pre-Race:
Travel on Saturday from Austin to Boston was a high blood-pressure event with delayed flights, switched airlines, almost lost luggage, missed hotel shuttles. Sunday was a typical out-of-town marathon day-before-the-race expo and rest kind of day. I did the super carb-loading thing in the parking lot of a Target with five homeless guys cheering me on. I felt ill after cramming down my 400th carbohydrate on my way to 700. The bus ride out to Hopkinton was perfect. No potty, food, or clothing issues. A cool fighter jet flyover. Ducked into the middle of the second corral right before the gun.

The Race:
The first miles were very crowded and seemed too slow. I wanted to stay in the middle of the road and not be one of those guys who is racing on the outside trying to pass people, but I kept tripping over feet in front of me so I moved to the left side of the road. Temperature seemed a little warm for my long sleeves, long socks, gloves and headband. I noticed a lot of 3 and 4 thousand numbered bibs around me, which I took as a good sign that I was under control. My big concern was that my legs felt dead. Calves and quads weren’t sore, but they weren’t lively. I should have shaken it off but I kept thinking about my legs. Thoughts like, “this doesn’t feel easy”, “if they’re dead now, wait til the hills, so you better save yourself.”

I hit 5K and 10K roughly on pace but I was concerned and had my first “uh oh, another 20 miles to go” thought. I wasn’t breathing hard and my heart rate seemed under control so I should have just fought through it, but around 15K I started mentally checking out of the race with thoughts like “2:54 would be ok, right?” The next day when I mentioned to a 15-time marathoner that I didn’t feel great the first half he said, “oh you should have fought through it. Those are the days I run my best, when I don’t feel good the first half.” Lesson learned.

Throughout the race I weaved back and forth from the middle of the road to the left side. It was much more crowded than even the Capitol 10K and I wasn’t used to that. I couldn’t find my groove. It seemed like the race line and the tangents were on the right side of the road so I was a little peeved to be in the middle and on the left side. I missed a couple water stops along the way because I couldn’t get over to the tables with other runners in the way. Had the usual issues with Gatorade in the eyes, Gu up the nose, sticy hands and empty cups.

I wore Mizuno Wave Ronin 2 shoes. 7.6 ounces, bright orange, felt great on my feet. But my feet were growing numb by mile 10 which I expected since the same thing had happened the only two previous times I wore them on a couple long runs. I’m not sure I will wear them in a long race or run again.

The spectators over the first half were healthy but not overwhelming. I high-fived as many kids as I could. I got a few “go Gazelles” and “great socks!” Jessica pointed out that I should have worn my red socks in Boston rather than black socks. Don’t know why I didn’t think of that. The Wellesley girls lived up to their billing; you could hear the roar from 1/2 mile away. Everyone says Boston College was even louder but I don’t even remember where that was. I did notice that over the last half of the race the spectators were 3 and 4 people deep. Rogue coach Steve Sisson yelled for me around mile 21, I saw a couple of Gazelle fans around 23, and Jessica at mile 24, all very much appreciated.

I didn’t wear a pace band but in retrospect I should have. I spent a lot of time trying to calculate paces and looking for other runners to pace off. I noticed the amputee and blind runners and was humbled. I was running with a female when someone in the crowd yelled that she was in 17th place (I assume that didn’t count the elites who had an early start). I ran with a Navy team from Annapolis and they got a lot of cheers. It was here that I really noticed the wind. Lots of runners were trying to tuck in behind the Navy guys and a couple even joked about them forming a flying wedge to shield us. In the end I just found it too crowded and moved out and around them, finally leaving them. Since the start I had noticed a guy running while holding an American flag and finally passed him somewhere in the hills. I ran for a bit behind what looked like a 50 year old woman who I think ended up beating me by about 15 seconds. A guy ran by and asked if I was from Austin and said “me too! Let’s go!” I didn’t go.

I don’t really remember specific miles. Around 16 a gust of wind with swirling leaves and dust hit me and knocked me sideways and blinded me for a second. I heard later it was gusting to 17 mph, and a local coach told me the next day it probably cost a 3 hour guy about 3 minutes, but I don’t think it was too terrible. At mile 18 a college aged runner asked me if this was Heartbreak Hill and I felt bad telling him that it wasn’t. When I did get to Heartbreak it seemed long and noticeable but not too steep. I tried to charge up it but about halfway I guess I petered out. Even though my pace was slowing on the back half I passed a lot of runners, especially the last five miles. My legs were teetering on the edge and I felt like if I pushed too hard I might go over the edge and have to hobble home, but we’ll never know. I did see a lot of runners in just that position, hobbling or walking or stretching. Even at this late point I was having to elbow my way through groups of runners. People told me not to use the Citgo sign as a landmark because it was deceptive, but when I saw it I was relieved not deceived.

Like in Dallas, the “One Mile to Go” sign seemed like a cruel joke. 2:55 was still a remote possibility, so that prospect and the screaming spectators kept me from jogging it in. Finally on to Boylston and I’ve never seen a longer 186 yard stretch of road. Like a tunnel into another dimension, the finish line seemed so far away for such a long time. I kicked as best I could, my watch clicked to 2:56, I realized I was behind some guy which would mess up my finishing picture, so I moved to the side, gave a half-hearted arm raise, and I was done.

As bib number 2458 I was the 904th finisher. After the elites the bib numbers started at 1030 so I think there were about 1300 runners “seeded” in front of me, meaning I guess I finished better than my bib number would suggest.

Post-race was very cold and windy. I wasn’t hungry or thirsty. I kept moving because you had to. Saw friends, found Jessica, and that was that. Months of build-up, hours of fretting, 2:56:20 of mental gymnastics and rote physical work, and poof it is over. I should have enjoyed it more, thought about it less — that includes the training and the racing.

The next day I walked around Boston, toured the city, had fun in the rain. After Dallas I couldn’t even walk for 3 days so I was either in better shape this time or didn’t push myself as hard.

Around mile 10, still a long way from the finish, I had thought, “this sucks, I’m through with marathons.” The next day, even farther from the finish, I silently perked up: “I know I’ve got a faster marathon in me. Houston or San Antonio?” Don’t tell my wife.

Miscellaneous thoughts and lessons learned:

** Trust your training.
This means believe it when the training is good, but also believe it when the training is not so good. I raced how my training told me I was going to race, not how I wanted to believe I could race. My legs never felt good the whole training block, I would struggle at the end of long runs and workouts, and I didn’t have the passion I had before Dallas. My race experience mirrors this training experience exactly. No legs, limited strength, missing passion. I kept wanting to believe everything would come around, that I would get my legs back, that I would find the passion, but I just never did. I should have known when the Capitol 10K was a microcosm of my training, and thus would be for the marathon too. It told me the truth.

** Run your own race.
Probably the number one lesson learned. The amount of advice I received regarding the Boston Marathon was overwhelming and I think it paralyzed me. Paralysis through analysis. Do this, don’t do this, run this way, look over here, on this hill do that, water stops at X, look at other runners, don’t look at other runners, ride this bus, follow this line, wear these clothes, go to the expo on this day, pace yourself this way, look for this marker, don’t look for that marker, don’t start too fast, be afraid of the hills, crash and burn, Boston shuffle, etc etc. Some of it was helpful, but I think I became too focused on the details, got psyched out from the horror stories, and lost site of the actual race. I didn’t make my own plan and stick to it, and I didn’t focus on my own race. I was looking at other bib numbers, weaving over the course, trying to remember bits of advice at certain points, staying conservative when I felt good, surging when I wanted to be steady … all instead of just running. Case in point: I started the race with gloves but took them off about 3 miles in. I didn’t throw them away though because I was told I would really want them the last 5 miles. Well, I held on to those gloves for another 13 miles, tried to tuck them in my waistband, switched hands constantly, put them back on, took them off. Finally at mile 15 I threw them away and felt so much better. But the next day my right shoulder and forearm were extremely sore (still are 4 days later) from holding the gloves. I wasted so much freaking eneregy worrying about those damn gloves and I didn’t need them at the end. What a contrast from Dallas, where ignorance was bliss. I was too naive to realize what I should and shouldn’t do and just ran my heart out.

** Run scared, but don’t be afraid.
Looking at my splits and how I slowed, this point is debatable, but I think I was so afraid of crashing and burning that I was too conservative. At Dallas I had something to prove, this time I just didn’t want to crater, so I never pushed myself. Especially once I realized 2:50 wasn’t happening, then 2:52, I kind of “settled.” Even though my legs never felt good, the rest of me felt fine and I think I could have pushed harder. Again, except for my legs pretty much the whole race felt like a hard jog. I don’t wear a HRM but I bet it never went very high. I never got a stich, never got out of breath. After Dallas I knew I couldn’t have run one bit faster, and I couldn’t walk for a week. This time I’m sore but not debilitated, and I feel like I left at least a couple minutes out on the course. When people ask me about running sub-3 I like to say “6:50 on the first half needs to feel easy”. Well this race I kept telling myself, “it needs to feel easy” and it wasn’t until late in the second half that I snapped out of that mental state. Don’t be afraid if it is hard.

I think all the advice and warnings and build-up psyched me out, but maybe it was for the best? If instead I had gone in naive I might have crashed and burned hard. But I also might have run my heart out. That’s what gets me – I didn’t run my hardest. I ran a boring, tactical, conservative, no risk race, or at least that’s what it feels like, and it doesn’t feel rewarding. But maybe it feels better than a slow death at mile 23.

Summary:
Great experience, mediocre race, learned a lot, love my family.

The Statistics

Official Finish time:
2:56:20 (6:43.5 pace)

Half-marathon splits (avg pace):
1:26:40 (6:37) 0-13.1 mi.
1:29:40 (6:50) 13.1-26.2 mi.

5K splits (avg pace):
20:33 (6:37) 0-5k
20:21 (6:33) 5-10k
20:28 (6:35) 10-15k
20:47 (6:41) 15-20k
20:51 (6:43) 20-25k
21:18 (6:51) 25-30k
21:30 (6:55) 30-35k
21:10 (6:49) 35-40k
9:12 (6:45)  40-42.195k

Garmin info:
2:56:25 running time
26.43 mi total distance
6:40/mi pace

Mile splits:
1    - 6:50
2    - 6:31
3    - 6:22
4    - 6:20
5    - 6:39
6    - 6:28
7    - 6:31
8    - 6:37
9    - 6:30
10   - 6:40 (10 miles, 65:28, 6:33 pace)
11   - 6:41
12   - 6:36
13   - 6:38
14   - 6:42
15   - 6:45
16   - 6:31
17   - 6:55
18   - 6:48
19   - 6:45
20   - 6:55
21   - 7:09
22   - 6:40
23   - 6:41
24   - 6:49
25   - 6:46
26   - 6:51
26.43 - 2:46 (.43 mi, 6:26 pace)