Week 4 in Limbo-No Race Schedule, Except Beach to Bay

Sunday.
Off

Saturday.
Off

Friday
Met Jamie and John for 6, walked 1 more

Thursday.
Met Mike for easy 6, walked 1 more.

Wednesday.
Off

Tuesday.
4 in morning, walked two more. Ran good 6 at night on mill at night.

Monday
Met mike for 6 at 6:00am. Ran some small 2:00 min intervals. walked one more.
At night, 4more on mill, walked one more

Week 3 in Limbo-No Race Schedule, Except Beach to Bay

Sunday
Met Mike at 6:00am for easy 10,  last cool weather for probably 5-6 months  Later in afternoon, 4 on mill with speed strides, walked 1 more.

Saturday
Fast 4 on mill in early afternoon. Easy 3 on mill late afternoon

Friday
6 on mill with some speed strides

Thursday
Ran easy six with Mike.

Wednesday
Off

Tuesday
Ran a couple from 5:10-5:30, then met mike and John for 6 at 5:30. Pretty strong pace. I got left behind but made it up toward end. Walked 1.0 more.

Monday
Off

Week 2 in Limbo-No Race Schedule, Except Beach to Bay

Sunday
Up at 4:30 am, downtown Coffee Waves at 5:00 to meet Jamie, Jeff, and Robert for 12-15.

Jamie stuck at work due to heavy wind power out. Jeff texted he'd be there at 5:30, but didn't show. No word from Bob. At 5:40, I went back home and back to bed.

Saturday
Off-busy with work

Friday
Did 3 miles from 5:00-5:30 am. Crew was to show up at 5:30 for 7 more. Nobody came. As I had a stomach ache, I called it a day

Thursday
Met Mike for 6 at 5:30. Walked one more. Need to get serious on diet

Wednesday
Off

Tuesday
Ran 5 in the am, then met mike at 6:00 am for another 5.

Monday
Off

I RAN Marathon Pre-race

Week 1 in Limbo-No Race Schedule, Except Beach to Bay

Sunday
Met Jamie at CW at 5:00 am for 17. Clay joined in last 8.

Saturday
Arise and Shine 5k with girls. Juliet solid run, Cate -1st in 8 and under division
Ran 4 more on mill when we got home.

Friday
Slow 6 with Mike in the early a.m.

Thursday
7 miles in the early am with crew

Wednesday
Did 5 from 5:15-6:00. Then met morning crew for another 5. Soaked in sweat post run. Sloshing in shoes.

Tuesday
Off

Monday
Off

Marathon #21-The I RAN Marathon--San Antonio

Marathon #21

I RAN Marathon-San Antonio

March 31, 2012

 

I never step on a scale.  Even when it's physician mandated, I look away and say, "Don't tell me."  It's not like I have arithmophobia—hell, I'm a CPA.  I just believe the number is meaningless.  The conventional wisdom is that weight is the best general indicator of physical condition; that's a bunch of crap.

 

You'll often see runners at the front of the chute who look like they'll be lucky to survive past mile one.   For many, your fat-cist prejudice is confirmed, and as you pass by, you snarl in disdain because you were boxed in as they waddled in front.  However, there's always a couple of runners who break the "husky" stereotype and finish respectably high in the pack.  I saw an extreme example at the San Antonio Marathon in November.

 

Standing next to me in the first corral was a little roly-poly dressed in all black.  However, what really caught my attention were his bare feet—no shoes, no socks, no tape, not even a Band-Aid.  I stared at him superciliously for a few seconds, then rolled my eyes as if to say, "You, sir, are no Abebe Bikila."   However, at mile eight, I looked to my right and that little jelly bean was holding strong.  I decided that next time I would be more open-minded and STHUAJR.

 

The real reason I don't step on a scale is because it's a no win.  Never in recorded history has anyone ever stepped on a scale, read the number, and thought, That's perfect!  That's the exact number I want, not a pound more or less.  Oh, no—at best it's almost perfect, just a little off optimal.  At worst, it's just damn depressing.   Accordingly, I haven't weighed myself once in six years.

 

However, I do employ a general flab-o-meter: the notches on my belt.  Starting with the innermost notch, I've developed this stratified scale:

 

Notch #1:  You're in top form!  With a little good weather, you'll PR for sure.

 

Notch #2:  You're in decent shape.  With excellent weather, good pacing, and a flat course, you might PR.

 

Notch #3:  Looks like someone has been enjoying himself?  Well, run your best and try not to hurt yourself.

 

Notch #4:  Congratulations—you're a total lard ass!  I hope you're happy with yourself.

 

Notch #5:  Oh my God, NO!—I'm going to have to quit running, buy some metrosexual gaudy spandex shorts, and become a cyclist.  Please, God, kill me now.

 

I temporarily made it to Notch #1 for two weeks in the fall.  Though running great, I looked like a discarded pin-up Halloween skeleton.  In fact, when I made an office visit for a cough, my doctor took one look and handed me a prescription.  I thought it was for antibiotics—nope—a full-body MRI.

 

Notch #2 is my general running weight, and I struggle to maintain it.  After daily doubles of Christmas cookies, I was sucking it in to hit Notch #2 when I ran the Kingwood Marathon.   A month later, I was a solid Notch #3 for Galveston.   Two weeks more and a few bottles of wine, combined with the occasional Dairy Queen pit stop, I was officially at Notch #4.  I knew only the fear of lugging around an extra ten flabby pounds for a full marathon could save me.

 

I hastily searched the Web for a race.   I found a local one scheduled just a month away—The I  R A N Marathon in San Antonio.  The event is very small, with only about 120 runners—no big corporate sponsors, no designated pacers, not even age division awards.  The course itself is no frills as it's run at Schnabel Park.

 

I ran the park last year for a local 20-miler.  It is located five minutes north of Loop 410 and surprisingly scenic given it's surrounded by urban sprawl.   The park is thickly wooded, and the trail winds up and down rolling hills.  The best course feature is its unblemished and beautifully paved, solid concrete path.  Normally for a park run, you'd expect a lopsided, cracked, and potholed trail.  The worst course feature is its unblemished and beautifully paved, solid concrete path.  The concrete is great for a 10k or halfer, but over 26 miles, its hard surface just beats the hell out of you.  This would be especially true given the extra flab I was carrying.

 

Oh, I had made some progress since I committed to the race, if you define progress as not getting any fatter.  But I hadn't really lost much weight, though with a little mechanical leverage, I was able to squeeze into Notch #2.  However, weight wasn't my only problem.  I hadn't really trained to run a full marathon.  Over the past two months, the longest run I had done was a single 18-miler.  Lastly was the terrible weather.  At gun it was already 68 degrees with 98 percent humidity; the forecast high was for 91 degrees—that's 91!

 

As I apprehensively made my way into the chute, I was glad to see a friendly face, Ultra Don.  We exchanged greetings, and then Don lamented, "I haven't run a marathon since Houston, two months ago."  A two-month marathon race gap for Ultra Don is equivalent to the average runner taking off eight years.  We mutually stated our plans to just cruise it with no particular goal and made our way into the chute.

 

As I stood behind the start line, I thought, What the hell am I doing here!  I'm fat, out-of-shape, and the weather is crap.  The gun fired and we were off!

 

Two runners shot out of the chute, leaving the pack behind.  I went out with an easy and relaxed stride.  I had no planned pace or even time.  However, about a half mile in, I found myself sharing third place with a younger runner.  We began to chit-chat and he asked, "The half or the full?"  I replied the full, and he said the half.   It would have been nice to keep the moderate pace and friendly conversation longer, but at mile three we had to get serious as the hill work began.

 

The course itself was four out-and-back laps along a stretch with a few rolling hills.  However, the race director added a strenuous climb, not on the loop itself, but as a perpendicular tributary.  The hill climbed about thirty-five feet over a quarter mile.  Up once or twice would have been enough.  Unfortunately, we had to turn left and run up when heading outbound and then turn right and hump it up on the way back, for a total of eight climbs.

 

After the first time up and down, the half-marathoner pulled away and I was alone.  I strode out to the turnaround and then pushed up the hill again on the way inbound.  I still felt rhythmic after completing the first loop.  Though covered in sweat from the warm and humid weather, surprisingly, I held a steady breathing pattern.  Outbound again, I made my way up the hill climb for a third time.  Fifteen minutes later, I made the U-turn at path's end and began the inbound stretch.   I caught the halfer at mile 10 and moved into third among all runners.

 

Coming through the checkpoint at the end of the second lap, I saw the two lead runners seated on one of the pavilion's picnic tables.  That meant they were halfers, which meant I was the marathon leader.  Leader?!  Oh, that's just wrong!   It would be a crime for a fat and out-of-shape accountant to win this.  Well, it was still early, and I had confidence that a good runner would catch me.

 

I started outbound for the third lap and again up the hill for the fifth time, which had somehow gown higher.   The sun was now above the tree-line and beating down; the hills were also wearing on me.  I made the third-lap turnaround at mile 15 and was hurting.   Fortunately, some other runners noted my lead and offered encouragement, "Nobody is near you; you can cruise it," "Bell lap is coming up; it's yours," and "You're looking good—well, for a fat and out-of-shape accountant."    Okay, that last one was actually me thinking out loud.

 

Completing the third lap, I would have been toast, but was ironically saved by the course design.  Oh, the course itself was a bear, but it was looped.  Instead of thinking, Seven more miles to go, I said to myself, Just ONE MORE LAP!  I went through the checkpoint and outbound for the final lap.  Don't walk, don't walk!  You've made it up six times already, I repeated while struggling up the hill for the seventh climb.

 

Almost at the U-turn for a final time, I saw Ultra Don.  He was completing his third lap and chatting with another runner as they walked up an incline.  When a world-class ultrarunner like Don has decided it's just too hot to race uphill, you know you're in the danger zone.

 

I made the turn, now at mile 23, and was a bit concerned.  I was completely dehydrated and believed heat stroke was a real possibility.   But all I needed was to make it up the hill for the final eighth time.  Reaching the base, I was determined not to stop and walk.  That determination lasted 30 seconds—too much, and I couldn't breathe.  I alternated walking and jogging every half minute to reach the top.

 

With just two miles remaining, I accepted that I had nothing left.  Then just behind me, I heard, "Dude!"  Two young men on mountain bikes pulled alongside.  "Dude—we, like, saw you running on the other side of the park—like, three hours ago!  I wish I had your stamina."  It was enough.  I gutted it up the final mile.

 

I crossed in 3:41:01, winning—First out of about 25 full-marathon starters, though only 18 finished the race.

 

I think that may be a world record.  Yes, I'm quite sure that many many years from now, someone will come across an old dusty box in the back room of a used bookstore.  Inside they'll find a partially torn and faded copy of the 2012 Guinness Book of World Records.   Thumbing through the back pages, browsing the "Miscellaneous" final chapter, they'll see my name listed:  "David G. Jones, winner of the world's smallest, most obscure, and inconsequential marathon."

 

Well, perhaps I'm being too negative.  I guess placing first in the world's smallest, most obscure, and inconsequential marathon is still preferable to placing second in the world's smallest, most obscure, and inconsequential marathon.

 

I'll take it!

 

Weekly Recap-Race Week San Antonio IRAN Marathon

Sunday
Off

Saturday
San Antonio Iran Marathon

Friday
Off

Thursday
Off

Wednesday
Off

Tuesday
Met Mike for 6 at 6:00. Six more after work along Oso parkway.

Monday
Did 4 at 5:30-6:00, then Met Mike at 6:00 for another 6:00.

Fwd: Runners

From a buddy of mine:

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Mueller, David

Date: Wed, Mar 21, 2012 at 11:04 AM
Subject: Runners
To: David Jones jonescpa@gmail.com

Dave,

 

I ran into a mutual acquaintance who had seen you lately.  He said you looked much different & wondered if you were ill.  I told him, "Dave's not ill, in fact it's much worse, he's become a runner".

Weekly Recap-2 Weeks Until San Antonio

Sunday
Off

Saturday
5k with girls in am, ran 4 more on mill when I came home.

Friday
Met Mike for easy 6 at 5:30 am. Walked one more.

Thursday
Easy 4 in am

Wednesday
18 road miles on early a.m.

Tuesday
Off

Monday
Met mike for easy 6 at 5:30. Jogged three more in evening. Walked 2 more

Weekly Recap-3 Weeks Until San Antonio

Sunday
Met crew downtown at 5:30am for 13.

Saturday
Solid fast 10 on mill

Friday
Some light exercising with Jules at Golds.

Thursday
Off-out of town.

Wednesday
Off-out of town.

Tuesday

Off-out of town.

Monday
7 on mill during lunch.

Weekly Recap-4 Weeks Until San Antonio

Sunday
Fast 6 on mill, walked jogged another 3.

Saturday
Off

Friday

10 on mill at golds in an. 4 on mill at home in pm

Thursday
Off

Wednesday
Met Jamie and John for 6 miles of VOmax work at King. Walked / jogged another 3.

Tuesday
Off

Monday
Met Jaimie for 10 at 5:30, got in another 2 walk run throughout day.

Weekly Recap-5 Weeks Until San Antonio

Sunday.

Saturday
5k with girls in morning. Ran another 5 fast on mill when I got home. Walked / jogged another 5 throughout day.

Friday
Met Jamie at 5:00 for 10 at natatorium.

Thursday..
Off

Wednesday.
Jogged 5 throughout day.

Tuesday.
Off

Monday
Off

Weekly Recap-6 Weeks Until San Antonio

Sunday
Met Jamie and Robert for 12 downtown (4 loops of 3.1 miles). Not bad, sub 8:00s, but a humid. Also felt little decarbed after 6 last night.

Saturday
Six on mill at night, walked one more

Friday
Light 2.5 miles and a little bike with Juliet at Golds.

Thursday
Off

Wednesday
Met Jeff and Jamie for 10. Humid but nice 8:20 pace. Need to lose some fat.

Walk / jog another five throughout day.
Tuesday
Off

Monday
Off

Week 1 in Limbo-No Race Schedule, Except Beach to Bay

Sunday
Walk / jog 4

Saturday
5k with girls in am. Jogged two more after getting home

Friday
It hurt, in the chest, but did 4 during lunch, walked more. Helped cough some of the gunk up.
Walked / jogged 3 at night.

Thursday
Off-Still sick and eating like a pig

Wednesday
Off-Still sick and eating like a pig

Tuesday
Off-Still sick and eating like a pig

Monday
Off-Still sick and eating like a pig

The Woodlands Marathon-Out

Sad to say, I've pulled out of The Woodlands Marathon in 3 weeks.  Just too busy with work, sick with the crud, and well, just not motivated.

Hope to find a early June marathon somewhere.

Weekly Recap-4 Weeks Until The Woodlands Marathon

Sunday
Off

Saturday
Met Robert M and John M for easy 8 at 5:30am. Cool weather and good conversation. Nice run.

Did a two miler with girls at cupid chase run in the morning.

Friday
Off

Thursday
Met mike four easy 4 miles at 6:00.

Wednesday
solid 6 on mill during lunch. Walked one more.

At night, jogged 2 walked 2

Tuesday
Off

Monday
Off

Marathon #20-Galveston Mardi Gras Marathon

Marathon # 20-Mardi Gras Marathon
Galveston, TX
February 5, 2012

He wore running shorts.  He had a marathoner's build.  But man!—he also had this strange and aloof countenance about him.  His dark scraggly beard was a good foot in length, and he was conspicuously standing alone on a raised platform next to the starting chute.  Given the weather conditions, I began to suspect his name might be Noah.  It had been raining nonstop since midnight.  The streets were soaked and puddled.  The forecast called for more rain all day.

The showers did temporarily abate about 15 minutes before the gun.  The rain doesn't bother me, and I actually appreciate the cooling it provides.  I was concerned about the two negative consequences—waterlogged shoes and wind.  The general rule is each ounce of shoe weight adds about a minute to a marathon final time.  I figured my shoes would soak up about a quarter to a third of a pound.

Then there was the wind.  About 50 percent of the two-looped course runs along the Galveston seawall, with very little infrastructure to block the blowing 20+ mph north wind.  Another 25 percent is along a beach access road where the gusts can really add resistance against your stride.

About five minutes to gun, I removed my sweat top and stood shirtless about ten feet behind the start.  I heard a couple of runners derisively chuckle behind me, as many runners were wearing full winter gear (beanies, gloves, etc.).  However, the temperature was only 55 degrees, which was cool in the direct wind, but not really cold.  Additionally, waterlogged shoes would be enough; I didn't also need a soaked shirt, hat, and gloves.

Two minutes to gun, an affable-looking younger runner to my left congenially asked, "What time are you goin' for?"  I slowly tilted my head left to right a couple of times to communicate a fleeting confidence, "Well, I would like 3:10, but given the weather, I'm think'n something probably around 3:15."  I figured he was looking for someone to pace with so I reciprocated, "How 'bout you?"  When he nonchalantly said, "2:45," admiringly I responded, "Wow! Well, that should be enough to win."  He then humbly and encouragingly said, "Well, you never know who's gonna show up.  Anyway, you're really just running against yourself."

The gun fired and we were off.  A dozen half-marathoners took the lead, pulling me along.   After a quarter mile, we turned left and headed due east to the seawall.  About a half mile later, a group of five or six behind me slowly started to pass.  Their leader was the official 3:00 pacer, but his pack was all half-marathoners shooting for 1:30.  Relative to my stride, their pace intensity seemed to be just nominally faster, so I tagged along.    Just before reaching the seawall, I saw my longtime friend and running buddy John.

He had driven down from North Houston with his daughter Caitlyn to give me a two-person cheering section, which is two people more than all the other spectators along the course this day.  The bad weather, combined with Super Bowl Sunday, was enough to keep all sane people indoors.  Even if a marathon is very well organized with great volunteer support, many runners will rate it badly if there isn't a large spectator turnout.   I feel  the opposite; sure, crowd support is nice in dispersed pockets, but constant yelling is distracting, especially when it's the jeering, "You're almost there!" every half mile.   I prefer to zone out and STHUAJR (see previous race report, or text John for advice).

Proudly wearing his A & M sweat top and holding an umbrella in one hand, John stretched forward with the other to give me five and called out, "You lucked out on the temperature."   Reaching the seawall, I turned due south with the 3:00 pack, pushed along with the wind at our backs.   Again, their pace was just a nick quicker than my natural stride, but I had to let them pull away.   It wasn't the marginal effort, but the duration.   It's analogous to picking up a light  two- or three-pound weight and holding it out at arm's length.   Initially it would take just a minimal effort, but keeping it there for three solid hours would be a Herculean task.

At mile four we turned right to make the one-mile square loop through a residential neighborhood before starting the six-mile upwind section along the seawall.  Except for passing (or being passed) by the occasional half-marathoner,  I was now completely alone.  I settled into a rhythmic stride, leaned back, gazed up high above the horizon, and zoned out.

About ten minutes later, the course turned due north and the real work began.   I would prefer to run uphill than against the wind.  At least a long hill climb is a constant resistance.  With frequent and unpredictable gusts of a strong wind, often from slightly different angles, you are also swayed a bit off-center.  It's just enough to affect your striding rhythm, whether it's from upwind, crosswind, or even downwind gusts.

Passing the same point as mile one (but now mile five in the opposite direction), John called out from the other side of the street, "You're in ninth!"  Ninth was the overall position that I finished in this event last year, and I squeaked in with a third-place award in my age division.     Today, however, by the time I reached the beach access section at mile seven, though physically feeling good, mentally I was ready to fall into a warm cushy bed.

My shoes and socks were soaked through, and the strong wind now had little drops of rain beating against my face and body.   Then a total shock—the 3:10 pacer pulled up to my side, and it was Noah!  He only had one runner with him, for whom Noah was graciously blocking the wind.  Given his motif, I thought he would be leading two runners, one male and one female.  Since he already had the male, and Texas doesn't recognize civil unions, I let them go.

Finishing the first lap, I was curious to see my time.  I had yet to look at my wristwatch.  Fortunately, my 1:36 split was about what I had figured, and I firmly believed I could hold the pace another lap.  Now that the faster half-marathoners were finished, I was really running solo.  There wasn't another runner within a quarter mile of me.

Headed due east toward the seawall for a second time, I again saw John.  However, this time he was running toward me excitedly calling out, "Come on! Come on! The 3:10 pacer is right in front of you—you can catch him! Come on! You're in seventh overall!"  John ran next to me for 50 yards encouraging me to pick it up.  Aerobically I felt great, but said, "Hey, I feel good, but the wind—Man, the wind is bad."

From mile 14 to 16, I tried to appreciate the two-mile downwind push before having to fight the six-mile upwind stretch to the beach for a second time.  That's when I saw that affable youngster (well, early 30s).  He was all alone in the lead, with literally not another runner within a mile.  Passing in the opposite direction, I yelled out, "Yeah, buddy, looking good!"  He went on to win in a 2:46, a full 20 minutes ahead of second place.

Reaching mile 18, John, who was now faithfully standing in a steady drizzle with Caitlyn at his side, yelled out, "Fifth! You're in fifth overall."  That was a surprise since I had no recollection of passing any other runners.  At mile 19, John and Caitlyn pulled up alongside in his car with the window down a bit, but not enough for me to jump through.  He yelled, "Hey, that long-bearded guy dropped out!"  That was encouraging as I knew it meant the rain was probably about to stop.  I increased my arm swing and lengthened my stride.

I really felt that I was holding a 3:12 to 3:13 pace and felt good; in actuality, I had slowed down by 20 seconds a mile.  It was just that most of the other runners had slowed as well.  Later at the post-race event, most runners agreed that the upwind section was hard the first time, but just too much the second.

At mile 22, my waterlogged shoes took effect.  My quads were burning not only from the extra weight, but the hard heel strikes.  Normally, a shoe's air-filled foam provides a springy cushion with each stride, but as liquids are non-compressible, each shoe strike forward felt like running with wood blocks strapped to my feet.

Then at mile 24, another shock—a competitor came up from behind.  I had been running solo for about an hour and almost forgot I was in a race.   My legs were hurting too much to challenge him.  "Go get 'em! Finish strong!" I encouraged.  Then again at mile 25, another runner caught me.  I could tell he was about ten years younger and not in my age division, so I decided to let him pass unchallenged.  However, when he pulled about 25 yards ahead of me, he slowed his pace a nick.  With a half mile remaining, I made a move to catch him.  My quads were really burning, but I closed the gap to about ten yards.  He then made his move and pulled away.

I crossed the finish in 3:19:05, placing seventh overall out of 156 full-marathon finishers, and second in my age division.

I e-mailed the race director the next day, "In spite of the weather, another great race!  You guys put on a high-quality event.  Great organization, great volunteer support, and great little post-race gathering."  

They really do a fantastic job. There's a heap of free pizza, breakfast tacos, sweets, and drinks.  The awards are large, quality-made plaques.  Packet pickup is a snap at the local running store.    The course is pancake flat and fast.  3:19 is not my fastest, but in those weather conditions, solid.  

I don't know why more runners don't do the full marathon.  My guess is the Galveston Marathon is only  two to three weeks after Houston and two to three weeks before Austin.   Most probably only do the half as a pre-Austin final workout or a post-Houston new cycle run.

Great day! Loved it, and will sign up again next year.

Special thanks to John and Caitlyn for the support!

About 1,200 Runners Total (Full and Half Marathon)


By mile 10, I almost forgot I was in a race.

Post-race—A bit happier after downing 11 bean & cheese
breakfast tacos and half a pizza.

Galveston Marathon Pics

About 1,200 runners at the start.

First Time Down the Seawall and Upwind

All Alone at Mile 10 (about 7 marathoners and 30 halfers stretched out in front over a mile)

Post race, a bit happier after downing 11 bean and cheese breakfast tacos and half a pizza.

3:19, 7th overall and 2nd in age division.

Galveston Quick Results

Galveston marathon. Wet wet wet, windy windy windy. Shoes had extra quarter pound of water each.

3:19, 7th overall 2nd in Division.

Weekly Recap-Galveston Race Week

Sunday

Saturday
Off

Friday
Off

Thursday
Easy 3 during lunch. Walked 2 more.

Wednesday
Solid quick 7, walked one more.

Tuesday
Off

Monday
7 good ones on mill. Having hard time tapering. Just want to open one up. Also hard time with diet. Try again tomorrow with 3 days low carb.

Weekly Recap-2 Weeks Until Galveston

Sunday
Solid 14 on mill in am.

Saturday
ran 5k with girls in am. Did two more on mill post race. Was suppose to do 14 later in day, but went to buffet social, ate like a pig, and washed it down with a pint of rum. Not conducive to running a PR, but was quite happy non the less.

Friday
Off

Thursday
Solid 8 during lunch. Walked 4 more at night

Wednesday
Walked four. Wanted to run at night, too tired and short on time

Tuesday
Ate junk food all day, was tired and feeling beat up. Decided to skip run and go to bed, but then decided to get in final speed workout. Put in solid 13 with 3 X 1600 VOmax intervals.

Monday
Had 8 scheduled, just too knackered. Took day off, will do double tomorrow.

Weekly Recap-3 Weeks Until Galveston

Sunday
Solid 8 with 4 X 800 meter VOmax strides in am. Another 4 at night, walked 3 more.

Saturday
5 miles with Jamie at 5:30am. Did 4 X 600 Fartleks. Then did 5k with Juliet in local race at 8:30.

Friday
Met Jamie for 8 at 5:30am. Humidity was 97%.

Thursday
Met Mike and Jeff for 6 at 5:30am.


Wednesday
A hard 17 on mill with 6 X 400 meter inclines. Walked jogged another 6 throughout day.

Tuesday
Met mike for easy 6 at 5:30am. Quite humid.


Monday
Met Mike and Jamie for easy 6 at 5:30am. Walked another 8.

Weekly Recap-4 Weeks Until Galveston

Sunday
Fast 12 on mill with 3 x 1 mile intervals, VOmax pace.


Saturday
5 miles, walked one more.


Friday
Met Jamie at 5:30pm for solid 8 miler. Did one single mile interval in 6:05.

Did another four at night, then walked 3 more.

Thursday
Walked / jogged 4 before breakfast. really wanted to do 5-7 at night, but family duties took over.

 Wednesday
New shoes out of the box, got in a solid 20. Walked two more.

 Tuesday
 Off-Wanted to get in 18, but between work and family, had no time.

 Monday
 7 on mill with 3 x 1 mile intervals, bout VOmax pace. Walked another 7 throughout day.

Marathon # 19: Happy New Year--Well, Kinda

Kingwood Marathon

01/01/12

New Year's Morning 8:00 a.m.

 

The tradition is to look forward with hope.  More specifically, we commit to resolutions that will result in a better self.  However, upon waking the morning of January 2nd, it's equally customary to forget about all that nonsense pledged in a drunken stupor at 11:52 p.m. on New Year's Eve.  The vast majority of us accept that our only real resolution is to make it through another day.

 

Perhaps our ephemeral commitment is a consequence of only looking forward and not sufficiently looking back.  Before setting any 2012 goals, I decided to contemplate the previous year and assess how I spent the majority of my effort and time.

 

 

 

After several minutes of pensive reflection, all of 2011 was just a blur.   There wasn't a single trace revealing how I spent the majority of the year.

 

Therefore, I concluded that I had 36 hours at most to attempt a resolution, or wait another year before deluding myself into believing, "This time I mean it." My resolution?—to run a sub 3:10 marathon.   On nine previous attempts over a three-year span, I've come up short.

 

Fortunately, the New Year's Day Kingwood Marathon provided an opportunity.   The genesis of this marathon itself was a result of another resolution: to set a world record.  Rick Worley was in the process of setting the Guinness Record for the most marathons on consecutive weekends (200 marathons on 159 consecutive weekends for three years).  The streak was in jeopardy when there wasn't a marathon anywhere in the U.S. for the first weekend of January in 1999.  Texas running legend Steve Boone (500+ marathons) answered the call and hastily organized this New Year's Day race.

 

To keep the cost reasonable, they designed the course as four laps on the concrete greenbelt trails through the Kingwood suburb's pine forest park. The inaugural event had 20 marathoners.   However, not wanting to jeopardize the world record, the race sponsor had the course USATF certified, and it's a Boston qualifier.  The race's popularity has grown every year, and the organizers now limit entry to 650 runners; the event usually sells out eight months in advance.

 

A disadvantage of a looped course is the runner congestion that occurs when the faster runners begin to lap the field in the third and fourth laps.  It's worse when walking half-marathoners are participating; my running mate Guillaume described them succinctly: "They're a plague."  However, the congestion's inconvenience is more than offset by the mental advantage a multi-looped course provides.   As Y. Berra said, "[It's] 90 percent mental; the other half is physical."

 

With a single-loop course, I mentally split the race into miles—twenty-six individual points to not only check (worry about) pace, but also the distance remaining:  Five seconds behind pace at mile four.  Too fast that mile . . . easy back about eight seconds this mile.  Three more miles to make up 15 seconds.  

 

I find a four-loop course perfect:  Go out steady the first lap.  Hold the pace this lap.  Pick it up this loop.  This is it—one last lap.

 

As far as the variables in my control—conditioning and weight—I was in good but not optimal form.  During the Thanksgiving and Christmas holiday period, I reclaimed about four pounds of body weight—okay, okay—fat.  But I was still the same weight as when I posted my 2010 personal record.

 

Additionally, I certainly wasn't undertrained, just the opposite.  By accident, I logged a 77—mile week just a fortnight earlier.   My schedule only called for 55 easy miles; however, in my attempt to offset several hedonistic Christmas cookie / pumpkin pie-eating binges, I added extra miles by doing daily doubles.  Without realizing it, I logged the most weekly miles of this cycle when I was actually scheduled to taper.

 

The only remaining factor was the weather, and it was perfect; it was perfect every single day of the week and the afternoon of the race, just not the morning I would be actually running.  Here are the forecast morning temperatures five days pre-race:

 

Wednesday: 42 degrees

Thursday: 42 degrees

Friday: 48 degrees

Saturday: 58 degrees

Sunday (race day): 62 degrees

Monday: 38 degrees

 

The forecast low for Sunday morning was 62 degrees with a south wind. Since the race had a late start time, 8:00 a.m., that was going to be awful weather to attempt a PR.  However, the forecast high race day was only 68 degrees because a cold front would blow through about noon.

 

Oh, that was cruel, so cruel that it seemed not merely due to the caprice of nature, but the scorn from a higher power.  The day before the race, I sent a text lamenting my poor weather luck to my longtime friend and running buddy John.   He replied with a single strange acronym: "STHUAJR!"  After five minutes, I deciphered his reply: "Shut The Hell Up And Just Run!"

 

In spite of John's "tough love," my weeklong supplication was answered race morning...well, partially.  As I stood at the park pavilion, it was a warm 57 degrees with a cloudless sky, but the wind was already out of the north.  Dehydration was still a threat once the sun rose above the tall East Texas pine trees, but at least I would be able to breathe comfortably in the lower humidity and surely pass the halfway mark on pace.

 

As we entered the starting chute, there was only one thing that might prevent me from running a sub 3:10 this day; I wasn't going to try.   My ultimate goal is not to run a sub 3:10, but a sub 3:00 marathon, 3:10 is just a stepping stone.  As any serious marathoner will confirm, 3:10 is a long, long way from 3:00.  I wasn't ready for a sub 3:00, but I believed 3:05 was a possibility.  The marathon spirit is not to attempt what you think you can do, but to attempt what you believe is just beyond your potential.

 

The starter called us up to the line.  The event had no corporate-sponsored pacers, so I tried to form my own.  Standing at the front, right on the line, I turned and called out, "3:05?  Anyone shooting for 3:05, or even 3:00?"  There wasn't a single reply.  "How about 3:10?  Anyone going for 3:10?"  A single runner tilted his head from side to side and replied, "Uhh…well, maybe."

 

The starter interrupted, "Okay. I'm going to say, 'On your mark,' then sound the horn."  "Okay—on your mark," and we were off.

 

I went out with a brisk stride that felt light.  For the first 100 yards I was running in the lead—in first place.  However, I was sure somewhere in the pack there were at least a couple of sub 3:00 marathoners who would soon overtake me.  Last year, there were seven sub 3:00 finishers.  I reached the first mile still in the lead with the next-closest runner about 30 yards back.  No way!  Can I really have a shot to win this? 

 

At mile two I was still in first place, but now with a 50-yard lead.  My pace felt comfortable and my breathing easy.  I think I can win this!  I think I can do it!  However, I now had a strategic dilemma: Do I continue to push for the fastest finish time I can, or do I adjust to the field with a goal to win regardless of time?  It took about a second to decide.  My goal is not to win this race, but to get as close to sub 3:00 as I can.  I held my pace.

 

I continued around the bends through the pine forest, looking for the chalk-scribbled arrows on the sidewalk for directions.  At mile three I reached a fork in the path, but when I looked down, the path was completely covered in fallen tree leaves.  I didn't see any arrows.

 

The wise unpretentious decision was to slow down and search for the pink arrows also posted on the trees.  However, in my ego-inflated euphoria, I kept running, choosing to go left.  Unfortunately, it wasn't right!  A minute and a half later I found myself completely alone: no runners, no course markings, no volunteers.  When I reached a busy intersection, I came to a complete stop.  I looked left—nothing, then right—nothing.  "Crap!!!!"

 

I doubled back on the path full speed and returned to the fork about a minute later, choosing right this time.  I was now in about twentieth place.  My pride took over, and I went full stride into a 10k pace passing runners left and right.  I knew this was stupid; however, the course design was partially culpable.  Had the course stretched out with long straight sections where I could see the trail of lead runners ahead, I would have slowly reeled them in.  

 

However, with the bends and turns through the pine forest, I could only see runners 30 to 50 yards ahead.   I ran as strong as I could trying to regain the lead, not knowing where I was in the pack.  At mile five a volunteer called out to me, "Fourth!"  I then saw the third-place runner about 40 yards ahead.  I passed by and said, "You're looking good."  He replied, "Hey, I was looking for you ahead of me!"

 

While approaching a S-shaped bend at mile five, I saw the two lead runners about 80 yards ahead.  About a minute away from completing the first lap, I caught the leader.  She was a good six feet tall with a single barbed wire tattoo around her upper left arm.  When I said, "Good morning," she reciprocated the same, but with a thick British accent.  She had a beautiful stride—strong and powerful.  I was sure she was, or had been, a collegiate-level runner.

 

We crossed the timing mats together—she on a 3:09 pace and I on a 2:58 pace due to the extra distance!  Since she had increased her stride as I caught her, I knew she also pictured herself winning.  I decided to push hard for another mile to see if I could shake her.

 

By mile 10 I had regained my 50-yard lead, but my legs had tightened considerably because of the frantic pace.  I eased back.  With half a mile remaining in the second lap, she caught me.  Her stride looked lessened a bit, but I knew she had more than I.  "Go get 'em! You've got it!" I encouraged.

 

As I started the third lap, my quads were tight and I knew this was going to hurt.  However, I had a strong and intense training cycle and knew that I had the endurance, if I could handle the pain.  Halfway through the third lap, another runner approached from behind.  "Yeah, looking good.  How do ya' feel?" I asked as he pulled alongside.  We chit-chatted for 15 seconds. "She's about a hundred yards ahead—you can catch her."  He thanked me and broke away.  

 

Now don't get me wrong—it's not that I wanted a man to win.  Actually, I would've loved a female to be the overall winner.  However, she was a woman, but he was an American.  

 

Completing the third lap, I was hurting.  In addition to the lactic acid I had built up trying to regain the lead, the course was 100 percent sidewalk-grade concrete.  It really beats the hell out of you.  A mile into the final lap, I was passed again.  And again I offered encouragement and exchanged pleasantries.  With a thick Nordic accent, he asked me where I was from.  I replied "Corpus," and he replied, "Sweden."  By his stride, I knew he would hold that pace to the finish and I wouldn't finish in the top three.

 

For the remainder of the final lap, I held a decent pace in spite of increasing leg cramps.  Approaching the finish, I was covered in salt, a bit dehydrated, and ready to call it a day.

 

I crossed the finish in 3:17:03, placing 4th overall out of 221 marathon finishers.  Ironically, the winner (the American), finished in 3:10:59.

 

Well in marathoning, as in life, sometimes you take a wrong turn.  You can whine, complain, and sputter forth a litany of "if only" excuses.  Or you can get back on track and "STHUAJR."  The former is for children and fools, the latter for those sagacious enough to know it's better to attempt their best and come up short than to give up.

 

Overall, it was a fantastic event and great race, and I loved every minute of it.  And besides—There's always next year!

 

Weekly Recap-5 Weeks Until Galveston

Sunday. Met Mike for way 6 at 6:00am. Jogged another 3, walked two on mill in late afternoon. Saturday Needed a medium long run today. Did a half race here. Wore heavy trainers, weather shit 92% humidity, and didn't push at all. 1:38 flat, 7:28 pace. Friday Good 6 on mill. Thursday.. Met Mike for 6 at 6:00am, then came to work and ate a ton of junk food crap. Wednesday. Walked / jogged 4 during lunch. walked 5 more at night. Tuesday. Walked 4 Monday Off

Kingwood Marathon Pic

3:17. 4th overall.

Weekly Recap-Race Week Kingwood

Sunday.
Kingwood Marathon

Saturday
Pre- race off

Friday
Pre- race off

Thursday..
Pre- race off.

Wednesday.
Quick 5 on mill.

Tuesday.
Off-feeling really stiff

Had to loosen belt a loop. Have put on 4 lbs or so with all the junk I've eaten.

Monday
Met Mike for easy 6 at 5:30am

Weekly Recap-2 Weeks Until Kingwood

Sunday.
Christmas morning 5:30 am.

Met Mike for an easy 6 this morning. Walked another 3 on mill.

During lunch, fast 6 on mill with 6 X 200 meter strides.

Saturday
14 on mill in am. Walked one more.

Wanted more due to lots of Christmas eve dinner calories.

Friday
Off-Mucho busy at work. Too bad lots of junk food.

Thursday..
Met Mike for easy 4 in am. Walked / jogged 4 more on mill later.

Walked / jogged 4 more on mill at lunch.

Wednesday.
Met Jeff , Jamie, Mike for 8 at 5:30 am. Did some light intervals in last two miles.

Ran fast 5 on mill after work. Wanted to do more at night, but ran out of time.

Tuesday.
Walked / jogged six.

Monday
Met Jeff, Jamie, and Mike for easy 6 at 5:30 am.

Got on mill and jogged / walked another 3.

Walked 4 during lunch.

San Antonio Roadrunner's 5 / 10 miler (made it 15)

The cycle I've done all my long run in races. If I can find a 18-20 mile race, great. But usually I find a half marathon and extended it. It's really the best way to do a LR. All week you just dread the lonely 2 1/2 - 3 hour 18-20 mile long run. But with a race, even if not running full speed, the first 10-13 fly by. Then it's just an hour or 75 minutes till you're done. Also, the quality of run is usually better.

This was my last exertion run of the cycle, before a full taper. I had already done 17 on the mill Monday, and a total of 51 miles by Friday evening. I arrived in SA late, about 9:00 pm. And immediately ran 4 on the hotel treadmill as I ate a dozen cookies at the girl's school Christmas party. I had already done 6 in the pre-dawn morning, and 5 after work.

When I arrived at Schnabel Park for the 7:30 am start, the weather was perfect, chilly. I wore my heavy trainer shoes, and wasn't even concerned about time. In fact, I didn't even pickup a timing chip. The course was a 5 or 10 miler, which I assumed would be 5 mile laps. But it turned out to be out and back, with the five milers turning early.

There were only about 150 so runners, which is about a 1/3rd of what I expected. The gun fired and we were off. I didn't even turn on my watch and just cruised.

The course was great. A path through the park, which was somewhat wooded (not to thick). I thought it would be a great place to train.

The path was completely paved and ranged from 3-10 feet in width. The course also had rolling hills. All pretty small, but enough that you could feel it in your legs. The only downside was much of the path was hard hard hard concrete. My weight is quite light, but I still felt the pounding on the body.

For the 10, I ran mostly at an easy pace, but picked it up a little in some sections just to break it up. When I finished, the race timing clock read 1:14, which is about 7:30 / mile. I immediately turned around and started back to the 5 mile turnaround point. However, I slowed because this section was the most hilly, and had the most concrete, and I was already feeling the strain.

As I finished my extra 5, the awards were underway. I just went immediately to my car as we have Christmas prep at home. By 12:30 I was back doing family and house chores.

Weekly Recap-3 Weeks Until Kingwood

Sunday.
7 on mill at night.

Saturday
15 in the San Antonio RoadRunner 10 miler (I kept going).

Wanted to get in 5 when I returned home, but no time.

Friday
Met Jamie at 6:00 am for easy 6.

5 on mill after work

4 on mill before bed, needed to burn off about 15 Christmas cookies

Thursday..
Met mike for easy 6 at a conversational pace at 5:30am.

4 on mill during lunch. Walked 1 more.

Wanted to get some more in at night but ran out of time.

Wednesday.
Went to meet running mate at 5:30; he couldn't make it. Ran a lonely 10.

Walked / jogged another 8 throughout day.

Tuesday.
Off-wanted to get in 5-7, but not enough time.

Monday
Solid 17 during lunch, another fast 4 when I got home. Wanted to do 4 more at night, but ran out of time.

American Bank Half Marathon 2011

I've written before that this is a great event for many reasons, the two best being it brings out the top local runners, and the course is flat and has the potential to be fast.  Well, it can be fast if the weather cooperates.

Five days out the forecast was for light north winds and perfect temperatures (mid 40s).  But the night before, the cold front had yet to arrive and it was still warm (mid 60s at midnight).  About 4:00 a.m., I heard the cool-front blowing through.  The wind was strong and the gusts howled around the house.  I knew the wind would be a problem, but at least it would cool down a little.

As we queued for the 7:00 a.m. gun, it was still a little warm (high 50s), but directly in the windchill it was a little cold.  The sky was quite overcast.  I wore a tank top, light arm warmers, and a light beanie.  The wind was really blowing with flags flapping and trees swaying.  My original goal was to run a PR in 1:28 or better, but now with the weather not optimal, I just didn't know.  Well as Susan would say, it was time to shut-up and run.

The gun fired and we were off.  Over the first mile I felt the strong wind push at my back; my pace seemed fast.  However, all I could really think was, "This is going to be a nightmare to run back against!"

At the beginning of mile three the course bent to the southeast and the wind was just about perpendicular as it blew from the northeast.  The push was so strong I felt myself leaning about 5 degrees to the left just to fight the resistance.  A few times a strong gust literally moved me right a few inches.  Though mainly perpendicular, the wind at times also seemed to push a little from behind or a little from the front as the course slightly turned east or west.  Again, all I could really think was, "How am I going to run back against this?"

At mile four I was getting hot and pulled my arm warmers to my wrist, and tucked my beanie in my shorts.  About a half mile from the midpoint turnaround I had yet to look at my watch.  I had paced myself  just on stride / leg turnover but felt I would probably hit the midpoint in 43-44 minutes.  When I finally turned to head back, my watch read 45:15.

I was really disappointed.  I was also dreading the return and assumed I would lose a good five minutes on the up-wind leg.  However, as I started back the wind didn't seem as bad as I feared.  Again it was mostly perpendicular and actually felt like it was a bit behind me.  I guess the wind was more from the east than northeast in the first leg and that's why I was a minute or two behind pace.

For the next two miles I held my pace as we were running northwest;  I believed that I might finish in 1:30 or so.  However, about mile 10 the course began to bend back directly north and the wind resistance increased.  With about a mile and half to go, we turned due north and I slowed significantly fighting to run directly into the wind.

With half a mile remaining, I assumed I could still be on a 1:30-1:31 pace and gave it everything I had.  With 30 yards remaining, I saw the finish clock at 1:31:50.  I pushed hard to go sub 1:32, but came up just short.

I crossed the finish in 1:32:01 placing 1st in my division and 12th overall out of 149 half marathon finishers, and 18th out of 198 counting the 49 relay teams.

Well, I'm ambivalent about the results.  I was quite sure pre-race I would at least go sub 1:30.  I was quite disappointed with my 1:32.  But after giving it some thought, the weather probably cost me a good 10 seconds a mile.  Also, I hadn't tapered at all; the previous week I log a 20 miler, a 10 mile hill workout, and lots and lots and lots of general miles.

So I'm forgetting about this one and staying with the delusion I'm still able to go sub 3:00 in Kingwood in three weeks.  I'll need to lose 3-4 pounds and get in a good taper, but it's still possible if not probable.

1st in my division, Giancarlo 3rd

"One, Two, Three, CLEAR"

After the American Bank Half Marathon a running friend handed me his camera and requested a picture.  I said that I couldn't; I had no feeling in my fingers.  I stretched out my hand to show him.

The tips of my fingers were blueish-purple dark.  I explained that with all the training I've done that my resting heart-rate was down to the low 40s, and my blood pressure was on the low side also.  Post hard / long runs, it gets worse as my circulation is further reduced by dehydration.

The friend said, "You better put that information on the back of your bib as race instructions recommended."  I replied that it was no big deal and I didn't worry about it.

The friend explained, "My brother is the one who actually told me to do it; he's a Doctor and marathoner.  My brother told me that when a runner goes down, for any reason, the paramedics are usually called.  The medics, not knowing that runners have naturally low heart-rates / blood-pressure, freak-out.  On more than one occasion, they've whipped-out the defibrillator and shocked the runner."  

I guess I better fill out the reverse-side of the bib with some notes on my other extraordinary physical attribute, or the medics might think I'm suffering from a head-injury induced priapism and rush me in for a $ 5,000 MRI brain scan.

Oprah, Marathoning, and Kool-aid

I hit the road at 5:30am with a running buddy. We were casually jogging and just talking. He mentioned another running mate whose wife doesn't really support his marathoning. This guy told his wife, "I'm out doing my training when you're asleep in bed. By the time you wake-up, I'm back home, dressed, and ready to get the kids out the door and head off to work. Now explain again to me why you have a problem with my running?"

Then my running buddy said the funniest thing, "Hey, most wives not only don't get it, they think there's something wrong with what we're doing. Hell, the only way they would support our marathoning is if Oprah told them they should. Oprah, I just don't get it! Her minion will buy, support, or do anything she says. She's like Jim Jones. All she would have to do is look out at her audience and say, 'It's time to drink the Kool-aid,' and they would gulp it down."

Pringles and Sex

A buddy of mine has been on a strict diet preparing for a marathon.  The last ten days he cut out all carbs.   Today he began "carbing up" which frees him up to eat just about everything he wants.

Today he sent me a text, "Just ate an entire can of Pringles.  It was five times better, and ten times more satisfying, then the best sex I've ever had."

Weekly Recap 4 Weeks Until Kingwood

Sunday.
Off, with family activities and work, just took much to do.

Saturday
American Bank Half Marathon. Jogged another 6 throughout afternoon.

Friday
Off.

Thursday..
Up at 5:00am for easy 6 with mike. Walked / jogged another 8 throughout day.

Wednesday.
Jogged 5, walked another 5.

Tuesday.
Met Mike and Jamie at 5:30am for 8 along Oso Parkway. Weather cold, and group chatting good. Nice run.

When I got home I knocked out another fast 5 on the mill, then walked one more.

Walked another 8 at night.

Monday
Ate a ton of junk food, then took running day off. Gotta make up the calories now. Lots of miles to do.

Weekly Recap 5 Weeks Until Kingwood

Sunday.
walked 10 throughout day.

Saturday.
Up at 5:00 am, walk jog 9 on hotel treadmill.

5k with girls in San Antonio. Another 4 on hotel mill when we got back.

Jogged fast 5 on mill when we got home. Walked another 1.5. Wanted do more but ran out of time.

Friday
New shoes out of the box, Gladiator on the wide screen, made 20 on the mill easy this afternoon.

Thursday.
Up at 4:00, drove with Mike to do easy 10 of hill work in Annaville. New course, good conversation, lots of fun.

Almost ran over a dozen times by speeding refinery trash headed home from graveyard shift, but still fun.

Wanted to get in 4-6 at night but ran out of time.

Wednesday..
Walk / jog 8.

Tuesday.
Off-went to Giancarlo's Christmas party in Alice. Ate a disgusting quantity of tamales , cookies, pizza, cake, cheeses , and other stuff. Probably gained a pound.

Monday
Walked / jogged 6. Wish I had time for more

weekly Recap-6 Weeks Until Kingwood

Sunday.
Fast 5 with 5 X 400 meter moderate inclines. Walked / jogged another 11 miles throughout day.

Saturday.
Met local group on alameda at 6:30 for a dozen. Ran 10-11 min/mile pace with group for 6, then broke off and ran natural pace in heat and humidity (not too bad), for the remaining 6.

Did another 4 on mill, then walked two more in afternoon.


Friday
Up early, walked 4 outside. Stomach still full from turkey. Walked another 5 in afternoon.

Thursday.
Ran a 4 mile Turkey Trot race in morning. Ran another 4 on mile in after noon, fast pace. Walked two more.

Planned to walked 4 at night, but too much turkey.

Wednesday.
Solid 11 during lunch, with a bump in speed. Thought about going 18+ as I felt good, but I'm also feeling a bit overtrained with the S.A. Marathon just 10 days earlier.

Well that was unexpected. Got on mill at 9:30pm, after a mile was ready to walk, but needed to offset all the junk I ate so decided to go to 3; at 3 ready to walk but thought I should go to 5. Started to bump speed, and bump, and bump. By 6 close to LT pace. At nine thought it best to shut it down, walked one more.

Tuesday.
Ate a TON of sweets a work pre-thanksgiving fest. Wanted to get in some good mileage , but felt all beat up, and stomach bloating. Took night off.

Monday
7 during lunch at fast pace. Walked another 9 throughout day.

Weekly Recap-7 Weeks Until Kingwood

Sunday.
Met guys down at auga java at 6:30 am for 10 down ocean drive. Weather awful. humid and warm.

Saturday.
Ran 5k in am, bad weather. Ran course twice to get in 10k. Did another 3 walk / jog at night.

Friday
5 during lunch. Walked 1 more.

Thursday.
7 during lunch. Slow but bump in incline. 3 at night, walked 1 more

Wednesday.
Jogged 4 on road, walked 4 more.

Tuesday.
Walked 6.

Monday
Walked 8.

Marathon #18-San Antonio

Marathon #18-San Antonio

November 13^th, 2011

 

Frustrating, Frustrating, Frustrating!  I was in top form, having set a half-marathon personal record (PR) just two weeks earlier.  This race morning, as I lined up with thirty thousand competitors, three of the four race variables were perfect.

 

I was the lightest that I've ever been.  In the previous weeks, four friends told me, "You look like crap," three workmates said, "You look like you've been sick," and two strangers actually and non-sardonically asked, "Has anyone ever told you that you look like Steve Jobs?"  You know you are ready to post a PR when non-runners say that you look like you are on your deathbed.

 

The course was flat and fast; last year I set a PR in this race.  Also, the start has seeded corrals which prevent you from getting boxed in by the less earnest participates standing at the front, often dressed in tutus, tuxedos, or one time, all five Fruit of the Loom Guys; I was actually beaten in my second marathon by the Banana.

 

Third, I had a complete and strong training cycle.  All three of my 20-mile-long runs were at a comfortable and strong pace.  Over the last two years I had strayed from some LT runs and forsaken all my VOmax speed intervals.  This cycle I was faithful to all my speed work.

 

But the fourth variable, the weather, was awful.  For me, the weather supersedes all other race day factors.  Last year when I ran my PR at this race, my weight was only fair and I did a very light training cycle.   Both those weaknesses were offset by good weather, with a gun time temperature of 55, a north wind, and cloudy skies.

 

Today everything else was perfect except the weather.  At 7:30 am it was already 68 degrees, with wind out of the south and high humidity.  The forecast high was to be 86 degrees.  Three days earlier, race officials sent an auto e-mail: "A Message from the Medical Team--Warm Weather Running Tips for Sunday:  #1-Don't Push Yourself."

 

I had run in these conditions once before, the infamous 2007 Chicago Marathon; that day two thousand participants entered the race medical tents, four hundred required hospital trips, and one died.  After dropping out at mile 14, I e-mailed a running buddy the following oath: "I'll go on record here and state that I will never start another marathon when the temperature is forecast above 80 degrees.  Not only is a PR impossible, running can be dangerous."

 

Over the years I abrogated that pledge.  After months of training and sacrifice, it's impossible to walk out of your hotel a minute from a start line and then not run.  Rather, I modified my pledge to never race for a PR in dangerous weather conditions.  There is no chance, so why risk serious consequences.  No, this day the clearly sagacious strategy was to treat this race as a long training run at a relaxed pace and try to set a PR in my next marathon scheduled for New Year's morning.

 

However, the paradox is that if marathon runners were the type to choose wisely over choosing purposefully, they would never choose to start running marathons.  Teddy Roosevelt's 1905 Paris speech expresses the pursuit of purpose: "[I]f he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat."

 

The gun fired and I went out to set a PR.

 

My stride felt light and the pace steady;  however, carrying a hand-held water bottle was awkward.  I filled it to the brim with ice water knowing I would need the extra hydration this day, but the extra two pounds affected my natural arm swing and running rhythm.

 

I passed the two mile-mark in 14 minutes flat, 30 seconds ahead of a PR pace.  Way, way too fast, I eased back.  At mile four I was still 30 seconds ahead; my pace was now steady.  The next few miles became more difficult.  The first seven miles snake through downtown, and the buildings completely block the wind.  I was sweat covered by mile six and now only 15 seconds ahead of a PR pace.

 

The course eventually made its way out toward the Missions at mile seven.  The sky was very overcast, the course was open enough to catch some wind, and my breathing improved.  Approaching the mile nine marker, I could see a race clock overhead and to the right.  I looked down and to the left.  At this point, time was irrelevant.  I was running the strongest pace I could hold given the bad weather conditions; seeing my time was not going to change my effort, as it was all the effort I had. 

 

Again at the mile 11 marker's clock, I looked down and to the left.  I could feel that I had slowed a nick or two.  I was intent to run through the halfway mark without noting a time, but I saw the clock when trying to get vertical to improve my form, 1:37:20, a full two minutes behind my PR pace.  A PR was now out; from this point forward it would be just for pride.

 

The overcast sky began to clear at mile 14.  By 16 there wasn't a cloud above.  I knew dehydration was coming soon; this was going to hurt.  At mile 18, we looped a little park area around Mission Juan Capistrano.  This section contains a few small hills.  Halfway up an incline at 19.5, my heart rate skyrocketed.  I was dehydrated and my breathing became labored.  I had to walk for 30 seconds to get my pulse and breathing under control.

 

When I reached mile 20, I knew I was done.  I slowed and walked through the water tables, resigned to just somehow finish.  That's when a man dressed in military fatigues said to me, "One hundred—one hundred."  He then called out loudly, "Here's our one hundredth marathoner!" to cheers from all the volunteers manning the water station.  I replied loudly, "Crap! I guess I gotta try now."

 

For the next three miles, three other runners and I did a do-si-do.  I'd run for a quarter or half mile at a solid and strong pace and then have to stop and walk for 50 yards to get my heart rate down.  That's when one or two runners would go by and I would encourage, "You're looking good boys--go get 'em!"

 

Then they would stop about 50 yards in front of me and start to walk.  As I went by they would reciprocate, "Yeah, you got it."  This synergistic push continued until mile 23 when I checked my watch for the first time.  I was on a 3:27 pace, about a minute behind my Boston qualifying (BQ) time.  It didn't matter; there was no way I was going to make up a full minute in the last three miles.  My dehydration was causing tight shoulder, chest, and abdominal cramps.

 

Running around a bend at mile 24, I converged on two thousand walking half-marathoners on the left side of the divided course.  My best motivation comes from motivating other runners.  I called out, "Yeah, way to go half-marathoners.  Just two more miles--let's go, let's go--come on!"  No response, only a few belligerent snarls of disdain.

 

Now completing a half-marathon is laudatory, regardless of time.  However, to be casually walking joined four wide, with little or no sign of perspiration, as you discuss the latest Dancing with the Stars episode just grossly violates the spirit of the event.

 

I held my stride as I ran by and about a quarter mile later tried a different tack.  I took off my cap and yelled out, "Come on halfers! Don't let a half-bald 45-year-old accountant lap you.  Finish strong!" Again nothing--just a couple eye rolls of derision. Well, I tried.

 

At mile 25, I checked my watch.  I possibly could, just maybe and with total effort, run my Boston qualifying time.  However, I also knew it was going to hurt.  The longest incline of the course is at mile 25.5, about 100 yards of a moderate slope. 

 

I went into a full stride, most concerned about my heart rate. When I reached the incline's base, I was briefly tempted to give it up, but I had given it my all to this point.  I strode up with what I had left.  I reached the top and turned for the 100-yard final stretch to the finish line.  A last look at my watch showed I had 25 seconds left to BQ.

 

I took two deep breaths and ran as close to a sprint as I could muster.  With fifty yards remaining, I could see the clock, but couldn't make out the numbers.  Finally within 10 yards, I saw only three seconds remained to BQ.

 

I crossed the finish in 3:25:58, placing 81st out of 4,040 full-marathon finishers and squeaking out a Boston qualifier with one second to spare.

 

I stumbled three steps to the left and horizontally leaned myself over a guard barrier for support.  Two volunteers could see I was in immediate need of hydration, and each handed me a water bottle.  But my stomach was so nauseous and my breathing so irregular I just couldn't drink.

 

After several minutes I was able to stand again and began searching for a medical tent, just to be safe.  After walking about 50 yards, I became very light headed.  I knelt to one knee and just stared at the ground for five minutes.  Eventually I sipped a full water bottle and started to regain my bearings.  After 15 minutes more, I felt recovered and started the one mile walk returning to my hotel.

 

Overall, I was thrilled with my effort and pleasantly surprised with my placing in the top one hundred.  However, I will go on record here and say I was very stupid.  I seriously risked heatstroke for an unnecessary and inconsequential self-imposed challenge.  It was foolish.

 

However, if marathon runners were the type to choose wisely over choosing purposefully, we would never have chosen to start running marathons.