Week 2 in Summer Limbo-Might Do August Marathon

Sunday.
Off-Feeling beat up.  Foot / ankle is bothering me.  Calf has a knot.  Overall, needed a bit of a break this week.  Will start easy, weight reducing, mileage for next three weeks.

Saturday.
Off-Lots of family stuff to do

Friday
Met Alamar, Jeff, Jamie, and John for 5.5 miles at 5:30am. Humidity and still air bad.
I got left behind by 200 yards at end. I was literally sloshing in sweat soaked shoes after 5.

Thursday.
Off

Wednesday.
Off

Tuesday.
Ran 4 walked 1

Monday
Ran fast 5 on mill. Walked 1 more

Beach to Bay Marathon Relay 2012

Beach to Bay Marathon Relay

May 19, 2012

Corpus Christi, TX

Team Name-"Keeping Up with the Joneses"

 

Every year I write about Beach to Bay being a crappy race.  I'll recapitulate:  terrible course that's open to traffic; the legs are spread out over a 26-mile point-to-point course; the 100 percent certainty that at least one team member will pull out; and saliently, the dangerously hot and humid weather conditions.

 

However, like every year, it's a fantastic event!  Beach to Bay is the largest marathon relay in the country—almost 2,500 teams and 15,000 leg runners.  Although it attracts the best runners in Texas, its greatness is that it motivates people to participate who aren't regular runners.  Well, "motivate" might not be precisely accurate.  Most people are coerced by a family member, friend, or co-worker who does run: "Come on—we need you!  We have five team members, but we need you to be the sixth."  Of course, team captains tell everyone that.

 

Regardless of how team members are recruited, most participants love the challenge and camaraderie that Beach to Bay provides.  That's why I strongly encourage my girls to participate.  My ten-year-old, Juliet, has run it twice.  Cate, eight years old, was now ready.  However, having them both run was going to be a logistics problem if we were on three different teams.  Just getting myself to the start of a leg and then to the finish/post-event party is a pain.  There was no way Jennifer and I could also simultaneously shuttle the girls through the course.

 

There was only one solution—a family team.  If Jennifer, Juliet, Cate, and I concatenated our race legs in a series, then the girls could start and finish next to at least one parent.  However, Beach to Bay is a six-runner relay.  I asked John, my longtime friend and running buddy, if he and his 13-year-old daughter Caitlyn would come down from Houston and round out our family team.   John and I are practically brothers in that one of us is smarter and better looking, and the other one won't admit it.

 

Everything was set, but then with the 100 percent certitude that occurs every year, a team member had to pull out.  Jennifer had a legitimate excuse.  While playing tennis, she completely ruptured the ACL in her left knee.  We modified the plan so that she would become the designated driver and shuttle our team runners from leg to leg.  I would run both my leg and Jennifer's.

 

However, I wanted to run with my girls, so I decided to also do their legs.  But John and I haven't run together in a while, so I added his.  Since John would also run Caitlyn's leg with her, I might as well do all six of them. 

 

As usual, the final race logistics made the Marshall Plan seem like a pizza delivery by comparison.  Though significantly more convoluted, in a nutshell, the final plan was set:

 

Leg #1 (3.41 miles)-Cate* and David

Leg #2 (4.67 miles)-Juliet* and David

Leg #3 (4.36 miles)-David*

Leg #4 (4.69 miles)-David* and John

Leg #5 (4.20 miles)-John* and David

Leg #6 (4.89 miles)-Caitlyn,* John, and David

 

*The officially designated runner carrying the race baton

 

The first level of crappiness began at 4:30 a.m.  Everyone had to wake up so we could get to the start before it became too crowded.  We arrived at the beach about an hour later.  Parking was already a problem, but eventually we found a spot about half a mile from the staging area.   Cate and I walked down to the start line about 15 minutes to gun, and everyone else walked Juliet to the second-leg handoff area.

 

The start was on a narrow road packed with 2,500 runners.  Cate and I queued a 100 yards behind the line.  When the 7:00 a.m. start time arrived—nothing.  Five minutes passed, then ten, followed by 15. We heard later that a shuttle bus was delayed.  Again, this race is a logistics pain in the butt.  But finally the horn sounded and Cate and I started to run.

 

Well, "run" might not be precisely accurate because that's when the second level of crappiness began.  Of the 15,000 participants, only about 1,000 are what you would consider runners.  The others try their best, which means shuffling along at slightly faster than a walking pace.  Cate has learned that you have to politely, but assertively, ask other runners to let you by.  However, the course was also packed with people not only walking, but unable to hear us because they were literally browsing their iPhone music selections.  When my girls get blocked in by one of these "runners," I unapologetically stiff arm them out of the way.

 

The crappiness increased when Cate and I turned onto the beach.  There is no delineated course path, and runners have to fend for themselves to find a section that's not mushy soft or covered in seaweed.    As Cate and I made our way to the turnaround, we were running a bit of a zigzag.  We would see a narrow section of packed sand next to the water and run down.  Two thousand other runners would do the same and create a jam.   Cate and I would head back toward the dunes to find a runnable section, but eventually a herd would converge again.  After 15 minutes of back and forth, I told Cate, "Forget about time.  Just find a rhythm."  The rhythm ending up being 12:30 minutes/mile due to the awful conditions.

 

However, there was one fun aspect of the first leg.  Cate, being only eight, is a Beach to Bay rarity.  I'll bet there were less than half a dozen girls her age in the whole event.  But with a mile to go, she was passing adults left and right.  As we came up behind them, I would call out, "Wow, Cate—you're doing great.  Look, you're passing this man,"  or "Awesome, Cate, you're just in second grade and you're gonna beat these women."  Actually, most runners appreciate her effort and offer encouragement rather than take offense.

 

Cate's pace was much slower than her usual effort, but she didn't walk once the entire 3.4 miles. We reached the second-leg handoff area where John, Caitlyn, and Jennifer were waiting with Juliet.  They gave Cate an enthusiastic cheer.

 

Juliet grabbed the baton and was off.  Her running has improved this year and she is a solid sub-10:00 minutes/mile runner.  Since we reached her chute surrounded by slower runners, she began moving up through the pack fast.  Almost immediately I tried to slow her down because I knew the fourth level of crappiness was about to begin.

 

I understand that at least one lane of traffic must be open.  You can't close down all of Padre Island; however, the one auto lane becomes traffic jammed.  The runners have to breathe the exhaust-polluted air.  Additionally, the heat is intensified by the hundreds of cars creeping along just five feet from the runners' lane.   Two and a half miles in, I could see Juliet was overheating.  It was now 9:30, and the sun was beating down and there was a total lack of breeze.  We were running north-west with a very light and undetectable south-east wind at our backs.

 

I told Juliet that it was perfectly fine to stop and walk until she caught her breath.  Two years ago I ran the same leg for a Fleet Feet competitive team, and I still had to stop and catch my breath twice.  However, Juliet was determined to stay with it.  I started to become concerned she might experience the greatest level of race crappiness, heat stroke.   It's a real danger; even elite runners have blacked out on this course.  Juliet finally pulled up, and I handed her the water bottle I was carrying.

 

She then impressed me with her course awareness.  She looked up and said, "Let's run to that second light pole down the road."  Once there we walked for a minute and then she picked another mark, saying, "Let's make it to that big white sign."  For the next two miles she mostly ran, but occasionally walked, until we reached the bridge.  With a final push, we ran under the bridge and into the chute.  Juliet finished with a solid 10:30 minutes/mile average pace.  She handed me the baton, but before I could start the third leg, we had to deal with the final logistics problem—getting Juliet back to Jennifer.

 

We originally planned for Jennifer to park underneath the bridge.   However, at packet pickup, a race official was highly critical of the idea.  "If there's a traffic problem near the bridge, you could be stuck for hours.  It's best to use a shuttle bus."    We changed our plans, and instead Jennifer waited at the bus return depot.  I walked Juliet over to the queue where other runners were waiting for the buses to return. The problem was we didn't know if it would be five minutes or 20.  Juliet said she would be all right, so I handed her my iPhone to keep in contact with Jennifer and then asked two other runners to help her on the shuttle.  I started the third leg.

 

The leg was uneventful.  I ran over the bridge and  reached the first mile on a 7:40 minutes/min pace.  I settled into a comfortable stride knowing I had 18 miles remaining.  My mile splits didn't deviate more than a second the entire leg.  However, one thought did concern me—Caitlyn.  The heat was already terrible and the sun was intense.  It would be another hour and a half before Caitlyn would start our final leg.  I was concerned about dangerous running conditions.

 

Jennifer had already dropped John off at the fourth leg, and he was waiting for me as I came through the chute.  I ran straight through and he joined in stride with me.  However, our plan fell apart almost immediately due to a communication mishap.  The week before, I told John that I would run an 8:15 pace through the base and then hand off to him at the start of leg five just outside the north access gate.  Since he would be fresher than I would be at that point, he could pick up the pace to get to Caitlyn faster.  This worked for John since he was going to run a half dozen 1,200 meter repeats two days before the race.  This was his first taper day in preparation for a full marathon he's doing next week.  He agreed to cruise a steady pace with me through the naval base.

 

The night before the race, we confirmed the plans, but then John said, "I'll run with you for a couple of miles and then you can hand off to me.  I'll pick it up through the base so we can get it to Caitlyn as fast as possible."  His suggestion had nothing to do with our team time.  He just wanted to get Caitlyn off the course before the midday heat.  So as we began the fourth leg, I assumed the plan was to push as fast as we could. I dropped the pace to 7:15 minutes/miles and lengthened my stride.

 

About a mile into the base, John was ten yards behind me.  I again eased back to a 7:40 minutes/mile pace.  He stayed right behind me.  The heat was wearing on me and I looked straight ahead, trying to remain focused.  When I finally reached the leg five chute, I stopped and turned to give the baton to John, but he wasn't there.  I had unknowingly pulled away, and he was a quarter mile back. Two minutes later he came into the handoff area, and I reached forward to hand him the baton.  He said, "You'll have to carry it.  Go!  I'll catch up to ya'll later."

 

I immediately started toward the sixth leg.  About a mile from the base, I started to fall apart.  I had gone the last six miles without any water, assuming John would be pushing through the fifth leg.  I pulled up for a minute to cool down.  I ran another mile, then walked a minute.  I did this two more times before reaching Jennifer and Caitlyn, who were waiting at the final handoff point.  I came into the chute. "John?  Where's John?" Jennifer asked.  I told them he said to start running and he would catch us.  Unfortunately, I didn't have much running left in me.  I was badly dehydrated.  Jennifer said, "You look awful!  Do you want to quit here?" 

 

I looked at Caitlyn and said, "Let's run for a mile and see how it goes from there."  She didn't flinch and replied, "Let's go."  We fell into stride and ran a solid first mile, but I just couldn't breathe.  Caitlyn was also overheated, and we both stopped and walked.  The next four miles were tough.  Neither of us was able to run more than a quarter to half a mile without pulling up.  Nevertheless, Caitlyn stayed positive the entire leg and didn't once think of quitting.  She endured the course quarter mile by quarter mile for an hour.  With a mile remaining, we heard, "Caitlyn! David!"  John had caught us.  The timing was perfect.  Over the last quarter mile, John and Caitlyn joined hands and ran to the finish as hundreds of spectators cheered for them.

 

Our team finished in a clock time of 4:27:01, placing us 715 out of 2,455 teams.

 

Well, the race was total crap!  Terrible course, awful logistics, and dangerously hot weather.  However, everyone on our team did a super job individually, and as a team we placed in the top 30 percent.  WHAT A GREAT EVENT!

 

Special thanks to John and Caitlyn for rounding out our family team, and much appreciation to Jennifer for helping us through the course—my mom, too, for also helping with the logistics.  And kudos to Juliet and Cate for accomplishing something I couldn't have imagined at their age.

 

 

Cate After Finishing

 

Juliet Waiting To Start

 

Team Photo

Week 1 in Summer Limbo-Might Do August Marathon

Sunday.
Did a 25k in S.A. with Mike, Robert, Clay, and Von.

Von-2nd overall 1st Masters, 6:45 pace;

Clay 2nd Senior Masters 7:46 pace;

Me-3rd place Master 7:42 pace-Overall, 10th out of 55

My 5k-splits were fairly consistent
Lap 1-23:12
Lap 2-23:37
Lap 3-24:08
Lap 4-24:09
Lap 5-24:33





Saturday.
Easy 5, walked 1 more.

Friday
Ran two on mill, and called it quits. Bought bottle of jack and got drunk.

Thursday.
Met John and Robert for 4 at 6:00 am.  They had done 3 already, and we went out for another 4 mile loop.  I wanted to run at night, but work, children, and stuff came up.

Wednesday.
Met Alamar for 6 at 5:30. Good 7:48 pace despite high humidity.
Walked / jogged another 5 at night on mill.

Tuesday.
Met John and Robert for 6 at 5:45. Walked one more. Walked , mostly jogged, another 4 on mill late night.

Monday
Off

Week 7 in Limbo-Beach to Bay Week

Sunday

Saturday
Beach To Bay

Friday
Off-Taper

Thursday
Off-Taper

Wednesday
Met mike at 5:45am for easy 6. Walked one more. Jogged another 4.00 at night on the mill

Tuesday
Off-wanted to get in some miles, but work / family, etc.

Monday
Five on mill after work.  Walked / jogged another 5

Grand Canyon

A buddy of mine is running the Grand Canyon today.


"Tomorrow is the double crossing. 48 miles, 10,000 feet of elevation gain."

Week 6 in Limbo-No Race Schedule, Except Beach to Bay

Sunday.
Downtown at Coffee Waves at 5:30 am. Couple 3 miles loops with Alamar, Jamie, Robert, and Randy. Then at 6:30, a few other runners came, and out and back down Ocean Dr for another 6. Easy 8:30 pace.

Saturday.
Fast 8 on the mill

Friday
Met Jamie, John, and Alamar for 6 at 5:30. Walked 1 more. Jamie had a foot stress, turned off the path at four.

Thursday.
After work, 7 slow, low, and slow. But burned some calories

Wednesday.
Off-too busy with stuff

Tuesday.
Off-wanted to get in some miles, but worked late

Monday
7 on mill, walk one more. Cheated on diet a little as someone brought cupcakes to work. I had 4, or was it 5.

Week 5 in Limbo-No Race Schedule, Except Beach to Bay

Sunday.
On mill, fast 18. With all the flab I'm carrying, not fun. But aerobics good. Time to taper. Walk / jog another 6 at night.

Saturday.
5k with girls in am, ran 6 on mill later in day. Walked 1 more.

Friday
Off-wanted to get in 15-18 but with work and family, no can do. Will try for 18 Sunday morning, and then really diet 10 days before carbing for beach to bay.

Thursday.
Met John at 5:30 for 3 warmup. Was sweated through when finished doing 8:15 miles as humidity was 93%. Waited at conner store for 5 minutes, but Mike didn't show, so John and I ran another 3. Again, completely soaked and sloshing in shoes when finsihed.

Wednesday.
4 on mill after work.

Tuesday.
Met John for 6 at 5:00. Humidity really bad. had to stop three times, for only 10 seconds, to catch my breath.

Monday
On mill, 4 in the early morning, and 4 more in evening. Walked one more.

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!