So there I was, minding my own business Thursday afternoon. It was the last period of the day, and my classes were over. I was in prep period, cleaning up some chores and mentally trying to decided what to do about working out. It was blustery and rainy, and I needed 8 miles. That didn't seem like a fun idea under the circumstances. What to do?
Usually what I'll do in situations like these is make things a lot harder. See, it's not the physical stuff you have to get past, it's the mental, and I needed challenge of some sort to make this run work. So I was thinking, either a 7-flat 8-miler outside, or go to the gym and run on the treadmill. In my way of thinking, both offered about the same allure.
Just as I was tussling between the two, Robin texted me. Josh couldn't use his Monumental bib, would I be interested? Of course my first reaction was "that's crazy!" Then I started thinking about it. Sure, I'd run the hardest 20-miler I've done in 2 years just 4 days prior. Sure, my weekly mileage had recently (as in the previous 3 weeks) risen from 30 to 50 miles per week. Sure, my quality level was taken from 9-minute pace to 7:15 pace in the same span... sounds like the perfect time to race the marathon - not!
And that's exactly why I did it.
Look, there was nothing to lose - the excuses were built-in. It would cost me only $20 to transfer the bib, and if it worked and I got my BQ, I would be money ahead on the trip to Huntsville. If it didn't work out, it didn't cost more than $20, and I still got a shot at Huntsville. There was no way to lose, other than getting hurt. That was the caveat... I'd have to be on my guard during the race, being careful to drop out if the need should arise.
More indication the stars were aligning - Miller was running the race too. He was supposed to pace Sheppard, so I asked if he needed a training partner. He welcomed the idea, so we set up a meeting place with Robin so the number could be given to me and we could head out to the corrals together. So... Robin would get the bib, Miller would pace me, all I needed to do was show up ready to run. It doesn't get much simpler than that.
The early part went perfectly to plan. Miller and I met in the lobby of the Hyatt, and Robin joined us shortly thereafter. The best part of that was the lobby was warmer than outside and had restroom facilities. Seriously, there was no better way this could have gone. With around 15 minutes before the 8 o'clock hour, we headed out into the streets to meet our respective fates. Miller's and mine were intertwined; Robin stoically faced hers alone.
We looked for Greg but could never find him. We moved to the front of our corral #3, up with the 3:15 pacer, the spot Greg planned to finish, but he was nowhere to be seen. There was nothing to do for it but run, and try to spot him as he passed us on the course.
My plan was in three parts:
Primary: finish
Secondary: finish under 3:30
Tertiary: finish under 3:20
I was confident the first two were doable, but that third one worried me. It'd have to be a perfect day, because I simply didn't have enough training yet to be that aggressive. Or so I thought. 3:30 is right at 8:02 pace, but right from the start we were already in the 7:45 range. It felt easy, so I stayed calm. Mile after mile, the pace crept downward, and though I noticed it, there was no real cause for alarm.
My race management was spot-on. Alternate Gatorade and water in the aid stations, gels at 5-mile increments, 2 Enduralytes every hour, and 2 Tylenol before the race. The sky was overcast but clearing, so in the first few miles I moved my number from my shirt to my shorts in the event I'd have to peel it off.
We had slipped behind the 3:15 pacers, behind the 3:20 pacers, but we were running smoothly. However, the pack around us never seemed to clear, and it was becoming a clot right around the pacers. This turned out to be the first pivotal moment of the race - Miller wanted to get clear of them and into the opening ahead.
It was certainly tempting. There was a wide gap in front of them, and though it wouldn't stay open for long, it would be a welcome respite from the constant moving around runners. So we shot through. The risky side of it was very basic - the sight of the pacers in front of us had a governing effect, helping us to remember to maintain the proper pace. By getting in front of them, the restriction was gone. Simply put, this would either work or blow up in our faces.
Right away the pace began to creep down. By the time we split from the half-marathon runners we were playing around the 7:25-7:30 mark each mile. Still it wasn't hard, though I was starting to feel a little stringer in my hamstring and hip. This later moved down to the outside of my left calf, and I got very concerned there. That's when I told Miller I'd have to watch my pace. We slowed all the way down from 7:15 back to the 7:25 we'd been doing. The truth is the only thing that really hurt me all day was dropping downhill. Anytime we did that, I felt it.
Once we hit the halfway point, I was pretty sure I couldn't repeat the same speed again. I was a little disappointed there, because I really wanted that sub-3:20 when it became clear we were crushing 3:30. Though I couldn't wrap my mind around 13.1 more miles at pace, I vowed to go one more at a time for a while. I could push for a while longer.
We didn't talk much. It wasn't so much I was hurting, because really I wasn't. I didn't have a lot to say, and I was focusing on the growing pains I was having in the leg. My cardio was never seriously challenged. We did continue to compare Garmin information, that is until mine mysteriously quit timing around 10.55 miles. We been bumping one another over and over, and I think my button got tapped. As a precaution, I'd started my running watch at the starting line as a backup. See, the stars were aligned!
It was around the 20-mile mark when we picked up Tom from St. Louis. He was looking to get his BQ, and needed 3:25 to do it. He'd been waffling on his pace because he knew he had it in the bag. He tagged along with us and we started talking. My plan was to look at our situation at 22 miles, then again at 24. I wanted to see what we could accomplish beyond the stated goals by those points, because by mile 21 I could see sub-3:15 was possible. Tom scoffed at the idea. By 22, it was clear we very much could have it, and if we timed our last charge (okay, MY last charge) properly, we WOULD get it.
The very second I started talking about 3:15, the pace dropped again - hard. We'd been in the 7:15 area for a while, and that took effort to control. Now it went more like 7:05, and there was no more controlling it. Somewhere around 23 it went to 6:45, and it didn't matter what I said, it stayed there. I made up my mind to stay with Tom no matter what he did - he might be faster, he might not, but I wasn't going to get dropped by this guy that had been hanging on to us by a thread. Sure enough, in less than a mile he broke; he dropped back, but the damage for him was done. Worse, he'd awakened a sleeping giant, and filled him with a terrible resolve.
Miller took over. So you wanna run 6:45? Sure, let's do that! We had 2.2 miles to run, the clock said 2:59, and I knew barring disaster, we had sub-3:15 in the bag. The pain in the legs wasn't terrible, but I was beginning to worry my greed was going to get the better of me. There was pain, and that meant something could pop. After a mile at 6:40, I told Miller I didn't want to get hurt for a few extra seconds under 3:15. I needed to slow down a bit. He could go on, but I was slowing down.
He slowed, letting me set it for a bit. That mile was at the 6:53 pace, still light years ahead of the 7:20 we'd been holding for so many miles. The slowdown was just enough for my calf. It settled down, we rounded the corner for West, and I knew it was only a short straightaway and a left turn to the finish. The only cause for alarm came when we got to the next clock, which was way past the 26-mile mark. Fortunately when we turned the corner the finish was right there. We had 1:30 at the corner to make it. I could easily judge by the distance left we were going to make it, and then some.
Check it out. First 10k pace, 7:41. First half, 7:32 pace. 30k, 7:31 pace. Second half of race, 7:19 pace. Total pace, 7:26, well under the 8:02 necessary for the BQ. I've run a ton of marathons, and I can't remember one that went smoother than this one. All the stars aligned.
As for Greg, he pulled a calf 1.5 miles into the race and DNF'd. That's too bad, because he, along with Scott, and of course Miller, are the ones that made this race possible for me today. I've never run as well on so little training or preparation. I'm not about to get cocky here - I am one extremely fortunate old man to have pulled this off without getting hurt, and I know it. Still, God placed each of these individuals in just the right place at just the right time to pull this all together.
Also, a huge THANK YOU to Robin and Josh for thinking of me when misfortune struck (waitaminnit... am I always the first thought of when misfortune strikes?). You guys saved me a lot of time and hassle to get the BQ option for next year. Plus... my string of years with at least one marathon remains unbroken!
Usually what I'll do in situations like these is make things a lot harder. See, it's not the physical stuff you have to get past, it's the mental, and I needed challenge of some sort to make this run work. So I was thinking, either a 7-flat 8-miler outside, or go to the gym and run on the treadmill. In my way of thinking, both offered about the same allure.
Just as I was tussling between the two, Robin texted me. Josh couldn't use his Monumental bib, would I be interested? Of course my first reaction was "that's crazy!" Then I started thinking about it. Sure, I'd run the hardest 20-miler I've done in 2 years just 4 days prior. Sure, my weekly mileage had recently (as in the previous 3 weeks) risen from 30 to 50 miles per week. Sure, my quality level was taken from 9-minute pace to 7:15 pace in the same span... sounds like the perfect time to race the marathon - not!
And that's exactly why I did it.
Look, there was nothing to lose - the excuses were built-in. It would cost me only $20 to transfer the bib, and if it worked and I got my BQ, I would be money ahead on the trip to Huntsville. If it didn't work out, it didn't cost more than $20, and I still got a shot at Huntsville. There was no way to lose, other than getting hurt. That was the caveat... I'd have to be on my guard during the race, being careful to drop out if the need should arise.
More indication the stars were aligning - Miller was running the race too. He was supposed to pace Sheppard, so I asked if he needed a training partner. He welcomed the idea, so we set up a meeting place with Robin so the number could be given to me and we could head out to the corrals together. So... Robin would get the bib, Miller would pace me, all I needed to do was show up ready to run. It doesn't get much simpler than that.
The early part went perfectly to plan. Miller and I met in the lobby of the Hyatt, and Robin joined us shortly thereafter. The best part of that was the lobby was warmer than outside and had restroom facilities. Seriously, there was no better way this could have gone. With around 15 minutes before the 8 o'clock hour, we headed out into the streets to meet our respective fates. Miller's and mine were intertwined; Robin stoically faced hers alone.
We looked for Greg but could never find him. We moved to the front of our corral #3, up with the 3:15 pacer, the spot Greg planned to finish, but he was nowhere to be seen. There was nothing to do for it but run, and try to spot him as he passed us on the course.
My plan was in three parts:
Primary: finish
Secondary: finish under 3:30
Tertiary: finish under 3:20
I was confident the first two were doable, but that third one worried me. It'd have to be a perfect day, because I simply didn't have enough training yet to be that aggressive. Or so I thought. 3:30 is right at 8:02 pace, but right from the start we were already in the 7:45 range. It felt easy, so I stayed calm. Mile after mile, the pace crept downward, and though I noticed it, there was no real cause for alarm.
My race management was spot-on. Alternate Gatorade and water in the aid stations, gels at 5-mile increments, 2 Enduralytes every hour, and 2 Tylenol before the race. The sky was overcast but clearing, so in the first few miles I moved my number from my shirt to my shorts in the event I'd have to peel it off.
We had slipped behind the 3:15 pacers, behind the 3:20 pacers, but we were running smoothly. However, the pack around us never seemed to clear, and it was becoming a clot right around the pacers. This turned out to be the first pivotal moment of the race - Miller wanted to get clear of them and into the opening ahead.
It was certainly tempting. There was a wide gap in front of them, and though it wouldn't stay open for long, it would be a welcome respite from the constant moving around runners. So we shot through. The risky side of it was very basic - the sight of the pacers in front of us had a governing effect, helping us to remember to maintain the proper pace. By getting in front of them, the restriction was gone. Simply put, this would either work or blow up in our faces.
Right away the pace began to creep down. By the time we split from the half-marathon runners we were playing around the 7:25-7:30 mark each mile. Still it wasn't hard, though I was starting to feel a little stringer in my hamstring and hip. This later moved down to the outside of my left calf, and I got very concerned there. That's when I told Miller I'd have to watch my pace. We slowed all the way down from 7:15 back to the 7:25 we'd been doing. The truth is the only thing that really hurt me all day was dropping downhill. Anytime we did that, I felt it.
Once we hit the halfway point, I was pretty sure I couldn't repeat the same speed again. I was a little disappointed there, because I really wanted that sub-3:20 when it became clear we were crushing 3:30. Though I couldn't wrap my mind around 13.1 more miles at pace, I vowed to go one more at a time for a while. I could push for a while longer.
We didn't talk much. It wasn't so much I was hurting, because really I wasn't. I didn't have a lot to say, and I was focusing on the growing pains I was having in the leg. My cardio was never seriously challenged. We did continue to compare Garmin information, that is until mine mysteriously quit timing around 10.55 miles. We been bumping one another over and over, and I think my button got tapped. As a precaution, I'd started my running watch at the starting line as a backup. See, the stars were aligned!
It was around the 20-mile mark when we picked up Tom from St. Louis. He was looking to get his BQ, and needed 3:25 to do it. He'd been waffling on his pace because he knew he had it in the bag. He tagged along with us and we started talking. My plan was to look at our situation at 22 miles, then again at 24. I wanted to see what we could accomplish beyond the stated goals by those points, because by mile 21 I could see sub-3:15 was possible. Tom scoffed at the idea. By 22, it was clear we very much could have it, and if we timed our last charge (okay, MY last charge) properly, we WOULD get it.
The very second I started talking about 3:15, the pace dropped again - hard. We'd been in the 7:15 area for a while, and that took effort to control. Now it went more like 7:05, and there was no more controlling it. Somewhere around 23 it went to 6:45, and it didn't matter what I said, it stayed there. I made up my mind to stay with Tom no matter what he did - he might be faster, he might not, but I wasn't going to get dropped by this guy that had been hanging on to us by a thread. Sure enough, in less than a mile he broke; he dropped back, but the damage for him was done. Worse, he'd awakened a sleeping giant, and filled him with a terrible resolve.
Miller took over. So you wanna run 6:45? Sure, let's do that! We had 2.2 miles to run, the clock said 2:59, and I knew barring disaster, we had sub-3:15 in the bag. The pain in the legs wasn't terrible, but I was beginning to worry my greed was going to get the better of me. There was pain, and that meant something could pop. After a mile at 6:40, I told Miller I didn't want to get hurt for a few extra seconds under 3:15. I needed to slow down a bit. He could go on, but I was slowing down.
Check it out. First 10k pace, 7:41. First half, 7:32 pace. 30k, 7:31 pace. Second half of race, 7:19 pace. Total pace, 7:26, well under the 8:02 necessary for the BQ. I've run a ton of marathons, and I can't remember one that went smoother than this one. All the stars aligned.
As for Greg, he pulled a calf 1.5 miles into the race and DNF'd. That's too bad, because he, along with Scott, and of course Miller, are the ones that made this race possible for me today. I've never run as well on so little training or preparation. I'm not about to get cocky here - I am one extremely fortunate old man to have pulled this off without getting hurt, and I know it. Still, God placed each of these individuals in just the right place at just the right time to pull this all together.
Also, a huge THANK YOU to Robin and Josh for thinking of me when misfortune struck (waitaminnit... am I always the first thought of when misfortune strikes?). You guys saved me a lot of time and hassle to get the BQ option for next year. Plus... my string of years with at least one marathon remains unbroken!
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