Thursday, October 21, 2010
Ben's Marathon Experience
Ben at Long Beach
First of all, congratulations to everyone on your races and, more important, on the hard work you did to get there!
My own marathon experience began last Christmas while visiting my family back in Syracuse, NY. My youngest brother, Rob, had just run the Sacramento Marathon and my other brother, Andy (also younger than me, but older than Rob), asked him about it and said he might like to do one too. They asked me, and I said yes. I ran track in high school and my first year of college, but had not run a race in quite a while. In fact, almost as much time (18 years) had passed SINCE I ran my last race than had passed between me being and running my last race (19 years).
So when I got back to Boulder I started running and thinking about the marathon, wondering how well I could do. I won't stretch this out with that whole story, but suffice it to say that this year was all about realizing that I am not 18 anymore. Nonetheless, I thought I would have a strong race. When I hurt my leg in July, I was less sure about how strong it would be, but I also realized that I would finish no matter what and that I would be proud of that.
After the long run down in Denver a few weeks back I was unsure of how well I would do. I was lost for a bit of the run, and though I know that speed is not the issue at hand for such workouts, I had run so slow due to all of the stops and head-scratching that I did not have a good sense of where I was at physically. The next weekend I decided to do another hard workout (I was off schedule because of my injury anyway and had missed several of the longer, harder runs). I ran 15 miles at what I hoped would be my race pace and wound up averaging a bit better than 7:30/mile. I hoped that I could do the rest of the marathon at that pace. As Andy would tell me, “Just think, only 11 miles to go and you're done!” Of course, I was counting on the Boulder advantage (altitude) and the fact that the Long Beach Marathon is just about flat.
I finished up training and had a nice taper. I was pretty calm about the whole “losing fitness” thing I hear many people feel before their first marathon. I trusted the training with F4 and what I had done up to June. Instead, I used the opportunity to reflect on the process that led me to this point. My last run before leaving for California was short and was more or less a repetition of the first course I had run in Boulder back in January, when I first began my training. Then I had run about 3.5 miles at an 8:40 pace. My heart rate for that run was well over 160 and I recall feeling pretty bad after it. This last run was about the same distance, but now I ran about 7:45/mile (I know, I can't control myself) and my heart rate was around 150. It was quite stunning to see that progress.
In any case, I had been eating well all week—nothing spicey, nothing creamy, no dessert, no beer (!!!), nothing new or unusual, lots of carbs, etc. I was ready, and strangely calm about the whole thing. On one hand, I had spent so long and so much mental energy preparing for the race that I think I had put it to rest. I KNEW I could not be in better shape (short of not being hurt, but it is what it is and I think the injury was a blessing in disguise: I would have been much crazier if I did not have to temper my expectations). I boarded the plane to Long Beach (where Rob lives) Friday morning feeling pretty good. Somehow I even had a really good sleep Thursday night—I NEVER sleep well before traveling. My brothers and I (and the wives) had a nice mini-reunion. I recalled that the last time I had seen any of them I had not taken my first step towards this goal.
After eating at my Rob's restaurant Saturday evening, I settled into bed, watched a little tv and ACTUALLY FELL ASLEEP. Crazy, because I did not even sleep the night be fore the 21-miler in Denver. But sleep I did, and fairly well. I was up at 4:50 am, ate two pop tarts and an English muffin slathered in Honey Stinger (I had to bring Boulder products, including Mix 1s for recovery and cookies from Spruce Confections for treats afterward). I pulled on my shorts, F4 shirt, shoes, heart rate monitor, compression sleeves, visor, and race belt. (I had decided to carry all of my own nutrition: two packs of Clif Shot Blocks, four plain GUs, and salt tabs. The race was not going to provide anything but water until mile ten and I did not want to wait that long.)
Lori and I got in the car at 5:30 and were at Rob's by 5:50. One last pit stop (I hoped—more on this later) and we were at the race course by 6:20 for the 7:05 start. I ran for five minutes and did my dynamics (it's really strange to do them in front of so many people by yourself!). The weather called for a high of 65 with complete cloud cover. It was a bit humid, but otherwise perfect for racing.
I was ready.
Well, Rob, Andy, and I made our way towards the start. The first of only two issues I had that morning was that we were not moving early enough and could not get closer to the start that the fourth wave, which was marked for people doing 4.5 – 5 hours. I was a bit upset by this turn of events, but realized that it would not really matter in the end. The three of us were separated by the crowd as we pushed forward. I decided to hang out at the back end of wave three rather than expend energy fighting people to move up a few feet. Wave three got underway at 7:15 am. The gun went off and within 20 seconds I was over the line and off. I suppressed the urge to channel Homer Simpson, who, three steps into the Springfield marathon, yelled, “I can't believe it! I'm actually running a marathon! Woo hoo!”
Back in January I was hoping to run around 3:10 – 3:15. My super-unrealistic goal was 3:05 and my will-not-do-it goal was to break 3:00. After Bolder Boulder I knew I would not come near 3:00, so I decided to shoot for 3:15 when I found out that that was my Boston qualifying mark. After I hurt my leg (I wound up missing about a month of training in July and August I readjusted my goal to 3:30 and just having a strong race. Those seemed to me to be very worthwhile in any case, so I was happy with them. After my very good 15 mile workout, I was hoping again for 3:15 and began telling people who had started to ask that my goal was to run 7:30/mile and finish in about 3:15 (which is actually slightly faster than 7:30/mile).
My strategy was to go out slightly slow, which I realized would happen regardless because of the crowd at the starting line. My heart rate always settles in better when I take the first bit of a long run slower than my intended average pace. I would take Shot Blocks at mile 5 and 10, GUs at 15 and 20, and salt at 8 and 16. I would pee if I had to (after Scott's advice on this point) and try to imagine the whole race as a 20 mile warm up for a 10k. I had been thinking something like that, but when Scott phrased it as such the idea really sunk in. Other than that, I was hoping to run a negative split, but in the end I really did not know what to expect except that doing it would be unlike anything else. People always ask, after I finish a long run, how it was. I always answer, “It was exactly like running 20 miles.” Point being: there is nothing else really like it.
Sure enough, despite the fact that I drank almost nothing all morning, and then only Gatorade, I had to pee almost immediately. I skipped the first couple of port-a-john areas because of lines and made it the fourth one somewhere in the fifth mile. There were only two people in line (although someone snuck in) and I think my time there was about one minute. “Better to be as comfortable as possible,” thought I.
The first three miles flew by. I barely registered that I had done them. In mile 6 the course looped back by the start and I saw my wife, Lori, and sister-in-law, Mya, cheering me on. That helped, especially since I knew I was still well within my comfort zone. At mile 5 I had my Shot Blocks, my salt at 8, and more Blocks at 10. Everything was going well and I had begun to pick up the pace. My heart rate had been in the low to mid 160s, which I thought was high, but since I had been running for well over an hour, and my wind was fine, I decided not to worry about it.
At about 12 miles, wouldn't you know it, but I had to pee AGAIN. Again I stopped, this time in a regular bathroom in a park where there was no line. It cost me maybe 20 – 30 seconds. Oh well, thought I.
At mile 15 I was still feeling quite good and I was beginning to believe. I had always believed that I COULD do it, but now the feeling that was sinking in was that I actually was doing it, that it WOULD be done and soon. It was really hard to think about because perhaps nothing I have ever done has required so much focus and so much effort for such a prolonged and yet concentrated period of time. I was feeling a bit emotional at the thought, so I concentrated on my form and the crazy coincidence that Europe's “The Final Countdown” started on my iPod EXACTLY at mile 20. That was pretty awesome.
As Europe played I passed someone and shouted, “We're all warmed up and let's kill the 10k.” He clearly did not have Scott for a coach as he looked at me with an expression I can't relate here, this being a family site and all. I picked up my pace a bit more. I had been running in the 7:10 – 7:20 range for a while and I was trying to get down into the 7:00 – 7:10 for the last 10k. I did NOT eat another GU, as I had planned, as I was feeling good and I could not take the thought of getting another one down. I should have eaten it anyway, but I don't think it was that big a deal.
In any case, I was in uncharted territory and I started to really feel it in mile 23. I had felt great, and knew I would break 3:20. I was just hoping to get under the Boston mark. I knew that I would have to finish mile 15 by about 1:52, which I had, and finish 24 by about 3:00, which I had. My thinking was that I would be able to do the last 2+ miles at 7:10/mile or so and just sneak under my goal. Well, I was able to keep up a decent pace (~7:32/mile), but I could not go faster to save my life. I'm not sure I could have done anything BUT that pace at that point: no faster, no slower. It's like my legs were on autopilot, some kind of cruel muscle-memory torture. My feet were on fire and every part of my legs hurt with every step. Naturally, my upper body was fine, except my mind which was getting tired. I started counting down mileage and time, which I NEVER like to do. “Oh, this is just like one of your short runs!” “The total distance left is like the distance from Baseline back to the house!” It wasn't really working, for obvious reasons.
I was dodging and weaving between people coming in from the half-marathon course and I finally saw the line. I managed to pass a few last people and crossed, and then spent several minutes wondering how the heck I would find everyone. I had not really considered that part. Lucky for me they had, and were waiting when I exited the runner's area. I had my Mix 1 and all was right with the world. Well, except for my legs.
I finished in 3:16:25 (official; net). My watch said I had run an extra .4 miles or so, but who knows. In any case, the two bathroom breaks cost me the Boston time. Nonetheless, even though it's a “so close yet so far away” kind of thing, I don't care at all. I probably would not have run Boston anyway and I am extraordinarily happy with my time. I averaged right about 7:30/mile and ran the second half of the race faster than the first. I ran all but one mile (weirdly, mile 5—according to my watch) under 8 minutes. While I knew I COULD do that, I also knew that a lot has to come together one race day to make your best possible outcome actually come about. Given the weather, the fact that I did not hurt myself during the race (my calf actually started hurting early but eventually worked itself out), and the fact that starting in wave four really was not an issue, I just can't get worked up over 26 seconds and two bathroom breaks. I also realize how much worse it could have been. I saw one gut in the last mile collapsed on the road with people trying to revive him (I think he only passed out as they were using smelling salts and not CPR) and Lori saw a woman fall over as she exited the runner's area. Rob had to pull out after mile 2 because of a knee injury he sustained a few weeks back. Andy pulled his hamstring in mile 21 when had to dodge a volunteer who jumped out in front of him. He had to walk to the finish line, but he did finish. In any case, I knew that my race had gone just about perfectly so a few slight problems were not going to get me down.
Thanks to everyone who kept reading and congratulations on your own races. No one can take away your accomplishments, which are so much greater than a single day of running.