25-Minute Marathon PR for my 25th Birthday

A day later, I still can't believe it.

I still remember clearly the long, seemingly endless struggle to finish a marathon in under four hours. The disappointment that always shaded the should-be joyous accomplishment of finishing a marathon. Of finishing my first marathon—then my second, third, fourth. And, of course, I still remember the first 17 years of my life, when I couldn't manage to run a mile, and the few years after that when all I could run was a mile.

The four-hour wall crumbled for me last October when I ran a 3:45 marathon. That was a 28-minute marathon PR for me. I did another marathon a few weeks later, which left me injured for several weeks (oops). After that, I did a winter trail marathon, a winter 50K (my first ultra) and then my first 50 mile, so it's been a while since I took the opportunity to have a go at a road marathon.

Going into the race, I vaguely figured I was in even better shape than I was last October, so I should have no trouble beating my 3:45 time. And yet, there was something in my mind suggesting that 3:45 could have been a fluke... After all, I'd only done it once, and my eight-marathon average finishing time was 4:30. Looking back at my training also made me a bit skeptical of myself: My pace during my long runs averaged 9:30/mile or so, on a good day (though I made a point of running them at a casual, relaxed pace), and my easy runs often dipped slower than 10:00/mile. In order to beat my marathon PR, I'd have to exceed about 8:30/mile on average. It seemed like a tall order.

There were a couple redeeming aspects of my training, though, that gave me hope that I could quash my 3:45 PR: I did speedwork twice a week—usually an interval session and a tempo session every week. And I was doing very high (for me) mileage, averaging 70 miles a week for the past few months. My tapering for this marathon took me down to 50 miles a week, which about a year ago was my mileage on peak week. Finally, this summer I ran two road 5Ks that resulted in two big PRs: First, I ran 20:30, then I ran 19:48—achieving my longstanding goal of beating 20 minutes. Later in the summer I ran a neighborhood half marathon where I made a point to run casually and not exert myself in the first 8 or 9 miles, and I finished in 1:45—nearly beating the PR that I had worked so hard to earn last year, almost hurling in the final mile.

So I made my way up to Scranton for the Steamtown Marathon, slept in a smoky motel room and sat on the bus to the starting line. Talking to a few people pre-race (people love approaching me to talk about the sandals...), the majority of the advice was to run conservatively the first half, which was mostly downhill, to save up for the second half, which had some climbs. I think this advice (which was mirrored in countless emails from the race director) caused a lot of people to go way too slow on the downhills. Thinking back, I remember passing a lot of people on the long downhill stretches (some were a few miles long), and then in the final three miles of the race I also passed a lot of people—and only one person passed me, and that was in the final half-mile.

Still, I heeded the wisdom of not going out too fast, and I made sure that for the first half of the run I would only breath through my nose, and make every inhalation last at least four steps—same with every exhalation. This is my way of keeping my heart rate (and, by proxy, pace) in check without having to use a watch or anything. Another innovation I practiced during this race was to not look at my watch for the first half, and then only after mile 20.

The course was stunning. As a point-to-point race in hilly northeastern Pennsylvania, it was pretty rural. And at this time of year, the foliage was gorgeous. The course took us through a few towns with lots of interesting architecture in their centers, and there were plenty of cheering spectators along the way. (Which meant shouts of, "Flip flops!?")

Loading

The course was so beautiful! Such autumn! Forgive the awful photo; I didn't want to stop. But you get the idea.

View on Instagram

I was nervous coming into the half. I knew I was trying not to push it, and I felt relaxed. If I was going to beat my 3:45 marathon, I needed to hit the halfway mark around 1:52. What would I do if I got to the half and I was way behind? My problem turned out to be the opposite: I got to the half at 1:39, which was better than my previous half marathon PR. Now I was a bit nervous: What if I couldn't keep it up?

The next several miles whizzed by. Literally, I guess, because I was going faster than I thought I had any business going. I decided to keep up my conservative breathing routine till mile 15, when I would allow myself to take only three steps per inhalation. Around mile 18, I allowed myself the occasional mouth-breath. I knew I was almost done, but the final six miles of a marathon can be brutal if you didn't save up gas.

When I hit 20 miles, I was astounded. My time then was 2:33, meaning I could take 12 minutes per mile for the rest of the race and still beat my 3:45 PR. (If I did my math right in my semi-crazed state.) That was very comforting. And now that that was in the bag, I decided to be a bit more ambitious: I only had 6 miles left, and I was feeling good. Since I knew I'd beat my PR, I was the king of the world. The question was how much further behind me the next guy in line would be. So I decided to ramp it up and see what happened. The idea popped into my head that I might be able to finish in 3:20, which would put me at 25 minutes better than my previous PR. Considering it was my 25th birthday, I couldn't resist.

 

I started inhaling through my nose and exhaling through my mouth, consciously increasing my turnover. I felt a few twinges in my calf muscles, which really scared me—should I back off? When the twinges came I did back off for a few minutes, but then I forgot about it and my speed crept back up. In the end, I had no cramping or pains or anything to speak of. In the final miles, I made a game of reeling in the runners ahead of me. I passed so many people! I kind of felt bad (but kind of not) for all the people who were struggling up the hills, because I was just cruising. I was on Cloud 99999999 and nothing could have been better.

 

I finished in 3:20:35, making my 25-minute PR. I gathered up some food from the post-race feast (it was seriously plentiful) and went to lie down in the grass. What a great birthday present.

Loading

Time to sit in the grass for a while after a great marathon.

View on Instagram

Marine Corps Marathon

On the way to the starting line on October 27, we drove past two cars that had been in an accident. Everyone seemed fine, but they probably wouldn't make it to the marathon. At that point, part of me wished that we'd get in an accident so I wouldn't have to run the marathon either...

We parked in Crystal City, hopped on the shuttle to the Runners Village and before I knew it I was at the starting line. No turning back now. Not long after the largest flag ever to be carried by a parachuter landed in front of me, I was off.

The first mile was dubious. My right calf had been tight, and my whole week of running prior to the marathon had been a train wreck. Perhaps running 54 miles the week before that (and only the second week after my previous marathon) was a bit too much. In any case, I slathered my leg in magnesium, swallowed loads of collagen, grounded myself as much as possible, ingested plenty of yucca root and turmeric and wore a new pair of 2XU calf compression sleeves that I bought at the expo. I wasn't sure if I'd actually be able to finish the marathon—I was really worried—but I figured I'd do everything I could to set myself up for success given the circumstances. My leg felt a lot better by Sunday morning, but I still wasn't at 100 percent, and that became painfully evident in the first minutes of the race. I took it slow—not that I had a choice; the field was massive and it seemed everyone started too far up for what they actually planned on running.

Soon my calf loosened up and I was okay to go. I buzzed forward, part of me unrealistically hoping to get a 3:35 PR, so I attempted to stay on pace for that. I did pretty well, hitting the half at 1:50:21, and I kept speeding up all the way to the 35K mark. But then I started getting reeeeeeally tired. I fought the urge to take a walking break, knowing that would further kill my time, so I trudged on.

After mile 20 things got pretty bleak. My last marathon had been such a breeze that maybe I forgot how tough running a marathon could be. Nonetheless, I was determined that I would run the whole way and somehow make it through. In the end, I did take a 30-second walking break around mile 25, but that allowed me to gather the energy and courage to make it through the final stretch. The Marines hilariously put a steep hill at 26.1, and finishing felt like an incredible achievement.

My final time was 3:51:21. Not a PR, but that's still over 20 minutes faster than my pre-October PR, and considering I'd run another marathon just three weeks before, I was pretty satisfied. Moreover, I knew I gave the race my fullest effort, and I had nothing to be ashamed of.

The marathon itself was one of the best. The course was beautiful, gliding through countless sights and neighborhoods of DC and northeast Virginia. There were just enough hills to keep it interesting but not so many that they were grueling. The best part, though, was the patriotism that pervaded the day, and the inspirational other runners. Marines manned all the aid stations, marathoners ran for their fallen loved ones, a number of people ran with American flags, and there were many people running on Team Hoyt—runners who pushed handicapped loved ones in wheelchairs or strollers through the entire course.

Afterwards I was exhausted. I had planned to meet my family at the meet-up area, but I couldn't make it that far (it was positioned devilishly far from the finish line), so I plopped down next to a stand giving away watermelon. The next day I could barely walk—it had been a long time since I experienced that!—and it took a few days for me to be able to walk normally. Now, almost a week later, I still have some lingering tension in my right calf. I tried going for a run yesterday but only made it a mile... I'm going to nurture this calf a bit more to make sure I get it back up to snuff before I start pounding on it again.

My next marathon will be the Tecumseh Trail Marathon in Indiana on December 7. I'm looking forward to the smallest marathon I've ever run, as well as my first trail race! Should be a blast.

Perfect Day at the Lakefront Marathon and Tips for Performance Improvement

To follow up my half-marathon PR last week, I shattered my previous marathon PR today at the Milwaukee Lakefront Marathon. Oh, and I finally got to check off an official Wisconsin marathon on my list, since Green Bay in 2012 got canceled on me. Today was the consummation of my most intensive training cycle to date, and it proved the effectiveness of some lifestyle strategies I've picked up along the way.

Even I was surprised by my performance today. If a marathon could ever be called "easy," it'd be the one I ran today. I put in a solid effort (though there was a hint of "I don't belong way up here" along the way), but I kept smiling and never had to breathe hard. More surprisingly, I never even took a walking break. My form never slipped. I didn't even feel like I was tired until after mile 23, and by then I was already unstoppable. I didn't cramp up like I had out of the blue in other marathons. It was, by many measures, perfect. The only problem was that my dad missed seeing me because I zoomed through the course too fast.

On race day I woke up around 4:30 and had a Bulletproof Coffee, along with half a pancake, a bunch of salt and a Raw Revolution bar. An hour before the race started, I took a Vespa CV-25. Later I took a Vespa Ultra-Concentrate around mile 12 and most of a Clif Mojo bar shortly afterward (it was hard as a rock and tasted like garbage so I didn't feel like finishing it). Then I had half a gel around mile 20. Throughout the race I drank 20 ounces of water, which I had in a handheld water bottle. I didn't eat anything else, and I didn't stop at any aid stations (though I did grab a cup of water once, from which I took a gulp without stopping). I felt great the entire time, except for a brief bout of stomach cramping around mile 22.

To give numbers, I finished today in 3 hours and 45 minutes. That's 28 minutes faster than my previous PR, 59 minutes faster than my previous marathon in April, and 1 hour and 18 minutes, faster than my first marathon. And here I had been wondering if I'd ever manage to break 4 hours...

Obviously such an improvement in performance begs the question: How'd I get here?

It's been a long journey. Over the past year, I've adjusted to eating a high-fat diet, so my body is now used to metabolizing fat as fuel during endurance exercise. But that didn't help me much in my April marathon, because there was something else: I'd gotten injured in November and again in January, and I didn't run sufficiently for several months. My training needed help.

I turned to Zach Bitter for coaching, and it's been fantastic. He's had me running more miles than ever before—I got up to 54 miles during my peak week—and he smartly incorporates speed workouts, long runs, easy runs and recovery runs. My training has been intense on paper, but I've looked forward to hitting the trails or pavement each day—it's continued to be hugely enjoyable. Not only that, but this is the first training cycle that I haven't gotten injured in. Not even a little bit. No need for ice, no need for ibuprofen—it's been wonderful.

With my training sorted out, I incorporated some other secrets that I'll share with you:

• Nightly ZMA supplementation. The magnesium helps with recovery (and sleep!) and the zinc shores up my testosterone level (important for performance in all aspects of life). It also gives me really fun dreams. 
• Magnesium oil self-massage after tough workouts. Same idea as epsom salt baths, but way better. For more information, see this post on Ben Greenfield's site.
• Lots of Omega-3 fatty acids. Grass-fed butter, high-quality meat, fish oil capsules, actual fish and chia seeds are all great sources of omega-3's. 
• Breathing practice. Normally when running I take 4 steps with each inhalation and 4 steps with each exhalation. I typically only breathe through my nose (it took a lot of practice to achieve this). I've found I can modulate perceived effort through my breath: If I breath slower and through my nose, my heart rate slows and the run feels easier. When I want to really fly, I take fewer steps per breath and/or begin exhaling (and later inhaling) through my mouth. I first started thinking about my breath after reading this post on No Meat Athlete.
• Fasted training runs. I do several of my runs each week in a fasted state—long runs too. This way, when I actually fuel up before a run, it's like I'm overclocking my body. It's incredible.
• Mobility work. A few months ago I purchased Kelly Starrett's book Becoming a Supple Leopard, and I've been incorporating mobility work in my daily routine. I've been sitting on the ground as much as possible and using a standing desk to work every now and then. 
• Meditation. I started learning about Zen (the Victoria Zen Center offers a free online introductory course) and practicing seated Zen meditation every day (as well as working to be more present in all I do), and I believe this mental strengthening has contributed to me as a runner. For a complementary, but different, form of meditation, I've also been reading the acclaimed Running with the Mind of Meditation and incorporating some of these exercises into my running. Most recently I've started doing Vishen Lakhiani's brilliant 6-phase meditation each morning.
• Grounding. If you haven't read much about grounding (also called "earthing"), it probably sounds ridiculous, but I'm convinced it works. The most irrefutable proof, in my opinion, is its ability to erase jet lag in minutes. Grounding is a natural anti-inflammatory, and it's also an indispensable part of my life as an athlete. I sleep grounded every night, and I take care to spend as much time grounded throughout the day as possible. Read more about grounding here.
• Other supplements I take regularly (some I take every day, some I cycle every now and then):
• Collagen from a pastured, grass-fed source
• Glutathione
• Extreme Endurance
• Vitamineral Green (super greens powder)
• Vitamineral Earth (root/bark powder)
• Vitamin D

I'm really excited about how things are going, and I can't wait for my next marathon... in Washington, D.C., in three weeks: the Marine Corps Marathon!

Rock 'n' Roll Madrid Maratón

I originally signed up for this marathon back in September or October thinking it'd be a PR marathon. I'd have a year to train well, and it'd be the first time I ran a marathon in the city I was living in at the time (meaning I would be acclimated to the weather).

Surprise! Ankle injury in the Fall that running the Goofy Challenge certainly didn't help. I felt fine a week after the marathon-and-a-half and began a new training program, but I apparently did too much too soon and injured myself again. This time it was the dreaded Achilles. Eventually, with daily eccentric stretching and some massage therapy, I got back into running shape, and I was more or less back on track. Fast forward to what was supposed to be my peak week, where instead of doing a 20-mile run I decided to do a 125-mile coastal walk on the Isle of Anglesey in Wales, in which I am pretty sure I gave myself a stress fracture. My left foot was about twice the size of my other one for a day... the swelling went down and the pain went away, but I didn't dare run more than a mile or two at a time. A week before the marathon, I attempted a 10-mile run but only made it 5 before my calves started getting dangerously tight. I didn't want to hurt them, so I walked the other 5 miles.

A reasonable Tim would have just foregone the marathon in favor of not risking serious damage, but luckily I'm kind of an idiot and can be very reckless. So this morning I KT taped my ankles for stability, donned my calf sleeves and lined up for my sixth marathon. It wouldn't be a PR, but hopefully I would finish. But even that was a bit iffy. This marathon had been the key stress point in my life for the past four months.

I was feeling good about the run, except for one thing: the forecast. It was supposed to rain. Light rain, whatever that means. I don't have any running shoes here besides my Original Luna sandals, which are pretty horrible in the rain (I didn't mention that I possibly sprained a toe earlier this semester by running in the rain in the slippery devils). So I put KT tape on the bottom of my forefoot and the top of the sandal where my forefoot rests to create some friction in case of rain. Hopefully it'd work. I also tightened my sandals a bit. As it turned out, it didn't rain at all. There were some threatening drizzles around mile 20, but it didn't get worse, luckily.

The run started out great. I was feeling energetic and fluid, and I finished the first half in about 1:57. The bad news started around mile 15... strong fatigue. Shortly after, cramps. My thighs and calves were contracting in ways that made it impossible to do more than walk briskly. I took a short break to try and massage, stretch and actively release the tension, but that was largely fruitless. I swallowed an extra salt pill and went on my way, seriously contemplating dropping out. What was I thinking doing this without much training and after all those injuries, anyway?

I brooded for a few kilometers, trying to run every now and then but not making it over 40 seconds before succumbing to walking. After maybe a half hour, though, something miraculous happened: The cramping stopped. I was still dead tired, and my calves still felt precarious, but I could basically run with a modified form (more of a flat foot strike rather than my usual forefoot strike) here and there. But it was a struggle. Even so, I was delighted to be facing my own mostly-mental babiness rather than the physical limitations that have been so frustrating for the past few months.

It was a brutal finish, but it wasn't my worst marathon. I ended up around 4:45, just under an 11-minute mile, and I'll take it. I'm looking forward to taking some time off running to let my body recuperate, and then I'll start a nice, slow training program for my next marathons in October.

Shout out to my roommate Brigette for coming out to see me as I passed near our apartment and then cheering at kilometer 42 with our friend Vi. And of course my friends Emily and Niki, who ran this as their first marathon, beating me by 10 or 15 minutes.

Somehow I don't feel that sore. I remember my first couple of marathons had pretty brutal aftermath. I feel a bit uncomfortable maybe, but my feet and legs feel mostly normal. The only thing is I got a cut between my big toe and pointer toe on my left foot because I had tightened my sandal. Oh, and the stomacheache from all the crazy food I consumed today: beer, donuts, chocolate, chocolate, sandwiches, McFlurries, bacon cheeseburger...

Interesting things... Spaniards seem more serious about marathons. I don't think they sign up until they're better prepared as runners, meaning the average marathoner here is faster. They're also, in typical Spaniard fashion, a little pushy. There were aid people on roller blades giving out spray (I think for muscle pain relief?) and Vaseline. I thought the blades were cute and quirky at first but I quickly realized that these people are not skilled rollerbladers and got in the way A LOT. I saw two people running tied together, a man being pushed in a wheelchair along the course (with a bib on the wheelchair), and who knows what else.

WDW Goofy Challenge (a.k.a. Florida again)

After a successful San Francisco Marathon, my mom, my brother and I decided to do the Walt Disney World Goofy Challenge in January: We'd pay more than the price of each event individually in order to run them both. If that didn't make us crazy, then surely running 40 miles in two days did. Even so, despite the logistical nightmare that was Disney, the WDW Marathon Weekend had all the makings of tradition to see our family friends.

This fall I made some changes to my training. I was running in Luna sandals instead of shoes. I decided to train in minutes instead of miles to focus on heart rate training (and also because my GPS is very sketchy in Madrid, where I now live, and because I prefer to run aimlessly in Casa de Campo than along a route with known mile markers). I also effectively eliminated speedwork—I had plans to do weekly tempo runs and monthly 5K trials, but somehow that only lasted a month. I also managed to swap out some of my shorter runs for yoga sessions, which may or may not have been a wise decision. Lastly, my new Madrileño lifestyle included more walking than I'd been used to (at least an hour on an average day), and much more traveling—I was gone many weekends, on which I skipped my long runs. I'm sure all that stuff impacted my training.

In order to focus fully on the Goofy Challenge, I decided not to run a marathon in October (I originally planned to run the Bilbao Night Marathon; instead I ran the half marathon at that event). Despite this precaution, I ended up getting injured in early November. After standing for a few minutes after a decent 10K, I found myself barely able to walk because of my right ankle. This was scary, because the 10K went perfectly fine and there was no pain to speak of (I finished in under 50 minutes). Later I remembered having felt some premonitions of pain in my right Achilles earlier that weekend walking around Barcelona, but I still have no idea what really caused it, or what it was. I decided the closest diagnosis was an impinged nerve, and I tried to do exercises to loosen it up. I had to give up running for a few weeks, so I tried to do yoga or walk for periods of time equivalent to my prescribed runs. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to do the marathons in January, and that was a major stress factor (pretty much the only one in my life).

Eventually the pain went away enough for me to do a few long runs; in all of November I'm sure I ran less than 30 miles, and I maybe doubled that in December. I don't know how far I ran in my peak training runs for the Goofy, but it was only a 1.5-hour run on a Saturday and a 2.5-hour run on a Sunday, two weeks before the marathon. Luckily my ankle didn't complain about that, so I decided to taper down and hope for the best.

Because I knew I was severely undertrained, I focused on my nutrition and looked for any other edge I could get for myself. A few months ago I shifted from mostly-vegan to an Upgraded Paleo (Dave Asprey's Bulletproof Executive Diet) with a high intake of healthy fats and low carbs. I liked the scientific support for this diet and how it meshed with the athletic outlook of Dr. Maffetone (heart rate training). The other edge I was looking for came in the form of electrically grounding myself: I had heard about earthing from Dave Asprey's podcast, and I tried to walk barefoot outside as much as possible (though it isn't exactly easy in the glass-laden and poop-covered streets and parks of Madrid). I was able to order an earthing bed mat when I got home to Milwaukee on New Year's Eve, and I've been sleeping grounded every night since then.

I made one minor mistake in the week before the marathon: I ran barefoot on the treadmill. I'm not sure why—it wasn't even that cold outside. Regardless, though, it was a horrible idea... my feet were blistered and tender for a few days, and I hoped they'd be fine by the time the marathon came. (They were so-so.)

Race day came soon enough. The half marathon went just fine: I ran it at a nice, slow, comfortable pace and never really felt tired. It was about 10:15 miles. I ran in the grass sometimes to lessen the impact on my feet; I'm not sure it actually helped, but it surely did hurt: It increased the friction between my feet and the surface of the sandals, making the bottoms of my feet really tender... something that would prove extremely painful during the marathon the next day. My ankle threatened a bit during the run, and I decided to KT Tape it up later that day as a precaution for the next day's marathon. As soon as I put the tape on, there was no pain at all, so (again) I'm sure it was vital to me finishing. Somehow I felt pretty wiped out after running the half; I hadn't felt so tired after running just 13 miles in a very long time! I should also note how remarkably boring the course was: We ran through the Magic Kingdom and Epcot, but it was 10+ miles of running along freeways and through parking lots. Not so magical...

The full marathon was very miserable. I didn't feel like running: My feet weren't the best and my legs were tired. I had horrible expectations for the run, but it actually went okay for the first 8 miles or so. The highlight was probably stopping for a picture with Lilo and Stitch. The course was pretty cool this year; we ran through all four parks, took a lap on the Exotic Speedway and toured the ESPN Wide World of Sports facilities. If I didn't want to die it would have been a lot of fun. I was floundering, running each mile slower than the last, and the heat was climbing. Before I knew it, I was nauseous and apocalyptic and it was in the 80s. I put myself on a walk 5 minutes–run 5 minutes regimen that carried me to mile 23 or 24, at which time I had to change it to "run 1 minute." It helped a lot when I heard these two women, also struggling, go by me and one of them said, "Okay, ready? Just one minute. You can do anything for just one minute." That's so true.

I finished the full in 5 hours and 40-something minutes, making it my slowest marathon yet. But for good reason, I think! Of course it's extremely disappointing making a new record slow, but if I'm able to examine the points that led up to that race performance, then it was worthwhile. As it stands, though, I don't think I'll be doing the Goofy Challenge again any time soon.

My next marathon plans are the Rock n Roll Madrid Marathon on April 28, and the Marine Corps Marathon in D.C. in October. Not sure if I'll do one this summer; it depends when I get back to the States.

What went wrong:

• Not running sufficient long runs
• Ankle injury

Goals for next training season:

• Speedwork
• Switch back to miles from minutes (find variety of routes mapped online)
• Stability and power exercises for cross training
• Self-motivational tactics for on-the-run
• Learn more about mid-race eating and drinking

The road to BQ and all 50 states continues... slowly but surely.

San Francisco Marathon

Yesterday was my fourth marathon. I was hoping this would be the one in which I finally broke four hours, but that was not to be the case. The jury isn't sure why—perhaps it was my lackadaisical training regimen this summer, Milwaukee's lack of any SF-caliber hills to train on, or maybe even the 10-mile hike we did the day before. (Although this blogger seems to suggest hiking the day before a marathon is a good thing. Maybe if you're used to it.)

In any case, this was perhaps the most grueling marathon yet for me... Worse than Green Bay wherein, even in 90-degree temperatures I was still feeling okay enough to power walk the second half. And maybe worse than Chicago wherein cramps physically prohibited my body from running more than a few feet at a time after the 15-mile mark. Yesterday was a new experience—I think it was "hitting the wall," something that hadn't happened to me. My whole upper body, especially my lower back, was sore, and my legs felt like bricks. It's one thing if that were to happen after the 20-mile mark, but in this case it happened at 14. Puke.

Let's back up. The day before the race, we took an amazing walk up the top of the Corona Heights hill.  We checked out the expo again, went to a few restaurants and checked out some art galleries. My feet and legs were exhausted by halfway through the day—yes, that was a bit alarming—but we got some cool photos. Below is the foggy view from the hill.

We went to bed around 8 p.m. in preparation to wake up at 4, hoping that we would be able to ignore the sirens and hollering hobos that passed by throughout the night. Luckily, I felt well-rested at 4, and I was ready. We arrived at the start just a few moments before our wave took off, during which time we got to see part of a performance by Rock the Bike (seen below). Around 5:52 a.m., we were off.

My plan was to run the first half with 9:30 miles and the second half at 8:30 miles. I started out really well, running with my brother (his first marathon!) for the first 5 miles or so. We hit the 5k with a 9:21 pace, and I had brightened to a 9:19 pace by the time we hit the 7.4-mile mark. I hit the half marathon mark with a 9:18 pace. A little faster than I'd planned, actually, but the run was exhilarating. The downhills on the Golden Gate Bridge were especially fun.

But shortly after the half, things went sour. Unfortunately, right in the middle of Golden Gate Park and all its inclines... I kept telling myself I felt good, saying I'd be able to make it the whole way without walking (by Mile 14, I hadn't taken a walking break yet). But then, everything fell apart. My back was sore (that never happens), and my brain couldn't seem to will my legs to shuffle uphill. So I took on a strategy for the next X miles in which I would run the downhill parts only and make no promises about anything else. This was extremely frustrating because my heart rate was still low and my breath was constant (one breath per four steps) and relaxed... I should have been able to push it so much more, but my legs weren't on board.

We also saw buffalo.

My head was getting a little messed up... It felt as if I were getting dehydrated, but I had been taking a mouthful of water every 10 minutes. And since it was only 55 degrees out and misty, I didn't think it was possible. It also couldn't be the electrolytes, I thought, since I'd been taking salt tablets and gels like I usually had been doing in the 90-degree heat of Milwaukee. Nonetheless, I was getting that seasick feeling... My pace by Mile 20 had sickened to 10:17.

I didn't get another burst of energy until Mile 22 or 23, by which time I convinced myself I could run a little bit just for the sake of getting done with this horrible experience that much faster. I would run for two or three minutes and then peter out. It wasn't until Mile 25.5 where I was able to run straight for the rest of the race.

I finished in 4:44, nearly an hour later than I'd planned, and I think I was more exhausted than I'd ever been. Probably not, though; recency makes things seem more acute than they actually are. The familiar thoughts of being a horrible marathoner, non-athlete, failure to improve, "I'm never running again," etc., went through my head, but by the evening I resolved to figure out why I seemed to have gotten slower, and more importantly figure out what I could do about it.

After some reading, I have decided:

• I need to do strength training. I regularly lifted weights in college, before I started running, and I haven't done much since then. Every so often I'll do a few pushups, and I do a 20-minute yoga flow maybe once every two weeks. But it seems that my lack of strength training might actually be hindering my running performance (way worse than just not helping it!). A strong core, arms and back are apparently vital to running... not to mention legs.
• I need to do speedwork. I haven't done any this summer. I'm not sure why, now that I think about it. I did a lot leading up to the Green Bay Marathon, which gave me a 1:43 half marathon time, but I haven't done any this summer. I guess it makes sense that this is another cause of my slowness.
• I need to plan my workouts better. A good workout program should have some easy days, some hard days, and some rest days. I've had all those pieces, but there's no telling how they were distributed. I'll pay more attention to that in my next training period.
• And maybe I even need to lose weight. Gaining a few seconds per mile per pound lost is certainly alluring. I haven't weighed myself in a while, but I think my weight has been hovering around 200 for the past year or so. That's bound to come down with my new plant-centric diet, but maybe I'll even have to make a conscious effort to lose weight. Is losing 20+ pounds the secret for me to breaking six-minute miles?

Inspiration station: Here's another runner who went from no athletic background (like me!) to 100k winner. It just takes time and dedication. Though inborn talent may separate the first-place elites from the fourth-place ones, I'm not convinced it plays a role in most cases. This is heartening, because it means pretty much anyone can improve. A lot.

I planned for my next marathon to be the Bilbao Night Marathon in mid-October, but now I'm wondering if that's too soon. After all, I have no idea what my lifestyle in Spain will be like. Maybe I would just wait and make my next marathon something in the U.S. over Christmas and New Years when I'm home. Well, we'll see how I feel in a few days.

Green Bay Marathon

This post was written on July 24, 2012, and has been backdated to the date of the marathon it describes.

This marathon was horrible. To sum it up: It was way too hot (low 90s, compared to the 40s that I'd been training in), leading them to cancel the race. I still finished, but I basically walked the second half and just tried not to die.

It was supposed to be perfect. I'd run a half marathon in April with a time of 1:43, and I hoped that I could do a full marathon in under 4 hours. I was consistently doing my long runs with 8-minute miles, surprising myself, and I was so stoked for this marathon. Until, until, until, my calf started hurting.

I'm not quite sure what triggered the calf issues. I think it was somewhere between my two twenty milers. And I'm not even quite sure what was wrong. Some days my peroneus longus was sore, so I did some stretches and self-massage. Some days, it was the soleus muscle. Other days it was the big, top calf muscle whose name is currently escaping me. Usually it didn't really hurt... but rather felt a little tight or tired. So I took it easy and rested a few days, then it was time to taper, and I hoped that it would get better during the 3 easy weeks.

But it didn't. Frantically, a few days before the marathon, I was trying to figure out what to do. I then discovered KT Tape, so I bought a roll two days before the marathon and did a calf application. Miraculously, my calf felt better immediately. I was saved. Hallelujah.

I thought everything would be jolly. My friend Jac was running this as his first marathon, and it was supposed to be joyous. They even had a free pasta dinner—what was not to love?

The run itself didn't start out too bad. It was in the 70s by 6 in the morning, which wasn't horrible but was a little warmer than I'd been accustomed to. (What horrible fate that Wisconsin would treat us to a whole spring of sub-50 temperatures and then turn up the heat on race day.) I started out running 9ish-minute miles, but by the half marathon I was pooped (I think I hit it around 2:10). I must have been around Mile 14 or 15 when I started hearing people say they'd canceled the race.

At the water stops, they told us to stop running and that shuttles would come to pick us up. But I kept seeing a few people trickle onward, so I joined them. I was going to finish. I chatted with a few people, one of them being a guy who must have been in his 50s or 60s who was running races every week. He'd just come from Fargo, ND, the previous day (driving) and was running this marathon on just two hours of sleep. The next week, he'd be running the Comrades Marathon (50-miler) in South Africa. Incredible.

I kept on going, mostly walking but sometimes trying to shuffle. It was incredibly difficult. Amazing how much the heat affects the body. I was going so slow, yet I felt so drained. I just couldn't get myself to go faster. And then I got suggestions of a headache and somehow I got swimmer's ear (???), so I couldn't hear out of my right ear. Is that really a sign of dehydration? Anyway, I buckled down and drank Gatorade and ice water at every water station. Then I started feeling sick and bloated from all that horrible Gatorade.

I have to say, the volunteers were amazing. Though the race had been canceled, they all stuck around and were super supportive. They checked in with me to make sure I was okay before letting me go on, not pushing me to stop and take a shuttle if I didn't want to. Oh, and the folks of Green Bay... Thank you! I'll never forget all the sprinklers and pretzels and orange slices and cups of water. So supportive!

At some point I remembered Jac, so I texted him to see what was up. Turns out he didn't stop either, but he was making WAY better time than me. I think he ended up finishing in 4:11, which was about an hour faster than I managed. I like to think it was because he'd just spent a week in New Orleans, but it could simply be that he is a better athlete :).

Around Mile 24 it started getting real. It was tough. My mom and little sister found me (they'd run the half marathon and finished ages prior) and brought me a bottle of Gatorade that I didn't even end up drinking, but the support was great.

By the time I made it back to Lambeau, it was desolate. There were a few fellow runners near the parking lot who congratulated me on not giving in to the cancellation, which was fun. When I crossed the finish line, there was almost no one else there. Maybe a dozen people. They'd taken down the clock and all the decorations... there was barely even a finish line there.

I was so distraught by my horrible time that I didn't even want my free beer (!) or brat at the end of the thing. I also felt bad because Jac's family couldn't wait for me—they had to check out of their hotel and make it back to Milwaukee for their flight—so I felt like I'd let them down. I was wondering whether I could ever really improve as a marathoner and whether I should really keep running. It was a really demoralizing experience. I just felt horrible that entire day. Blah.

Walt Disney World Marathon

This post was written on July 24, 2012, and has been backdated to the date of the marathon it describes.

My second marathon went much better than my first did. Of course, I was still largely drained by Mile 18, but I could keep going, and I didn't get any major cramps until juuuust before the finish line (I had to hobble across). The only problem was that the bottoms of my feet really hurt, probably because I was still running in horrible padded Asics and clonking around on my poor feet. I tossed them out at the finish line—I wasn't about to wear those ever again.

I finished in 4:13, a whole 49 minutes faster than I did in Chicago. Perhaps because I was better trained, perhaps because of the weather. It was a perfect day (40s and a little breezy at the start, and around 70 toward the end).

But if I'm ever going to qualify for Boston, I'm going to have to get faster.

I Guess That Makes Me a Marathoner

Here's the short version: To say it wasn't an ideal race would be an overstatement. But I loved it. I must have something messed up in my head.

Here's the long version:

I woke up at 5:40 and started getting ready in the dark. I'd set everything out the night before, so it was only a short matter of assembling myself, but I still took it slowly. At some point my mom woke up and she pointed out the stream of runners we could see crossing the bridge on Columbus, heading toward Grant Park. There were so many of them.

I left around 6:20 and stepped onto an elevator full of other runners. "What's going on today?" one of them said.

I walked the mile to the start area without any issue, went to the bathroom and found my start corral. I was going to start with the 4:30 pace group because I wanted to run the first 4 miles at a 10 minute/mile pace, then pick it up to 9 minutes/mile for the next 18, and then do 8-minute miles for the remainder of the race. That would put me finishing under 4 hours, so I figured if I didn't quite stick to my schedule I'd still be okay. I just didn't realize how far off I'd end up being.

The overwhelming advice I got from other marathoners was to start slow—slower than I'd think I ought to—and then pick it up gradually. I was prepared, and I was really excited for the rush of cruising by all the exhausted slowpokes in the final miles. (I turned out to be one of those zombies.)

The first four miles were easy; I hardly noticed them go by, even though I was trotting along at a comfortable 10-minute pace. I sped up a bit as planned, and went the next 10 miles or so without any issue. I hit 10k around the hour mark, and I hit the halfway mark at 2:08. I had plenty of juice left.

But then things started going sour... I noticed threats of cramping in my calf muscles, but those spasms were few and far between, and they weren't severe. But by mile 15, it got really bad. I had to mix in more walking then I wanted to because after a few minutes of running my muscles would seize a bit. I didn't want them to seize completely, so I opted not to test their limits—I'd rather finish a little behind schedule than not finish at all.

I tried to suck it up until at least mile 17 so I could be running, rather than walking, when I saw my mom and Ricky Boy in the crowd. Success. But shortly after that, it got so bad that I couldn't run at all. I tried to run every now and then, but I couldn't make it more than 20 seconds without my legs cramping. And it wasn't just in my calf muscles anymore; my hamstrings, quads and even glutes joined the fun.

This was awful, because I wasn't winded at all—I barely felt tired—but I had to walk because my legs wouldn't cooperate. I knew I had to keep moving (I tried stopping to stretch once, thinking that would help the situation, but it caused me to hobble stiff-leggedly for a few dozen feet before my legs returned to normal. So I decided just to power onward, walking as quickly as I could, trying not to calculate how long it might take me to walk 8+ miles. Sometimes I tried to run without bending my legs... that worked a little but, but even then I got those threats of cramping.

I made it eventually, in 5:03. It was 80-something degrees out—ugh. I guess I was walking pretty fast, then, since I'm sure I didn't run more than half of a mile after the 18-mile mark. I guess I should be more disappointed than I am... But I'm not because I know there are going to be a lot more marathons in my future (I'm already planning to do several around the world over the next few years). It's just a shame that my first one couldn't have been picture-perfect. Oh, speaking of pictures, I did try to run—and even smile—for the photographers, so hopefully there are some nice pictures.

But enough about the logistics: Let's talk about the course. It was incredible. The crowd support was phenomenal... more people were cheering than I ever could have expected. There were a few parts in which the crowd thinned a bit, but nowhere was there nobody. And the crowd was so diverse: Sometimes there were screaming people crammed shoulder to shoulder everywhere I could so—both at my flanks and at overpasses. People held all sorts of signs ("Toenails are overrated," "Chuck Norris never ran a marathon," "I love your stamina! My number is xxx-xxx-xxxx," and "I thought you said 2.62 miles!" are a few I remember) Cars that drove on roads adjacent to the course honked in support. Random people held out bowls of pretzels and fruit for us runners. There was an entire school pep band playing at one point. Somewhere around Mile 20, there were some people with a keg or two handing out free beer. I got a popsicle from a guy in the Mexican neighborhood. There were dancing dragon people in Chinatown. Several churches had their congregations out front cheering and playing upbeat music.

Maybe the best park was the Nike Inspiration Zone, I think around Mile 24. At that point I kept crying (I think?) but it turned out that I was laughing. I think I'm a lunatic. Anyway, that part was awesome; can't really describe it.

When I crossed the finish line, all the pain in my feet and the looming spasms in my legs went away. It was incredible. It was the most amazing feeling of accomplishment I've ever known. I got my weird thermal blanket thing I'm still not sure of the purpose of, my medal, a bag of yummies and a 312. I couldn't drink more than a few sips of the 312—my belly was so full of the Gatorade I kept drowning myself in with the hope that it'd cure my cramping (it didn't). And after a few minutes of walking (it was another mile to the point at which I'd arranged to meet my mom and brother) the pain came back. I saw people laying on the ground and I just wanted to do the same, but I figured I ought to find my family first...

Anyway, I told myself around Mile 20 that I'd never do it again, but I changed my mind by Mile 24. Bring it on.