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.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Sunday, January 8, 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
6 miles at race pace
Went really well this morning. Negative splits! I think I could have run harder cuz I had some extra energy at the end, but it's still hard for me to gauge that stuff...
Pace 7:49.
Pace 7:49.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Taking action
I took the executive decision to:
I think I might be getting a little sick—at least that's what everyone keeps telling me. I feel perfectly fine, but I'm always freezing cold.
Anyway, so this was my plan to get better.
I just got back from my 4-mile run. It was really nice. I went out without my iPod for the first time in ages, and I put all my energy into focusing on my running. It wasn't hard at all; actually it was really awesome. There's only a shade of disappointment for me: I was expecting this to give me a really good time... But I only made it in 31 minutes (again). Pretty good for me recently, but still not my best 4-mile time. I wonder if music really does make you run faster?
Looking forward to tomorrow as a rest day. I'm starting to get overwhelmed by school stuff, so I need to get a handle on the number of papers I have coming up in the next couple of weeks. Oh, bother.
Pace: 7:45
- Sleep in until 8 today
- Move my run to the afternoon
- Not go to class tonight (yikes!)
I think I might be getting a little sick—at least that's what everyone keeps telling me. I feel perfectly fine, but I'm always freezing cold.
Anyway, so this was my plan to get better.
I just got back from my 4-mile run. It was really nice. I went out without my iPod for the first time in ages, and I put all my energy into focusing on my running. It wasn't hard at all; actually it was really awesome. There's only a shade of disappointment for me: I was expecting this to give me a really good time... But I only made it in 31 minutes (again). Pretty good for me recently, but still not my best 4-mile time. I wonder if music really does make you run faster?
Looking forward to tomorrow as a rest day. I'm starting to get overwhelmed by school stuff, so I need to get a handle on the number of papers I have coming up in the next couple of weeks. Oh, bother.
Pace: 7:45
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
On the Grind
I woke up at 6 today—initially I pushed Snooze but I got my act together after I realized what I'd done. I don't know how I always used to wake up so early...
Anyway, just a four-mile run today. I tried to do it fast, but I guess it wasn't that fast. Anyway, I felt like I was going to puke at the end.
Really enjoying the Newtons, though. So that's a plus.
And here's a little excerpt from this book I'm reading:
Pace: 7:48
Anyway, just a four-mile run today. I tried to do it fast, but I guess it wasn't that fast. Anyway, I felt like I was going to puke at the end.
Really enjoying the Newtons, though. So that's a plus.
And here's a little excerpt from this book I'm reading:
Quenton Cassidy knew what the mystic-runners, the joggers, the runner-poets, the Zen runners, and others of their ilk were talking about. But he also knew that their euphoric selves were generally nowhere to be seen on dark, rainy mornings. They primarily wanted to talk it, not do it. Cassidy very early on understood that a true runner ran even when he didn't feel like it, and raced when he was supposed to, without excuses and with nothing held back. He ran to win, would die in the process if necessary, and was unimpressed by those who disavowed such a base motivation. You are not allowed to renounce that which you never possessed, he thought.That last line is pretty powerful... It reminds me of the art world, how they say you're not "allowed" to draw or paint abstractly unless you've already proven yourself classically. Not sure if I buy it completely, but it is a nice sound byte for the elitists to put people who won't double-think it in their place.
Pace: 7:48
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Marathon Gift
Among other things, the Chicago Marathon last week gave me the most powerful, inspirational image I know. Because I'm generous, I'm going to attempt to give this image to you—if you can use your imagination a bit. It may serve you well.
Picture yourself in downtown Chicago. It's just broken dawn—the field of light that rises before the sun itself is beginning to illuminate the world around you—and you look up at the skyscrapers that surround Grant Park. You're on the street with thousands of other people, each of you not quite sure what is going on. You only have a vague idea of what you're doing, and you have no idea what's about to happen—but you know it's going to involve some extraordinary fun and perhaps some extraordinary pain. There's a 40 percent chance that you're aiming to do something you've never done before—something only one percent of the human population does. It's cool—not cold or warm—the temperature is perfect—but, even so, you might find yourself with chills. You settle, maybe sit down, among thousands of like-minded people in this New Era dawn, and you become convinced that it's the first day of your life—the first day of your existence that you've really lived. And you hear this song (close your eyes):
Picture yourself in downtown Chicago. It's just broken dawn—the field of light that rises before the sun itself is beginning to illuminate the world around you—and you look up at the skyscrapers that surround Grant Park. You're on the street with thousands of other people, each of you not quite sure what is going on. You only have a vague idea of what you're doing, and you have no idea what's about to happen—but you know it's going to involve some extraordinary fun and perhaps some extraordinary pain. There's a 40 percent chance that you're aiming to do something you've never done before—something only one percent of the human population does. It's cool—not cold or warm—the temperature is perfect—but, even so, you might find yourself with chills. You settle, maybe sit down, among thousands of like-minded people in this New Era dawn, and you become convinced that it's the first day of your life—the first day of your existence that you've really lived. And you hear this song (close your eyes):
(Btw, today's run was 11 miles. Pace: 9:05)
Sunday, October 9, 2011
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.
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.
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