To ibuprofen or not.
To switch from the full, to the half.
To turn around and go back to the hotel (bed), or do this.
These were all valid thoughts being debated twenty minutes prior to the race start, sitting in the car, with it running (for the heat), windshield wipers on. Almost like the decisions, going back and forth. One moment clear, the next blurry, watching a very empty starting line with minimal activity, only the occasional runner warming up with their pre-race routine or gear check, not the usual bee's nest of motion like a normal race day. Doubt anything will be normal today.
When CT hit me with "Why don't you switch to the half?" moments ago, it was unexpected to say the least. The months leading up to now, sure I had thought about that idea many times, there isn't a good reason to run a full. Something about traveling, getting a hotel, hell the training miles, those thoughts disappeared and felt committed at this point, until now. For CT to suggest this, when she's the one making me do these damn marathons, really made me stop and think, even she knows this is going to suck. The forecast, 100% rain, dropping temps, and oh increasing wind. Then there is the knee pain I've been dealing with the past few weeks. Why do this?
Look a blog post down, there's a reason. Leading up to this moment, I've been hush on my goals. A couple people have asked me during this training season and my generic answer has been "better than my last marathon". It's one hundred percent true, but it's also not even close to one hundred percent truth. My last marathon was a disaster. It's funny the motivational sayings people put on posters along the course, things like pain is temporary, your time is forever, things like that to will you along. There is truth in that saying too, but works opposite for me in this case, my last marathon time feels like a black eye. Problem is, it doesn't go away, will live forever on the internet, only thing to do is replace it with something better. So, that's my on the surface goal.
The off the record and I'm only saying this because nobody reads this, I really want to PR and since I'm admitting things, there's a small piece of me that really wants to qualify for Boston. Why don't I want to admit it? Admitting it, makes it seem more real and then feel more pressure and obligation of needing to do it. Neither goal is an easy task. The PR was from almost four years ago, when I was way more committed, dedicated, not to mention putting more miles in (not to mention younger, even though I don't age anymore). A BQ time, is even more of a pipe dream. It has always been something that seems so far out of reach from what feels possible, it doesn't do any good to even pretend a chance exists to pull a time that is required for that, from this body.
Training season, changed it up and went with the "me" plan. Though I still do group runs, decided to retired from being a pace leader. I did get enjoyment from doing that, but it also set me on a path where my longer runs were at a slower pace. There's this philosophy in not only every running program, but feels like every training guide that long runs should be easy and done thirty seconds to a minute slower than race pace. Not going to doubt the experts, but that doesn't work for me. It's my feeling that it's unrealistic to roll into race day and expect to drop that kind of time per mile, it's a formula for burning out, so I'm done training like this. Mental Expectations (ie the me plan, maybe I need to write a book), run training runs as close to race day pace as possible. First, for the "me" of knowing your body can do it, without wondering or guessing. Second, the logic of if you are always doing close to your desired pace, chances are race day won't be a surprise for the body. This is my invented training plan, me myself to a 7:30 pace for most training runs to with a goal pace of 7:20 come race day.
Well, time to get out of the warm car, get wet, and run this marathon. Not even sure if there was a gun sound to signal the start. It may have been soaked, frozen, both or maybe the race director didn't even show up, anyway, we are off!
First observation, always notice when races thin out. At Kalamazoo, it's about mile four where the split happens, sending halfers one way and the fulls the other. At Grand Rapids, mile nine is the same, split happens, things get much more lonely. While we started as a herd, probably to keep warm, the one mile mark it was already a desolate wasteland. Glad I did the "me" training because it's already alone time from here on out.
Mile two, either the flood waters loosened my laces or I did a poor job tying my shoes in the car, but my right shoe came completely untied. Visions came rushing back to my half marathon running with untied shoes, I didn't want a repeat of that day, only double. The thing with attempting a PR, there isn't much wiggle room, wanting a BQ time, there is next to no room for a error. Decided to suck it up and just go with it.
Mile eight, the whipping of the laces on my other leg finally broke me and I could feel my untied shoe opening up enough my foot was sliding a bit. Now, is the time, I have to fix this. Stopping, the next crisis starts, trying to tie laces when my fingers don't work because of the cold. That was very frustrating, trying to do something so simply and what should be quick, only to have to attempt it multiple times the whole time feeling precious seconds tick away not moving closer to the finish line. Looking back at my splits, clearly can see it took twenty seconds to tie my damn shoe.
Somewhere in the ten to halfway point miles, had a very interesting conversation with myself. One moment, I felt like a genius. Then about a mile later, realized how unbelievable stupid my thought was. It was a difficult decision what to wear this morning, not even sure there would be a perfect answer. I went with a black long sleeved shirt. My moment of pure genius was thinking to myself that this shirt is fairly tight with it being soaked and I doubted I'd have any issue with bloody nipples, but the fact I picked a black shirt was next level genius because if my nipples were to bleed, nobody would see them! Where was the photographer on the course to capture the exact moment when I realized how dumb this thought was? Bit of a trick question because, nobody was on the course, but I'm sure the look on my face was pure disgust and would have made for one of those all time great awful race photos. If I took the time to pretend I picked this black shirt to hide bloody nipples, then why the hell didn't I just tape my nipples? Of course I could just toss this shirt too, but I did worry a bit about the hypothermia factor.
Crossing the halfway point mat, was a few seconds behind my goal pace. Didn't think about that much though knowing there was plenty of race to go, lost some time with my shoe tying fiasco, and this weather wasn't the greatest. Had my watch set with the virtual partner going. The virtual partner runs at the pace you are aiming for, never tires, and I'm sure doesn't have to run in the rain, but I told myself I wasn't going to look at my watch and check exactly where I was at until mile twenty. It's too early to begin stressing over anything.
Mile fifteen clicked, I did look at my mile split, 7:12. At first thought, as the reader, I'm sure you are thinking that's great! Eight seconds ahead of your goal pace of needing 7:20 miles. The problem, I knew I wasn't putting down 7:12 pace effort. This whole time, even with the monsoon, shoe gate, nipple gate, I was running comfortable. When I saw the 7:12, this is when my panic started and queue the head games. This part of the course is an out and back stretch and the turn around point is a hair past mile sixteen. The eight second gain is from the wind assisting me and in a few seconds, it's going to be miles into that wind.
Mile seventeen clicked, 7:45. That's it, any dream of pulling off a BQ time died right here in my mind. I was already at the point my body was getting tried naturally. The extra effort into the wind, to lose twenty seconds, there wasn't enough in the tank to overcome the wind. This is the exact reason I didn't want to admit to anybody that set this goal for myself. Even in my own head, flood of disappointment, more than the rain pouring down.
Mile twenty clicked, I didn't even bother to check my virtual partner who was happily running, dry, still on pace, and would get a BQ time. Problem is, I've thought about this enough to know even without seeing that screen, just knowing what time I should be at mile twenty to have any chance and I was four minutes off. I also don't have the best history of finishing marathons strong, things may be going from bad to worse.
Somewhere around either mile twenty one or twenty two the course merges with the turn around spot for the people doing the half marathon. This is one race that is a bit unique that they start the full and the half an hour and a half apart. The downside, it makes for some congestion in the final miles potentially because the course changes from the road to a trail. The positive, it generates people again after being alone for essentially twenty miles. The bonus today, it was timed just about perfect, no sooner did I get here, then I could see CT coming towards me. It was good to see her just because she's been dealing with a heel injury for a while, even up to last night, wasn't sure if she could even do the half. At this point she was at least nine miles in, she smiled when she saw me, in this weather, with a bad ankle, I'll take it!
This is where the final mind game started getting played. My body and my mind were telling me to slow up, let her catch me, finish with her and take the defeat. Then that small voice said, may have lost the BQ, but it's still possible to get a PR.
The final miles, it was zombie running. Body felt dead, there wasn't anything left to give, but for some reason legs kept moving forward. To quote Jaws, if anybody were to look at me I'm sure the line, "he's got lifeless eyes, black eyes, like a doll's eyes" would apply. I couldn't even see the finisher's clock, not sure if that was the rain in my eyes, the rain coming down, or maybe my eyes stopped working. Fingers and hands didn't work, grabbed my chocolate milk between my writst. Run in snow, blizzards, rarely feel cold. Well, crossing that line and just stopping for a few seconds, feeling that cold wind on everything that's soaked, okay, this is cold.
What's with the picture? At 1 am, CT wakes me up furious that the room next to ours is having a very loud party. The hotel was nice enough to give us a different room. The room we get, 317. What did I run today? A 3:17! Took five minutes off my PR, may have missed my BQ by five, but now I know the secret...just might ask for room 312 next time!
