Queens Half Race Report

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I spent quite a bit of time trying to figure out why I was going through with the queens half. Given the forecasted 100 degree heat it was clear there would be no PR for this race, much less anything near a time I would feel good about. Days before the race I already decided it would be a 13 mile tempo run. Worst case, it would be good preparation for the Bronx in august.

The night before I didn’t have any pre race anxiety since I wasn’t holding myself to any expectations. In fact, I polished off 2 bottles of wine and half a pie of pizza with Tony while reminiscing about badwater. Waking up on race morning I still felt the wine and considered skipping this all together. The only problem was I had plans to carpool with Mark and I still had to give him his bib and D-tag. I considered driving out to him just to drop it off, but realized how silly it would be to not at least do a training run along the race course

Driving out to Queens was quick and easy, and the parking situation was absolutely fantastic. Many spots right under the Van Wyck. I can’t think of any other nyrr race where there was so much available parking near the start. For those travelling by subway, that was also close by.

Getting out of the car I noticed it was already 88F. I was secretly hoping the time spent during Badwater and Las Vegas would help me manage the heat. For all I know, it might have. I might have had a tougher time otherwise, but I certainly wasn’t immune to the conditions as you’ll see in my race result.

At the start the announcements were being drilled into our heads as to how we should take it easy and not go for a personal best. Seek medical attention if necessary and drink plenty of fluids. Yadda yadda, etc etc.

The new Queens Half Marathon Course

Finally we’re off, and starting out things didn’t feel so bad. Without the sun shining on us I thought this race just might be manageable. I was pacing along side Mark and saw a 6:36 pace on my garmin at the half mile. I mentioned this and stated I would slow it down. First mile marker hit in 6:45

By the time we hit the second mile marker we were out of the park in mostly direct sunlight. Things were still bearable while I was able to keep in the shade when there was some. The smells at this point were absolutely sickening though. I began to wonder if this was in fact the Staten Island half based on the odors. The first smell we hit was a cross between fried chicken and fried doughnuts and it was so strong I was gagging. Hitting Mile 2 nauseas in 6:52, I began to secretly hoping for sub a 90.

To mile 3 we pass through quite an industrial area. On the left side came huge billows of black smoke right into the course from some construction site. All runners gagged. Mark joked about this part of the race as improving is CO max. Even before this I noticed the air quality was pretty crappy. I don’t usually huff and puff during a half marathon but today I was breathing harder than usual. Mile 3 in 6:54

Before mile 4 we turned around and headed back. In fact, the mile marker for 4 might have been right where the aforementioned black smoke was. Luckily none of it seemed to be there as we passed by a second time. Although, at this point the sun was out full force, less shade was available, and I was beginning to lose motivation. Why push hard for a sub par time? My split for Mile 4 shows it too. 7:08

Mile 5 was without incident but completely in the sun and I was baking at this point. Mile 5 split was 7:09

The water stops for this race seemed to be between mile markers. And at the one that was on the way to mile 6 I stopped to grab 3 or 4 cups of water and walked a bit while slowly pouring them over my head. In past races, especially my last half in brooklyn, I’ve felt guilty when stopping and walking. Today I had no bones about it and I was glad to do it. I wasn’t the only one either. Picking it back up afterwards things felt easier, and although the stops slow my overall pace, my actual moving pace became faster. Mile 6 was 7:28 with the water stop.

Most of the rest of the race in the middle miles are a bit blurry. I remember thinking this was thee hardest race I ever ran. I continued stopping at every water stop to dump water on my head. There weren’t many areas along the course e where we weren’t in direct sunlight, but I noticed the one or two areas where we did have shade I was able to run much stronger. I was glad because it validated I would have been capable of more on a better day. I also noticed there weren’t many people passing and most who did I later passed before the end.

Mile 7: 7:32
Mile 8: 7:34
Mile 9: 7:47
Mile 10: 7:48
Mile 11: 7:52
Mile 12: 7:52

Right after 12 we got some shade along the course and things felt best. Ironic since the last couple of miles are always the hardest for me in a half.

The Flushing Meadows Park Globe floating in a pool of turpentine.

Just before getting to 13, I started pushing hard as we ran around the big metal globe. All of a sudden I began to feel faint and dizzy, but not from the effort or heat. But rather from the turpentine fumes coming from the guys painting the pool that the thing sits in. I held my breath as I finished making my way around the bend.

Mile 13: 7:15

Just as I passed 13 and as I was passing other runners, some guy came past me like a bullet. I decided I should do the same and stuck with him. As we approach the finish line we got cheers for kicking and the announcer shouted both our names to my surprise.

Mile 13.1: 0:39
Finish : 1:36:40

Overall, my splits look slow but my moving pace was actually faster if you consider the fact I stopped for every mile to pour water on my head and cool down. Several times throughout, I thought to myself it was a shame to have this race during the hottest time of July. Despite the first crappy 4 miles and the wet noodle look of the course on the map, the new course had potential to be a favorite, and may even surpass brooklyn in popularity.

In the end I was pretty happy with my performance despite this being an absolute personal worst.
I’ve seen debate about whether equivalent efforts in the heat have as much benefits as faster runs in better conditions. I’m convinced the benefits are not the same simply based on how my legs feel. Nonetheless, there are a lot of good tempo paced miles in there and I feel satisfied with a good workout.

Pineland farms 50 mile race report

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Although I did the Caumsett 50k back in March, I feel like this race was my first real ultra. I learned a lot during this race, especially that there is a huge difference between a 50k and a 50 mile race. A 50k isn’t too far different from a marathon. A 50 miler is in another league completely.

I basically went in there with slightly more expectations for the 50 miler than I did for the 50k. For the 50k, I had no expectations. For the 50 miler, I was thinking I would maintain a pace of 7:50 to 8:30 per mile throughout. This is basically the range at which I run my easy pace or recovery runs with 8:00 being what i fall into most often. But, since this is on a trail and the course has a reputation of being hilly and uncomfortable, I decided to be extra conservative and stick to 8:30 miles. I later learned how naive I was about the distance, and got my ass handed to me as a result.

I travelled up to Maine with four other folks. Natalia, who is somewhat still new to ultras, but has at least a couple of 50s under her belt. Bob, who would not be running because he didn’t feel he was in racing condition, but would be crewing for us instead. Brian, who’s quite accomplished with 3rd place in Brazil’s 135 and is set to run Badwater this July. And Tony, who is also doing Badwater, and who I’ll be crewing for.

At the start, I thought to myself how I stuck out like a sore thumb. I was realizing how under prepared I was. I was the only one with no water bottle while most had two or a camelback. And, I had no gels or Perpetuum or any other kind of “nutrition”. I figured with the aid stations a couple of miles apart I’ll be fine.

The course was a 3.5 mile loop followed by 3 laps of a 25km loop.

I started out following Brian’s pace. I figured he knows what he’s doing so don’t pass him. Stick with him as long as things feel easy. We were maintaining 8:30s anyway, but it still felt slow. Because of congestion, he would get stuck behind on occasion, and before the first 3.5 miles, I lost him. He was behind me one minute, then he wasn’t the next.

Then I kept trying to find someone else to pace against. But, at this point everything already thinned out and there weren’t many around. Whoever I happened to latch on to, the pace would just be crazy with no consistency. Going uphill was ridiculously slow. Slower than I could run comfortably. Going so slow uphill actually felt harder than running an easy pace. If you’re the kind like me who prefers to run up stairs instead of walking them, you’ll understand what I mean. Then going downhill was ridiculously fast. Faster than I could run comfortably. Any faster I felt I would risk injury. Each time, I just wound up on my own again because I decided it was easier to keep even effort for up and down.

Somewhere around the halfway mark I saw a little over 3:30 on my Garmin. Average pace was slower than 8:30. I didn’t blow up at that point, but I knew it was coming. The surface of the fields were getting to me. With poor footing and running on slanted ground my feet were sliding within my shoes.

At the four hour mark, my Garmin gave a low battery warning. I also fell during the second lap and took a pretty nasty roll downhill a bit. Lucky, I wasn’t hurt at all. I cannot remember if I noticed my Garmin was off before or after the fall. But, I found out later the next day, the Garmin would never turn on again, which is why I don’t have splits for this report.

Coming around on the second part of the second lap with 20 miles to go, I stopped by Bob who was crewing for us and got some gels. I knew at that point I was going to crash and confided I wasn’t doing well. He gave me a salt tablet, along with a tylenol and words of encouragement.

Before I finished the second lap, climbing out of the second part uphill did me in. I was so nauseas, I considered calling it quits with 15 miles left. Then the thought of having to do just one 25km lap made it mentally easier, so I continued on.

The last lap wound up being a death march and I did my best to keep from puking the whole time. I was walking up hills and down steep declines. A lot of walking mixed into the running. I was dead tired and just wanted to stop. I never imagined it would get this bad.

Before finishing, Tony caught up to me and carried me out of the second part of the last lap (the same area where things went bad on the second lap). If he didn’t show up with Sid, who was pacing him, I would have easily dragged my ass along for an extra 15 minutes.

When we got to the aid station, he filled up his water bottle while I drank what I could and began sucking on oranges and kept sucking on oranges until he reminded me it was time to go. At this point we were on a mostly flat field and there was no way I could keep up with them, but with a mile left I knew I could get myself to the finish. Eventually, I did and was just so happy to be done.

The whole thing took me 8:50:40. I was out there for almost 9 hours. About 3:35 for the first half and 5:15 for the second half with the last 15 miles being the slowest. I’m not really happy about this. Not so much the time, but the execution.

I was toying with the idea of doing the Javelina Jundred 100 mile race in October, but I decided the time is not right for a number of reasons. I want to do another 50 before doing a 100, and I want to feel the 50 was successful. I wont put a time goal on it, at least not for now, but I’ll judge my success on how I run it. If I can maintain a consistent pace throughout the whole 50 miles, I’ll consider it a success.

Besides, a 100 mile race in October will take a different type of training than for a marathon. At the moment, I want to focus on another marathon in the fall. Training for a 100 will interfere with that. And, even if I could pull it off, I do not want to go out and just “do a 100″. I went out and “just did a 50 miler” last weekend, and in the end, I realized I was foolish for trying to wing it.

Despite that, I’m glad I did it and enjoyed the whole weekend as a result. The leg cramps, indigestion, and hiccups on the 6 hour ride home was even fun. I find people within the running community to be pretty cool, so naturally the people in the ultra running community seems to be ultra cool. The only regret I have is not better preparing myself for the distance; maybe more of a knowledge perspective rather than a physical one.

In the meantime, I’ve ordered a replacement for my Forerunner 305 and decided to upgrade to the 310xt instead of the new 405. I came very very close to getting the 405. I even had it in my virtual shopping cart, but after reading all the reviews, I realized everyone who loves the 405 never had a garmin previously, while everyone who hated it was comparing it to the forerunner 305. Plus, the fact that you can’t change things on the screen when it gets wet was the nail in the coffin.

And lastly, as a result of the poor footing and the 50 miles, I have something of an injury on my left big toe. It’s been cropping up, but I’ve been keeping it abated by taking a day off here and there. Now it hurts to walk so it might be a few days before I’m back to running. I figure, when the 310xt arrives, I’ll be ready to get back out there.

Brooklyn Half Race Report

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As usual, I didn’t sleep much the night before the race. Having a 7am start meant waking up at 4am so that I could get out the door by 4:30. The pressure of having to get to sleep quickly so I can get enough hours of sleep always keeps me awake. I mostly just laid in bed the whole night somewhere in between sleeping and being awake. Each hour I would look at the clock to see if it was time to get up.

Some time after 2am I think I slept for a bit, less than an hour if at all, because I remember suddenly forcing myself awake to see it was 3:09am. The next thing I knew, the alarm was going off at 4:15am and I woke up in confusion from a deep sound sleep that couldn’t have been for more than hour. But, it was enough. I’ve performed fine on less sleep, so I knew I had nothing to worry about. Back in the beginning of the year, I mentioned I was hoping to break 89 minutes during this race, and hoping to be significantly under.

I made by way down to Mamaroneck to meet with Mark, and we would drive together to the start in Prospect Park. This race was a logistical nightmare, being a point to point, we would have to take the subway back to wherever it was we parked. Plus, finding parking by Prospect Park was something I was stressing about, and I believe Mark expressed concerns as well. It turns out the parking situation was not a problem at all. There seemed to be plenty of parking along Flatbush ave. If fact, there were hardly any cars that I could see. Nonetheless, we grabbed the first spot we could, which was quite a way from the start, yet right near the Grand Army Plaza train stop so it would make for a convenient return. We had plenty of time to spare and with things being a little chilly, walking to the start would be a good way to kill the hour or so we had. Plus, we had no bags to check in. Finding port-a-potties was the only task left to do.

While walking to the start, there was a long descent downhill. I saw the mile 2 marker and realized based on the direction we were headed, we would be going up this incline in the opposite direction. I found this somewhat intimidating. The only time I’ve ever run in Prospect Park was during the Brooklyn half in previous years when the course went in the opposite direction and ended in the park. I remembered things being tough in the park, but chalked it up to being the end of the race and going through the usual struggle one would expect. Now that the race is in the reverse direction and starts in the park, with two loops instead of one, I wondered a few days prior how Prospect Park compared to Central Park and found a thread on letsrun.com that seemed to say the two were comparable with clockwise of Prospect Park being easier. The race was counter-clockwise. And after the race, I would make my own assessment that two loops of Prospect Park is definitely more difficult than one lap of Central Park.

I decided my strategy would be to take it easy around the park, and find a fast pace when things flattened out for the last half. Thinking of the flat ocean parkway we were going to be running down in the second half, I was really looking forward to this race for weeks. I felt excited about the thought of finding a hard fast groove to finish out this race strong. I mentioned this to Mark, that I think it’s important to go easy at first and hit it hard in the end. I would then proceed to do the complete opposite as you’ll soon find out.

As we were headed to the race, the nausea I felt earlier from taking the doxycycline was coming out full force. I’ve been dealing with this since I found the lyme infected tick, and this is an expected side effect. It’s something I’m used to and hasn’t really gotten in the way of my running. Nausea is a familiar feeling for me during running so I just deal with it. Although, with no one else around, Mark had to hear my whining and complaints about it before the race.

At the start, I turned on the Garmin and couldn’t seem to get a signal. The status bar, which I question as to whether or not gives any real indication to the status, seemed to make it way to the right side slowly filling up, and suddenly jerk back to halfway. I’m convinced the status indicator serves no real purpose other than to give some entertainment to the person waiting for the Garmin to lock on enough satellites. I write software, so I’m guilty of doing things like this myself.

After resetting it and trying different things, I just gave up and decided to use it as a simple stopwatch to manually take my splits at the mile markers. I would have to forgo the luxury of knowing my average pace while running, and in the early miles, this would prove to be a problem for me.

Starting out, I tried to stretch out my legs and find a fast easy pace I could manage for the distance. The start was basically downhill so I had some trouble adjusting the effort. The first mile is always the toughest to gauge. And my split wound up proving that.

Mile 1: 6:30
When I hit the mile marker I was a bit surprised thinking I was doing something closer to 6:50. Unfortunately, since I didn’t have the GPS signal on the Garmin, I had to run a whole mile before realizing I needed to slow it down.

The second mile felt completely uphill. There might have been small parts that descended, but none of it was enough for relief. The whole time during mile two, I am managing my effort and I think its too early in the race to have an incline like this without a warmup.

Mile 2: 6:43
Although the second split is slower, its still too fast, especially considering the effort I’m putting into the hill. And the hill continues up to mile three. I made another effort to slow things down. It feels like the park is a spiral staircase constantly going up and around with out any downs.

Mile 3: 6:30
Gaah!! Still too fast! I almost got the first loop of the park done, but I’m questioning if I can do another loop. Shortly after mile 3, things are descending and the decent goes right past the start, but the incline begins again before mile 4. After mile 4, the hills during the second loop become tougher, and the pessimistic thoughts begin. I hope I can make it out of the park and that the flat course along Ocean Parkway would give me a chance to recover.

Mile 4 : 6:30
Mile 5 : 6:49
Mile 6 : 6:55

I’m putting a lot of effort in now, and the whole time I’m wondering if it’s because I’m running too fast or if the course is just tough. I’m typically strong on the hills and I cannot understand exactly what’s going wrong, but whatever it is, it’s too late to change anything. Should I be pushing harder to maintain pace, or slow it down even more which would be slower than target pace. I know, after this lap, I’ll be out of the park, and hopefully things will come together. I run downhill to mile 7, and exit the park.

Mile 7: 6:26
I almost have to remind myself that I still have 6 more miles to go and this is only the halfway mark, not the finish. Not only that, but things havent exactly flattened out yet. We have a couple of significant climbs to get to ocean parkway that seem intimidating but I get myself over them and on to mile 8. I asses how I feel. I compare it to how I typically feel when I have 6 miles left on my long runs at marathon pace. I know the exact point where I have 6 miles left, and if I felt like I did now I would want to slow things down considerably. I decide with only 7 miles behind me, the next 6 should feel easier than if I had 14 behind me. I decide I am not in good shape. I make my way on to 8 still hoping I’ll get out of this bad patch as I spend more time running on the flatter part of the course.

Mile 8 : 6:34
On my way to mile 9 things really don’t feel so well. I can’t pinpoint what exactly it is. My breathing is hard, my legs are tired, I was still somewhat nauseous, and things are getting hot. But it’s not clear what is bothering me most, but my pace was now slowing and I knew it. This is exactly the point where I should have opened up and did 6:30′s to the finish. Instead I was fading and people are starting to pass me. I’m angry at myself since I am now not going to get that opportunity to run hard at this point, which is what I’ve been looking forward to the most for this race.

Mile 9 : 6:50
I push on towards mile 10, wishing I had a reason to stop. I am mentally giving up now. I want to stop so bad and I cannot shake the thought from my head.

I think of conversations I’ve had with Tony, who does ultras. He spoke about dropping out of races and why he never has, and never will unless it’s a severe health issue or an injury. At the distances he races, a 100 miles or more for example, finishing is a real achievement, and in ultras, there is a high dropout rate. DNF’s are more acceptable in that genre.

But, to the point, I understood his reasoning. You drop out once, it becomes easier to drop out again. It sets a precedent and I completely identified with this when drawing my own comparison to stopping and walking a shorter race of marathon distance or under. I’ve never DNF’ed, but I’ve stopped in the past, walked it some, and even jogged it, which at that point, feels the same to me like a DNF.

Mile 10: 7:00
I hit mile 10. I’m disappointed to see I am so far off target of 6:45 pace. A minute later I stop. I am becoming that guy who walks when it gets tough. I’ve been setting that precedent. I can think of a time when I’ve wanted to stop so bad in the past during a race, but would always push through it. I can think of a time I never would have done this. Now it’s like a habit.

Stopping like this has always been the kiss of death for my race. NYC Half, back in August for example. It would be a constant struggle to get back on pace, or just give up and jog to the finish.

I’m now ashamed and pissed at myself for stopping during this race. I cough a bit and attempt to regain a better breathing pattern. I then pick it up. It feels so much slower, but I press on and concentrate on a feeling I can maintain rather than holding a fast pace.

Mile 11: 7:10
I realize the pace is close to the same as before I stopped despite the feeling of running slower. I determine this based on estimating I walked for about 10 seconds. I know I’m close to the finished, but the thought of two more miles feels like torture again. The last two miles of the Boston marathon didn’t feel this bad. I continue to get passed by many people and it’s throwing off my groove. I feel like kicking one guy who runs around me and then in right front of me. Ocean Parkway is huge and wide and I’m dead center with no one else around, so I don’t understand the reason for coming so close.

Mile 12: 7:02
One more mile to go. I remember at the start, the announcer saying the finish was by the parachute jump. I’m constantly looking for it. I finally see it and cannot gauge how far it is. I don’t have my garmin to give me an estimate of how far from the 12 mile marker I am.

We come to ramp of the boardwalk and I run up thinking I’m close. I decide to let it all out. I now pass a bunch of people, I make a right, but I can’t even see the damn mile marker for 13 when I make the turn.

I realize I just kicked way too soon. I run some more but I have nothing. I’m angry at the whole race. I’m angry at stopping at mile 10. I justify stopping again. I walk for a bit, unclear how much and just hoping the dizzy feeling goes away. A spectator screams at me “c’mon, you’re almost there”, as if I didn’t know. I cant even open my eyes to see her. Another runner, whom I passed prior, encourages me to go with him, and I do.

Mile 13 : 7:07
I keep going. I see three mats towards the finish. One mat is significantly in front of the start. I run past it hoping its the finish, and keep going to where the other two are. After passing both, I stop running and hit stop on my watch.

Mile 13.1 : 0:41 (~6:50)

My watch says 1:29:05. I missed it by 5 seconds.

I’m sure I spent more time than that walking.

But, I have a PR. But, who cares. It’s a shitty PR by 11 seconds, hardly significant. It”s not even a second per mile improvement.

Besides, what I wanted more was to be racing hard down Ocean Parkway, than necessarily getting a PR. I ran it like shit and I’ll be dwelling on it for a bit. I stopped. I can make plenty of excuses. I did that very well at mile 10. I won’t do it now because, in the end, it doesn’t change anything.

The saying “pain is temporary, but quitting is forever” comes to mind, and I swear to myself I’ll never stop so easily again.

Boston Post Mortem

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Ok, I’ve been putting this off a bit too long. I wanted to write a post mortem on boston just to get a few facts down. If I dont do that first, I wont be able to record anything that successively came after Boston because I’m too OCD. My trip to Kyiv has quite a bit worth blogging about for instance.

First off, I had a strep test after the race and it came back negative. On the one hand, it may just mean its inconclusive as to whether or not I had strep because I took a bunch of azithromycin beforehand. Yet, the possibility does exists that I didn’t have strep that day. I dont really know, and I dont think it matters from the perspective of the race. But, the more I think about it, the more I realize, with strep comes a fever and just an overall feeling of weakness I’m very familiar with. It’s unlikely I could PR with strep, much less get through 20 miles. That doesnt discount the fact I had something real going on that was painful however. I dont think swollen glands can be the result of something psychosomatic. Besides, imagined or not, I had real pain and swelling in my throat.

The Boston marathon is a PR course. You just need to run it right. Perhaps me being so conservative running Boston because of my fear of illness allowed me to cross the finish with the time I did. Perhaps ironic in a way. I dont know.

Boston is like a giant party. Everyone treats you like a rockstar and you need to experience it to understand why it’s so great. I think everyone should do it regardless of how you get there.

I think the qualifying times are an arbitrary standard and I have never disagreed with them more now than before. If you’ve ever done research as to why they were put in place, you would know they were done so as a way to eliminate the surplus of applicants that the race could not handle. Other marathons have better systems to accomplish this. Boston has (or had at one point) a false sense of belief that these time qualifications will weed out the less serious runners. These qualifying times became a standard people felt they need to hold themselves to.

Someone’s speed has little to do their passion. I don’t think someone who has talent is necessarily more deserving to run Boston than a slower individual who might be more dedicated. Raising money for charity to get into the race may be a fair way to measure dedication to the sport, but I think Boston needs to learn lessons from other marathons. New York’s 9+1 program is a perfect example of measuring one’s dedication, but locality of the participant gives an unfair advantage to those in the NY area. First come, first serve, or lottery is also fair IMHO.

I also want to record how I failed at Boston. One of my goals is to better manage the stress of these events (and life in general). When I think of the training, time, and money spent towards these events, I begin to place a lot of importance on the results. With so much invested, I better get a good result or so much is wasted. I think everyone who trains for events like this does the same, but for me, the importance becomes a source of stress and managing this stress has always been a challenge.

With this race, regardless of the reason, whether I really had an illness, or if it was in my head, staying up all night worrying about it was a failure for me. I need to learn how to better let go. In the end things worked out ok. Better than I could have ever imagined beforehand in fact. But, I believe for other reasons than due to how I coped with the curveball thrown at me.

With that said, Boston is done. I’m giving a lot of thought to what I want to be able to do in my running, and its more about being able to run far, hard, without much effort rather than getting PRs at races. Quite a different mindset to what I measured myself against before. But it’s really what I enjoy. I fell in love with running before I ever ran a race and before I knew what the initials PR stood for. Getting out there, feeling strong, and going as hard as I can over distance further than I have the patience to drive my car is what I really love doing.

I’ll still race. The Brooklyn half is next and I’ll attack it more out of curiosity. I still want to break 1:29:00. And, I’m trying to decide between the Hartford marathon and Philly for next fall. I still need a target to focus on, but now its going to be secondary to my training, rather than my training being a means to an end.

Boston Marathon Race Report

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After finishing peeing, I jumped back into the race full of nerves and a bit of fear. I kept thinking to myself, I’m not ready to run a marathon. Not that I felt I wasn’t trained for one, but in my current condition, I felt I should not be running. I also remember my thighs having a strange feeling of fatigue just starting out. I thought this early in the race it’s a bad sign for sure. I decided my strategy was to find a comfortable pace that I could maintain the whole way. My only goal was to not drop out and to not be forced to struggle by run/walking it in.

Mile 1 : 7:31
I remember the first mile being pretty steep downhill. I reminded myself to just take it easy. Nonetheless, I know I ran it faster than I should have. Including the 30 seconds or so for the pit stop, I hit the first mile marker in 7:31

Mile 2 : 7:06
Mile 3 : 7:10
Mile 4 : 7:08

I see these splits and I’m somewhat surprised I’m moving this fast, but I also believe I’m putting too much effort in too early on. I think to myself I should find someone to latch on to since I’ve been passing people with lower bid numbers than mine. I also begin to think there’s a chance I might actually have a good run today. I’m still not thinking race yet.

Mile 5 : 7:20
I ask a guy with a bib in the lower 5000′s (I was 7073) what his target pace was. I forget the answer, but I remember it was a faster pace than I wanted, yet, my current pace was taking me past him. I explained I was afraid I’m hitting this too hard too early on and asked if I could run with him a bit. He agrees.

I question him a few times as to whether or not we were actually doing our target pace and if we were going too slow. He claimed we were going up hill. I thought it was flat, maybe a slight incline, but ok. I decided he was wiser than I, so I stuck with him forcing myself to slow it down. After we hit mile 5 I see its significantly slower at 7:20. That was average for the whole mile and I figure we were doing a 7:40 pace for the time we were together. I lose him because he’s slowing down even more.

Mile 6 : 7:07
I remember a nice flat wide open street. My memory is still very foggy but I’m fairly certain there were train tracks running parallel to the left of the course. I remember the sun coming out and thinking I’m not going to last. Each time I take water it reminds me how bad my throat hurts. Swallowing is an effort since my throat is swollen and sore. At mile 6, or around the 10K mark, I take my first gel which is a coffee flavored Hammer Gel. It winds up being a mess and getting all over my hands. I usually take coffee flavored Gus and find them the easiest to get down in one gulp and avoid it having to mix around in my mouth.

As I take the Hammer Gel, I have a lot of trouble opening it, and never get the top completely off. I try and suck some of it out through the tiny opening. I try again, in vain, to pull the top off, but the bit of gel and spit on the top just made my fingers slip. Biting doesn’t work either since it slips through my teeth. I suck on it some more and throw it hard on the ground in frustration since its disrupting my rhythm and breathing. I considered opening one of the other two I have, but I decide it would be better to save them.

From here on through the middle of the race. I can’t remember the order of things or at what mile anything occurred. I mostly just phase out and try to focus on my ipod and ignore the way I feel. The sun kept coming in and out, and each time it comes out I suffer. Whenever it goes back in, it turns a bit chilly with the wind blowing, and this is a big relief and I feel absolutely great.

I remember all the water stops throughout the race and thinking, oh no, another one already? Probably a good thing considering it meant the miles were going by quicker than I realized. But, they felt more like a burden because forcing to get the water down hurt my throat. Each time I was also thrown out of my groove because of the amount of runners who did not know how to properly get water. Often, someone would shoot over from the left, grab water, and practically stop in front of me to drink it before I was able to grab my own cup. The fact that the water stops weren’t nearly as long as what New York only exacerbated the problem.

Mile 7: 7:05
Mile 8: 7:13
Mile 9: 7:03
Mile 10: 6:59
Mile 11: 7:02
Mile 12: 7:05

Somewhere in these splits, I run through a town, and a guy with a loudspeaker situated in front of a business establishment is doing a lot of talking, cheering, and maybe some advertisement. I hear him shout to the runners, “as you pass by, take a look at yourselves in the window (reflection), you look great!!” I take his advice, turn my head to the right and look. I think to myself, “my god, that’s what I look like?” I don’t think I move or look like a runner. I think my body type is all wrong compared to those around me. I look heavy, and feel heavy. My clothes are too tight, my ass is too fat, and my head is too big and too shiny.

Mile 13: 7:08
Mile 14: 7:06

I take my second gel shortly after the half marathon mark and I’m scared I will choke on it because of my swollen throat. It instead slides down without incident. I double the time on my Garmin and see I’m set up for a 3:08. I worry if I’m screwing this up royally. I wonder at what point will the time come where I’m reduced to walking.

Within these two splits is Wellesley College. I take off my headphones about a mile early to see if I hear the screaming. I hear lots of screaming, but it’s not clear where its coming from, whether it be the spectators or from what lies ahead of us. Eventually, we pass the college girls and the place called the “scream tunnel“, and I’m surprised to see there is absolutely no tunnel to run through. I thought there would at least be an overpass we would be running under.

I take a look at all the girls and I’m surprised how young they look, which makes me feel old. They’re all lined up and have big smiles and are holding signs above their heads encouraging runners to stop for kisses. I veer over to the left a bit. But, not far enough that I couldn’t see their faces well.

I’ve heard stories they reach out and grabbed runners to kiss. I make eye contact with a few as I pass and the smile on one of them very much tempts me to stop. But, even on a good day, I wouldn’t have done so. When I think of all the other runners they’re kissing, I see this sort of thing like kissing a petri dish full of the herpes simplex 1 virus. Then, combined with the fact I would give her my strep throat, and in turn, to every other runner she entices that comes after me, I decide to shoot her a corny wink instead.

I only see two runners who pull to the side. They looked like they were trying hard to get something from one or more of the girls they were talking to, but I dont witness any kissing. More like asking for kissing maybe.

Then comes a nice hill and I pass this runner wearing some sort of wings.

Eventually, I get to a long flat long decline, thinking the newton hills are coming and I feel like utter crap. I’m not ready for them. I think to myself, “I’ve failed miserably in my goal of keeping the pace easy.” I think to myself I’m going have to walk when I hit these hills and it’s too late to change anything. My throat is still hurting.

Mile 15: 7:17
Mile 16: 7:12

As I’m getting over the first hill I think to myself it’s not that bad.Thoughts of the Rockies go through my head. Getting up this first hill gives me a very familiar feeling like climbing up the hills in Rockwood Hall, but no where near as intense.

On the downhill, I see a platoon of army guys bouncing as they “jogged” in formation. Each of them have their left hand on the shoulder of the guy in front of them. Throughout the course I sporadically passed a lot these guys, but this is the first time I see so many together and doing something different from hiking. They don’t seem to move fast, but they’re carrying a load of gear. They do look pretty cool and I’m a bit impressed. As they pass the spectators, the cheers got louder.

Mile 17: 7:23
Mile 18: 7:25
Mile 19: 7:22

I don’t remember any of hills in any order and everything is a blur. I come to another hill and I see it curve around to left with no clue of how high it goes. I put my head down looked about 7 steps ahead of me on the ground and just focused on my form and feeling. I was doing quite a bit of passing still. I come to a group of three runners running side by side. I’m tired, miserable, and ticked they’re forming a wall that I now need to go around. Why do I have to now add more effort to this? Without giving any warning, I push through two of them… maybe harder than I should have.. Well, it’s not like they could do anything about it. They’re in no position to chase me down or anything. I leave them in the dust. At this point, I’m thinking I still feel pretty good considering.

Mile 20: 7:28
Mile 21: 7:47

I come to another hill and start going up. I think to myself, I better slow this down because I am now starting to feel the effort, and perhaps I shouldn’t be passing so many people afterall. It’s now somewhere after mile 20 and the thought of running up hills like this until mile 22 will finish me. I slow it down a bit and get to the top of the hill. Mile 21. I see a sign saying something about heartbreak hill. I lose count of the hills. Did I do three or four hills? I could have sworn the end of heartbreak hill was mile 22. I shout to my left, “was that it?”. No one answers me. I shout again, “was that the last hill?”. One guy turns to me looking very tired and replies “yeah”

I look at my Garmin. The distance is reporting longer than mile 21 so I’m not sure what my exact overall pace is, but I figure I might actually PR this thing since its way under 7:26. I just need to maintain my pace until the end.

Mile 22: 7:09
Then I go running downhill to Mile 22.

I pass the graveyard which was mentioned in the film at the expo the day prior. There are hills along the way and I welcome them because running downhill hurts. I’m reminded of the downhills towards the end of the NYC marathon. Uphill is now easier than down. I can lean into up and move the effort to a different part of my thighs. Going down I can’t accommodate anything. I see some people passing out popsicle sticks near a gas station and I wonder if its something to eat. I soon realize it’s vaseline.

Mile 23: 7:16
Mile 24: 7:17

I look at my watch and I think I’m going to finish under 3:15. I keep thinking to myself I cant believe this is going to happen.

But, things are becoming harder. Its more downhill than anything else. I’m exhausted. We run along some straight flat roads at some point. There are a bunch of idiot bandits on the course. Not bandits who are runners, but idiots who decide to run along with the crowd for thrills. They don’t know how to run and they take up a lot of room and are slow. The fatigue, and exhaustion, and pain of everything is making me extremely irritable and I hate everyone at the moment. I want to get done. I don’t need these jackasses in my way ruining this for me. I see a guy on the right side of the road walking. Just as I pass him, I hear some asshole spectator, who is drinking beer with his buddies on the curb, says something to him in a tone that is far from encouraging, but rather mocking. “C’mon on now Phil, that’s not the way to do it.”

Off in the distance I see the Citgo sign and it feel it’s too far away. I’m hoping to hold it together. It would be awesome to PR.

Mile 25: 7:22
Mile 26: 7:36

Before hitting the Citgo sign there’s an overpass of some sort. It’s a hill. It’s too steep. This type of up does not feel better than down. It’s not even that high, just feels steep. I slow down. I think to myself, I’m way under my PR. I can afford to slow it a little. My goal was just to finish anyway. I come very close to changing my gait. I consider walking just over the hill. I then think to myself, if I walk, it’ll be harder to start again and I’m only a mile a way. But it feels like a far mile. Before changing my gait, I pick it back up and get over it.

I pass Hotel Commonwealth where I’m staying and I do not see my wife. I’m disappointed.

We go under an overpass and then come back up. Please let this be the last incline. I regret slowing down like I did earlier and now I don’t dare go any faster than what I’m currently holding. In retrospect I regret not pushing harder here. I see 3:06 on my garmin. I know I’m not far but I don’t know how far.

I come out from under the overpass. I turn right, I turn left, I go up a hill and before I turn left again I hear my named being screamed several times under the roar of the crowd. It’s coming from voices that do not belong to my wife. No one I can think of could be a spectator knowing I’m running this. I dismiss it and convinced I’m hearing things. Then I turn my head quickly to the left and just see a mess of people. I wouldnt be able to pick any familiar faces out of the packed crowd so I turn back. I later learn my wife is to the right with a crowd of people who she has become friendly with while waiting for me.

I get up the hill and turn left. The finish still feels a long way off.

Official Time : 3:10:45

3:10 and change. Pffft. How’d I do that? I immediately push out any negative thoughts of what I could have done on a different day. I got a pretty respectable PR on a day I didn’t think I could even run. A significant improvement from NY no matter how you look at it. I have more left in the tank than I did in NY. When I finished NY last November, I questioned if I would ever be able to do 3:15 again. But this time, I feel stronger and I’m able to quickly go through the crowd. I get my medal. Get a heat blanket. Get some food. I’m nauseous, but I force myself to drink.

I get to the bus and get my bag. I’m fearful of whats to come later so I quickly dig out the Tylenol and take two. My throat is very swollen but doesn’t hurt as much. I call my wife. We meet.

She says I did great, and I reply, “you have no idea.”

Boston Marathon Pre-race report

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This is my pre-race report because all of it takes place before the race. My race report will be my next post.

If you saw my last post (dns?), you already know I considered not even going to the start. Against my better judgement, and to the encouragement of my wife who said I should just jog it in, I wound up getting to the start and taking a 4 minute PR from Boston. The race itself is mostly a blur right now. Hopefully the details will come to me as I get to writing the actual race report. Meanwhile, this is what’s predominately in my head at the moment.

If you read my blog on any regular basis, you might already be aware that I’ve been put on antibiotics 3 times this year for strep throat. January, February, and April two weeks before Boston. The crazy thing is, I don’t ever get sick otherwise. I don’t remember the last time I had a cold, flu, or any type of virus. I’ll be making an appointment with a real doctor soon to discuss this, because I’m certain, as I write this, I do have strep throat for a fourth time. However, I managed to get my hands on an antibiotic until I get home from Boston.

I arrived in Boston on Sunday, which is about a three hour and fifteen minute drive from my home. Coincidentally, it’s also close to the amount of time I spent running in the New York marathon which got me qualified to do Boston. The day going up, I kept feeling something in my throat, and the possibility of relapsing kept lingering in my mind, but I would quickly dismiss it because I just got OFF the antibiotic about 9 days prior.

After checking in and getting settled at the hotel, the wife and I walked over to the convention which is less than a mile away. It was good to see Boston, and there was a real sense of atmosphere there. I’ve been to Boston quite a bit 10 years ago and always liked the city and people. But, it was clear things were really hopping in anticipation of the marathon, or red sox game, or both. The streets were quite packed with people and there was just a good mood in the air. There are not enough good things I can say about this town.

My plan was to pick up my bib, see a few things that might catch my interest, and head back to the hotel to take it easy. I figured I might buy a jacket; which I wound up buying two. I decided one I would actually wear, and one I just wanted to own. Lame perhaps, but it’s my money to waste the way I see fit. Somehow, we wound up spending hours there, and I’m not even sure how. My wife, who wouldn’t run even if a gun was pointed at her, went off on her own and found quite a bit to keep her occupied. Later, she found me and was excited about a $35 wrist band being sold that had a magical effect of helping her maintain balance. She described a balance test the guy did and how the bracelet really helped her. She then asked if we could check it out together. I was immediately leery, but agreed to check it out, and even agreed we should purchase her one if it worked as advertised.

The guy did the simple test on me with my hands held out standing on one foot. Pushing down and at a 45 degree angle out on the arm held over the foot which was raised, he was able to easily knocked me over. It would knock anyone over unless you could magically defy the laws of physics and shift your center of gravity. But lo and behold, he placed a magic bracelet on my shoulder. It doesn’t even have to be on one’s wrist apparently, that’s how magical it is. Now, we repeat the same test. This time I could easily maintain my balance as he pushed straight down on my arm. I guess the magic bracelet prevented him from pushing at the same 45 degree angle out. In fact, I found it even easier to maintain my balance as he pressed straight down on my arm, and not because it gave me the effect of holding onto something, but because of the “frequencies” sent out by the magic bracelet.

The whole experience smelled like something out of a carnival scam and I was really disappointed to see such an element at a marathon expo. I turned to my wife, who reads me like a book. She gave me a confused look in return not understanding why I wasn’t convinced; afterall, she saw the same results. I try very hard not to be a confrontational guy in life, so I simply said nothing to any of them. Picked up our stuff, grabbed my wife, and showed her in private the same results by doing the magic test on her sans the bracelet.

As time went on, there was one distraction after another, and I noticed, I was starting to feel exhausted and my glands were getting swollen and my throat was hurting, but not in the back as usual, rather in the front. Discussed it with my wife and determined it might be allergies. Allergies can also cause swollen glands and a sore throat. The fact my nose was not stuffed bothered me because the lack of that symptom usually indicates strep, and you would expect that symptom to be present with allergies or a cold. Nonetheless, we decided we should be heading back since I needed to start resting for the race tomorrow. Then, on the way out, I noticed they were showing a film describing the Boston marathon course. I felt obligated to watch, so I stayed a little longer. I watched the camera going at an accelerated rate down the roads we were about to run the next day. Instead of getting a sense of excitement, and imagining myself running, which I usually do whenever I see an open field, or a nice inviting path, I began to feel ill and wanted to crawl into a bed. Not a good sign. I’m thinking with the way my throat feels, there’s no way I can do this. We promptly headed home, and I was quite worried.

As I arrived back at the hotel, I popped a tylenol and went to take a nap. I might have slept 90 minutes or so, and felt much better. I wasn’t sure if it was the tylenol or sleep, but I felt somewhat optimistic. We headed out to dinner, and the whole time I’m feeling my swollen glands and testing out how my throat felt whenever I swallowed a part of my meal. Things were better, but not 100%. I was wondering, if it was the tylenol that helped, does it mean its allergies, or a bug? I decided if I felt like this tomorrow, I can run but already decided this was not going to be a race. I reminded myself of what I decided previously. I adjusted my goals and decided, if I can, just fun run it, get my boston medal to cement reaching my goal in the ny marathon where I qualified, then it’ll have to be enough.

Back at the hotel, I actually fell asleep pretty fast around 10:30pm or so. But, then I woke up at 1:30am because of the pain in my throat. The rest of the night was torture. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t sleep because I debated in my head the whole night what I should do about the marathon. Feeling the way I did, which was more than just a sore throat, but now a general feeling of overall crapiness, I couldn’t imagine even doing a long training run. By morning, I was still awake. I had such a huge feeling of desperation at that point, it was then that I wrote the dns post from my blackberry. My wife at this point tells me I have nothing to lose by trying. Just listen to my body and drop out if I have to. I took a tylenol and agreed I can at least try. I turned on the tv and saw the weather forecast was very different from what they predicted days earlier. Mostly sunny with a high of 58 and current temps around 39. Now the dilemma of figuring out what to wear. Since I had no plans to run an intense pace, I wasn’t sure whether or not to ditch the long sleeved tee for a short sleeved one. I then realized if I’m not able to keep warm in a short sleeved shirt running this then it means I shouldn’t be running and it’ll be my que to drop out.

I made my way out of the hotel feeling horrible, asking myself, why am I even doing this? On the train, I started to think I might be feeling better and it seemed the tylenol might be kicking in. Getting to Boston Commons, there was a long ass line to get on the buses. There was plenty of excitement in the air, and I knew, had this been a different day, I would be feeling it too. My biggest concern was how long before an empty bus would come so that I can get on it. I was really starting to freeze my ass off, and shivering. Any other day I could block out the cold and deal even with shivering. But, with the way I felt, I was worried there would be no way I’d be able warm up. I wondered if I got back in bed at this point, if I would continue shivering like this under the covers.

On the bus, things were warmer. I thought about posts I read that gave advice on first timers doing Boston. I thought about the advice to make sure you pee BEFORE getting on the bus. I thought of how the advice was adamant about how the bus driver would not pull over if you asked him too. I remembered this because 5 minutes after we pulled out, we were stuck in traffic and I was beginning to feel the urge of having to go. Can I ever catch a break? :)

I spent the entire ride now focusing on the pain of holding it in rather than the feeling of being ill. I was getting chills and not sure if it’s from having to pee, from being sick, or both. I managed to hold it in until I saw the signs for Hopkinton, and I guess that mental magnet of the proximity of a bathroom increased the urge for me. It was still a few exits away and I stood up because the pain was getting bad. I looked around the bus which was packed and contemplated desperate measures like peeing in my empty gatorade bottle. There would be no way to do it without freaking out the whole bus and getting arrested. I walked up to the driver and said to him, “I have to piss really bad, do you have any suggestions for me?” He looked at me and said, “what do you want me to do? pull over?”. I said, “Could you please?” With that, he pulled off to the side of the road. I almost pissed right there on the spot, it was so bad. I turned around and saw everyone was very confused so I said, “sorry people, I’ll be quick”, figuring they would realize what I meant in a second. I ran out, and did my thing. I tried to be quick, but it felt like minutes to get done. It just kept coming out. I would have needed two gatorade bottles at least had I gone with my original plan.

I ran back on the bus and was greeted by a series of cheers and clapping. That really lifted my spirits and I held my hand up in a mixture of pseudo-triumph and gratitude for the applause. It’s the reactions like this that make me really love the running community that I’m a part of. Moments later, someone pointed out the window and said “look, there’s another one”, followed by laughter from the rest of the bus. Only this guy was not as lucky, because after he finished he started walking with his green baggage slung over his shoulder off the exit ramp of the highway, and it was still quite far from the exit where we were to get off. I can only imagine how his conversation went with the driver of his bus.

Arriving at the athlete’s village, things were COLD. I couldn’t tell if it was me, or the weather. I tried to find a place in the sun, to sit and managed to find some dry concrete on the outside of the highschool rather than on the wet field of grass where most of the crowd was waiting. I had a couple of bottles of water and kept sipping them because my throat was still dry and hurting. The drinking helped a bit. The longer I sat, the colder I became. I had a garbage bag with me incase I needed to lay it down to stay dry. I wound up punching a whole and fit my head through it instead. It helped keep me warm considerably. I continued to sit there until it was time to check our bags in. I noticed a lot of cops on bicycles patrolling the area. Some guy peeing in elephant grass soon had about 3 cops on bicycles and 1 on foot surrounding him, obviously giving him a stern lecture and pointing to the port-a-potties off in the distance.

At this point, I didnt have to pee.

Soon came time to get the bags on the buses. Things were so well-organized. Much better than the UPS trucks used by New York. The buses were lined in a row and every window on the bus had a bib number range posted on it going sequentially. Not only did you find your bus, but you found your row and there were plenty of kids on the bus to eagerly take your bag through the window. This proved to be a great system since finding the window which contained my baggage when I was done with the race was something that allowed me to get my stuff quicker than any other race.

As I was searching for my window along the buses I saw Frank and said hi. We spoke briefly and he asked if I found it unusually cold. I was so glad to hear him ask me that because I was still shivering with my 3 layers, plus jacket, plus my makeshift hefty bag robe. It was a bit of reassurance that I wasn’t more sensitive to the cold than I thought I should be if I was healthy.

Before I threw my bag through the bus window, I downed 3 liquid glucose shots. Swallowing them was a painful reminder of my sore throat. I then swallowed two more tylenols. Tucked 3 gels inside the lining of my shorts. Contemplated whether or not I wanted to keep (and then discard) the Nike running jacket I had on. It was just too cold without it, so finally, I decided to keep it on knowing I would be losing it. Yet, knowing it goes to charity made me feel it wasn’t being wasted at least. Besides, I just bought two new ones.

From there, I headed to the start with everyone else. It was a bit of a walk, down a steep decline. I wondered if the newton hills would be as steep as this decline. I turned around to look at it from the other way and said, holy crap I dont feel I can run up something like this. The whole time I’m wondering what the hell am I doing? I should be back resting. Why am I doing this? As I made my way, I realized I should pee once more. I saw someone else behind a dumpster near the woods and decided that would be a good place. Then I saw some cops slowly walking towards the guy and they actually gave him a hard time. The face on one of these little twerps was so confrontational I couldn’t believe it. He was aggressive as if he wanted a fight. Just so you know my perspective, my brother is a nyc cop, so I tend to be biased in favor of cops. This guy had the attitude of a bully. I walked away realizing this was no place to mark my territory and before I turned around I saw the cop pointing to the runner’s stomach, and the guy lifted his shirt to show his bib. From there, I don’t know what happened.

Finally, at the start, the sun was shining so things were warming up, but still had a bad chill in me. Nonetheless, huddled in the crowd after a while, I felt I could shed all the layers. I saw Mark from my old club also shedding his layers to be deposited in the same collection bag. I received a sincere greeting from him wishing me luck. I really felt I needed it too. I gladly gave the same to him in return. I could tell by his smile he was feeling good and ready for this. He went on to improve his PR by 75 seconds with a time of 3:15:54.

Soon, I began to feel the glucose, and perhaps the second dose of tylenol, and thought to myself, I’ll know whether or not I’ll be able to finish within minutes of starting. The fighter jets fly over head, and they were pretty awesome. The gun goes off, and we all begin walking uphill towards the start. As all of us realize we just unexpectantly walked over the starting mat (the start banner was further up), everyone started their watches and began running.

This is going to sound corny, but as I began running I promised myself, no matter what happens now, I’ll be proud of whatever I manage to accomplish (or fail to accomplish) here. Given the situation, there’s nothing more that I would have been able to do, and I have to learn to roll with the punches. I accepted the fact, none of this was foreseeable or in my control. So two minutes in and running, I still had to pee as did many others who were along the side of the course. I pulled over to pee as well. And, with that, I reaffirmed that I would not hold any importance to my time for this race. Just get myself to Boston the best way I can and stay healthy.

dns??

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Its the morning of boston. Amost 4am. Hardly slept becaise I’m worried I have strep again. I can’t fucking believe it. My throat is very dry right now and it was slightly sore most of the day yesterday but in a different way.

I don’t know what to make of this. Not sure if I should even go to the start. Yet if this passes and winds up being nothing ill be pretty pissed at myself. Not sure which is worse at the moment. Dns, dnf?

Forget racing.

_____________________________________________
Update:

I managed a PR, 3:10:45. I’m extremely happy considering I wasn’t sure I’d even cross the finish line. The whole time throughout the race I kept going through bad patches and then pulling through. It mainly coincided with whenever the sun came out or got better when it went behind the clouds.

My throat is killing me. I popped some Tylenol to get through this. And again afterwards. Other than that, everything’s fine!

Race report will follow.

The Taper Roller Coaster

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It’s no longer a question of what I can do in the marathon. I already figured that out when I ran 21.2 miles at a pace of 7:04 during my last long run. It’s just a question of what I’ll be able to do on race day in Boston.

In every day-to-day running, I still cannot understand what those tiny variables are that make you struggle when running an easy pace you could otherwise do without breaking a sweat on any other day. Could one of those variables show up on race day for me? I’ve seen it happen to others, never with an explanation. But, every runner I know is prone to them. We just write them off as a fact of life and go out the next day hoping to have a better training run.

Unless of course this happens during a race.

The marathon I trained for was already last fall. It was a success and the reason I’m running Boston this Monday. I decided back then I would just maintain my base by doing what I’ve been doing all along during my training. Basically, what I enjoy most. Spending some time once a week by myself, or occasionally with company, just going out for a stroll, albeit, at an easy running pace for 20 miles.

During this time, I’m not really sure what happened. It just did. In the past, I’ve worked hard and was often disappointed about seeing only negligible improvements. Over the last six months, I wouldn’t say I did much in the way of training. Yet, I run nearly a marathon distance at a pace I could never have imagined being able to do. Never have I thought I might be in a better position to race a marathon.

So, recently, I decided to do it right and prepare to race Boston instead of run Boston. Then, right afterwards, I decided I didn’t ever want the pressure this time around, and made an announcement I wouldn’t be racing it. Yet, I secretly continued to think about race strategy and how I could get my best race time. A close friend of mine said to me, “I know you, you can never not push yourself.”

It would be a waste not to race it.

And why not? What do I got to lose? I can admit it to myself that it’s the fear of failure. And, I’ve been there. It sucks! Having to go out for a long run with your brain trained to think of the marathon ahead, only to realize a second after you start, you already did the marathon and failed miserably. Dwell on that for 20 miles. And then, you have to live with that failure for at least six months before having the chance to erase it if you’re lucky.

It’s racing the marathon itself I’m beginning to hate. I love the training for the marathon. I love running one for fun or for a training run. And everything else up until the time comes where you have to wind down and taper. Then the pressure starts to build. Am I tapering too much or too little? Am I running too hard or not enough? The more I taper, the more pessimistic I become. I begin to lose everything I learned from a mental perspective on managing my own expectations. I go from being excited about running the race to dreading the possibility of epic failure ahead. It’s a mental roller coaster ride the whole time.

“Why do the marathon then?”, someone once asked me when I expressed this. ….So I have a reason to train for it.

So I’m making a decision. I can’t go out there without any notion of a target pace in mind. I’ll be mindful of how I feel and I’ll adjust if need be. But, I also need to check the Garmin. Because if I’m running a 6:50 too early on I’ll need to reel it in, even if it feels good. But I’ll allow myself a range. Anywhere between 7:04 and 7:15 will be my target. I feel very confident I’m going to be able to do it. I know I can run at a pace within this range. And if I come across the finish line with a pace much slower than that, then it will just be because of one of those unfortunate variables.

And afterwards, I’ll have to remember my original goal for Boston was to just enjoy it.

Marathon registration status: Not Accepted

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The day after I ran the nyc marathon in 2009, I registered for the 2010 lottery. I wasn’t expecting to be successful in the lottery. The chances seem to be less than 20% from what I can tell, based on the reported entries and number of accepted runners.

After registering, I thought to myself I’m not sure I want to get accepted since I just ran the race, and that it might be better to focus on a different race. Today I found out I’m, in fact, not accepted. I was surprised to realize how disappointing that was.

If I’m still able to do a sub 90 minute half marathon in 2 1/2 years from now, then I’ll be able to get guaranteed entry based on that, as long as they don’t change that requirement.

For this year, Philly is close by and driving distance, so I think I’ll be registering for that.

Goal for Boston.

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After running NY, I decided I wasn’t going to have a target for Boston. I wanted some down time and decided I would just maintain my base and get in my quality miles at leisure. I’m glad to have done this since training was tough this winter for various reasons, mostly snow and ice, making my long runs difficult. But, out of habit, or ritual, I did everything I could to get the long runs in, mainly because I enjoyed getting them done.

Then I ran an entire 20 miles at 7:11 pace to see where I was at. This was a pace that I found to be comfortably hard for the distance and wondered if I was going to be able to hold it the entire time. I thought my marathon pace would be 7:26 at best. I am extremely pleased to have been able to do this. But, most importantly, it was the feeling I felt during the run which pleased me most.

As a result, I began to think I was more ready for Boston than I realized. I figured a 7:11 pace for a 20 mile training run could realistically be stretched to 26.2 given a proper taper, and bring me across the finish line in under 3:09.

I’ve given thought to others who have been training for Boston and who have come across bad luck and are now unable to run the race they worked so hard far. They’re missing out. Meanwhile, I have no excuses. I’m starting to realize I have some potential to do well in Boston, yet I never really made a mental commitment to race it. I feel somewhat guilty about that when thinking of others who have committed to race, but can’t.

I just don’t want the pressure this time around of having to live up to a defined goal. And now, when people ask me about Boston, I find myself telling them 3:10. What am I doing I ask myself? With these time goals comes worries. Worries about all the other variables that can affect a race, some of which I cannot control. But, the ones I think I can control screw with my head even worse. I begin to over-prepare and overcompensate all to reach a goal. I lose perspective.

To add insult to injury, I ran a long run last weekend and struggled just to maintain my easy pace for the entire time. I cut it short and did 15 because I knew I wasn’t getting what I wanted out of it. It was just a bad day. I have plenty of reasons without looking to make excuses. I spent the week drinking almost every night. That was unplanned, but obviously effected me in terms of fatigue. I also had an issue with a blister, and an issue with my lower calves. Not much sleep the night before. I had to start this late in the day at 2:00pm. It was warmer than expected and I need time to acclimate. I normally would dismiss this run, and chalk up to being a crap day. But with a goal of 3:10 now in mind, I worry about the timing of this. I only have another long run to do before the taper and I may be less prepared as a result. Ridiculous!

So, April 19th, I’m going to run the best I can according to how I feel. No time goal. Don’t expect 3:10. I’m not. I’m going to go out and try to capture some of what I experienced two weeks ago. If everything comes together I may have a great marathon. I may be able to pull off that pace again. I hope I do. But, if I don’t for whatever reason, I don’t really give a shit.

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